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Foster Parent Life Hacks

A post about foster parenting hacks went up on one of the many foster parenting Facebook pages I follow. It gave me the inspiration to do my own list, as follows:

Preparation prior to placements:

Get waterproof mattress covers for ALL beds. They make ones that don’t make annoying crinkly noises now. They go on sale on Amazon for like $10 a piece.

Keep lice treatment supplies on hand. *shudder*

Also keep ramen noodles on hand, even if they’re not something you would normally eat. We have found that a lot of kids coming into care have eaten them and will think of them as comfort food when they’re in an unfamiliar situation.

Keep bubbles and bath toys on hand for younger kids. Baths are often either unfamiliar (a lot of low income housing only provides shower facilities or sketchy bathtubs moms don’t want to make kids use), or have been a source of trauma. For older kids, provide a basket of a scrubbie and fun scented bath supplies for the same reasons. We have gotten all the younger kids past bath aversions but never did get Miss Kicks bathing regularly. So the deodorant and body spray of their choice is important too.

Keep a collection of gender neutral pajamas on hand in a variety of sizes for emergency placements. We have almost always gotten kids brought to us late in the day, past when it’s convenient to go out and buy things for them. A pair of new pjs goes a long way toward settling a child in for that first rough night.

Having a small collection of new stuffies or Squishmallows on hand is great. That way kids can pick one on their first night, and you can assure them that it will stay with them always. Even teens may appreciate a cute Squishmallow to snuggle. We also always have a new throw blanket on each bed before new arrivals, and tell kids the blanket is theirs for good too.

***My best hack!*** Put a box of non-perishable snacks (like granola bars, fruit snacks, goldfish crackers) in the child’s room. I know this sounds like an open invitation to ant colonies everywhere, and it is, but trust me on this one. Most kids coming into care have experienced food insecurity and are afraid of not being able to eat when they’re hungry. Those should be “always allowed” snacks even if dinner is in 15 minutes. Having a basket of them to hand helps alleviate fears and diminishes food hoarding and just generally helps built trust with kids.

Once kids have arrived:

Keep all crucial documents – eyeglass prescriptions, social security number, birth certificates, IEP, and whatever else you get for kids – in one location. A binder with plastic sleeves is great if you’re that organized (I’m not), but even having kid-specific piles in boxes works. I can put my hands on anything necessary within about 2 minutes.

Keep copies of your kids’ court paperwork. I’ve got an archival box full of court document copies for our FD5 who is now past TPR and appeals deadlines and headed toward adoption. I figure she’ll have questions about everything when she’s older, and may want to see the documents as an adult.

If you can afford it, get a printer that can do photo printing. It makes life books way easier. It also makes it easy to take photos of the child to the parents during visits. That helps make parents feel like their kids are ok, and gives them some feel for what their kids’ lives are like away from them. For a lot of families, they don’t have a lot of photos of their kids because printing photos costs money and frankly, a lot of families charged with “neglect” are actually just living in poverty. (Sorry – I’ve waxed cynical).

Also organize photos on your phone as you go, so you can do a quick photo dump/print if a child is being moved or going home. Each kid has a folder of my favorite photos of them and the activities we’ve done together. That way it’s easy for me to create a life book for them on short notice. A “life book” is just a collection of photos in chronological order of the child’s time in your care that they get to take with them.

Even if you think it’s a ripoff, suck it up and get a small package of school photos and share with the child’s family. Be sure to do things like first day of school photos and birthday photos to share with the family too.

And that’s it folks! It’s all I can think of on this vacation Friday. Happy weekend!

We’re done fostering other than the family we’ve got with us… right?

We got a call last week for a 4-year-old little boy with feeding problems and behavioral challenges.

I’d sworn we were done fostering except for Sunny and Sprout and maybe other family members of theirs. We got rid of all of our fostering stuff – clothing and cribs and toddler beds included.

But. Feeding problems are our specialty! And the agency was sounding rather desperate for help with this little guy, and acknowledged we were known to cope with some more “challenging” cases, so I gullibly said yes.

I was at a medical appointment in the Southern Tier when I said yes. I drove back to the city and met the little guy at the doctor’s office.

I knew pretty quickly we were in trouble.

The agency had warned they thought the little guy was autistic because he had been doing some head banging the first day he’d been with them, didn’t speak, and was seemingly doing better with a weighted vest on. Autism was, however, the least of my worries upon meeting him.

To sum it up: he’s a flight risk. It took three adults plus the medical staff to keep the little guy in the exam room! He’d try to flee and I’d grab him, and then he’d writhe in remarkably effective ways in my arms to get himself put down so I didn’t drop him. The doctor’s office has the lab separate from the exam rooms so we had quite a bit of time in waiting rooms trying to corral the little guy, and hot diggety. He had three adults covered in sweat by the time we got done.

I eventually got him home safely. I released him into our house, and we barricaded the doors as best we could. We then worked on figuring out what the little guy needed.

The good news is we had him eating just fine. All the agency had given him was plain bread because allegedly the child’s mother had said he eats bread, and a nutter butter. Sigh. But he likes apples and grapes, chicken and broccoli, crackers, granola bars, and of course bread. He ate healthy amounts of all of those things except the broccoli, which induced some puzzled expressions and got left after the first bite. The sad part though? He would only eat off the floor. Once we figured out that sitting at the table was entirely alien to him and we put his plate on the floor, he ate healthily.

