HOME FROM HOME

 Anyone who's had a child of their own will know this one;

You're in a supermarket looking for the peanut butter which they re-locate to keep you browsing.

Suddenly you hear a baby crying.

You freeze. A shiver runs down your spine, your body tenses.

It triggers memories of a call to action from the past, when your little one needed you. You'd fly out of bed and run to their room, or drop the potato peeler and, drying your hands on your pants, run to the source of that urgent noise.

Yet on this occasion you're down by the milk, the baby is 3 aisles away and definitely not your problem. But. 

A child's crying is as big a hit to the emotional gut as you can get.

What happened today was this.

I collected youngest foster child from school. Child was quiet in the car, not theatrically needy, but thoughtful.

When we got home the child sloped off upstairs as normal, to change out of school clothes, but didn't come down as usual for a quick snack. I offer a "holding snack" between coming home and tea-time, after all it's 5 hours between school lunch and our 6.00 o'clock tea so it's only fair. And foster children often need to know there's food.

But the child didn't show up. 

I started tea.

Then.

The dread sound, from upstairs. A child sobbing.

Quietly at first, but it grew and grew. When it reached a certain point on the Richter Scale of sobbing I sussed it was a cry for help so I paused the microwave and went patiently upstairs. Never act urgent in fostering, be cool, learned that from an old fostering hand early doors.

Got to the child's bedroom door, it was shut. I said softly:

"Hello? You okay?"

There was a pause in the wailing. Then the wailing came back louder than before.

OK, this was a kid who wanted someone to care. So, as a foster mum, you care.

Long story short, I stood at the door and talked. Most of all I listened. The child had been awarded a badge for being pupil of the month. Or something like that, I haven't got the facts on this badge. It's a cheap badge which is stick-on rather than a sharp point.

I suspect the school chose the child partly to help encourage self-esteem and pride, but it backfired.

Out in the playground a bunch of other kids gave the child grief for being…

Wait for it…

A parentless loser. Someone who should go home (child is ethnic) and (I kid you not) someone who's never read Harry Potter.

In other words; the badge made him feel ten times worse. It triggered his memories and feelings about the many negatives in his whole life so far.

It was a moment that fostering spins on. 

OK so, first I asked if he wanted spag boll for tea or a Maccie D, which he deserved after a rough day.

The concept of sitting down with a Maccie D when everone else was spag boll appealed, but he didn't want any discussion about the badge thing.

But he'd been distracted, and was onto food. So I asked;

"Salt and Vinegar or Cheese and Onion?"

Always give them a choice, so they're in charge.

Poor dear kid, their home, the world, their school; is pain.

Not their foster home.

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DO YOU GIVE YOURSELF "OASIS MOMENTS?"

In fostering you need little "oasis" moments.

One of mine happens around 10.00am weekdays.

I'm up a tad too early for my liking, we're a two-dog household at the moment, and the pair of them gang up to ask for breakfast earlier and earlier.

Our second dog is technically temporary, we're 'looking after her' while a relative sorts themselves out. Blue Sky always do a check-up on pets in foster homes. Our retriever underwent a cursory psychology check with our vet, but our second dog is hamster-size, 13 years old, half blind and toothless so she was waved through as safe. 

Mind, 4.45am isn't my idea of time to be up, my body clock goes a bit haywire. But that's when the dog's start asking to be let out, then breakfasted.

From that moment on, each morning, It's nose to the grindstone. There's always a few more jobs want doing. You know the sort of thing; a peanut butter knife left in the sink, crumbs on the work surface, a pedal bin needs a new bin-liner, a shopping list gets started; jobs jobs jobs.

Then everyone else is stirring, hangdog for another day at school. I have the radio on for time checks and try to jolly everyone awake, the best trick is to ask about last night's reality TV, or the latest FIFA football manager results etc.

Then… they're gone.  Silence; apart from the DJ still prattling that it's "Eight thirty seven, thirty seven minutes past the hour of eight o'clock and we're going on with Taylor Swift…"

I generally turn the radio off at this point, and crack on around the house, pulling beds and duvets into shape, collecting debris from bedrooms, quick hoover round.

Then; 5 hours after getting going, I get my oasis moment.

A cup of tea served strong with soya milk and no sugar.

Sweetened by nature's most natural sweetener; peace and quiet.

I sit sipping at the kitchen table, often fiddling with the shopping list. Sometimes wondering what people who don't foster - but could foster - do with their days.

My partner and I first got approval to foster back a few decades ago, shortly after marrying. Besides meeting each other, and having children of our own, fostering has become the biggest and the best thing we've ever done. When we're alone and together we talk about little else, always amazed by the satisfaction and pleasure it brings us.

Don't get me wrong, I don't sit there patting myself on the back, no. I find myself doing a spot-check on each child and coming up with strategies to help them feel better about this that or the other.

My uncle likes to bet on the horses every Saturday. He says that the joy is in trying to solve the puzzle of each race; some you win some you lose. Whatever the result, he says, you're always onto the next race, the next puzzle to solve.

