KEEPS YOU ON YOUR TOES

 Every day is a new day in fostering.

Everyone in fostering knows this.

It's not the big things, which can come along like unexpected hurricanes.

It's the little things, behind which sometimes lurk big things.

Take middle child, and yesterday.

Child had endured the school Nativity Play. 

Child didn't have a part, but as the parent one shows up out of willing.

I've attended roughly every Nativity Play for every child in my care, starting as natural parent through to this year.

Jeez, I must be up there with the Guiness Book Of Records greatest number of school Nativity Plays ever seen by one parent.

I was even (strangely) cast as Simon Peter in a Nativity Play at my school, when I was age 9, making me the Gary Lineker of Nativities.

So. Driving home middle child says;

"You know that hymn?"

Me: 'Which one?"

The one that goes "And man will live for evermore because of Christmas Day?"

Me: (Singing) "Hark now hear the angels sing?"

Child; "Christ was born today"

Us together: "And man will live for evermore...because of Christmas Day."

Me: "Yes, most people remember that one."

Child: "Its rubbish isn't it? People don't live for ever. The lady next door didn't. And if she had of done it would have been because the doctors could make her better. And not because it's Christmas."

Oh Lordy…they say; "Out of the mouths of babes…"

So I figured that next door neighbour Ann's passing had had an effect on the children, made them thoughful.

This one wasn't going to be brushed aside with my trademark distraction "What flavour ice cream do you want after tea?"

But how does a humble foster mum answer questions that have confounded scientists and theologians for thousands of years? 

So I explained, as best I could that Christians, along with people who follow many other religions, believe that when people die, if they've been good people, their souls go to some kind of Heaven forever. And maybe get reunited with loved ones. Pets even, maybe.

The mood lightened a bit. The idea of dogs running around with a pair of angel wings is funny. Isn't it?

And would a pet budgie need a set of angel wings to go with the wings it's already got?

Then we talked about life in Heaven, both of us probably knowing that if it exists in any way it's probably nothing like we could ever imagine.

But we agreed there'd be ice cream.

Child opted for chocolate ice cream to follow spag boll.

Panic over. We arrived home and the TV went on with something on Netflix.

Keeps you on your toes does fostering.

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THE CONVERSATIONS YOU HAVE

 Our next door neighbour has passed away.

Ann was late eighties, and had been unwell for some time. Her passing was peaceful, her family at her bedside.

I popped round next day and offered our condolences, which was much appreciated. Her husband was weepy, but said how much he loved her. Then he said this;

"I'm ninety and I've got this far without ever seeing anyone die, and now I have, and it would have to be her wouldn't it?"

On returning I mentioned what he'd said and the children's ears pricked up.

Naturally they wanted all the details. I had precious little extra information, but was suddenly cowed by a burdening sense of responsibility.

In fostering one ends up doing and saying all sorts of unexpected things, all in the name of helping other people's children make their way in life.

It had never ocurred to me I'd one day be explaining one of life's greatest mysteries to other people's children.

Death.

So hard. The questions they asked;

"Why do people die?"

"What's it like when someone dies?"

"We don't really go to Heaven do we? But is death the end?

In answering suchlike questions I found myself trying to imagine what each child had already heard about death, and accentuate the positive aspects of how it could work for them.

As the conversation went along I began to get a bead on why death interested them so much; for children in care it all had to do with their separation from their real families.

I've often noticed that foster children care far more about their real mum and dad and brothers and sisters than one would imagine. 

You tend to assume that having been removed from people who either neglected them or treated them with actual cruelty, they'd be relieved to be in a better environment. 

It simply isn't so.

The children have bonded with their abusers, and they not only worry about them, but long to be returned to them.

And, as the chatter about death and angels and ghosts and cemetries expanded, it began to dawn on me that they were worried that their 'significant others' might die before they went back to them.

A big worry alright.