I do not want to know what this poor child’s life was like but I can make some guesses, and it strikes me that sometimes the word “neglect” doesn’t go quite far enough.

Anywho, the only thing that went well was ingestion. By the time the head of the triage division of the agency texted me that evening to find out how things were going, I was virtually in tears. Our little friend had trashed the house epically, was literally climbing my furniture and flinging himself off it with stereotypical little boy energy, could not be unobserved for 15 seconds because he’d Houdini himself out the doors no matter what we put in front of them (note: it takes more than 15 seconds to pee), and was going after Sprout like it was an episode of the Hunger Games. He was fine with Sunny.

I texted back with the truth: it was not going well and I was worried about my ability to keep our little Sprout safe from him. Bless her, rather than try to convince us to keep him, the head of triage immediately sent out emails to her staff about figuring out a different plan the following day. Houdini skills are one thing, but hair pulling, clawing take-downs of my beloved 5-year-old are another.

In the end, things worked out well, I think, thank heavens. The agency expedited their review of a relative who had stepped up to take the little guy, and he went home with said relative that day. If it’s going to work with the relative, we may as well find out right away! And the fewer foster homes he has to go through, the better. All I can do from here on out is say some prayers and send him some good vibes and hope for the best for him.

A couple of random things worth noting:

1. I think people are quick to yell “autism” when a foster child is not speaking, but it’s not always the reason. We had the little guy using about 10 words (horse, neigh, no, yes, apple, bread, ow, up, hug) in less than 24 hours. We also sang him the alphabet song a number of times, and to my delight, he could sing his own way about 1/2 way through it by the time he left. At the doctor’s recommendation, we removed his weighted vest, and he did just fine without it. He slept through the night with no issue (though I didn’t because I was keeping vigil in case he awoke and made a break for it). We also saw no signs of stimming, nothing that looked like a meltdown, and no obvious sensory issues. Now, he may be autistic. God knows it can be hard to tell! But I don’t think autism is his primary challenge – I think abominably severe neglect is. Sigh. It’s so sad. He’s a very, very bright kid. He figured out things that baffle my 9-year-old, like the door locks, in a heartbeat. I’m hoping he’ll catch up in the right environment.

2. My village is ever-expanding and awesome beyond words. I put out a call on Facebook for an emergency toddler bed, and within minutes had TWO offered to me! One had a mattress that was just not ok anymore, so we took up both folks on their offers and grabbed a bed from one and mattress from the other.

I mean, I’m not exaggerating. It was within minutes that we had two volunteers! Both folks also went through their kids’ clothing store piles, and the one who had the right sizes pulled out anything that might fit the little guy, washed and folded it all, and gave it to us with the bed. I don’t know this woman except through a buy nothing group, but she went above and beyond for a child in need.

Despite the soul shattering neglect I think this child endured, I am reminded too that there are good people in this world… even those of a different political affiliation, I might add. The lady who got the bed and clothing together for me walks a very different political line than I do. I’m grateful for the reminder to put some of the rhetoric aside on occasion.

I’m also reminded of why we said we are done except for this amazing family we already have with us. It’s just where we are in our lives right now.

No more placements!

Hair Day Catchup

I’m sitting with Kiddo as she gets her hair braided professionally by a Black woman for the first time. I screwed up to start with by not buying enough hair for braiding in, and Seth had to rescue us by going to the store to buy more.

But aside from that glitch, it’s going great! Kiddo is being infinitely patient, and is passing the time watching tv and chewing on a straw – her favorite anxiety outlet these days. The woman doing the braiding is kind and patient and doing a beautiful job, without pulling Kiddo’s hair out. When I took Miss Kicks to a braider I didn’t do my research ahead of time and the woman who did the braids pulled her hair so tight that Miss Kicks had actual welts on her scalp and wound up taking the braids out because she couldn’t stand the itching. But this lady is doing appropriately tight box braids. Not painful, not damaging her scalp, but tight enough to last for a while.

The woman doing the braiding is shocked that a white couple is bringing our Black Kiddo to get her hair done by a Black woman. She asked me “Do you know a lot of Black people?” I said “Not really!” and she replied “I’m just surprised you knew to bring her to a Black braider.” Heh. So while we are sadly white about not having a clue what type of braiding hair to buy or how much, I think we are doing ok. At least Kiddo is here!

Updates:

We did our usual monthly visit with Sunny and Sprout’s family on Saturday and it was wonderful. Kiddo came along for the first time and while the family was a bit puzzled about how she fits into our quirky family structure, they were as gracious as always.

It rained all day, so we could not meet at the Burmese park. We went to the girls’ aunt’s house instead, and Mama went to the corner store and bought us some of the most delicious food. Kiddo tried absolutely everything and loved it all. She was polite and enjoyed her time in a totally different culture. I’m so happy for her that she could open up to the opportunity and roll with it!

Sunny and Sprout had a good visit, romping and playing with their siblings and cousins. The youngest cousin, who is a total beast, broke Sprout’s glasses quite thoroughly. That’s the second pair of glasses she’s broken – she broke Sunny’s a few visits ago. She got in trouble but she’s only 2, and is keeping up with a riotous bunch of older siblings and cousins all the time. Honestly, I’m wishing the glasses had survived, but I get a massive kick of of her spitfire ways. She gives Sprout a run for her money, which is really saying something!