I tell him that's how it is in fostering, the joy lies in solving the latest challenge.

It might be a pure fostering thing; such as a child whose older sibling is resentful of us (the child's foster parents) doing a better job than the child's real parents, or a child who feels 'different' at school. Or bog standard things such as whether a child needs new school shoes or can make do with the current pair until the end of term.

My "oasis' moment every weekday morning is more than a watering hole  in the desert with a couple of lonely palm trees, it's a thriving casbah, a carnival of the things that make life really worthwhile.

The things fostering gives us.

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OUT OF THE BLUE

 We had an "unannounced visit" today.

An unanounced visit is a brilliant Blue Sky feature. They simply show up at your place, big smiles, and say "Hi! Unannounced visit!"

The idea is that foster parents can tidy up the house when we know a social worker is due and make sure the child's room is in order.

And that there's no bleach in the downstairs toilet. By which I mean that there can be bleach in the toilet bowl, but not a bottle of bleach left out on top of the cistern.

Okay it could be slightly awkward because the bottom line is that we foster parents are under scrutiny, but the deal is that your social worker is your friend and ally and they're not trying to catch you out.

There are a number of guidelines in fostering which I suspect are there because of hiccups that happened way back that need to be legislated against. For example, foster parents are encouraged to put foster children in the rear seat of the car where possible. I was told by a Blue Sky high-up that the guideline stems from an incident where a teenage girl being driven in a car claimed the foster parent brushed her knee when he changed gear.

These things are few and far between in fostering, but it gives you an idea of the extent that Blue Sky go to to keep their Carers safe.

So. 

If you're new to fostering, or are thinking about it, let me give you a quick pen picture of a typical "unannounced visit". Then I'll tell you why they are ABSOLUTELY CRUCIAL  to fostering.

The doorbell rings and it's your Blue Sky Social Worker, a person you've come to appreciate enormously because they are on your side, they have your back, they are behind you all the way.

"Hello!" they beam, "Unannounced visit". 

They don't ask if they can come in. They know they can, it's the deal with Blue Sky. Nor do they march in taking notes and checking surfaces for dust or grease.

No.

Know what they do? They sit down at your invitation and when you ask "What would you like to drink; tea, coffee?" they plump for herbal.

Happy conversation ensues.

Two hours of it. 

Laughter, serious stuff; talk of what's good on Netflix, how stupidly fixated are our men on football, blah blah.

On this ocassion a foster child came down, curious about the noise from the kitchen. Our SW was brilliant, chatted away with a shy damaged child ten to the dozen. Joy to watch.

See, they're not checking that you've locked your foster child into the cupboard under the stairs (I'LL COME TO THAT PRONTO), they check those things, of course, but mostly ensure that the feel of the house is at all times how it is then they have their scheduled appointments.

The tenor. The general day to day of positive fostering.

Why are unannounced visits so important?

Years ago a child came to us who had been rescued from a terrrible environment. Neighbours had tipped off Social Services that children had been heard crying and screaming all day and night. 

Social Services despatched a new young recruit to investigate. She phoned ahead and made an appontment to visit. 

The perpetrator went to work on prepping the children to appear happy and well, threatening them with all sorts of retribution if they appeared in any way unhappy. Or damaged. Or worse.

Long story short, it took 3 years before Social Services finally woke up to what was going on on the house. All because they made pre-appointments to visit.

The children in the house are now rescued and making their way in life. 

Actually, one of the children, who's been with Blue Sky fostering for 10 years, is being prepared for Cambridge and a Humanities year.

I'd love to tell you how well mine have done from being fostered, but there's a blanket over key cases so you'll have to take my word. 

I never knew I had it in me.

A persons needs to have been round the block to foster. Most of us have, without knowing.

Fancy a try at the best thing going?

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CHRISTMAS ALWAYS GIVES..IN THE END

 It's post-Christmas-time at the moment here in the UK.

The last few weeks if you foster are always…I'm going to say…interesting.

But however interesting it gets, the Christmas Holidays are one of the big rewards in fostering.

Our own families fill our lives more than usual, but if you foster your fortnight is filled with not only your own family, but other people's.

It's a Godsend that Blue Sky Social Workers are on the ball with this; mine starts talking in early December about how we're going to organise it, starting from the day they break-up until the day they go back.

Thing is; there are no Golden Rules. Every child is different, and every family they've been removed from is different. Correction, make that "Every family they've been removed from is VERY VERY different."

There are so many things to try to get right for the child's sake. Yet more often than not children in care like to present themselves as closed books. For whatever reason they clam up about their real home and asking them how they like to spend Christmas and the New Year tends to get a vacant shrug.

So, me and our social worker sit at the kitchen table for two hours hammering out how to make each child feel as secure, cared for and safe as possible. We work out how much contact there can bee between each child and their families, and how to courier presents in both directions. We have little more than educated guesswork to go on, but background notes and a bit of experience helps.

