SQUABBLES BETWEEN CHILDREN

 Settling squabbles between real brothers and sisters is one of parenting's dark arts.

I bet every parent who's had more than one child knows this for a serious fact of life.

When I say it's a 'dark art', what I mean is that the schisms between real siblings run deep and run complicated.

We parents do our best to settle disputes fairly and with justice and kindness;

"After giving this disagreement careful thought I have come to the conclusion that…"

Then there are the occasions when only one phrase will do:

"Because I say so!"

And this is how tricky it can be even when, as a real parent, you know the combatents inside out and understand all the subtleties and nuance.

Now imagine what it's like to be judge and jury of a couple of foster children you scarcely (by comparison) know!

What happened was this;

We've been joined by a Parent and Child; a teenage mother of a baby who's a few months old.

The mother is learning to parent the baby hands-on, all day and night. And doing it well. Her social worker has asked me to free up an hour and a half every day of "me time", for the mother so she can get her breathe. The mother opted to have from 7.30pm until 9.00pm in front of the telly with a can of Cherry Coke and biscuits.

Fine.

But.

We have 2 telly's downstairs; a big one off the kitchen, and a medium one in the living room.

Our eldest foster child has always had first dibs on the big telly after dark because he likes to cook himself fancy late night snacks while watching stuff.

But, in her early days with us, the young mother begged the big telly for herself citing a bunch of complicated reasons including the fact that there are gaps in the living room curtains that made her feel vulnerable.

We fixed the gaps and asked her to use the living room and give the kitchen area back to our eldest foster child.

The first night, the young mum folded, saying that she'd needed to use the kitchen to prepare some formula milk, but had felt scared to ask our eldest foster child if she could come into the kitchen.

A seriously shy young person.

I'd noticed they'd been a bit standoff-ish with each other, daft of me not to clock there was the germ of a rivalry.

I called the two of them together, but, as is so often the case with today's young, they found it hard to talk.

Then…brainwave!

I got them to exchange phone numbers and agree to message each other about comings and goings in the downstairs when they're both downstairs.

So far it's working even better than I imagined. They are tapping away to each other ten to the dozen.  Engaging. Chatting.

I meet countless older people who don't understand what a fantastic tool text messaging and the internet is for empathy and embrace.

They're wrong.

Our kids are right.

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FOSTERING AND…SPIDERS…!

 Boredom is never a problem in fostering. Because you never get any.

I've always hated being bored. I think people should hate being bored. If you're bored it means life is slipping through your fingers, like Abba said.

I love my fostering because it's always interesting, and I sometimes get an unexpected pat on the back.

So, today was a delight.

As I've mentioned previously, we're hosting a Parent and Child placement right now, and as ever in fostering, I'm finding out more and more about the mum and her baby with every passing day.

Every passing night come to think of it, but we'll talk about night feeds another time…

No, see, what's gone down over the last 24 hours is this;

The mother is a mid-teenager, the baby is now 5 months old. They've been with us nearly 3 months. In that time we've learned that the mother has a 'thing' about cleanliness and tidyness - which is cool in the parent of a baby (unless it goes too far, which she doesn't).

She also has a thing about…

SPIDERS!

Oh goodness, does she have a thing about spiders.  For example; she keeps 3 lights on in her bedroom and a torch by the bedside so she can watch out for a spider. Most nights she thinks she sees one and texts me to come deal with it.

What she calls a 'spider' is what we used to call a 'money spider', as in:  if you're visited by one of those microscopic babies money will come your way. They're not even big enough to be called tiny. In fact I doubt they're spiders at all.

We've had a long spell of hot weather and bugs tend to come out, so we get the odd little ladybird and such. But our Parent is beside herself when one appears.

Problem.

Now, in fostering, problems are what it's all about. Or to be precise, solving problems is what it's all about.

I'm a bit squeamish about spiders myself, but I don't let on because that might validate her anguish and make things worse.

So we bought some "Spideraway", a spray to use in your room to keep them out. We checked and double checked that it was safe, and it was. So safe a baby 'spider' came out to stretch it's legs the same night.

Not just spiders BTW, no. Flies, moths, bugs of all types.

Then…brainwave.

We bought her a mosquito net.

It came the same day (Jeff Bezos goes from strength to strength yes?).

And we set it up over her bed.

It's a flimsy structure but it KEEPS BUGS OUT.

