More Grrrrr-attitude

As most of you know, we’ve been working with a foster guy.  He’s a good guy.  He’s smart.  He’s charming.  He’s got a great sense of humor.  He’s had a suck-tastic life so far, but he’s persevered.

He’s strong.  He’s open.  He wears his heart on his sleeve.  He’s learning to cook.  He loves to watch movies.  And he adores our dogs.

We got to know our foster guy by spending time with him at events.  He was nervous, at first.  He seemed eager to make a good impression.  And the more we hung out, the more we wanted to hang out more. 

He told us he wanted us to hold him accountable.  He had ambitions.  And plans.  He had goals.  College!   A career!  A family of his own!  He said he wanted us to hold him accountable.  To help him.  He said nobody had helped him before. 

He’s behind in school.  He told us that up front.  He’s behind and needs help.  He invited us to get into touch with his teacher.  So we did.  He invited us to look at his transcripts.  So we did.  He invited us to seek advice from people we knew in education that might help guide him and guide us in guiding him.  So we did.

At night, we worried.  And fretted.  Here is a guy majorly close to aging out of the foster care system who is so far behind that he’s got years until he graduates.  Years. 

We hunkered down.  We worked for hours on math and history.  Hours.  And hours and hours.  We put ourselves in touch with his school – was he there today, did he turn in his homework, is he participating fully – we’d ask.  We set up a visit to a studio.  Met people who could inspire him and encourage him.  People who might help us light the way.  We tried to find incentives – treats, presents, an outing – to help him keep on keepin’ on.

And we worried.  And fretted.  And spent more hours on math. 

We also had movie nights, game nights, and field trips.  We went shopping, out to eat, and to the farmer’s market.  We had long talks, short talks, deep talks, and shallow talks.  We watched TV, walked the dogs, and hung out. 

But slowly, ever so slowly, his interest in school and his interest in his future waned.  And with it went any sort of effort. 

Sure, some of this – much of this – could be written off to typical teenage behavior.  Who cares about education?  Who cares about the future?  But for this foster guy, his future began looking very bleak.  With no education, no car, no skills, no income, and no family to fall back on, what will he do?  When he ages out of the system, he’s handed a check for a few thousand dollars and given a pat on the back for good luck.  Gone is his social worker.  Gone is his foster home.  Gone is his health insurance.  What will he do?

We’ve presented this very real possibility to him.  And while he found it “depressing” and “upsetting,” he’s done absolutely nothing to change his circumstances.  And his circumstances are easily changed.  He has a supportive teacher, two people who believe in him and are willing to work with him if he’ll just show up.  But he doesn’t.  Not because he doesn’t care.  It’s just that his goals – college, a career, a family of his own – seem so far away.  They seem like so much work.  Too much work.   So instead, he wants to be saved.

Now we’ve come to a fork in our blog-road.  The road on the left leads to a lively and philosophical discussion of the many, many change strategies we could employ (or have employed) to help get our foster guy back into gear, all of which have been mulled over ad nauseum with social workers, educators, family, and friends.  The road on the right lets us moan, groan, and express our dissatisfaction, our grrrr-attitude, with this situation.  We’re hangin’ a rizzle.

So here’s the thing:  we are frustrated.  No.  We are beyond frustrated.

It’s not the time and effort and worry we’ve put into this situation, into this foster guy, that frustrates us.  It’s this foster guy’s assets – his intelligence, his warmth, his perseverance – and the potential waste of his assets that drives us crazy.  And there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, we can do about it.  Because at the end of the day, our foster guy’s goals – college, a career, a family of his own – are of his own making.  At the end of the day, our foster guy has to save himself.

Wait.  Hold up.  Was that a bell?  Let’s try it again and see:

At the end of the day, our foster guy has to save himself.

Why yes, that sentence did ring a bell.  Kind of a loud one. 

Grrrrr…

Okay, fine.  We would LOVE it if someone could save us, too.  In fact, we have a “Save the Girls” wishlist, if anyone’s interested.  Here’s a sampling:

• New car to replace the one that got totaled this week in an accident that was not our fault but eliminated completely the use of one of our vehicles;
• Personal trainer(s) who will whip us into shape at little or no cost (or effort) on our part;
• A mansion with acres of land to hold our rescued dogs, cats, and donkeys;
• An unlimited supply of gluten-free pizza (yes, this seems to contradict our second point above, but it’s a wishlist, so suck it!);
• Career success on par with the likes of – well, any working writer;
• The number of a vet who will prescribe tranquilizers for our German shepherd who has a heart condition but needs to be knocked out in order to travel anywhere in the car;
• The ability to teleport (or, if scientifically impossible, fly like Peter Pan);
• And Tom Hanks’ home phone number.  (For no other reason than we think he’d be cool to hang out with.  If his number is unavailable, we’d settle for the home numbers of Hillary Clinton, Meryl Streep, Woody Allen, or His Holiness The Dalai Lama.)

As we think about our foster guy – as we think about the fact that for him, his goals seem so far away and seem like so much work after all the work he’s done that he’d just like to stop working for once and be saved – we have to admit that perhaps our frustrations with him are also our frustrations with ourselves. 