So I re-worked the conversation into a re-assurance; 

a) that their mums and dads and their whole family was well, and young, and

 b) if they became ill the Health Service would treat them and their social workers would ensure that everyone was informed and stayed in touch.

All that sort of stuff.

Some positives came out. In fostering you simply cannot have too much information.

Middle child said that it was thought that his granny hadn't long left, and that he was fond of her; she baked drop scones and was partial to giving him a pound for no reason.

Nobody had any idea about the child's grandmother, so I made a note to bring it up next time we get a visit from our Blue Sky social worker.

Youngest observed that his family had put down their elderly dog, but hadn't told him until the came home from school, and it made him sad that he hadn't said goodbye. This child was definitely scarred by the experience, and I pictured the child imagining every time they came home from school hearing that someone even more important than the dog was no more.  I promised that would never happen in our home and that everyone would be kept informed about everything, there'd be no more sad surprises.

Of course, the entire conversation was made all the trickier by one simple stark fact. A fact so humungous that I don't know how I got through a challenging bit of fostering mostly intact.

Namely my own beliefs which are;

No-one really knows what death is like or what happens when you die.

But as a foster parent with responsibility to ease the weight on a displaced child's life I took to telling some gentle half-truths, such as saying that there might be life after death and if there is we might get to be with all our friends and family for ever.

I seem to remember finishing by saying it's up to each of us to work out what we believe and live our lives according to the morals we believe in.

And if that's God at work, He is real and alive, at least in our heads.

Pretty profound for a mere foster mum.

Yay! Me for Pope!

Ann's funeral is Friday.

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MOVIES THAT FOSTER CHILDREN ENJOY

Fostering brings all sorts of things into one's life. I sometimes wonder what people who don't foster actually do with themselves.

It's not only the little jobs that multiply, it's the brain-work of trying to understand the significance of the little things in the life of your foster child.

The child I'm thinking about this time is our youngest placement, who has a thing about "Frozen".

Why would a child from a down-and-out mundane chaotic family be entranced - captivated in fact - by a tale about royalty and magic?

So; "Frozen" is a Disney cartoon film. A fairy story about two sister princesses with magic powers. Their parents die at sea. The eldest sister is crowned Queen. At the coronation the younger sister falls in love with a guest, a Prince. The older sister is jealous and retreats to a castle in the icy waste, but casts an accidental spell on her realm, plunging the whole nation into an eternal Winter of snow and ice. The younger sister, aided by her Prince, is tasked with finding the older sister and undoing the spell.

Right? Wanna get your head round why our foster child watches this every afternoon after school? And all weekend. "Frozen" is on our backroom telly almost every day, almost all the time. 

Why?

It's a good movie; the animation and the voice performers are top drawer. Successful? It's up there with the highest grossing movies of all time. 

But the question stays the same. Why does a damaged child from an emotionally impoverished  and dispersed family, who is in my care, watch "Frozen" at every available moment?

The child will plomp on the sofa, our dog will join. Child will snag a biscuit and a box of juice, find the remote wherever it's hiding, and get "Frozen" up on screen. Child doesn't even need to reel it back to the beginning, just presses 'Play" and watches wherever it kicks in.

I talked about the "Frozen" infatuation with our Blue Sky social worker.

In fostering, if you have the stamina, every little titbit helps with your picture of the child, and what to do to help them.

"Frozen" is about a chaotic family that breaks into bits. One of the kids tries to fix things.

Life is bleak and the fixer is trying to bring sunshine.

We think that fractured families are a modern day thing. But 'Frozen' touches a nerve all over the world.

The story of "Frozen", all about a damaged family, but tarted up as about royalty and magic, was written two hundred years ago. Hans Christian Anderson.

Befgore there was organised fostering.

Makes you think

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COPING

A reader who signs as "L" writes;

"Hi SFC, I hope you're doing ok. We're struggling a bit with the transition to having a new member of the family - who is a delight. I won't go into detail so I can respect privacy, but I'd love to hear your words of wisdom about whether you've ever "bitten off more than you can chew". The child is wonderfully behaved at home but often sent home from childcare, and has a diagnosis list a mile long that I'm sure we can support with - just worried about the balancing act with the otherkids (and sleep!).

signed L"

Hello L. 