Trauma stays in the veins and sometimes holds the reins:

As summer progresses, school gets ever closer. We know who both Sunny and Sprout’s teachers are and are thrilled. Both have landed with truly lovely women who care a great deal about their kids and how they learn.

Highlight of my day today, though? I found out a friend I’ve known for – oh lordie – something like forty years – is going to be teaching Kiddo English Language Arts or ELA. I’ve been hoping so much that this friend would get Kiddo. Kiddo needs strong caring teachers who inspire their kids, and that’s what she’s going to get this year. She needs teachers who don’t put up with her ‘tude, and call her on it, but more than that she needs someone who just plain cares.

Kiddo still struggles with her trauma background. Sunday was a rough day for her. She was rude and short tempered all morning. I took her to task more than once but got nowhere by being insistent about better behavior. I then took the older two to see the Barbie movie.

After the movie we went to Taco Bell because we were all starving and it’s the only fast food place I can eat at and get gluten free-ish food. Kiddo was wicked rude to Sunny, and I asked her what on earth is going on. To my surprise, she burst into tears and spent about 5 minutes crying. She couldn’t explain – and truly I think didn’t know – what was wrong. She just was triggered by something yesterday.

I then dropped Kiddo and Sunny off home, and Seth took over while I went out with a friend to a dirt track race (vroom vroom!). Seth said the evening was no better. By the time he put Kiddo to bed after the other girls, he again asked Kiddo what was wrong and she again broke down in tears but didn’t know what was wrong.

Now, I know hormones are in play. She’s 11 1/2 and approaching puberty and girls at her age are walking hormone bombs with mood swings that can give you whiplash. But this was something more – something is really eating at her and she doesn’t know what, which I know from experience is a very uncomfortable place to be.

Thank heavens a good night’s sleep has made a world of difference. She’s as cheerful as a woefully bored 11 year old can be, as her hair gets tugged and parted and braided.

We may never know what set her off. All we can do is be patient with her and kind, talk Sunny off the ledge when she’s annoyed with Kiddo for her moods, and let Kiddo know firmly what is and is not ok while she works things out herself.

Anyway, that’s all our news! Wish us patience as the braiding continues, since Kiddo is already asking “is this the last braid?” which is the hair equivalent of “are we there yet?” It could be a long afternoon!

Summer is Half Over!

Egads! Time is flying!! But we still have plenty of family fun coming up.

First up: We will have a weekend visit with Sunny and Sprout’s fam this weekend. This particular visit is exciting because Kiddo wants to come! She hasn’t been to a visit yet. I’m so happy she’s interested in going. If she can handle the stress of being in an unfamiliar culture and environment, it will be so good for her. Mind you, that’s a big if. She gets – for lack of a better word – “difficult” when she’s anxious or uncomfortable. It comes across as sulkiness and brattiness, which has caused some strife with my family members who don’t get to see her amazingly wonderful good side very often. But I see it for what it is and recognize the discomfort that sets her off.

We’ll be as prepared as possible. Since we will be at a big open park, I’ll be taking a frisbee or two, and a game with Velcro balls and paddles, so she can burn off some energy in a familiar activity if needed. I played frisbee with the other kids last visit using plastic container lids so I suspect we can get a good game going with a bunch of kids. There’s tons of good food there but it will be unfamiliar food for Kiddo, so I’ll be sure to come prepared with lots of familiar snacks too in case she doesn’t like or doesn’t want to try Burmese food. I’ll bring chairs for her and me. My aching knees require one since sitting cross legged on the ground makes my knees scream in agony, but one for Kiddo may make her feel more comfortable too. And there’s boba tea there, so I’ll get her one of those early because it will make her happy and sipping a familiar cool beverage will be soothing. Fingers crossed it’s a success!

Next: I’m taking Kiddo to get her hair professionally braided on Monday! She’s never had the experience of a Black salon doing her braiding, and I want her to. I found the woman who is doing it through a Facebook acquaintance, and after a lot of back and forth, it think she’ll be perfect. I can’t wait to see how it looks when it’s done!

Next up: A trip to the zoo with just Sunny and me! I took Sprout on a solo trip there last week, and told Sunny I’d let her play hooky from summer school one morning so we could go and see the koala show. Koalas are her favorite animals.

I try hard to do some one-on-one time with each kid in turn. It’s hard to make time for! I get plenty with Sprout right now because Sunny is in summer school in the mornings, so Sprout and I did the zoo trip one day, and went on a mission to a gas station to buy candy and eat it on a playground another day. Both were a blast.

But Sunny is overdue, and the idea of playing hooky for a day is positively thrilling to her. It should be fun!

And then: four days of cabin camping at a Jellystone Park in the Catskills. I’m super excited for this, as is Sprout. Sunny is wary. Kiddo is excited but she ruined our camping vacay last summer so I’m a little wary too. But we’re going!

It should be easier than our Maine trip in several ways. 1) we are staying in a cabin. There’s a loft with actual mattresses for the kids, along with a real bathroom and kitchen. 2) it’s a Jellystone park so there’s tons of stuff that’s geared toward kids. There’s a big spray park, a lake for paddle boating, a game room, and lots of activities and crafts. 3) it’s only for four days. 4) it’s a lot closer than Maine. It’s also more expensive by quite a bit, but if that’s what it takes, we’ll find a way.