Because sometimes our ambitions, our plans, our goals – a career, a family of our own – also seem very far away.  And sometimes they seem like so much work after we’ve worked so hard already. 

Wouldn’t it be nice if someone could just come along and save us? 

If that could happen, if someone could come along and magically move our goals so that they are much closer, if someone could magically take away all the hard work so that there was no effort required to reach our goals, would they be worth it in the end?  Would they mean as much? 

But it doesn’t really matter because no one can save us.  Because at the end of the day, our goals are of our own making.  And we have to save ourselves. 

Not unlike our foster guy.

 

 

Grrrrr-attitude

 

Camille lights up a room.  At 16 years old, that’s a pretty big deal.  Her bright brown eyes and enormous smile and infectious laugh have an impact.  Camille has manners.  She’s well-spoken (and obviously well-read).  She has a firm handshake.  She looks you in the eye during a conversation.  She’s stylish and confident and funny and fun.

In a nutshell, Camille’s parents did an awesome job.

Except Camille doesn’t have any parents.  Unless you count the 26 foster homes she’s lived in since the age of two.  Camille would love a permanent home, a forever family, a place to unpack her suitcases and boxes for the last time.  She remains optimistic and eager to find someone who will commit to her for life.  And during this time of year in particular, she hopes for some kind of magical outcome to this part of her story, a Part One conclusion to the book of her life that ends with a family to call her own.

We were at a small holiday gathering thrown by a foster advocacy group this week and got to hang out with Camille.  After a few speeches and some holiday songs, Santa arrived to hand out Secret Santa gifts to the foster kids in attendance. 

The package handed to Camille by Party Santa was beautifully wrapped in silver and gold paper with a gorgeous red bow on top.  Someone had clearly taken some serious time with the presentation of her gift, and it had an impact.  Camille’s eyes lit up as she proudly carried her gift back to her seat.  A quick glance around the room, and we spotted the gift-giver, a lovely woman in her 60s with kind eyes.  She un-obviously watched Camille, whom she’d only met once, as she carefully unwrapped the package and peered inside the box. 

The expression on Camille’s face said it all – this was not the gift she expected, nor was it a gift she wanted.  She lifted a pair of lime green chenille gloves from the box and made a face, while across the room the lovely gift-giver with kind eyes looked away, embarrassed. 

Instead of expressing her gratitude, Camille was expressing grrrrr-attitude!  And just like that, a wave of holiday weirdness engulfed our good time.

Honestly, it was a terrible series of moments.  Camille made clear her disappointment via snarky glove remarks to a friend as the lovely gift-giver with the kind eyes got busy wiping crumbs into her napkin.  It seemed that Camille was unaware of the spirit, the intention, the love behind this gift from a stranger.  She wasn’t thinking of the time that the lovely gift-giver with the kind eyes might have taken in considering what Camille might like or need; she wasn’t thinking about the fact that someone had gone to a store – or maybe several stores – with her in mind trying to find just the right present; she wasn’t thinking of the excitement on the other end of the gift, that feeling one gets as they watch someone else open a present that’s been carefully chosen and wrapped – that feeling one gets when they think they’ve given a wonderful gift.

Party Santa continued to hand out presents while we struggled with our knowledge of what had just happened between two people who were both completely unaware of our awareness. 

We became overwhelmed with questions and thoughts and questionable thoughts, like:

• How can Camille act like this when she knows the person who gave her the gift is in the room?
• Should we say something? 
• Why did the gift-giver with kind eyes choose a risky color like lime green for a teenage girl?
• Do we expect more gratitude from those who are less fortunate than us? 
• Will the hosts of the party ever get around to serving the holiday cake?
• Is it ever okay to behave ungratefully?  And…
• How many calories will we burn if we do lunges all the way to the car?

It must be hard to be grateful when the gift you get is never get the gift you want – a permanent home, a family to call your own, permanency, someone who cares about you enough to make a lifelong commitment. 

What might have gone through Camille’s mind as she took her beautifully wrapped gift back to her seat?  After all, it is that time of year when we’re bombarded with messages of miracles and magic, of believing and wishing.  Maybe Camille hoped for a miracle in the form of a note from a family that wants her, or adoption papers, or a key that unlocks the door to her forever home!  Maybe her adoption social worker magically found a family in Idaho or Nebraska or North Carolina that wants her, that wants to adopt her, and the gift is a plane ticket!  Maybe if she believes hard enough, if her wish is strong enough, the gift is a photo of someone who will take her home, who will be her family forever!  Maybe her new family is in this room right now, watching her open this gift!  Maybe she can rest.  Maybe she can find peace.  And maybe, just maybe, she can stop wishing for the thing that is so basic for most of us that we take it for granted on a daily basis – the genuine love of family and friends and people we can can’t on no matter what.

And then she opens the beautifully wrapped gift.  It’s not a note or adoption papers or a key.  It’s not a plane ticket or a photo.  There is no rest.  There is no peace.  There is no forever home. 

There is only a pair of lime green gloves.  Followed by some serious grrrr-attitude.

