FOSTERING - THE ULTIMATE ROLLER COASTER

 Eldest foster child is gearing up to get a driving licence…

I sat next to a foster mum at a Blue Sky support session a while back and got an inside track on this one.

A few years ago her foster child hit 17 and immediately applied for a driving licence.

He came home from his first lesson and said the instructor had advised him to ask his parents if he could go out on the road in the family car with one of them to practice.

She had mentioned it to her Social Worker, but at the time no-one could trace any experience of a foster child learning to drive so it was agreed to proceed step by step for the sake of the child's continuing independence. They got him insured, put L plates on their little Peugeot and both mum and dad enjoyed reversing round quiet suburban corners and the rest.

The lad had been with them a long time, had come from a very chaotic home and could never go back. He had been a challenge at first, knew how to throw a tantrum, knew how to throw a lot of things, but never hurt anyone. The foster parents had worked hard on him and he'd worked hard too. He'd learned to 'self-regulate'. To keep his anger inside, to process and digest it. Whatever inner turmoil he had, it no longer showed.

Until…

He came downstairs one bright Saturday morning and asked;

"Is there a quiet open road near here where I can practice driving in top gear? My instructor has let me get up to about 40 mph, and says I'm fine, I just need to get a bit more experience."

Foster dad volunteered.

And came home a wreck..

Here's what happened:

They set off along a country B road that for the first few miles is flat, wide and deserted. It's a route that was built years ago between two towns that once had thriving traffic but a new by-pass made the road almost redundant. Also, it's a tricky drive at the other end because it climbs steeply for about five miles, then descends even more steeply with a dozen nasty hairpin bends. 

But dad had decided they wouldn't go that far, they'd turn round at the foot of the climb and return.

All went well on the flat, although the lad seemed a bit pre-occupied with the small tail of cars that built up behind.

He started to comment on them, things like "It's a BMW behind us. I bet he wants to overtake."

That was when he started to speed up.

He didn't want to be overtaken.

So dad said - quietly;

"Maybe you're going a bit too fast"

And the meltdown began. The first meltdown he'd had for years.

The lad replied;

"I'm not going too fast! You drive too slow! I'm going at the right speed!"

Dad saw a layby ahead and said;

"Okay let's pull into the layby and turn around"

The lad fumed;

"I am NOT slowing down with a BMW behind me!!!"

Dad was torn between wanting to avoid confrontation and denting the lad's confidence, but didn't want to risk danger; however before he could come up with anything they had flown past the layby.

It was the last layby before the climb. No turnings off, no stopping. 5 miles of steep climb followed by 5 miles of death-defying descent.

Dad was faced with the ride of his life.

At the wheel he had a furious Oppositionally Defiant 17 year-old foster lad and no dual controls.

Speaking of control, when they broke the experience down with their Social Worker it became clear that the lad had always craved control - as so many children coming into care do - but suddenly achieved total control at the worst possible moment.

He wanted his foster dad to be proud of him so he didn't want the humiliation of being overtaken or being told what to do.

The climb upwards, the dad said, was pretty scary what with the blind hairpin bends, but the road was so steep he couldn't get into 5th gear so they barely got up to 40mph.

Then they reached the top…

Remember; no layby no turnings off. A single lane road zig-zagging through a forest with massive tree trunks right up to the tarmac and bend after bend after bend. A line of cars queing up in his mirror, headed by the dreaded BMW.

The descent was so incredibly steep the needle began pushing 60mph!

Dad said it was the most difficult episode he'd ever faced in fostering. There was NOTHING he could do but hold on, but nevertheless he tried one last time, he said;

"Small point but generally you could begin braking a little earlier ahead of the bends…"

Which was the proverbial red rag.

"I AM BRAKING AT EXACTLY THE RIGHT MOMENT  ACCORDING TO THE FRIGGING HIGHWAY CODE!!!"

Maybe he was if he'd been on the flat. But he wasn't. He was driving - nay he was freefalling - down one of those sheer mountain passes they use for car chases in Bond films.

The kind of chase that ends up with the villains going off a cliff...