Following that: The Great New York State Fair! I have a super love/hate relationship with the fair. Mostly hate. It’s a lot of overloading stimulation for this autistic chick.

However, kids tend to love it! Kiddo has gone before but neither Sprout nor Sunny has been. First, I’m taking a family friend’s kid to pride day because I had promised to take her to Pride in our city then was out of town for it, so I am attempting to redeem myself. Then I’m taking each of our kids solo in turn: Kiddo, Sprout, and Sunny.

That’s a lot of fair going. Yikes. I’ve prepared in part by getting myself a pair of Loop Engage Earplugs. They’re designed to filter out sound other than conversation, and they seem to work pretty well. In theory I’ll be able to hear the kids, but not be overwhelmed by background noise.

This is what they look like but they’re hard to see in my ears.

I’ve been wearing them around the house and they’re great for filtering out things like the air conditioner noise, and the dish washer. They seem to tone down the extremes of kid noise, but still allow me to hold a conversation. Pretty cool!

Anyway, I’ve purchased a frequent fairgoer pass that will allow me to enter the fair once each day. I am guessing Sprout will last a few hours only, so I won’t feel like I’m wasting money that day. I’m figuring we’ll see some farm animals, ride a couple of kiddie rides, and get a blue candy apple before she peters out.

As for Kiddo, she’s alllllll about the rides. So I’ll get her a ride pass for the day we go.

Sunny is a different story. She wants to go on Native American Day so we can enjoy the dancing and music in the Native American Village there. I’m all for it! I’ll even take my ear plugs out for that! Sunny is also on a mission to get the largest slushie sold at the fair. It’ll probably set me back at least $20. Maybe more.

I’m not sure how my energy reserves will hold out for all this. I’m planning to take days off in between fair going days, just to get extra sleep and recover. On the whole, though, I’m going to be pushing my luck a bit energy wise!

In between all the fun above, I’ll probably manage at least one more beach day. We go to a small local swimming hole that’s a hidden gem. It has a sandy beach, lifeguards, cool water that isn’t too cold, and cute fishies that nibble your toes in the water.

Sunny has learned to swim incredibly well considering she’s been in the water a handful of times in her life, and nearly drowned her first time in a pool. It wasn’t pretty. But we gave the kids 2 weeks of swimming lessons at the local pool and she took the instruction and ran with it… or swam as the case may be. She wants to spend all her time in the water now, so long as she has her goggles!

If only we can get Sprout to be less terrified of water now, my summer missions will be complete.

After allllll that, it will be back to school time. Hip hip hooray! I can’t wait to have more time to get back to writing and painting.

“Oh, that’s cool, I guess.”

I flipped through my memories the other day on Facebook and came across this one:

Overheard, man and woman talking in the elevator.
Woman: How old is the baby now?
Man: 5 weeks, and she has lungs like an opera singer!
(conversation ensues all about the man’s baby.)
Woman: Did you know I have a baby now? I’m a foster mom!
Man: awkward pause, “well that’s cool.”
Awkward silence follows.

I have run into this attitude so many places. When I talk to people about my experiences as a foster parent, I get one of two reactions much of the time, and both are unfortunately problematic.

Option 1 – The Gushing (often with a backhand full of knuckles)

“You’re a total saint! I could never do that!”

“Ohmygosh, you’re a complete angel!”

“Oh wow. That’s amazing. I don’t know how you do it! I’d get too attached!”

My former boss is a huge culprit of the awkward “you’re an angel” comment. What, pray tell, is the proper response? A quiet, “No not really?” Or a firm, “Hardly,” perhaps? You can’t say you are an angel, and saying just “thanks” feels like you’re admitting you are. Truly, what should one say when one is called an angel for being a foster parent at least once a week? Gah! I don’t miss those days.

It wasn’t just her though. It’s something I find all over the place.

I had a minor medical procedure done Wednesday. The anesthesiologist was a super nice guy and did a great job, but in making small talk we discussed whether I had kids, so I answered that I’m a foster parent. His reply was a “Oh, that’s great! How old are your kids?” Wonderful response! So I answered that they’re 5- and 9-year-old sisters. Then he replied “Oh, you’re a saint for keeping them together. A saint.” Cringe. Less wonderful.

I just vaguely said something like “I’m hardly that. And the kids are amazing. We are so lucky.”

What else can one say under the circumstances?

Then there’s the “I couldn’t do it, I’d get too attached” comment that is always a favorite. I get that people are trying to say (or at least I hope) that I must be strong if I can do this. But it actually sounds a whole lot like “You must be a cold fish if you can just let kids go back like that.” I don’t know a single foster parent who doesn’t loathe the oh-so-popular “I couldn’t do it. I’d get too attached.” So, so, so many people say it!

Please my beloved friends and followers who aren’t fellow foster parents: avoid the “I’d get too attached” tag like the plague, and avoid hyperbole like “saint,” and “angel.” Stick to something less dramatic. “Oh that’s wonderful. I’m so glad you do it.” It’s clean, simple, and doesn’t insult unintentionally or require a self deprecating reply. I love hearing phrases like that.