This incident with Camille weighed on us.  And it prompted us to take inventory (while doing post-cake deep knee bends near the exit). 

We realized that sometimes we are ungrateful, we have grrrr-attitude.  We miss the spirit behind a gift – which might be an actual present, but it might also be a phone call, an email, leftover food, a gesture on our behalf, or it might be time spent or an opportunity presented or kind words.  It might also be a challenge, an obstacle, a difficult situation, a demand, or just something that pisses us off.  But we have family.  We have friends.  We have loved ones and people we can count on no matter what.  In other words, we have no excuse for grrrr-attitude.

So we’d like to take this opportunity to express our gratitude (in no particular order) – to those who have continued to read our blog, to those who no longer read our blog but pretend to, to those who just delete our blog the minute it’s published, to those that give us their time and their energy and their wisdom, to our families, to the foster care system which has kicked the crap out of us but keeps us coming back for more, to Kidsave, to the foster kids who let us in, to the foster kids who keep us out, to old friends, to new friends, to animal rescuers, to every single social worker we’ve ever met in this process, to foster families, to foster kids we haven’t met and may never meet, to the DMV, to HRC, to our employers (past, present, and future), to our nosy neighbor, to DCFS, to the guy in the red SUV who cut us off, to those who challenge us, to those who support us, to those who make us laugh, and to those who make us cry – thank you all for enriching our lives.  We are grateful.  We are so very grateful.

May your holidays be filled with family, friends, people you can count on no matter what, holiday cake, and lots and lots of gratitude. 

Much love,

Two Girls Unleashed

Solving for X

Please note:  the names and details of foster children, foster parents, and social workers have been changed to protect their privacy.

 

Tom suspected months ago that his foster mom had some serious problems, and it turns out he was right.  The County finally got involved, so while that gets sorted out, we’re going to take a brief break to tell you about Alyssa, another foster child with whom we got to hang out over the weekend.

 

Word problem:

A couple decides to build their family through the foster care system.  They are first matched with two young boys who are two years apart in age.  They later lose the two boys, but receive a third child whose age falls right in the middle of the boys.  If the sum total of the ages of the three foster children equals one half of the age of Alyssa, what are the ages of the three foster children if Alyssa is 18 years of age? 

 

Alyssa’s dad was on drugs.  His increasing volatility and mounting money problems pushed Alyssa to camp out on the couches of various friends in order to be away from home.  Then Dad lost his job, and his behavior devolved into bouts of jagged nerves and screaming tantrums and lengthy unconsciousness.  Alyssa entered the foster care system at age nine.  She has been in 27 homes since.

 

Two weeks ago, Alyssa’s foster mom tested positive for drugs and suddenly Alyssa faces a change in homes once again.  The decision on the location of Alyssa’s 28^th home happens on Wednesday.  Our mandate:  give Alyssa a break from her world.

 

In the car, Alyssa told us she hadn’t been to school in a few weeks.  To say she’s behind in her work is an understatement.  But no one’s bugging her about it.  No one’s calling home to find out why she’s not attending.  No one’s checking on her progress, or lack thereof, in her schoolwork.  Her social workers are carrying unimaginable caseloads.  And her teachers understand the pressures of her home life far outweigh matters of school.  After all, as Alyssa faces yet another move, how can a teacher ask her to attend regularly let alone learn the inner workings of the American government or memorize the Periodic Table of Elements or solve for X?

 

But the thing is, solving for X is so very important.  Because for Alyssa, X = her future family.  X = her future.   

 

We spent time with Alyssa this weekend.  Hearing her situation, we felt helpless and frustrated and ineffective.  Our plan to visit the local crafts fair seemed ridiculous, our alternative ideas of going to a movie or watching TV seemed acts of denial, our attempts to decide on a place to eat seemed pointless.  And then Alyssa casually shared a detail about school – while confessing the realities of her education situation, she accidentally let slip the fact that she takes Algebra online and has yet to begin her work in the class, which started way back in September.

 

We flipped a U-ie, hit the gas, and drove straight home.

 

That afternoon, we spent a glorious three hours with Alyssa solving for X.  Our talk of variables and exponents and logic gave us a point of focus.  The lines on our college ruled paper provided us with order and organization.  Scoring a solid 90% on not one, but two quizzes instilled in us a sense of accomplishment and the feeling that we’d gained a certain knowledge, a certain order in which to make sense of the world.

For the afternoon, X = the three of us. 

 

Alyssa was exuberant.  “Not to dork out on you, but it feels really good to do homework,” she told us.  “Thank you so much!”  Her gratitude bled into the rest of the afternoon and evening.  While she helped make pesto, she thanked us for pushing her to start her coursework.  While we ate dinner, she reiterated her feelings of accomplishment.  When we dropped her off at the end of the evening, she whispered a final thank you.  Solving for X, she said, was pretty cool.

 

And it was!  For us, too!  Three hours of working at algebraic mysteries, grappling with word problems about grocery purchases and mileage, and finding values with division and multiplication provided us the opportunity to step up and own our own values around building a family.   Having let our certification lapse, we had to ask ourselves – are we ready to step into that world again? 