Thanks for getting in touch. The path through fostering is lined with rewards, but for sure their are cracked slabs along the way. 

I guess your question boils down to two asks; "Have I had to cope with the near-uncopable, and have I ever worried that in coping with the near-uncopable I'm not giving enough to the rest of the family."

Yes to both. 

Surely anyone who's fostered for any length of time replies "Yes to both".

THE UNCOPABLES

My first placement on returning to fostering (after a break to concentrate on my own two young children) was uphill all the way. It was a respite job. His regular foster parents needed a break, and I soon found out why. He was ultra-hyper - I don't think that's a bona fide diagnosis, but I'm sure people know what I mean. He wasn't on any medication, or counselling.  I suspect that if he'd been a full-time placement with me I might have buckled, and if that outcome is threatened it's the duty of the foster parent to protect themselves, and get help from Social Services and social workers. 

Six months later I was asked to look after the same child again for another respite break, and I'll never forget the smile on his face when he came through the door. He realised that I must like him enough to try to cope with his swings. He was better the second time. I met him in town years later, holding down a building job and pushing his toddler in a pushchair alongside his partner. 

My other uncopable was with me for 5 years. Up all night, anxiety attacks, despair, anger, you name it. But the child persevered with their own repair programme (just like the first uncopable did). It was slow going, but worth it. He outgrew his own nightmares.

Hard for me to compare my experiences with your current child as you've thoughtfully kept details private. All I can say is that I feel good for hanging in there and for the children who progressed.

FINDING TIME FOR THE REST OF THE FAMILY

I'd talk to them whenever I could. Level with them. Apologise, even. 

Turned out they were more concerned for me (getting into a frazzle) than having their own needs cherished as before.

My partner was a rock; pleased to see me doing what I can and see me getting pleasure from doing the right thing.

Our social workers were a big help. The child performed spotlessly when they were visiting, but social workers know which way is up, they knew the child wanted to stay with me so wouldn't risk a meltdown in their presence.

The child is now lined up to go to Cambridge, so something clicked somewhere along the line.

SLEEP

Ah, I remember sleep…

In fostering it's often more a case of; "napping' or 'dozing' or 'forty winks', or my favourite which is; 'sorry, I nodded off just then, you were saying?'

It's tough, but no worse than the early years of one's own family, so at least one's been there before.

And then, the child gets to their teens and sleeps 'til midday. Only we don't. We still jump up wide awake at 6.00am! Hey ho...

OTHER THOUGHTS

Interesting that your child is wonderful at home, but overwhelmed by diagnosed conditions in childcare. To be blunt it sounds like you're better at coping than the 'professionals", as many like to call themselves. Between you and me and the gatepost, maybe they need to pull their socks up. Sending a difficult child home isn't childcare at its best.

Have they ever asked you how you do what you do, what your strategies are? I bet not.

Shame. I'm 100% sure you're a magnificent foster parent and should be made to feel appreciated and revered even, at every turn.

However my guess is you'll go forward with this placement, the impact you've already had must be profound. That's why the child wants to stay with you. And I have a feeling you're in it to win it.

Yours,

SFC

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IT'S A 24/7 THING

The latest figures about fostering are saddening.

In the last 3 years 3,000 carers have left fostering.

Big business is moving in; residential care homes for older children in care are springing up; one new one every day.

I don't know enough about these homes to deserve to have a view, but the newspapers seem allied together in their take on them; namely that they're not good for the young people, but good for investors.

Then there's been discussion alongside these allegations that some normal family foster homes are no less chaotic than the homes the children have been removed from.

One article I've just finished reading claimed that some local authorities "pay" foster carers £50 a week, which the article asserted, is less than the minimum wage.