Option 2: The Awkwardness and (inadvertent?) dismissal of my parenthood

This is the reaction of the clip from my FB feed that I quoted above. When I was at the law firm, this was what people’s reactions mostly consisted of. Some examples of what I mean:

Story A. There was a very-high-up partner who loooooved to gush over babies. I’ll call her the “Baby Loving Partner.” Everyone who had a baby had to bring it in to see this partner so she could ooh and aah and love on them. She’d engage in animated conversation with any parent about their baby’s habits and parenting strategy and funny stories and horror stories.

One night at a formal dinner, one of my colleagues asked me across the table how my foster son was doing after his “big event.” It was after my little Gronckle stopped breathing entirely one night in the middle of the night and took years off our lives and the life of the EMT who took care of him in the ambulance. He was seriously close to death several times. So because other folks at the table hadn’t heard the story and seemed curious, I briefly relayed what had happened.

The Baby Loving Partner was the most senior partner at the table so I think felt obligated to say something. She didn’t make eye contact, and said “That sounds scary. My daughter had bad asthma.” And immediately changed the subject to something utterly inane and unrelated.

The colleague who had asked about my foster son looked at me weirdly but went along with the subject change, which is generally what you do when a senior partner is rude, sadly. You go with the flow.

Later that night, my colleague asked “What the hell was up with [Baby Loving Partner]? She usually gets all worked up over babies being sick!” I just shrugged. And said “that’s how [Baby Loving Partner] is. She doesn’t think I’m a real parent or that my kids matter in this world.” My colleague was appalled – possibly by my flip take on things but more, I think, by the Baby Loving Partner’s response – and I felt validated that someone else had noticed the weirdness. But I’ll note no one at the table full of colleagues, including the colleague who had asked the initial question, called the senior partner on her rudeness or asked me anything else about my baby who had almost died.

Story B. I attended a baby shower for one of the most popular associates. She was having her first baby, and there was generally a lot of buzz around the firm about it. So all the female partners and associates gathered at a very nice baby shower for this associate.

I sat toward the end of the table with a bunch of other attorney moms. We all sat there and munched and took turns telling stories about how challenging our kids can be. The theme turned to “favorite parents,” and how kids can have them and be downright mean to the non-favorite parent about it. A colleague told a story about her daughter. I chimed in with a story about how I was left with the 2-year-old twins for a weekend and they howled for Daddy multiple times, and the one who talked asked “where’s Daddy” like 1,000 times in two days.

My colleague’s story was met with sympathy and chuckles and head shakes. My story was met with stony silence and people shifting awkwardly in their seats. No one looked directly at me. And someone finally changed the subject to kids who are escape artists, and the conversation moved on without me.

Now, I am autistic, and always worry I’ve done or said something wrong because I’ve missed a social cue. So my takeaway from the moment was to feel utterly terrible about myself because I must have done something wrong, right? Why else would my colleagues have acted so weird?

But after the baby shower, one of my colleagues walked to my car with me. At my car, she said “I’m sorry people are weird. No one will talk to me, too, because I don’t have kids.” Then she walked away without waiting for a response. Why didn’t that colleague say something at the time to make it less awkward? Did she want to have company in being excluded? I have a whole lot of questions, but no answers.

Eventually I stopped expecting attorney colleagues to care – actually care – about my kids. I had two friends who were fellow attorney at the firm who cared then and still care now, and some wonderful staff members did. But overall it was a terrible social experience to be a law firm partner and a foster parent.

It could have been worse. One time my husband asked his boss for the afternoon off because he needed to take Mouse to the ER. She had RSV and her breathing was getting really bad. (She wound up getting admitted to the hospital for several days). The boss flipped his lid, and ended a loud and outraged diatribe with “she’s not even your kid!” Stellar human, that one! But in some ways I feel like that’s what some of my attorney colleagues were thinking and just not saying.

Lest you think my attorney colleagues were especially awful, it’s not just them. Think of the elevator conversation I quoted on Facebook, and my husband’s former boss. A whole lot of people don’t get why we foster parent and don’t know what to say to us about it all.

I think some folks are, frankly, dicks. Former boss man, I’m looking at you! There are people who genuinely think foster kids don’t really matter, or shouldn’t be helped, or something like that. Or they think that our experience just does not compare to their parenting experience and we are not “real” parents and they don’t get why we care so much about kids who “aren’t even ours.” These are folks who lack empathy as humans, or who are so wrapped up in their own worlds they’re at present unwilling to expend any energy thinking of kids in need. It’s too much for them.

To do them credit, I think some of my former colleagues are decent humans who just didn’t know how to relate to an experience that was so alien to them. They were at a loss for words. Some may have had so many questions they felt would be inappropriate to ask that they got stuck. Some may have been a bit like me – sometimes I just can’t think of the right thing to say to someone and I’m so worried about saying the wrong thing that I go mute.

If you’re not like the boss man and actually do care about someone who is a foster parent, there are some easy things you can do to be supportive.

Go ahead and ask your questions if they’re getting in your way. Maybe the foster parent won’t be able to answer some because of privacy, but they surely can answer some others. Be a student and learn.

Or, if you’re worried about saying the wrong thing, just treat the foster parent you care about like any other friend who is a parent. Assume for a bit that they love their foster kids like you love your kids, and run with it.