 

We thought of Tom and his situation.  And we felt humbled by and grateful for Alyssa and her inclination to be vulnerable and her ability to admit she’s behind in school and her willingness to tackle Algebra with us and her perseverance as she faces having her world turned upside down again and again and again.

 

Sitting side-by-side with this smart and capable and persevering and sweet and struggling 18 year old girl desperate for a family to call her own raises a simple word problem having to do with building a family and Tom and the Commutative Property of Algebra:

 

If X = Tom’s future, are we X?

If so, who will be X for Alyssa?

 

 

The Good, the Bad, and the Oh-So Ugly

Please note:  details about foster kids, foster parents, and social workers have been changed to protect their privacy.

THE GOOD

County Social Worker Lyla is a rock star.  A rock STAR!  Not only did she approve us as an acceptable household to mentor a foster child, but she put a rush on the entire approval process so that we would be able to take Tom to the Models of Pride event he so richly deserved to attend. 

 

THE BAD

We got word from Kidsave Friday morning that despite Tom’s best efforts, he was unsuccessful in securing a ride to the event and because we’re not formally matched with Tom, Kidsave cannot approve us to drive him. 

 

THE OH-SO UGLY

When Sybil called the County to get permission for us to drive Tom to the event, she was told that they couldn’t grant that kind of permission.  So wait – Tom wants to go to an event to better himself, to learn about careers and college, to make connections with other LGBTQ youth, and to begin building a community for himself outside of the foster care system and we, an approved family, cannot be granted permission to drive him?

 

THE LOOPHOLE

A little thing called the Prudent Parent Law that allows foster kids to participate in age-appropriate, enriching extracurricular activities with approval from their foster parent.  We grabbed that law by the you-know-whats and called up foster mom.  She was frustrated by the call, however, because “Tom’s 18.  He can do whatever he wants.”  Okey-dokey.

 

THE GOOD

We showed up to the address Tom gave Sybil bright and early Saturday morning.

 

THE BAD

The address was a vacant lot near a set of train tracks skimming alongside a lovely range of hills.

 

THE UGLY

There was nothing in the area even remotely resembling a residence. 

 

THE GOOD

After many phone calls (most to houseguest Joanne who ran around our house finding slips of paper with scribbled addresses and phone numbers), a bunch of navigational hoo haw, and a quick bathroom stop, we finally found Tom.  Thank you, Joanne!

 

THE BAD

Tom had overslept.  He was nowhere near ready to go.

 

THE UGLY

It was now 8:53am, impossible for us to make it to the Models of Pride event by the 9am registration deadline given we were a good hour and a half away.

 

THE GOOD

We went to the farmer’s market.  Tom had never been to a farmer’s market before.  Didn’t know what one was.  We sampled fruits he didn’t know existed.  We marveled at the displays.  We noticed interesting people. 

Next:  brunch.  Then, a Halloween store.  A stop for coffee.  And finally, we shopped for movie magazines. 

 

THE GOOD (AGAIN)

Tom had questions.  Many questions.  Periodically during our walk around town, he’d stop.  How will he know when to trust someone?  We sat down on a bench and talked about it.  What is love like?  Next bench, we took a seat.  How can he learn to get over his insecurities?  Will he amount to anything?  What should he do about college, about finding a place to live, about a career?  We took at table at Starbucks. 

 

THE BAD

He’s supposed to take the SATs in two weeks and he’s not ready. 

 

THE OH-SO UGLY

He needs to get a job, but he doesn’t have a car and foster mom has grown tired of driving him, so he needs to buy a car, but in order to buy a car, he needs a job to pay for the car, and he can’t get a job because he doesn’t have a way to get to the job because he doesn’t have a car and foster mom is tired of driving him. 

 

THE GOOD

It was a day well-spent.  Perhaps we weren’t meant to go to Models of Pride.  Perhaps it was more fruitful to spend one-on-one time with a wonderful guy trying to make his way – or at least trying to try to make his way. 

And perhaps missing the event gave us opportunities, as well.  An opportunity for humility.  An opportunity to learn – to learn from this wonderful guy how to ask questions when we don’t understand, how to be vulnerable rather than defensive, how to request help when we need it, and how to keep trying for a better life. 

 

THE BAD

The day eventually ended and questions lingered.  Will we be matched with Tom?  Will we have an opportunity to spend such meaningful time with him again? 

 

THE OH-SO UGLY

We had to take him home.  We had to deliver him back to his foster mom who’s tired of driving him and who doesn’t care what he does because “Tom’s 18.  He can do whatever he wants.”

 

But in a way she’s right, isn’t she?  In the grander scheme of things, he can do whatever he wants.  Based on our experiences with Tom, at least he’s certainly trying.

 

Scrutiny Revisited: Is Your Pad (Still) Up to Snuff?

Note:  the names, identities, and personal details of the foster children and social workers have been changed to protect their identities

A visit to our home by a social worker requires a certain amount of preparation, and it brings with it a certain amount of swearing stress.  As we mentioned in our previous post Is Your Pad Up to Snuff, there are 76 points of stupidness safety that foster parents must obey.  So when we heard that Kidsave had arranged for a County social worker, Lyla, to visit our abode this past Tuesday to make sure our pad is still up to snuff, we complained loudly rejoiced.

