Routines.
I've learned down the years how vital it is for people to have routines.
I've got them coming out of my ears, and they all do me the power of good.
First thing every morning; I wake up, remember who I am and what day it is. Then I have a listen to make sure I'm first one awake. Then I slide back the duvet and squirm diagonally so my legs are sticking out, then sit up quietly. This is all to let my other half doze on. I slip my feet into my slippers, lift my dressing gown off the hook, silently open the door and close it noiselessly behind me.
I go down the stairs careful not to creak the stairs, but no matter how quiet I am the dogs know I'm coming. Into the kitchen I go where I get one of those dog-welcomes that gladden the heart. I flick the kettle, which I filled last night, put the dogs' food bowls up on the counter so they know they've got food coming, then open the door to let them out for a quick pee.
Knowing that their food bowls are up on the counter they also know that breakfast is imminent - it's the Routine - so they're back inside in 10 seconds. I don't want them to hang around outside because if they smell last night's fox they'll have a bark, and the neighbours don't want that.
Not at 5.35am.
I've been awake and existing for nigh on 10 minutes and haven't had to make a single decision.
This particular morning is different; I'm sitting at the kitchen table with the dogs at my feet and a cuppa tea at my elbow, writing today's blog.
All about Routines.
Kids who come to us for fostering have been through unthinkable chaos. I suspect the only Routines many of them have ever experienced have been negative ones. It's vital to build positive, rewarding Routines.
The best bet is to start small. Serve tea at the same time every night and find the best way to alert everyone that it's on the table, then stick to it. I had one child who was triggered by raised voices, so instead of shouting up the stairs I went up and whispered "Tea's ready'. Another child preferred a text message "Tea ready 17.33". I usually start building our Routines around food. I offer the same choices for breakfast. Then offer the same post-breakfast race "Bet you can't go up and clean your teeth and come down before I count to twenty." Followed by "Bet my teeth are whiter than yours…" Cue comparison in the hall mirror, which they win.
Routines signal that all is well, everything's under control, there will be no sudden surprises.
One of my all-time favourite Routines was a child who experienced awful trauma at having to meet a family member for Contact. The adult in question was being investigated for horrendous crimes against the child, but until found guilty was entitled to insist on their statutory right to meet the child once a week. Contact can be my biggest bugbear in fostering, and this case was a standout travesty. I mean; would any adult put up with having to sit in a room for an hour once a week and 'play' with the alleged perpetrator of heinous crimes against them? Not in a million years.
It went on for a whole year until the court case. Twelve months of it, once a week, every week.
And I had to deal with the car journey home between the Contact Centre and our house; about a 40 minute drive. The child would be in the back of the car, having a meltdown.
This called for a Routine.
What would happen was this; I would pull into the first petrol station we came to. Same one each time. Contact always happened after school, so by the time we were heading home it was early evening, and the garage was quiet. I'd put some petrol in the car, and as I did the child would begin to quieten as they knew what was coming. I'd undo the child's seat belt and we'd both go into the shop to pay. The child didn't need to ask any questions; the deal every time was they could choose any sweets they wanted up to two pounds. I'd pay at the till, then say to the child; "I'll go and re-park the car, I'll only be two minutes." This I do so as not to block a petrol pump.
This "re-park" thing was all part of it. I'd leave the child in the shop in a state of near-bliss. Sweet shops are absolute Aladdins Caves for kids, and to know they have TWO POUNDS to spend on WHATEVER THEY WANT is both an anaesthetic and a euphoric. To top it all, the child is given independence - more than they've ever had - for 90 seconds. Imagine the sense of relief and freedom, that there was no adult hovering over them, bossing them.
The shop has a huge glass frontage and is well lit, so I can watch the child the whole time. Then I rejoin the child and we do the maths on the selected treats. The child would always (Routinely) try to squeeze a few extra pence on top to the two quid.
Did it every single time, always worked.
* * *
There, finished writing.
Back to my early morning Routines. It's now 7.15am and people are stirring upstairs. I have another Routine to attend to, in the front room.
Several years ago a friend moved home and asked us to look after their goldfish. "Jetski" - a foster child gave her the name - has been with us ever since. I decided she was lonely, so bought a bigger tank and a friend. The new goldfish hasn't got a name yet, so we refer to her as "Newbie". Actually that's her name I guess. Jetski and Newbie go everywhere side-by-side. Not that they can go far, but as we are told that goldfish have a memory of 3 seconds it probably doesn't matter they can't go far and wide.
Generally I'm not a fan of captive animals, but if I have to have them in our house I'll give them the best life.
Jetski and Newbie expect their breakfast at 7.15 every morning. When I go into the front room and open the curtains they're right there, up at the surface at the spot the food goes in, wagging their tails and frantically opening their mouths.
I even find myself chatting to them, same things. They don't know what I'm saying, but…
…memory span of 3 seconds or not; even goldfish love their Routines.
0 comments:
Post a Comment