So she's happy. 

If nothing else she feels looked-after.

Her solicitor visted and said out loud "We're all enjoying this placement.." (The "we" being the dozen or so professionals entwined in this case).

Know what she said then?

"We don't have too many success stories…"

Our mum and her babs is a "Success".

Result.

A good day in fostering. I felt like rewarding myself. 

With my own mosquito net…!

Seriously, it looks so good, it does what it says on the tin and it only cost thirty quid, there's nothing more annoying in the middle of a summer night than a mozzy buzzing in your ear...

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PARENT AND CHILD AND LOVING IT

 We've got a nicely full home at the moment. One of our two medium-term foster children has been found a family home (kinship fostering) and another has gone to their real home (which is always Plan A if it's feasable), timing is everything as you'd predict.

So;

It's week 8 of our latest arrival; a Parent and Child placement.

Biggest problem so far? I'd say this; the mother is learning the enormity of parenting. An enormity that's even more enormous for a single parent. A single parent who's barely aged mid-teens. A girl who's away from home for the first time in her life because Social Services decided that the young mother's own parents were already on their radar hadn't got what it takes to teach her parenting and that therefore the baby might be at risk. 

The dear girl is learning that, while her ex-classmates are getting home from some weekend gathering at someone else's house at 1.00am, she's also awake; trying to comfort and feed a demanding babe-in-arms.

She sometimes sits and has a little weep about where her life is at. But, to be fair, most of the time she's cheerful, resolute and philosophical. Or so darn tired she's on auto-pilot. 

What I'm reporting to to each of the ten or twelve (I've lost count) professionals who are attached to her placemnent is; she's a loving, responsible, tireless mother.

Biggest plus so far? Actually - and moreover honestly - there are too many to mention them all. A few;

• The baby is a delight. Even when he wakes the house up crying for his guzzles at midnight and 3.00am. He's already growing into being himself, very bossy - he even lords it over my husband who's ten times bigger than babe. Whenever hubby takes his turn at giving the baby a hold, he finds that the baby grizzles if hubby doesn't stand rather than sit, and is required to show baby the views from our front and back room. It's a power thing.
• The mother is a delight. A good mum, she's also learning budgeting and cooking skills. Tonight she's cooking everyone Nachos. Her other speciality is cottage pie. She's on her way, all she has to do is learn that the clever family chef uses recipes which are a) budget-conscious b) easy on the washing-up.
• Our home is a delight. Nothing sprinkles sunshine around a house quite like a baby and a loving young parent. Those of us who've been round the block a few times (and I'd include plenty of the looked-after children we've loved to have in our home), are - from time to time -careworn, battle-hardened old soldiers, given to bouts of world-weariness and even cynicism. Not these two kids! No, this young mum and her kid ooze with hope and innocence, an inspiration for the rest of us.
• We get delightful moments. The young mum did her first food shop at Tesco's with me and came away from the till saying "I never knew food was so expensive!" The mum gets and hour or so of "Me" time every day, but she came looking for her son saying "I was lonely without him". Oh and this one…(she's bright but has had no education), she asked me…"Did you live through the Black Death?"

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THE SMALLEST FISH ARE THE SWEETEST

I've a friend who has a lovely turn of phrase, such as;

"The smallest fish are the sweetest."

For example if she gets a £2 win on a scratchcard (not exactly life-changing)... it's;

"The smallest fish are the sweetest."

I thought of her yesterday when this happened.

We have a parent and child alongside our regular fostering at the moment. A young mum (age 16) and her 4 month old baby. With a Parent and Child (P+C) placement, the foster parents have to stay on track with the main tasks which are a) to ensure the child's safety and b) keep accurate records of the parent's parenting to help a judge decide whether the parent has what it takes to keep the child.

I'm new to it.

Blue Sky prepped me for the job, I spent hours looking up the latest research on child development and baby care on the unbelievably outstanding NHS website, but I was nervous right up to day one.

One of my concerns (and it's an ever-present with me) is whether the young people who arrive will ever feel at home.

We all need to feel comfortable wherever we have to lay our hat.