You might recall the visit earlier this year from crazy well-informed agency social worker, Hattie.  During Hattie’s visit, she provided us with numerous migraines opportunities to improve.  We quickly reviewed Hattie’s list in anticipation of Lyla’s visit.

Rule 1:  Toxins, pesticides, paint, bleach, cleanser, nail polish remover, disinfectants, cleaning solutions, and any other items which could pose a danger to children must be locked up. 

We failed this rule when Hattie did our pre-inspection inspection, prompting us to question whether or not keeping our house clean is really that big of a deal.  We wondered:  would Lyla go through every single cabinet and drawer?

Rule 2:  Knives, scissors, and any other sharp objects must be locked up.

This beauty of a rule made dinnertime into cranky-time whenever we had to cut, chop, slice, or dice anything.  We tried to stash one small steak knife and a pair of relatively dull scissors under a bunch of spatulas, but that Hattie – she can smell blades a mile away.  Given that we’re mentoring and not fostering, would we have to go back to cranky-time?

Rule 3:  Frozen foods are properly wrapped, dated, and rotated. 

This part of our inspection culminated in the knowledge that soup does not constitute a snack, even in an emergency.  As such, we got orders from Hattie to purchase crackers.  We’re rules girls, so we did – and we still have those crackers, which we proudly displayed at the front of the cupboard for Lyla’s inspection (and/or consumption).

Rule 4:  All medications (including over the counter meds, prescriptions, inhalers, vitamins) and all alcohol must be under lock and key.

So while we had foster kids in the house, we put our meds under lock and key and our alcohol way up high. Not good enough.  But since we haven’t had kids in the house for some time, our alcohol now lives on the counter and our meds live… on the counter.  We decided we’d offer Lyla a glass of wine and perhaps a vitamin or two in the hopes she wouldn’t notice.

Rule 5:  All medications given to a foster child, whether prescription or over the counter, are logged into the child’s medical record each and every time the medication is given.  Logs will be turned into social workers weekly.

Although this particular rule is not applicable, it does touch on the mountains of paperwork required when dealing with foster kids.  We anticipated more forms and more forms about forms.

———————————

Lyla arrived on Tuesday afternoon at 2pm.  If Sarah Jessica Parker and Julia Louis-Dreyfus had a baby, it’d be Lyla.  This made us feel very tall.  And big-boned.  And very not-funny.

“How about a tour?” Lyla requested.

“THERE’S ALL OUR WINE,” we loudly proclaimed, pointing in the general direction of the kitchen. What were we doing?!  “Actually, that’s not ALL of our wine,” we stupidly continued.  “We have other wine in one of the cabinets.”  Pease, someone, shut us up!   Lyla leaned around the corner and peered at our wine rack.  “Well, that’s handy,” she said.  Handy.  Handy?  We like this girl!  “Would you like some?” we offered.  She shook her head “no.”  Too far.  Okay.  “But the coffee smells good,” she said.  We were brewing coffee.  Suddenly, that seemed weird.  “I love that you have the coffee pot next to the wine rack,” she observed.  “Handy.”  Again with the handy.  Were we awesome or dorks?  We couldn’t tell.  But we knew we were tall.  Very tall. 

Lyla didn’t open a single cabinet.  She didn’t look in the fridge.  She asked if we had a first aid kit.  “We do!  It’s HUGE.  Not because we need it.  Just because it has stuff for our dogs,” we rambled.  “Like almost more for the dogs than for us,” we joked.  Shut up!  “No…  We were kidding.  It has mostly stuff for us and a few things for the dogs.  Do you want to see it?”  She didn’t need to see it.  “We also have a 3-story safety ladder,” we zealously informed her.  She looked confused.  “But this house is one story.”  It’s like we had verbal diarrhea.  “Do you have any guns in the house?”  We laughed.  Hard.  She waited.  Oh, she’s serious.  “No,” we said, very seriously.  She nodded.  “Okay.  How about we sit down and talk?”  Talk? 

We ventured back to the living room and sat down.  “That’s a big TV,” she said.  We do have a big TV.  “Do you watch a lot of TV?”  “No.”  We looked at each other.  “Yes, we do.  We watch a lot of TV.”  She smiled.  “Me, too.”  Whew!

We spent the next hour giving Lyla a sense of who we are and what we like to do.  She wanted to know our plans for mentoring our Kidsave kid.  She asked about our family, our friends, our community of people who might be a good influence, who might have a positive impact, who might make a difference in the life of our Kidsave kid.  She met our dogs.  She had a cup of coffee.  She told us that on weekends when the child is around, we’d need to put away the alcohol and lock up the meds and make sure our place was safe for him – physically and emotionally.  She marveled at our foster history and empathized with our still-present grief. 

In a nutshell, Lyla treated us like two adults.  She treated us like two adults who have enough practical knowledge to mentor – if not foster – a child.  And she treated us like two adults who want to make a difference in a kid’s life. 

