So, currently we have three foster children, my maximum due to bedroom availability. Looking after a brood of other people's children has it's ups and downs, but the kids seem to like it. Strength in numbers.
They swap their stories with each other of their journey into care. It bonds them. They do it by themselves, no coaching needed. Is there an element of "My woes are worse than yours"? - a common game played by adults - no. If anything there are hints of genuine caring for each other.
Nothing thrilled them more than the morning last week when the car broke down on the school run.
Cars are a big deal to foster children. Often their loftiest aspiration is to one day be able to drive.
Way back, when I first put in for approval to become a foster carer, Blue Sky attached a social worker to my case, a young man.
He came to our house once a month.
When you go through the approval process you're asked to talk honestly and openly about yourself, your life and experiences. Blue Sky has to ensure that foster parents are okay to do the job. But don't get me wrong, the process is gentle and caring.
Nobody's perfect; we've all had our bad days. In fact, fostering needs people who've been there and got the T shirt. Difficult divorce? You know about turmoil. Fired from work? Useful experience of disappointment and rejection. Not on speaking terms with your father? Invaluable insight into domestic tension.
The process is positive. The prospective foster carer gets clarity on their own self and qualities.
One of the ways I found myself drawn into talking about my background was the social worker sharing things about himself.
His was a fascinating story.
See, he'd been a foster child himself.
So he could talk about fostering not only as a provider but also as a recipient.
He was taken into care aged 15. His foster mum was a single woman who owned a smallholding. She had some income from her former husband so her earnings from eggs and renting out fields for ponies was beer money.
Anyway, going back to the driving thing. The young social worker told me about his big memory of being in care. He made it sound as though the experience made life in a care the greatest thing a child can have.
His foster mum owned seventeen acres. And a land rover.
And…provided he only drove it on her private land...he was free to drive it. Aged 15. Not sure wjhat Blue Sky would make of that, but this was back in the day, nothing to do with Blue Sky.
He and I sat at our kitchen table talking about him bumping around the farm, I could see plain as day what it had meant to him to be asked to drive down to the bottom meadow with a load of feed for the ponies.
Fostering and driving…
We were doing the school run with a full car - three in the back - and were about ten miles from home when I began to notice a whirry noise when I braked. It got louder and grew into a proper whine. Then a hideous shriek.
I pulled over and called the RAC.
The kids were absolutley made up. Not only were they legitimately having a no-school day, their foster mum was under the cosh. Just like them.
The joy and laughter was discreet but unconfined.
The RAC lady said my brakes had seized, can happen to anyone. She towed the car off to a garage and arrranged transport for me and 3 foster kids. We arrived home at half past twelve, too late for school; day off.
No car, has to be Deliveroo. Maccy Ds all round. Never seen them happier. We all need happy days.
Day to remember. You get quite a few in fostering.
And you never stop learning.
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