To begin with the mother showed all the signs of homesickness; phoning her mum for an hour every evening after the baby fell asleep, dragging me round Home Bargains buying up half the shop because her mum's birthday was only two months away, dressing heself up to the nines for weekly Contact with her whole family…

Homesickness can be cruel. In fostering we try to ease it with little touches. For example, the young mum likes 3 spoons of sugar in her tea.   Luckily she's been advised by Health Visitors to keep her sugar intake up as she breast-feeds. Now, we don't take sugar any more in our house any more, but I Amazoned a sugar bowl and now keep it filled.

For the first few weeks she was a fish out of water around our house, obviously. But we did everything we could to help her feel at home.

She and I had plenty of friendly chats, she welcomed having half a shelf of our fridge to herself for her own "bits"…I felt things were going in the right direction, but you can never be sure.

Then, yesterday.

My other half was in the kitchen finishing the drying up. The young mum came in and put her empty tea mug in the sink. Then she boiled a kettle and made a cup of instant coffee and took it back into the living room.

After the young mum went to bed I said to my other half "Thanks for my coffee earlier".

He replied: "I didn't make it, she did."

I told him that when she got up to put her cup in the kitchen I asked her to ask him to make me a coffee.

Only she didn't. 

She made me a cup of coffee herself, and brought it to me.

Wonderful.

I told my friend, the one who's good with phrases;

"Ah," she said "She crossed the bridge right there then?"

I nodded, and said; "And I know what you're going to say next…"

And the two of us chorused'

"The smallest fish are the sweetest."

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YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE GORDON RAMSEY

 Every time a new child arrives (and I really do mean EVERY time)…

…you have to find out what they like to eat, and even more important, what they DON'T like to eat.

And do it quick.

And, if you want the quiet life, you indulge their preferences and avoid their aversions.

Simples.

As time goes by you can work on things and improve, but not on day one.

But;  it might not be as simple as I made out at first. If the child has any type of eating disorder you'd hope it had been identified before they arrive and you, as foster parents, are advised.

If they have a clean bill of health it doesn't mean they aren't picky, and you usually have to move heaven and earth to keep them onside at mealtimes.

Feeding them right is good for their karma, good for household peace and quiet, and (if you know a few tricks and hacks) it can be good for their health too.

I'm not above blending brocolli into a spag boll sauce…or pretending the child is a giant and that the cauliflower is huge trees…

The reason food and fostering is in my mind is this;

We've been getting to know a teenage girl who is the single mother of a baby, they're both with us right now.

The first thing I asked our Blue Sky social worker when the placement was confirmed was;

"What would she most like for her first evening meal with us?"

The answer came back swiftly;

"Cottage pie."

No problem. It's one of the top ten comfort foods. Plus I got a snapshot of family mealtimes in the child's real home; cottage pie is easy to eat with a single fork off your lap while watching Series 4 episode 9 of your favourite drama. Plus it's usually pretty bland and unchallenging.

So. First evening meal with us we all sat round on stools at the breakfast bar and NOT at a formal table. She said she liked the food. I'd done brocolli as a side and she ate some. I'd done a basic salad (lettuce and cucumber) and she ate some of that too, drenching it in Caesar Salad dressing.

Then she asked, as casually as she could:

"What spices did you put in the cottage pie?"

"Er..none. Is it OK?"

"Ye. But I quite like…y'know…paprika. And garlic. And oregano and basil. Cayenne, but not too much."

Me: "Chilli powder?"

"No! Yuk!'

Me "Anything else?'

"Lots o' salt. An' pepper."

She went back to eating.

They say that during the first 3 seconds of meeting someone for the first time the average person collects and processes 5000 pieces of information about them, instinctively.

It's about the same the first time you discover a new child's food preferences.

And if you're on your game it tells you 10,000 things about the child, their past life, who they hope to become…

…and what to serve on day two.

I took advantage that we were talking about food and asked her about all her likes and dislikes. She enjoyed the telling. I got her full book of favourites and no-no foods.

It was a win/win.

She felt cared for.

My meal planning was going to be a doddle.

Although, I'm going to have to look up the recipe for Nachos.

If there aren't a million of Nacho ideas up on YouTube, I'm Gordon Ramsey.

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IT'S JUST TURNED 2.00AM...

 Six weeks into our first Parent and Child placement in 20 years and...

PHEW!

The parent is a mother aged 15, the child is 4 months old.

The mum is a truly lovely young woman. I describe her as a "young woman", though I suppose technically she herself is a child.

My priority as their foster mum is to ensure the safety, wellbeing and positive development of the baby, who is a truly lovely boy.