“Are you still open to fostering and adopting?” she asked.  “Yes!” we said.  “We are.  We absolutely are.  Whether it’s a Kidsave kid or not.”  She nodded.  “Good,” she said.  “I’m glad to hear it.”

As she shook our hands goodbye, she smiled.  “Whomever you get matched with – they’re lucky,” she said.  “I’d want to be mentored by you.”  And then she was gone.

We looked at each other.  “Our pad is totally up to snuff,” we decided.  And then we celebrated with a glass of wine.  And a coffee chaser.

When Even the Best-Laid Plans Go To H-E-Double-Toothpick

Note:  the names, identities, and personal details of the foster children and social workers have been changed to protect their identities

We’re planners.  That’s how we roll.  Conversations in our house frequently begin with:  What’s our plan for the day?  Or, what’s our plan for next week?  Or, what the crap are we doing with our lives?  Or, who’s Darion and why does he keep calling?

Some examples of plans we’ve hatched:

-       Foster a child (or children) through the Los Angeles foster care system (Status:  success – fostered 1 sibling set and 1 other child)

-       Prevent ourselves from getting too attached to previously mentioned foster child (or children) so that if the child (or children) should become reunified with biological parents, it won’t be painful (Status:  failure – became ridiculously attached to all and devastated when they were yanked from our loving arms)

-       Make millions of dollars in order to acquire a house with a swimming pool, tennis courts, walk-in closets with rotating wardrobes, and a library with a secret door that opens into a passageway to the kitchen (Status:  in process)

So you can imagine, when we met Tom and Donovan at Kidsave, we immediately went to work on a plan for how to mentor both.  And when Kidsave very sweetly discouraged us (as first-time mentors) from biting off more than we can chew (because these guys are teenagers with complicated issues and a ticking clock for aging out of the system), we then made a plan to figure out how to make the unbearably difficult choice as to which boy we should mentor.   But that plan (which, truth be told, included a complicated algorithm, some string, and wine – lots of wine) was no longer necessary when we learned that Donovan (reminder:  Donovan is the 15 year old) was going to be matched with another host/mentor who we’d met at Kidsave and who was already doing an amazing job of advocating for him in every possible way. 

Suddenly our unbearably difficult choice was no longer unbearably difficult.  Bye-bye plan.  Hello, Tom (reminder:  Tom is turning 18 in late September, faces aging out of the system, and is extremely worried about having no place to go). 

And so we set about making a plan for all of the ways we could help Tom.  We learned that Tom is aching to go to college, and with no one to help him prepare for that, he obtained an old copy of a very complicated Princeton SAT study guide and is trying all by himself to figure out what he needs to know in order to pass the test.  Plan one – help Tom with SAT prep.  We went to the next Kidsave event and spent time with Tom, culminating in an earth-moving, heart-splintering conversation in which he bore his soul.  Plan two – develop community building and confidence strengthening activities.  And we (not-so-patiently) waited for a call from the social worker who would visit our house and make sure we don’t have hatchets hanging from the ceiling that might fall or trap doors in the floor that might drop into a dark basement or alcohol just sitting on the kitchen counter.  Plan 3 – put away alcohol on the kitchen counter.

So imagine our surprise and anxiety and heartbreak and excitement when we got an email from Kidsave on Friday informing us that Donovan (the 15 year old who has been matched with a fabulous mentor) has opted out of his match with his fabulous mentor, and has requested to spend more time with us.  Surprise because it really seemed like he was matched perfectly.  Anxious because we’re now faced again with an unbearably difficult choice.  Heartbroken because how do we choose between two deserving boys?  And excited at the prospect of having either Tom or Donovan in our lives.

As we sat their Friday night, mulling over our predicament while trying to finish off all the wine on the counter for lack of a place to put it, we tried to choose.  Tom.  Or Donovan.  Tom.  Donovan.  Tom…  Donovan…  Tom-Donovan-Tom-Donovan-Tomovan-Domotan. 

Unable to clearly enunciate either name without blending them, we put the wine down.

And we wondered:  could we mentor both? 

Taking on both boys would entail a tremendous amount of work, sure.  It would mean committing many Saturdays to plowing through homework, researching college entrance requirements, and dealing with the emotional issues that seem inherent in foster kids such as abuse, neglect, and multiple placements (both boys have had over 20 homes each).  It would mean letting go of some of the plans we’ve made for ourselves (like a Vespa tour of Route 66, getting a donkey or a goat – if we can manage to choose, etc.).  But hopefully it would also mean changing the lives of not one, but two teenage boys who have no idea how to plan for the future.

Kidsave has been sweetly discouraging of the notion of us mentoring both boys, but if we really pushed and they said yes, could we do it?  Could we serve them both?  It would mean giving up foster-adopting for awhile.  The County doesn’t let you foster more than one child or sibling set unless there’s a special license in place.  And we would never choose one boy over the other as both have been passed over for adoption before.  But if we set aside our plan to build a family of legal standing, could we mentor both?  Could we create a different kind of family?

Yes.  Yes, we can.

