LITTLE SHARDS OF BRITTLE

 Talking about fostering to non-fostering folk, I always get the impression they assume that fostering is one long warm glow. 

They also acknowledge that it "must be hard at times", often said as a precursor to "I couldn't do it".

Understandably, they're off the mark in most respects.

For one; if you're fostering properly, it's "hard" all the time, not merely "at times". By "hard" I mean non-stop. Fostering is 24/7. If you're not dealing with the occassional crisis you're managing issues all day. Managing everything from how to get them to eat better through to how to get them to behave better; all the way up to how to get them to feel better.

For two; non-fostering people are 99% wrong when they say they couldn't do it. Almost everyone can do it, but most give up before they've tried. One or two friends who foster have amazed themselves by using skills they didn't know they had.

For three; fostering doesn't deliver a steady warmth in the heart. Most times the foster carer needs to pull themselves into themselves and ask if they are happy in fostering. When they get the moment to do that they realise that they are, then get back on with the job.

However. If the foster parent is alert, fostering gives us little moments of sheer joy, the like of which I don't think any other profession has to offer.

They're similar to the shards of caramel brittle that shatter off the big bits in the baking tray. Barely bite-sized, but sweetly - and surreptitiously - delicious. 

Here's a handful of brittle shard moments in fostering, in no particular order.

When the child tidies their room without being asked. This is a magic moment the first time. Come to think of it it's even better the second time, because they're now doing it for better reasons than the novelty, or in hope of a couple of quid. It means they're going in the right direction with their sense of responsibility and self-care. Mind; they always leave it to you to go through the bin-liner of rubbish sorting recyclables from garbage, but hey ho, it's better than a slap in the belly with a wet fish.

When the child thanks you for driving them somewhere. Or making their favourite supper, or suchlike. Their first "Thank you" is nowhere near the words "Thank you." Their first one is a barely audible, single syllable grunt which bears no relation to any English word. It sounds like "Ang…" It's muttered eyes down, with their back to you. Best not to say anything in reply. Definitely not "Pardon?". Not even "My pleasure". Let it go. It will grow. Within a short space of time, say 2 to 3 years, it will have blossomed into a full throated "Thanks" albeit spoken with a hint of "I'm only saying "thanks" out of politeness, don't make any kind of watershed big deal out of it".

When the child chooses to hug. As foster parents we neeed to be sensilble about physical contact with foster children. Usually I go no further than a hand on the shoulder. But I remember vividly a few years ago I had to have a night in hospital after a minor op. Our foster child at the time was a fanatical 'no physical contact' person, for very good reasons, so we all respected that. Not even a high five. When I was brough home I sat in my favourite armchair and the child came downstairs. And walked towards me arms outstretched. Ok, so the child ducked out of going the whole hog and embracing, but the vision of the child mentally hugging me stays with me through stormy weather.

The child looks for you in the audience when they're in the school play/nativity/choir/prizegiving. And when they spot you and see you giving a discreet wave they instantly look away; empowered to know that you're there for them, embarrassed to have let you know how much you mean to them. And that they're no different from all the other kids, whose mums and dads are also there.

They bring home a particular drawing they've crayoned at school. It's maybe a house. If it is, then hopefully the house has curtains at the windows and smoke from the chimney, which means subconscously they regard your house as a home. Or maybe it's a giant dinosaur/dragon chasing a petrified mouse, which means their recollections of life before Care aren't good and there's work ahead. The particular bit is the one where there's a person drawn standing in the bottom corner. The person is smiling and looking kind of...kind. And it's you! I say nothing, but it always gets magnetted to the fridge door, where it may stay for years.

They highlight their love for a family tradition, habit or otherwise repeated event. Perhaps they say out loud that we "Always" put the Christmas decorations up on December 1st. We had one child whose thing was this. One morning we had boiled eggs for breakfast. I finished my first egg, then pointed out the window so dad would turn to look. He was in on the joke, and had placed his second egg in the egg cup waiting to be opened. I switched his egg with my empty one which I turned upside down so it looked unopened and waited for him to open it and be bamboozled by bashing open the empty egg. The child instantly took over my role. Every time we had boiled eggs she would rush to finish her first egg, then point out of the window, and switch eggs. Much laughter at dad's discomfort. This went on right up to the child's last day with us. It doesn't sound much, but in all honesty nothing represented the child's sense of belonging to a family more than the egg routine. Time after time she delighted in getting one over on dad and making the whole family roar with laughter.

The child makes you a cup of tea, or a pot noodle. Nothing tastes better than a beverage made for you by a foster child. It's not just a cup of tea or a mug of noodles, nor merely a simple statement of independence and growing up. It says; "I'm on my way to adulthood thanks to you, and when I'm grown up I'll care for you, if you want, or else I'll care for other people, and look...I'm starting right now."

I saved the best for last.

When the child calls you "mum". This is a biggie, maybe the biggest. It's not one to seek out. I let the child call me as they see fit, usually they go with my first name. If the child is short term or medium-term it generally doesn't happen, but if they've been with you a few months it can happen. Usually like this; first you overhear them say to a friend in the playground "I'll ask my mum".  Don't for one moment think that you're overhearing was an accident. They know what they're doing. If that leaves them feeling ok, it takes a few days or even weeks before an apparently innocuous voice calls down from their room; "Mum! Where are my trainers?". Again, it's a beautifully camouflaged moment of transition. I never react, except inside, where it means all the tea in China. 

Or all the Pot Noodles in Aldi.