Example; It's known to us that the abuser of one of our children will contact the child and make pie-in-the-sky overtures about them getting back together and enjoying the good old days like before. It happens every year. Social media makes this sort of thing so easy. We've tried to pursuade the child to log off it during this time, but their X accounts, Instagram etc are their lifeblood. The child claims the abuser's efforts are water off a duck's back. 

Only we know different. So we plan for understandable mood changes. The child did a little self harming on Christmas Eve. It was a minor thing, but we did as we have been trained; showed enormous sympathy and care as we sterilised and bandaged the cut. Didn't admonish the child, quite the opposite. We even left the blade in the bedroom. Perhaps it was a cry for help, so we helped. We logged it in our records even though it was miniscule - definitely not an A and E job - and will debrief Blue Sky when our Social Worker's back in circulation. The point is that we were prepared and most importantly; we've been trained. Blue Sky runs a fascinating training session on self-harming where we learned the do's and don'ts. I was surprised that the advice is to leave the implement in the child's room, but the logic is that it shows you trust the child.

The trainer asked us to consider that the chid is reaching out for the love and support of their foster parents, so it's possible to see such events as opportunities.

The child had the most beautiful Christmas Day. We had a two-year old child of one of our guests and the two of them bonded. I will NEVER EVER forget the sight of the toddler and this dear brave child enjoying each other's company on the floor playing Marble Run. It literally brought a tear to both eyes. One of those moments you foster for.

What I'm saying is that we had the opportunity to demonstrate to the child how much we cared and the child returned to feeling safe and secure.

Everything else went pretty much to plan. The gifts were appreciated, even the slightly unusual ones from the children's real families. A £10 phone top-up token? A pull-toy clearly purchased from a charity shop? 

Phone calls were made to significant others - as agreed after discussions with our SW.

We allowed them to stay up until midnight on New Years. Mind, they wouldn't have got to sleep 'til 2.00am anyway what with thoughtless neighbours fireworks 'welcoming in the New Year'.

We took our decorations down on January 2nd, our way of moving on.

Another "Best Christmas Ever".

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THEY GROW

 Our eldest foster child is now old enough to drive. And so he does.

We insured him for our modest Peugeot 208 (cost: arm and a leg). 

I can say for sure, hand on heart, nothing has emboldened him for the adult life ahead more or better than driving.

We have apps on our phones that let us track him and register top speeds, acceleration and sudden braking. He's a bit quicker than us, but doesn't break the limit. He knows we can monitor him, and he seems delighted; it's another bond with us, and what's much more is that he can show what a good adult he is becoming.

We've drummed into him that if he were to ever fail a breathalyser he'd be banned, but we think he's clocked more than the negatives of irresponsibility; he's growing into the realm of being responsible because it's the right way to be.

He drives off to see mates most weekends, doesn't touch a drop. 

Loves (and I mean LOVES) driving back to ours at 2.00am stone cold sober. Through rain and wind.

He loves it.

See, (I think) he has control at last of everything around him. Control of where the car he's driving is going, control of the music, the heater, the windscreen fan, the wipers.

After a rotten childhood of being dominated by adults who were unpredictable and incohesive he's got a domain where the rules are clear and fair and he has the authority to function with them. That's what it is to be a grown-up.

Result!

When your foster children turn a corner in one way or another it lifts the spirits each time.

Thinking about it reminds me of a boy who came to us for a short stay. He was 15, but a grown-up 15, by which I mean he'd started shaving. His mother was in a terrible state having had numerous children by numerous fathers. The boy told me that he knew his father was Eastern European, and that was all he knew.

I won't go into details too much, but the boy came to stay with us because the foster home he'd lived in for 15 years was under scrutiny.

When I say "scrutiny" it's important to understand that Blue Sky provide top training on the Do's and Don'ts of fostering, and also how to handle Allegations.

"Allegations" 

Blue Sky always come to the rescue.

In this case the 15 year-old was removed from his foster home while the authorities investigated.

So, we knew we had him for a few weeks, tops.

Now, the thing is that he'd been fostered for 15 years by a single person; an ex-army major, who happened to be a person who didn't care for football.

But the boy did.

So.

What happened was this.

It was a Saturday evening and I turned in about 10.00pm, ie around when Match of the Day starts.

About 10.30pm I heard male noises from downstairs so I went down for a glass of water. My other half was horizontal on the sofa watching the football. 

As was the boy.

Here's the thing…EEK. They both can a can of Stella perched on their tummy. 

Me and my other half talked about it the next morning.

He told me that the boy was so keen to become a man and put his childhood behind him that my man went into the kitchen, opened a can of Stella, drained off two thirds of it and topped it up with lemonade. The boy knocked it back - from the can - like a geezer, and went off to bed of the view that Arsenal are over-rated.

This is what we do in fostering. It's under-rated.

Whereas Arsenal, I'm informed, are over-rated.

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