FOSTERING - KNOW YOUR ONIONS

I was watching the TV news, a camera crew was on the streets of Belfast asking members of the public about the Troubles.

An elderly man said something that's stayed with me;

"Anyone who thinks they understand the Troubles in Northern Ireland doesn't really know what's going on."

See, I think the same about fostering.

The last thing a foster parent should think is that they know all they need to know about fostering.

Almost every day in fostering we foster parents stub our toe on some bedpost that wasn't there yesterday. It might be something specific to our current foster child, or the way the ways of the world in general are impacting them. Or the way they impact our home and family.

We have a child who's been with us long-term, and we no longer think of him as anything other than family. He's simply our son. Not our "foster son'. He's our boy.

We know him inside out. We love him, respect him and cherish every moment with him. He's a brilliant young man; he's been through very rough times and keeps fighting, not only for himself but for others who are battling to be happy. He's a champion. A hero. 

Such young people are not thick on the ground. We got lucky.

However, we now have our newest and most recent addition.

And the job is on. The job is to learn from the child the child's version of their story, because their version is the one that matters.

Alicia, aged 14, is starting the process of transitioning from being identified as male to being identified as female. 

On Sunday the house was quiet, everyone was out except me and Alicia. I was nursing a Sunday roast. The smells of home cooking are catnip to young people who've never smelled suchlike. Alicia appeared at the kitchen wondering if there was a diet Coke left in the fridge. There was. Not only that there was a muffin in the larder, right up to its best before date, going brittle at the edges. Alicia could do the household a favour by seeing it off. 

I joined Alicia at the kitchen table, Alicia with a Coke and cake, me with the half-glass of red I treat myself to when doing Sunday lunch.The first thing I needed to get from Alicia was whether Alicia wanted to be regarded as a "she" or a "they".

Best to tiptoe in.

The job is to listen. But you can only listen when someone's talking, and she was shy - of course - and guarded - of course- so I started off easy; "I'm roasting onions. Do you like onions?"

Little or no response, as if Alicia knew I was pussy-footing to butter up the important stuff.

Me: "I should get a list of your favourite meals so I can fit them in."

Food is SUCH good currency with children coming in to care. It's almost universal that they haven't been well fed. You get kids who've never been cooked a home meal, never eaten off a plate, don't know how to use a knife and fork.

Alicia sat thinking about the question, then said "Steak. Sushi. Caviar."

OK. Many thanks to the internet (Alicia has a phone).

Our chat meandered on. Start light then hone in on what one needs to know.

My big question was going to be; "Are you presenting as a "She" or a "They"?"

And I got there in the end. But, know what? Alicia was so cool about the question I learned I should have simply asked it up front.

Alicia loved being asked the question, and grew in front of me when she answered proudly "She".

"I'm a she."

Alicia went upstairs to her room. 

So now I'm stood at the work surface topping and tailing green beans, lopping brocolli spears, peeling carrots.

Ah, carrots.

We had a foster child stay with us who left us with this huge home truth, he said:

"No-one actually likes carrots. People just use them to brighten up a plate of dull-looking food."

He was aged seven.

Like I said earlier, you learn something new every day in fostering.

So, I'm stood dicing at the work surface drumming something into myself. Namely; to only refer to Alicia as female.

It's now essential to say; "Is she ready to get in the car?", "Is that her backpack in the hall?"

Alicia is too young for any medical intervention, but has been offered a person to talk to.

As a foster mum, ploughing into this territory, praise be I have our Blue Sky social worker at my back. These guys know their onions. 

Ah, onions.

My next thing is to ask her; "What next for Alicia?"

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FOSTERING'S HONEYMOON PERIOD

 Been a hectic couple of days. A new child coming into the home takes up all one's attention.

So much for the foster parent to learn. And teach.

It's an even bigger thing for every child coming into care.

Jeez, think about it.

When I was age ten I discovered I was being sent to live for a week with my mum's best friend, Vera Caldicott. She had two sons, the eldest being about my age.

I was given no breakdown on why I was being farmed out, except to get a whiff that a) it would be good for me and b) that Vera's eldest child Malcolm was a handful, and that, because my mum was a head teacher we could have Malcolm stay with us on a return visit and she could help 'get him in hand'.

The week I spent with the Caldicotts remains a fresh memory for me. An experience which was half good half bad.

I mention this because it's crucial to try to imagine how things are for a child coming into care.

If we foster parents go the lazy way we say to ourselves; "Well, they've had a rough time in a mixed-up home, all I have to do is keep my home ticking over and they'll relax in the peace and harmony."