He was going too fast, braking too late and having to oversteer and over-compensate round the 180 degree bends with trucks and tractors belting up the other way.

Dad's heart was pounding, but the had to keep his nerve, stay calm.

When they got to the flat dad pursuaded the lad to pull over and said;

"Well done. If it's aright with you I'd like to drive us back."

And they swapped.

When they got home the lad was as if nothing had happened.

Dad had to lie down in a darkened room.

So.

Forewarned is forearmed.

So for our kid, neither me nor his foster dad are going to be taking him out to practice, we're going to say that the insurance costs are prohibitive and it would be cheaper to get extra lessons and anyway it's difficult learning to drive in two different cars. All of which is sound thinking, and quite true.

Thanks goodness I bumped into that Carer.

Better than bumping into a tree...

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"ELEMENTARY MY DEAR FOSTER PARENT"

 Whenever a new child comes we get a dossier on what's known about them. But the information is a molehill compared to the mountain that you quickly pick up about them.

Take Saul, with us for a wee while now. Social Services are beavering on getting him back home and things are on track there.

But he's been under our roof for a few weeks now and we're getting to know him in the round.

For example; like many children coming into Care, he doesn't like going downstairs in front of people. You can easily guess what that's about. 

He doesn't like green food but loves anything brown. Normal. I camouflage his greens hidden in soups and pasta sauces.

He doesn't like school, that's normal. He likes watches. That's... unusual.

See, fostering is made up of a bunch of skills, most of which we pick up en route, though the training helps. However I've never been on a training session to develop sleuthing skills, but it makes a big difference if you can put 2 and 2 together and get 4.

I wear a watch as does my other half, younger people tend not to. Saul keeps on about our watches, he wants to know what make they are and how they work. Likes to listen to the slight noise they make, and asks if he can twiddle the little wheel to re-set the hands. 

I mentioned his fixation to our Blue Sky Social Worker a while ago and she was equally nonplussed.

But she went away and discussed it with colleagues, partly because Social Workers have to be the ultimate Sherlock Holmes. They enjoy unravelling a mystery behaviour in a child. They like to try to get to the bottom of things.

Of course I've asked Saul why he loves watches but he simply says "I just do." The fact is maybe he himself DOESN'T KNOW.

Anyway. 

So earlier this week our SW came by and we had our usual 2 hours natter at the kitchen table. One of the many great things about fostering is that you get regular visits from a trained professional whose job is to make sure you're ok. Brilliant. Only this time she came up with a really left-field possible explanation for Saul's watch thing. You ready for this?

Saul's real dad is not on the scene, but he gets talked about a lot because the man in Saul's mum's life hates Saul's real dad but Saul's real dad is Saul's hero, at least Saul likes him more than his mum's boyfriend (which knowing what I know is not surprising).

Saul's real dad is no angel in reality, he's got various convictions, has various ongoing 'habits' and has no known whereabouts. However…

Due to his lifestyle he has had heart problems such that he's been fitted with a pace maker.

It's called a Watchman and that's how Saul's father was referred to in his home throughout Saul's early years. Saul's mum and her boyfriends talked about the mysterious and almost Batman-like character as "The Watchman".  Saul would get Christmas and birthday presents from this man and might just have come to idolise a man who barely existed but was nevertheless his "Dad". The Watchman.

Have they got this one right?

Probably/possibly.

Social Workers are not only among the kindest professionals you could meet.

They are also among the sharpest.

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SO FAR SO GOOD

 Saul came through his first Contact with us not too badly, really.

There are so many worries about these darned Contacts I get almost as stressed as the children.

No hang on, that's rubbish; the stuff going on for them is beyond belief. I guess what I'm saying is I share a bit of that stress for them.

I got to see Saul's mother for the first time. 

You can never put a lid on your curiosity about the real parents. You can justify your nosiness by saying it'll help you foster them better if you have a bead on the chaotic home they were removed from…

But actually it's mostly human inquisitiveness.

I'd taken Saul in and left him with the supervisor.