I have to be on full alert (without appearing to be jumpy or judgemental) `to everything that goes on between the mum and her baby. 

I guide the mum towards best practice in everything, not by telling her "Do this" or "Don't do that", but by setting examples so that the mum learns and understands by adopting good techniques.

The psychologist who assesed her back before she came to us submitted an 82 page report, the gist of which is that she should be helped to work things out for herself rather than think of parenting as a set of rules.

I'm pretty sure I knew that consideration before I was given a potted version of the report, and one of the (many) social workers/parenting assessors/health visitors/review officers - the list of professionals supporting this mother and baby is pretty long - kindly commented that I seemed to be getting that bit right without any need for coaching.

Example; the baby cries from time to time.

No surprise there.

Initially, the young mum would sit on the sofa with the baby horizontal in her arms and sort of gently bounce him in her arms, talking baby talk;

"Wassamatter little fella?" 

"Everything's alright…"

"Wassamatter…?"

Didn't pacify him.

So, I began saying, after a period of unabated crying;

"Shall I have him for a bit, give you a break?"

Staying in the same room as the mother I tried something I remember had soothed each of my sons when they were babes.

I simply stayed stood upright, holding the baby upright, with his head close to my face. I gently wrapped both my arms and hands around him so that he felt secure, and made soothing sounds, the sort he might have heard in the womb, for example; "Shhhhhhhh…" or a gentle resonant "Bedoomp, bedoomp…" (Like the comforting rhythm of a heartbeat).

And I moved slowly and silently around the room, changing the things he could see in order to distract him from his discomfort.

Whether it was the fact of being up high, or the swaddling in my arms, or the sounds I made right next to his ear…

Something worked, and he would stop crying in seconds.

My next job is to help the young mum watch and try to understand not merely that there is a way to soothe her baby, but that with parenting you're ALWAYS on the lookout for techniques that get results. You've got to keep exploring solutions to find the ones that work. 

What's good for Petronella isn't necessarily good for Paula.

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FUNNYISH MOMENT

 Funny how the mind works, and when its "On" I always end up thinking fostering.

So…

The cricket season has started (my other half cares about it).

How, you might ask, can cricket lead you to think about fostering?

My brain went like this…

Some years ago a 14 year-old lad came to us, a truly delightful kid whose dad had fled ages ago and his mum ended up going off the rails.

He'd had no life to speak of. Never had a holiday. Christmas and birthdays went unoticed. His schooling was described in his notes as "sporadic".

He spent most days and nights in his bedroom. His household didn't have a dime.

Then he joined us as a foster child, and took off.

Blue Sky helped enroll him at a decent secondary school where they played cricket. Someone tossed him a ball, and it turned out he could bowl. Fast.

So the very next game they had, the school had him open the bowling.

The match (his state school versus a public school) was played at the grounds of the public school.

At the time he was our only placement. My eldest son offered to drive him there and pick him up. And I volunteered to go along and watch.

Setting off early we got there an hour early. A proper posh school. The sports facilities were astonishing; four cricket grounds, innumerable rugby pitches, hockey pitches.. a golf course! I went up to their reception desk. A mahogany greetings room with leather chesterfields and marble pillars.

The receptionist asked if she could help. "Yes please" said little me, "I'm a parent, wondering where the cricket is happening?"

"It's on pitch number four, the Oval, too far to walk. Where are you parked." 

I replied;

"My wheels have gone off, so I'm on foot."

"Oh, no problem. I'll arrange a driver for you."

Then she said "Would you like lunch?"

I said I was okay.

She then said;

"Or coffee or tea?"

I okayed a tea,

2 minutes later a silver tray with a china teapot, a china cup and saucer, china milk jug, china bowl of white and brown sugar lumps and a sugar iced slice of cake with double cream.

Then the receptionist asked me this;

"When is your chauffeur returning to collect you."

Yep.

God's honest truth, I never make stuff up here...When I'd said :"I'm a parent" she assumed I was someone who could afford £50,000 a year fees.

What brought me back to thinking about fostering was the grand canyon of divide between the haves and the have nots.

Yet. I'm in touch with our kid, he's going along as well as any of the "Ollies" and "Julians" he played that day.

Best of all, I don't know much about about cricket, but I know when batsmen are getting their blocks knocked off. 

Which my boy did.

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