That last tip? Won’t ever lead you astray.

The Winds of Change

The girls just got back from a visit with their Mama. Once a month, the case worker takes the girls to meet Mama at a city halfway between where we live and where Mama lives. They get to see their siblings usually at these visits too.

When they got back, the case worker, who has been with this case for about a year and a half I’d guess, told me she’s leaving her job because she feels personally unsafe doing the job, and because it’s unsafe to have so many cases on her case load and someone will get hurt, and she can’t deal with the stress of that. I do not blame her one single iota.

But now I begin to stress.

The case worker’s supervisor is staying for now, and she’s up to date on what’s going on. She knows about the other sister and that we want her here, and is on board with the agency’s plan to keep the sister where she is for now, which I’m not happy about but am saying nothing for now for myriad reasons. My chief concern is that she’s not getting the medical care she needs or deserves. But that will be for the judge to decide when we get to the next hearing. Maybe the agency will surprise me and get amazing things done. It’s truly possible. It’s just unlikely given how understaffed they are and that a key provider is in Delaware.

Case workers have a lot of power.

Anyway, what will the new case worker be like? We have had some excellent ones and some doozies, I tell you. Given that the best ones are fleeing the agency like a family of skunks has just been dumped in their midst, I worry about who is left. If we get a bad one it could jeopardize everything, from the oldest sister’s coming here to the youngest’s adoption. Perhaps most worryingly, it could lead to Sunny getting sent back home to a Mama who loves her and is trying hard, but likely doesn’t have the skills she needs to provide proper medical and educational care to Sunny.

We won’t know who the new case worker is for a while. The current one stays until the 14th of July, and I don’t know how long it will be after that that the new one starts trying to get up to speed on this case. As the current case worker noted, no one wants this case. Mama lives two hours away, speaks no English, and three of the kids are high medical needs. There are medical providers for the kids in four cities and two states, with some as far as seven hours away from each other. Mama is working her plan but may not have the capacity to get the kids back, and so a new case worker may have to tell Mama that the agency made her jump through a ton of hoops for nothing. There are three different agencies and a foster home and a kinship home involved. It’s just so, so messy!

Adding to my frustration and worries, the case worker for the kinship home, who is with a different agency, did a no call no show for today’s visit. She and the other three kids just didn’t appear for it. So, while our girls got to see their Mama today, they didn’t see their other three siblings, and we don’t know where medical stuff stands for the oldest sister because that case worker wasn’t there to relay it. And who knows – her absence may signal that we are getting two new case workers on this case at one time. That would be… nightmarish. Let’s hope that’s not the situation.

This is the stuff that makes foster care so darn difficult. We’re in the dark, and to some degree so is everyone else. And there are good people, and bad people, and accomplished people, and incompetent people who go into social work. The agency is pretty desperate so is hiring who they can get.

Send up some good vibes for a competent and caring new case worker!

My kids are little people, and are starting to discover what that means.

After the visit with their family, we took Sunny and Sprout to a Buffalo Bisons baseball game with the Finger Lakes NY Chapter of Little People of America.

The chapter does regular events. We missed the last event because one of the girls was sick, but finally on Saturday we got to go!

There were 27 folks in total in our group, a mix of little people and average size folks who were family members. Lots of the little people are kids. It’s an incredibly nice group. When we left, Seth and I remarked that we couldn’t remember an evening where we felt so surrounded by people who seem kind and just plain likable. I can’t wait to do more events with them!

I think the magnitude of the experience of being with other little people was lost on Sprout, as she’s only five, and it was in the evening after a long day.

But Sunny? She got it. She didn’t just get it, though, she freaking loved it. At one point she loudly announced the following:

“Mommy! Mommy! There are even Black little people! They have brown skin like me! I LOVE SMALL PEOPLE.”
-Sunny

Her exclamation was met with chuckles from the little people surrounding us, and one person laughingly said “well you’ve come to the right place!”

The girls had protested vociferously that they didn’t want to leave their family and go to the game. Then they whined about the food options. Then they complained baseball is boring because it doesn’t move fast enough. And I watched my hometown baseball team get slaughtered by the Bisons.

None of that mattered in the end, though. Sunny thanked us afterward for taking her because she loved being surrounded by people like her. She mentioned something similar again this morning. That was her takeaway and I’m insanely glad. She struggles to accept her stature and this was so enlightening for her: she’s not alone. Not only that, but she announced a couple of times that “little people are cute!” She hasn’t quite translated that to the understanding that the same applies to her, but I think the more we can get her involved in LPA events, the more she’ll get it.

Speaking of “cute,” though, my youngest gets so sick of being called it. Everywhere she goes people treat her like an object more than a person. Don’t call her a “doll” or you’ll feel her wrath! Even my sister commented that it’s annoying when she briefly accompanied Sprout around an Ulta store looking for hair accessories and lip balm. It doesn’t help that Sprout’s Asian, which somehow makes it even easier to “other” her. But people seem inclined to touch her when they meet her, and exclaim repeatedly about how adorable and little she is. It’s going to be a lifelong curse for her I’m afraid. I wish folks would see the feisty fashionista as much as they see the “cute” little Asian person though.

Anyway, next year we plan to take the kids to the LPA annual conference in Baltimore. That’s going to blow Sunny’s mind! I cannot wait. Maybe by then Sprout will be able to understand the significance of being surrounded by folks who are like her, some of whom also hate being called “cute,” too.