First thing I noticed was that she came out of her car - a nice SUV - with a lot of self-confidence. A swagger almost, y'know… the slam of the door, the click of the remote over her shoulder, the heave on her nice shoulder bag after she'd flipped the car keys into it. I imagine she might have been pretty stressed up too about being in a location where she is the designated 'mother who has had a child removed'. That can't sit well. 

Or maybe she's re-constructed the whole scenario so that she and her family are victims of a dysfunctional/corrupt system, in which case her swagger is real if misplaced.

She must have worked out that I was the foster mum, sitting in my car watching. She didn't give me any eyeball, no acknowledgement. She stalked across the car park and into the Contact Centre.

But I'd taken her in. Or so I believe. I'm not any student of human nature but some things stand for themselves;

First off, she was tall. And had high hair. With colours in it. Highlights and a bit of blue.

Quite slender, well angular really. She moved awkwardly, her gait was awkward. Unbalanced by her big heels. 

Male parents of kids in care are comparitively free from these kinds of observations; their hair is nondescript as are their clothes. They tend to show up with a lost look about them.

She was dressed to impress. A fur gillet over a bronze roll neck. Tight leggings/pants that fed down into expensive boots. Nice bag.

Then there's the face.

She had a look I've seen on so many parents of children taken into care. 

A set look.  A grimness, I sensed she felt they'd been treated unfairly, and was giving that off in her face.

Some anger, embarrasment and the irritation of inconvenience.

Now, one gets all that. 

But here's the thing; parents going into Contact with a bad mood is no good for the kids.

Saul was escorted out by the supervisor after an hour, the mother had been required to wait until we'd vamoosed. I presume this is done because of past difficult interactions between the various parties.

On the way back he chomped on his sweets and I got him to tell me what he knew about Kung Fu Panda, which was a blatant piece of distraction, giving him a chance to boss the conversation.

I doubt he'd had as much fun throughout the preceding hour.

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CONTACT

 So Saul has been with us just over a week.

He's still in that 'honeymoon' period of being polite and co-operative, but that will change, mainly because his next Contact is pencilled in for two days time. 'Contact' for anyone new to fostering is a requirement. It's written in to law that children in care must meet with significant others at least once a woeek. Those who made the law had the very best intentions of maintaining the bond between the child and her family with a view to easing the process of reconciliation. Unfortunately it often has an upsetting influence on the child. 

We're anticipating difficulties as the child has been removed from his parents home, then in short order removed from the home of his aunt. Saul is confused and probably racked with guilt. It's amazing how often children in care think the problems that caused the break-up of their home are all their fault. So Saul has got himself some kind of double jeopardy.

He's pencilled in to see his mother. I'll be taking him to the Contact which will happen at a specially designated Contact Centre, where the 60 minute Contact will be supervised by a professional. In the past I haven't been given any direct feedback on how the Contacts went, but I know notes are taken.

Must be difficult for the parent or whichever relative is having Contact with the chid having someone never mind observing but maybe making notes. I guess it's all for the best, but the tension must be high at times.

I've talked before about how I try to clear the child's mind when we get into the car to drive home after Contact. I use a shameless tactic of distraction, namely asking the child to look out for a petrol station which has a shop. I let the child know that in the shop they can spend £1 on anything they want. This fills their mind with 2 things;

1. What sort of sweets they can buy for £1.

2. Can they negotiate the sum upwards from £1.

It's blatant, I know. It's sugar and chocolate, I know.

But hey, who said adults had the sole rights to comfort eating?

And Saul, like many children coming into care, is big on food.

He's got his bowl of fruit in his room, everything in it belongs to him. He knows what times are breakfast, lunch and tea and that a bag of crisps or an energy bar between meals can be done. He knows we never pile his plate high for him, but allow him to choose his own vegetables and set his own portion sizes.

I know his favourite meals now, I also know nothing gives him more peace than a bowl of microwaved popcorn in front of one of the many fantastic animated movies they do these days.

I'm just hoping to goodness that the sweet thing after Contact helps, because he's due his first meltdown anytime soon and at the very least the sweet thing will keep it from happening in the car.

Which you don't want...

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