That thinking's a bit wrong.

See, every child coming into care has had to endure years of a chaotic home life, followed by a removal from their significant others, followed by finding themselves plugged into a family of strangers and lodged in a home where they don't know anything about what's where and how the toilet flushes.

So. Our latest foster child, Alicia, has been settling in for a few days.

The arrival of a new foster child is almost always an utter pleasure. The child is usually quiet, polite and compliant. It's called the honeymoon period, which lasts about 10 days to 3 weeks.

Then the child pays their foster parent the ultimate compliment. The child demonstrates that they trust their foster parent/parents…by having a meltdown.

Alicia remains, after 4 or 5 days, charming and ultra-co-operative.

But I know that some sort of storm is brewing, and a justifiable one too.

Alicia, as I mentioned in an earlier post, is transitioning. 

Transitioning is a new thing for me in fostering, although Blue Sky paid for me to go on a 5 star course on it, which is probably why they came to me with Alicia.

The first things I notice about Alicia is a huge intelligence. Then I notice a heartfelt kindness. Followed by an integrity. 

I'm deeply impressed by Alicia.

However, Alicia has a mountain to climb, a mountain Alicia has stared at and decided to climb, and my proud job as the foster mum is to be Alicia's sherpa.

When I came into fostering I seem to remember that the issue of transitioning simply didn't exist; there were people who cross-dressed and that was about it. And that was somehow different - or so it seemed.

I'm looking forward to chatting with Alicia - if they want to - about themself and how life is.

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'ALICIA' ARRIVES. PART THREE

"ALICIA'S ARRIVAL" PART THREE

Alicia drank coke and ate a biscuit. 

The kid seemed a quandary; gentle, soft and vulnerable on the one hand, yet hard as nails, bright as a button, and ready for the argument if one happened.

Alicia seemed to use what seemed to me to be a deliberatly flighty voice (which might have been entirely authentic, I'll  learn) and a light attitude to circumstances (being taken into care is a massive event in a child's life, yet I often find they prefer to treat it outwardly as another day at the office).

The conversation worked its way through Alicia's status while in care, plus Alicia's personal needs and preferences.

The rest of my family arrived home in dribs and drabs and steered clear of the meeting. I explained to Alicia a bit about who each one was and said I'd introduce them properly at teatime.

Alicia began to grow more and more animated as the meeting went on.

Nearly time for the social workers to go.

I joked that I could do spaghetti bollognese for everyone if they wanted to stay, but my Blue Sky social worker was first on her feet, saying to Alicia;

"Lovely to meet you, I'm looking forward to getting to know you better."

Alicia's social worker took the cue, and I saw them out.

The moment when you're on your own had arrived.

Time to give Alicia the tour of the house and allow time before tea to unpack in the allocated bedroom.

I usually have the radio on when I'm cooking, but that afternoon I wanted to hear anything I might need to hear.

I did.

First up Alicia talking in the bedroom quite loudly into the mobile phone that had come in under agreement.

Then silence.

I went upstairs ostensibly to ask if Alicia wanted spag boll with mince, or the vegetarian (spag+Dolmio).

I tapped gently on the bedroom door and there sat Alicia on the edge of the bed.

Crying softly.

Poor, poor kid.

I thought to myself. "Here we go…" Then I thought; "Come on girl, this is why you foster."

I said softly;

"Want to talk? Tea can wait."

Alicia took a big breathe and whispered "I don't know. But thank you anyway."

I said; "Okay, tea's ready in about ten minutes. Have a think about whether you want ice cream or fruit salad for afters."

I saw Alicia register the request. So, to drive it home I added;

"Or, as it's a special day, you could have both…"

Truth be told I needed to crack on. Tea was going to be one revelation after another, but I had 100% confidence that my other two foster children wouldn't remotely let the side down.

There's a cameraderie among children who are in care that's often deeply touching.

The job has begun.

Best job out there...

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'ALICIA' ARRIVES. PART TWO

Alicia is arriving at 4.00pm. I've noticed that 4.00pm is a popular time to bring in a new foster child. There are so many subtle things in fostering. If the 4.00pm drop-off is a preferred practice I can only guess as to why it works. 

The social workers (one from the local authority - who are overall guardians of the child) plus a Blue Sky social worker (supporting us - the foster parents) usually devote a full hour to the handover.

Then, at somewhere between 5.00pm and 6.00pm, they leave.

And, until you get the first phone call from Blue Sky the next morning to see how things are going…you're on your own.

What will Alicia be like? 