All I can say from first hand experience is that Blue Sky give much better financial support than that. Much better.

Fostering is a full time job, but we foster parents aren't "paid". We are given an allowance. It enjoys healthy tax status, ie it's not taxed as a wage partly because the country needs foster parents, and partly because, when you're looking after someone else's child 24/7, you're literally on call 24/7.

24/7 hours times the minimum wage would have our reparation up to £135,000 per year. Per child.

Another article I found quoted that some vulnerable children get placed in special units, others in what were described as exorbitant residencies, mainly because the Local Authority is required by law to find a room for a child they take into care.

At the end of the day, all we can do as foster parents, is carry on parenting.

Nice moment this day before yesterday, I woke up about 1.00am; movement downstairs.

I heard the big dog (we've got 2 at the moment) on the hall floor. Then the kitchen door got shut….gently.

Then I got a whiff of cooking.

Someone…had let the dog out for a wee, was knocking up a midnight feast, and wanted to keep it secret.

Hmmmm.

So: I need to know who's using the cooker. But also need to keep it non-interventionalist (is that a word?)

Plan; I went downstairs in search of a glass of water to wash down paracetamol to beat a headache. 

I went into the kitchen and acted as unbothered as I could.

It was middle foster child!

I said "Don't mind me, I'm wanting a glass of water. Headache."

Child; "Ye, I'm just making a snack."

Child has been getting into cookery, which we encourage enormously. Child is old enough to be trusted with the microwave, and you want them to achieve and feel the beginings of independence. But you stay vigilant. And I've drummed kitchen safety into the young person.

I went back upstairs, and stayed awake until I heard child head up to the bedroom with a plate of something.

I was up first next morning and can tell you the child's cooking is better than the child's clearing and tidying of the kitchen.

Don't care.

Love fostering, so much.

C'mon everybody, let's go!

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WHY IS CONTACT LIKE A TORCH?

 There are things to moan about in fostering but I try not to.

From time to time fostering is taxing, but you knuckle down and sort it.

There's always a Blue Sky social worker behind you.

On the whole fostering is grand.

Probably the one thing in fostering I'd change is "Contact".

I'd make Contact more elexible than the "once a week" dictat that almost always is a bit of a spanner in the works.

Not so much for me, but more importantly, the child. Children in care are, more often than not; mucked up by Contact, especially in the first weeks. Having to be taken to meet up with their 'significant others" is upsetting. By the time we get them back to our home they're edgy at best, often thoroughly mixed up.

"Contact", I looked it up, is enshrined in UK law as a well-meaning clause in the Childrens Act. It's perfectly well intened;d to help maintain a relationship between the child and the parents that we're supposed to be aiming to re-connect.

I can imagine the MPs and civil servants sitting in Committee nodding the idea through because it's seems to make sense. A good idea idea in principle. I'm sure they consulted social workers, maybe even fostering agencies. I'm equally sure they didn't listen to foster carers much, if at all. The Comntact law needs to be made more flexible, to freflect the needs of the individual child and their family.

Going back a few years I was required to take a child to have Contact with a family member who'd abused the child. The adult insisted and the lawyers agreed there was no getting away from it. I had to take the poor kid to sit with the adult for an hour, once every week. Then the Contact stopped. Why? Becaiuse tyhe adult went to prison for what they'd inflicted on the poor kid. The Contact law hads to be followed while the police and Crown Prosecution investagted allegations and set up a trial. It took a whole year.

Imagine any other victim (ok, in the eyes of the law 'alleged' victim) being forced to sit with the alleged perpetrator for an hour once a week? All the while trying to get their life on track? Madness.

I'm adamanent that the first few weeks in fostering are a bit raw for every child and the "significant others".  Contact was devised before mobile phones and Zoom which would do the job just as well and allow discreet supervision no problem.

Mind, I'm the last one to advocate technology because I'm a bit of a dinosaur myself when it comes to gizmos.