Finally, we have a new book! We’ve only got two other books about little people and more are needed. I just picked up this gem the other day:

If you’re not familiar with Pete Montzingo from Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok, check him out. He’s absolutely hilarious. But he’s an average size person who was raised in a family of little people, and that’s what this book is about. He shares the challenges of being “different” from his loved ones, growing up with ADHD, and having his parents divorce. He also shares his journey of coming into his own through music and just growing up. It’s a beautiful little book for any family, but especially one with a kid who feels “different” from the rest of the family for any reason.

Hidden Burma

Today we had a visit with Sunny and Sprout’s family. Instead of being cooped up in an apartment they suggested we meet at a park nearby. It was a gorgeous day, so why not?

We put the address they gave us in the GPS, then got spectacularly lost. Eventually Sunny saw something she recognized and guided us through roads that looked closed, a one way railroad bridge, more roads that looked closed… and into Burma.

Hidden in Unity Island Park in Buffalo is a Burmese cultural haven. There are vendors with stalls selling everything from cotton candy and lollipops, to every decadent Burmese dish you can imagine, to Lyongi, to abayas. There are nets all around, with groups of men and boys playing Chinlone, which is a Burmese game played with a rattan ball and a volleyball net, with some mix of rules (to my very white eyes) that resemble a cross between volleyball and soccer.

Time flew. We were there for more than 3 hours and it didn’t feel like it. It’s amazing how much we can communicate with folks when we don’t speak the same language. The kids are good about translating for us, as is the relative who has the other three siblings. We manage.

Money also flew. We went through all our cash and the family went through a lot too. There was so much temptingly delicious food on offer! They host us like we are their guests every visit and it kills me that they spend money on us. But there’s nothing to be done for it because every offer to pay for things is met as if we’d insulted them with a slap across the face. We’ve stopped insisting. We try to bring some goodies or toys for the kids every few visits but even that is pushing our luck. They’re just the most gracious hosts.

Not for the first time, I sat on the ground on a rush mat surrounded by a language I don’t speak, people who don’t look like me who are wearing clothing from another country, eating spicy tasty food, and playing games I’d never heard of. I just paused and soaked it all in for a bit before one of the cousins interrupted my reverie with a playful question and I got drawn back in.

I’m utterly honored to be accepted enough to be allowed to be present with them in their element. We’ll be back to that same park for more Saturdays of sunshine, thanaka-colored faces, bright lyongi, raucous calls of Chinlone games in the distance, surrounded by family. I never in a million years would have thought our fostering journey could bring us anything like the richness we have been experiencing in getting to know the girls’ family.

The woman who made all the placement calls to foster families for the agency for years recently left her position. I wish I knew where she’d gone, because I owe her a debt of gratitude for calling us that April Friday, three years ago. She knew we liked fostering kids with medical issues and knew she had a really sick kid coming in, and called us. Thank god she did. Thank god I answered her call. I can’t imagine how dull my life would be without all this extended family magic.

Legally Freed!

Today we had court for Sprout. A couple of months ago her Mama surrendered her legal rights to Sprout in an emotionally draining court appearance. Today was the date for terminating her father’s legal rights.

Sprout’s father has, er, well, not been involved, at least not since an incident that happened around the time she was removed and placed in foster care. That’s all I’ll say.

He’s never appeared in court on this case. He’s never contacted the case worker for a visit. He hasn’t provided financial assistance. When that happens, the agency can notify the parent of their intent to terminate the parent’s parental rights, and then the parent has 6 months to make an appearance and start doing what the agency requires as far as services go. Sprout’s father didn’t appear during those 6 months any more than he had during the first 2 1/2 years of his daughter’s placement in foster care.

It was a remarkably open and shut case because of his failure to appear and work his plan. The appearance today took about a half hour. The case worker testified that she’s had no contact with him, and then I did the same. The judge read her decision from the bench, citing case law that establishes the procedure for a termination of parental rights under these circumstances.

And that was that.

It was hard to smile at the end when the judge announced Sprout is now legally freed for adoption because even if we don’t know her father, it’s still a momentous event to lose a parent legally like this. But it was not the emotionally charged and difficult proceeding Mom’s surrender was. In fact it was mostly just a relief.

So what next? We signed the intent to adopt form this evening and will turn it in tomorrow. We requested the adoption worker we want to work with – the same one we worked with for Miss Kicks. While things with Miss Kicks went abysmally south, her adoption worker was Da Bomb. There’s no guarantee we’ll get her but fingers crossed.

We have an attorney already waiting in the wings. I’ll call him tomorrow. There’s a new permanency hearing for Sprout in mid July. And then after that, basically, we wait.

Sprout can’t stand the waiting. She wants certainty. There’s lots she doesn’t understand at age 5, but there’s lots she does. She knows she wants to stay here forever. She has decided she wants our last name, and to make her current last name her middle name so she can keep it. And she knows she feels unstable with this hanging out and waiting thing.

I wish this process weren’t so drawn out. I’m still waiting for something to go wrong and for someone to say we can’t adopt her. I’m trying to make no mistakes, play as nicely as possible with everyone, and not jeopardize this pending adoption in any way because in foster care, anything can happen. It’s stressful, this waiting, for us and for Sprout and even for Sunny.