Our Blue Sky social worker arrived ahead of the child. They always try to do that, and I'm grateful to have a supporter in place. We supped tea and rattled on about Alicia. We were both equally excited. And trepidacious.

On the dot of 4.00pm a car stopped and parked up at our garden gate.

We watched discretely as the social worker emerged and opened the car back door to let the passenger out. All we could tell from distance is that the child is narrrow in build, neutral clothes, and has a tinge of purple amid a frenzy of dark brown hair.

The social worker goes to the boot and picks up two black bin liners.

Oh dear. If this stuff in bags is Alicia's life it doesn't deserve to be in a bin liner. Blue Sky have a policy on luggage. They did a drive a while back to get people to donate proper suitcases so that children coming into care had that dignity. But to make that happen they need to intercept the child on the child's collection and that didn't happen in Alicia's case.

No worries, there are worse things.

So. Now they're coming up our garden path. I've never quite resolved the question of whether to throw the front door open and give a smiling "Hello!" or wait for them to ring the bell.

Arriving must be frightening for the child.

Luckily our dog helps. She always has a welcome for anyone coming through our front door. Foster children percieve it as a celebration that they've arrived. I give the dog a treat and slip the child a treat and say "Looks like you've got a new friend, she likes these snacky bits."

It gets us through the opening awkwardness.

And it scored with Alicia, who went down on both knees to return our dog's affection.

In fostering you're always on the lookout for little moments that. Nothing huge, just nice little moments. 

The four of us; 1) the local authority social worker, 2) my Blue Sky social worker, 3) Alicia and 4) myself, sat down at the kitchen table. I offered tea or water or diet coke as an alternative. I get orders for one green tea, one mug of hot water and a diet coke.

Alicia's nod for a diet coke is another little plus. Hopefully it marks my home out as being up-to-date and, more importantly, well stocked. 

Flushed, I popped a saucer of chocolate digestives in the middle.

And got my first discreet look at Alicia.

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A TRANSITIONING (PART ONE)

 Had an interesting fostering day.

PART ONE

Got a call from Blue Sky; "Would I consider taking a child who…?"

On the phone I got a thumbnail of the child.

I said my usual 'definite maybe'. Blue Sky sent the paperwork.

The child is Alicia, previously known as Troy.

No problem so far, although she/he would be my first foster child aiming to transition.

Alicia is 14 and has suffered neglect and abuse.

Alicia had been left to fend for themself in their home since toddlerhood; scrounging food however they could, keeping themselves hidden from the adults who roamed the house day and night.

BTW, I'm not totally sure about referring to Alicia as "they". Blue Sky paid for me to go to a training session on trans people and I picked up some useful pointers. If Alicia joined our family we'd talk to Alicia about how they prefer to present.

Alicia came into care because of an incident at the home.

Some bloke had stormed the house having been locked out. There'd been a ruck. Neighbours called the police and when they went in and saw things they turned it over to Social Services.

Alicia was collected by a local authourity social worker who wrote the profile that got distributed to prospective foster parents.

I was sitting at the kitchen table reading the profile. 

Alicia had grown up alongside five or seven siblings (no-one knew for sure) on a run-down estate plagued with anti-social stuff. Commonplace was petty crime, cheap drugs and drink, abuse and bullying, hostilities, sexual misconduct, routine incompetency, negligence of basic responsibilities. 

About the same as half of Parliament then? (Stick to the point Secret Foster Carer…)

A new one on me was this one; the notes spoke of; "parasitic behaviour". 

Parasitic behaviour; a lifelong dependence on benefits and benefit fraud, live-in 'lovers', in it for what they can sponge, sofa-surfers, pay-day loan junkies, middle-aged adults living with their parents, bread-winners excused of their duties through being in prison. 

Most of the people Alicia has grown up around identify as victims, but claim their problems are everyone else's fault. 

Clearly Alicia needs confidence and optimism that life is more than a vale of tears.

I called my partner, who agreed. I called Blue Sky's placement team. I said we'd take Alicia, if chosen. They said the jury was still out. 

The 'jury' is the team of social workers who have the job of choosing which foster home is best for the child. They often need to make a swift decision, sometimes the child might be sitting outside their office at social services HQ, homeless.

Blue Sky called; Alicia was coming to us.

Cue an excitement that's hard to describe. The hope that one can help a child repair? New beginnings and challenges for your whole family? Not to mention the warmth of being chosen, not a major thing, but nice.

I get all this wonderful fug whenever a new child is on their way.

And…once again; this is my first transitioning placement.

So. Dilemmas. 

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