Example; I keep an old-fashioned torch (flashlight if you're American) in the drawer next to the bed. Why? In case of a power cut.

I lent the torch to one of our foster children who was going out Trick or Treating and it never came back.

So I bought a new one on Amazon.

I didn't expect what I got.

I got a torch, yes, but one that works like this:

You click the "On" button and it flashes. On/off, on/off…and so on until you click the button a second time. When you click the second time it starts to strobe. Like in an old-fashioned disco. The sort of strobing that has newsreaders warning people vulnerable to fits that "the following report contains flash photography."

Click the button a third time and you get what you want, namely a beam of light.

My kids tell me I don't need a torch as there's one on every mobile phone. But if there was a power cut I'd want to maintain as much battery life in my phone as possible. That's my argument anyway.

Why am I telling you this? And what's it got to do with Contact?

It's this; somewhere in China is a gigantic factory that makes torches. The people at the top sit around making decisions about what facilities their next brand of torch will have.

They probably decide that the harder they try to make the torch have all sorts of features, the more thay can justify pushing the price up.

So the customer has to buy a strobing, flashing torch.

Who ever in the whole wide world needed a torch that strobes?

Nobody.

Nobody ever.

Ever.

But, every torch you can buy will make you click it several times before you get to the only thing you want, which is a beam of light.

The guys who sat around deciding how their next torch should work probsably never needed to use one. Or else they'd know that you never need a torch that strobes.

These strobing torches (by the way, my new bike lights have the same 'feature' - they strobe) are madness.

So, my bedside torch is inconvenient, annoying and arguably dangerous, because I have to fiddle with it to make it work.

And when I get off my bike I have to switch the lights through the complete cycle of options.

Designed by people who have no experience with torch use, and who probably don't ride bikes after dark.

Exactly like how Contact came about...

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BEST THING EVER

Foster parents get asked; 

How do I get into fostering?

What sort of person volunteers?

I can only speak on behalf of me and the many fostering folk I've met in my time.

We meet at training sessions, support meetings, supervision events, coffee mornings, social things, anniversary do's. Christmas dinners.

Sometimes, when chatting you find yourself asking other carers; "What did you do before fostering?"

It's not a question I like to ask or be asked, because there's so much more to people than their jobs.

But it occurs to me that potential carers might find my story helps them pick up the stick and run.

My story is thatb I think I'd always liked young people. After all, I used to be one.

I remember being misunderstood and neglected by so many adults. Teachers, bus conductors, shop assistants… they all seemed think I was just a kid so why bother?

When I was old enough I volunteered at my local youth club to be a helper, and got hooked.

But volunteer youth work doesn't pay the rent. Once married we needed a second income. I landed a job running a desk at an Estate Agents. I used to have to write 'copy' for each new house they put on the market; "A delightful ground floor two bedroom apartment with a modern kitchen/diner". You get the picture.

I got to know the local newspaper sub editor who I sent the 'copy' to.

He ended up asking me for a drink, and we ended up an item.

Then… recession...

Made redundant I did some shelf stacking at Tesco and was about to start a car valetting business when the sub editor of that local paper got in touch. Said he needed someone to write lots of words in return for very little money.

A contact, it's how the world works.

Obs I agreed, so now I'm a 'journalist'. And just about making ends meet.

And partnered to a good guy and happy.

But. There was a bit missing.

I kept stirring my pot about fostering.

So, one afternoon, in between writing up "Faulty Iron Started Blaze" and "Residents Fury about Dog Waste", I Googled "Fostering near me" and Blue Sky came up top of the list.

I phoned. We talked.

And here I am, happy, years on.

The fostering "allowance" - the money one you get for fostering - covers the expense of a child in your home plus a bit more for your time and effort. It's not a life changing payment but it's a big help with family expenses.

But there;s more to fostering than the fortnightly cheque.

Nothing, besides my own family, has made me anywhere near as happy as fostering.

If you're giving it some thought, take it a bit further and make the call.

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