But the good news is we are one step closer. One mighty step! Sprout is legally freed! The rest is all just paperwork.

How does trauma affect behavior?

On Thursday, I packed up Sunny and Sprout and went to Boston with my Dad for my niece’s graduation weekend. Seth had to work, and doesn’t yet have the kind of seniority he needs to take off his weekend shifts. So it was my Dad and me and the girls.

To say I was apprehensive is an understatement. I badly wanted to go, and wanted to make sure my elderly Dad could go, but could not go unless the small fry tagged along. How on earth would my hyperactive 5-year-old and squirmy bored-pants 9-year-old fare through a long graduation ceremony during which they’d need to sit still and be silent? How would they possibly manage meals at nice restaurants, and sitting through my niece’s dance performance? These two aren’t trained to do that sort of thing yet!

I underestimated my kids. By a lot.

Sprout has experienced a lot of trauma. Sunny has experienced a lot more trauma, and she has an official PTSD diagnosis. And let’s face it: they’re in foster care, separated from their loved ones and culture and language and food, and are struggling with it. The separation bothers them to different degrees because Sprout has been here longer – most of her life – and has had time to adjust. But even she has a very hard time leaving her Mama after visits. Foster care = ongoing trauma. A lot of it.

Kiddo, who didn’t go with us, has even more trauma history, and even though she’s back home now, has ongoing trauma even just from living in an impoverished and violent area of the city, familial estrangements, etc. She could not have done what Sunny and Sprout did this weekend, I’m convinced of it.

In addition to their own individual traumatic experiences, all three kids have a lot of family history of trauma. There are increasing amounts of research showing that family histories of trauma are passed down through the generations. Slavery, war, famine, etc. leave an indelible mark in whole families, even generations later. Sunny and Sprout’s grandparents and some of their parents’ generation were born and raised in a violent military dictatorship-run country, or in refugee camps fleeing from persecution and death. Talk about epigenetics and familial behavior primed for passing along trauma-based behaviors and patterns!

So how did graduation weekend go?

Sunny and Sprout were funny, silly, and engaging with my niece and her friends and family. Then they sat like angels through a very, very long graduation ceremony that they didn’t understand or care much about. They liked the parts my niece was directly involved in but there were obviously other kids in my niece’s graduating class and my two minions were bored to death by the end. But they sat. And sat. And sat. They consumed all the candies and snacks that had been laid out on the table for us by the school, but they barely wiggled or talked and when they did talk, it was to communicate something important (like needing the bathroom) and was in appropriately hushed tones. Hot diggety, they were amazingly good!

Sitting still and quietly are skills that have to be taught to almost all kids. For a kid who has experienced a lot of trauma, that can be an especially hard set of skills to learn. For one thing, just being left to their thoughts for long periods of time can be very challenging because some are mighty unpleasant. You know how you get a squirmy feeling when you think of something awful? Well for kids, that often results in actual physical squirms.

Many, many kids who have experienced trauma exhibit ADHD-like behaviors that may or may not be the real thing. Wiggling is more comfortable than sitting still when your thoughts and memories are problematic. Impulsivity and inability to focus are not surprisingly often the result of kids having experienced trauma.

There’s complex science behind all this, involving things like synaptic pruning (elimination of synapses that aren’t being used in favor of ones that are needed at the time). There’s behavioral conditioning going on too, like for example kids experiencing neglect might develop some challenging manipulative-seeming behaviors that were necessary to get their needs met, while ditching more subtle and socially acceptable behaviors that didn’t get the attention of their caregivers. So that conditioning has to be reversed through lots of repetition and reinforcement in a new environment. There are a lot of other fascinating scientific concepts, too, like the epigenetics I mentioned earlier.

But the upshot is that, very often, sitting still is mighty hard for kids who have experienced trauma.

So while we’ve been working on coaching Sunny and Sprout to sit still through grownup nonsense, we’d never tested their abilities for hours at a time, simply because it can get truly uncomfortable for them for reasons we can’t always understand.

Was it a perfect weekend? Of course not! The kids are still kids:

We had one morning breakfast that involved so much bickering that the children devolved to a WWE-style wrestling match on the bench.
Sunny got so bored in the car on the way there that she spent time telling my Dad everything she could think of that would get my goat. (“Grandpa! Mommy’s going to get another big tattoo!” and “Grandpa! When Mommy gets mad at other drivers she says bad words!”) Ha! I can laugh now, but she truly did get to me at the time because we both knew exactly what she was doing.
Saturday night I disagreed with the kids about whether to go to the last event – a party for family at a fancy French restaurant. They wanted to go and won the disagreement, but we all sort of regretted it because Sprout was complaining she was tired, and Sunny was complaining she didn’t like the food, exactly as I’d predicted. We didn’t last long at the party, and I got a lesson in being better at being a grown up who has to make decisions for the kids using my greater wisdom.

On the whole, though, they were brilliant. I’m so so proud of them for holding it together through all the times when it was really important. Those are super important skills for kids to have as they become grownups, and will serve these two well!

In the end, I had a wonderful time seeing my super accomplished niece end one phase of her life and embark on the next. I could not be more proud of her, too, not least for the endless kindness and patience she has for the beloved young humans I’m getting the privilege of raising.