The email from Kidsave came on Friday.  Our responding email posed the question of mentoring both.  We’re hoping to hear from them today (Monday).  In the meantime, our plans are on hold.

Foster (The F Word)

Note: the names/identities/details of the foster children, foster parents and social workers have been changed to protect their identities

According to the dictionary, the word foster means “to promote the growth or development or well-being of; to further; to encourage; to bring up, raise, or rear; to care for or cherish.”

Isn’t it interesting, then, to think about our foster care system in those terms?  If we play a little game of substitution, the term “foster care system” should be interchangeable with any of the following:

            The Well-Being System

            The Encouragement System

            The Care System

            The Cherish System

None of those seem right somehow. 

The antonym of the word foster, shouts the dictionary, is “to discourage.”

            The Discouragement System

Bingo!  We’re willing to bet that most foster children and most of their biological parents and most licensed foster parents and most hopeful adoptive parents and even most social workers would probably agree.  The Discouragement System is more apropos. 

A case in point – our boy, Tom.  In our last post, we told you about our most recent encounter with Tom, a fun-filled cooking event with Kidsave where Tom let down his guard and fessed up to his fears and told us of his transgressions and where we let go of our this-is-only-the-second-time-we’ve-seen-you-so-we’re-still-gonna-seem-super-nice-and-super-cool-to-hang-out-with façade and held him accountable.  As we reported, it went splendidly.  So much so that Tom’s called Kidsave to find out how we feel about him.   

The other day, Kidsave social worker extraordinaire, Sybil, emailed us a flyer for an event she thought might interest us – a workshop called Models of Pride…

 

…which is a free 1-day workshop for LGBTQ teens and parents that draws hundreds of kids from around Southern California.  Kids have the opportunity to attend workshops where they discuss college planning and education, health and safety, bullying, career opportunities, legal rights, political activism, media coverage of issues, etc. while forging connections with their peers.  The event is held at USC and last year included the cast of Glee and one of the best gay advocates ever, Kathy Griffin.

It’s an absolutely amazing chance for Tom to see what’s possible!

But!  In order to take Tom to this event, we have to be formally matched as his mentors.  And (heavy sigh) there is a pretty strong possibility that we will not yet be formally matched by the time the event rolls around – which is October 15^th.  October 15^th!!!  A month and a half away!  Why?  Why-why-why-why-whyyyy!!!???

Because.  To be a mentor, we have to have gone through a series of steps (yep, more steps), such as filling out an application (done!), getting certified in CPR and water safety (done and done!), getting a TB test (done!), attending a Kidsave orientation (done!), providing copies of our car registration and insurance (done!), and getting fingerprinted through the County for a background check (done!). 

Also, we have to have a visit by a County social worker who must approve our home as safe for Tom (despite the fact that we are not fostering him, we’re just mentoring him) and to talk to us about what it means to mentor to a foster child (despite the fact that we’ve already been foster parents).  And the social worker who does our home visit has, like, ten million other things to do before she visits us - important things like approving actual foster homes, visiting foster kids who are in placement, managing her ridiculously huge case load, handling crises, etc.  All things which land higher on the priority list than visiting a couple of chicks who are hankerin’ to change one boy’s life.

This delay – it calls to mind another F word.  Okay, fine, two F words.  The one we can mention here is:  FRUSTRATING!

Because this one boy – he deserves to have his life changed, right?  He deserves to see what’s possible.  He deserves to meet hundreds of his peers and make friends and hang out on a college campus and learn about careers and his rights and his safety and his options. 

 

He deserves to be fostered, encouraged, cared for, and cherished.  He deserves to be surrounded and supported by The Well-Being System.

The question is, will The Discouragement System do our home visit in time for this one boy to go to this one event?  We’ll keep you posted!

He Will Choose

Tom’s eyes lit up when we saw him.  He made his way toward us as a Kidsave volunteer thrust a chef’s hat and apron into his arms.  His mouth quivered, his nerves having one final say before quieting.  We hugged him.  “You’re here,” he said.  “Of course we are,” we replied.  “We wouldn’t miss this for the world!”  Tom’s body, his shoulders and jaw and knees and fingers, relaxed. 

He didn’t know we’d be there at the event.  Kidsave, in an effort to protect the kids in their program from yet another disappointment, doesn’t tell them which adults are attending a given event.  So they didn’t tell Tom we’d be there.  They didn’t tell Tom we’d be there for him.  But when he saw us, he knew.  We were there for him.    

The kitchen was crowded.  The head chef and his assistants did their best to include everyone.  But it was crowded.  And hot.  And Tom had things on his mind.  Things to tell us.  Things to ask. 

We stepped away from the hot ovens, the burners, the clatter and din of Kidsave kids and Kidsave mentors putting together a meal.  Someone took our picture while Tom searched for words to tell us what was on his mind.  “I’m glad you’re here,” he stammered. 

Ruby, another Kidsave kid, threw herself into Tom’s arms.  “Tommy!!!” she squealed.  They quickly caught up in the way that two friends do – sharing bits about themselves and bits of gossip about others.  But the bits about themselves included strategies to avoid aging out of the system, to avoid getting kicked out of their foster homes for being “too old.”  And the bits of gossip about others included the list of the kids who did age out and have gone missing – a fate both Tom and Ruby seemed frantic to avoid.

Tom’s former mentor, Horatio, arrived.  He came to see Tom.  And he came to see us.  He wanted us to know how incredible Tom is.  And how fragile.  “He needs structure.  He wants rules.  He craves someone to hold him accountable.  And while he seems like he’s a pretty together 17 year old, he’s really a little kid looking for a home,” Horatio told us.

After lunch, we saw the little kid in Tom.  At 17, he’s facing a bleak reality.  He quietly cried as he confessed to us that he doesn’t know what his options are.  He told us that he’s scared.  He has no safety net.  He doesn’t want to end up homeless and alone.  He wants someone on his side.

His self-assessment, his knowledge about his situation and this thoughts and feelings about it, struck in us, ignited in us the drive to reach out, to encourage, to reveal to him a different world waiting for him.  We wanted him to know that we’re on his side.

“You’re so smart,” we said.  Tears streamed down his face.  “So, so smart.  And your sense of self, Tom, it’s more present in you than in many adults twice your age.  Some people go their whole lives without knowing about themselves what you already know of yourself.  If you keep your head in the game, if you go to school and get good grades, if you can see the big picture rather than the horrific details, there is a world out there that is yours.  There is a community of people who will welcome you, embrace you, who will take you by the hand and show you what’s possible, who will teach you and empower you to choose.  YOU will choose, finally.  YOU will choose who you want to be, what you want to do, where you want to live.”

He wanted to believe us.  But why should he?  He’s been let down so many times before.

Later, when it was time to go, we fought the urge to tell Tom we want to mentor him – that we went to class and drove across the valley to get fingerprinted and dug through files and folders to find our TB tests and tracked down our First Aid certifications so that we could spend time helping him figure this all out.  We aren’t allowed to tell him because Kidsave makes every effort to protect the kids in their program from the disappointment of adult failures. 

We have a choice to make – Tom or Donovan.  Right now, given that Donovan already has someone interested in mentoring him, our choice seems clear.

We hope that when the time comes and we are approved, Tom will know he has two people on his side.  Two people with a large community of family and friends who will help him see what’s possible.  And we hope that together, we will be able to help him build a life for himself where HE gets to choose – who he wants to be, what he wants to do, where he wants to live.

He will choose.

Sophie’s Choice

Note:  the names/identities of the foster children and social workers have been changed to protect their identities

It was Tuesday – a full day and a half since our adventure at the Kidsave event where we met a couple of delightful teenage boys.  The first we’ll call Tom and the second, Donovan.

We’d indicated on our follow-up form that we enjoyed both boys and were interested in further contact with each of them.  We were waiting on pins and needles to see if either of them had felt the same.  Our ridiculously grandiose vision:  the four of us at Thanksgiving.  And Christmas.  Their birthdays.  Our birthdays.  Okay, fine, and holidays, road trips, Disneyland – the list goes on and on.

And on…

Our phone rang.  We didn’t recognize the number, but we answered in case it was Natalie from Kidsave.  And it was.

Natalie:  So what did you think of the event?

Us:  So much fun!

NOTE:  We were worried that the Kidsave event would be like the Omar situation where potential parents inappropriately competed for the cutest children in attendance.  And it wasn’t.  It totally wasn’t.

Natalie:  You indicated an interest in both Tom and Donovan.

Us:  Right.

Natalie:  In thinking about both boys, did you feel a connection with one over the other?

Us:  No.

Natalie:  Well, that’s fantastic.  But…

NOTE:  The following is to be read with a Polish accent.  Or German.  Oh, and Natalie sounds like an evil Nazi soldier.  And we sound like Meryl Streep.  And we look like her.  Wait – we look like her then, when she did Sophie’s Choice.  Don’t get us wrong, she’s still rockin’ it!  But she’s way older than we are…  And this is Hollywood, so…  Anyway – evil Nazi, accents, Streep – read on!

Natalie:  You must choose one of the children.

Us:  But we cannot choose!  We cannot choose!

Natalie:  You have to choose.

Us:  We cannot choose!  We cannot choose just one!

Natalie:  Then you lose them both.  I will send them over there!  Guard!

Okay, fine, it didn’t go that way.  Natalie (who looks like Natalie Portman, not an evil Nazi soldier) very sweetly (and patiently) explained to us that it is not at all possible to mentor both boys.  The county will not allow it.  We must, in fact, choose.

Egad!

We are set to begin Kidsave training at the end of this month.  We will attend the August Kidsave event where we will have an opportunity to focus on Tom.  Natalie promised to help us traverse this path slowly so that we could get to know both boys and find the right fit for us (and more importantly, for them).

NOTE:  To be continued…

We Got You

 

Dear blog subscribers,

For privacy purposes, the blog entitled “We Got You” is going out as a private email. You’ve been temporarily added to the distribution list for this entry only.  We will continue with our regular blog on the next posting.

Best,

Nancy & Heather