SAFE FOSTERING

 I can't fully remember the last block of time in our home when we didn't have a single foster child in our care.

This has been wonderful of course, but it also has it's constraints.

I can't remember the last time I was able to nip across the landing to the bathroom in my nightclothes without slipping a dressing gown on first.

Even if I was bursting😅…

Plenty of times I'm on the horns of a miniature dilemma. For example I might discover there's not enough bread for tomorrow's school lunches.

I need to buzz to the corner shop. Only 200 yards. But should I? My own kids are ok to leave unsupervised for 5 minutes, but when one or more of the children in one's house are foster children it's a bit different; you have to make some tight decisions. 

Do you know them well enough, even if they're old enough? Is there anything in their background that means that being left at home (even for a mere 5 minutes) could be a trigger?

Then I find I do a quick bout of "catastophising" (where you imagine the worst). You picture the boiler suddenly melting, or a plug fusing and flames belching out.

These dilemmas are always sorted with common sense, in the above case I'd err on the side of caution. But they add a layer of reasonable concern to the normal considerations of safe home life.

Example;

Eleanor came to us aged eleven. A very adult aged eleven, as can often be the case with children coming in to care. They've been around the block more than the average child their age.

During her third week with us she asked if she could take her pocket money to the corner shop and get some sweets.

Eleanor had done her homework. She had found out that my youngest was allowed to go to the corner shop as long as she came straight back, and, Eleanor pointed out, our youngest is two years younger than Eleanor.

She knew where the shop was - she'd spotted it from the car on the school runs.

She remided me that to get to it she didn't need to cross a road.

She's saved her pocket money and deserved a humble bag of Haribos plus the feelgood feeling of being grown up.

And trusted.

What would YOU have said?

I didn't say anything that would have reminded her that she was in care, that would have risked harming the process of creating respect and care between us.

So. Just as with my own kids, I asked her not to speak to anyone except the person on the till. I asked her to go straight there and not spend too much time browsing (I knew she'd dawdle a little - all part of the fun).

I didn't tell her I'd be watching all the way there and back. See, we have a rather sparse hedge on the side of the front garden. You can see through it, but passers-by can't see you.

Perfect.

Mission was accomplished, total success. The spag boll didn't even catch, I'd turned it off to avoid distractions.

My other half, when I told him said; "Like I always say, you should've been SAS".

Funnily enough, Eleanor never asked to do it again. I guess she was just ticking it off as a credential; interesting.

Like I always say; fostering is wonderful. 

On top of that, it's nothing if not interesting.

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HERE COMES A SCHOOL HOLIDAY...

 Approaching every school summer holiday I resolve to get ahead, have things planned. Don't get caught unawares as I usually used to.

Result; no change. The last day of term - the summer term especially - still creeps up on you unannounced, camouflaged by end-of-term exam stress, sorting out if your foster child is staying with you throughout or not, stocking up, booking days out and travel.

And if you're going abroad for your summer vacation, good luck. We took a foster child to Spain a few summers running and it was great, but we resolved after Brexit to go no further abroad than the Isle of Wight. However if you do need guaranteed sun bear in mind it's a long haul day even if it's a short haul flight. Whatever your plans, enjoy!

Every school holiday in fostering - even the 'short' half term breaks - follow the same pattern.

Your child spends the first day 'chilling', luxuriating in the bliss of freedom.

Day two, up goes the shout "I'm bored!"

And besides all the standard day-to-day duties of the foster parent, you are now an entertainments officer.

You offer organised activities, saying;

"There's a playgroup/football club/cricket/golf/pony riding/swimming/rock climbing thing organised in town."

To mixed response. When I say 'mixed response' I'm talking somewhere betweem "You're joking!" and "No chance".

Jobs, to earn extra pocket money, often get some traction. "Jobs" such as accompanying me on the dog walk, which gets a taker now and then, or cooking the evening meal (aka making a huge mess in the kitchen for muggins to clear up). They fill another day.

I think I've learned to do nothing in the morning, but talk up what's planned for the afternoon (the 'something to look forward to' ploy.

They can whittle the morning away on tech or TV while you hoover and peg out a wash.

Know what's my jewel in the crown? There's an old field near us we can walk to, and take the dog. It's got a medium sized tree near a shallow stream. I bring a carrier nag with some snacks in it (aka "a picnic") and they'll stay all day. Making up games, getting wet, climbing a bit of the tree, snacking. Shrieking as the dog goes for a splash.

Laughing, running, lying on their back in the sun.

They don't want the day to end.

I don't either…

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FWIW

I heard that our late and much-missed Queen was being given a guided tour around a newspaper office in Fleet Street. She stopped to have a word with a veteran hard-bitten journalist.

"How long have you worked here?" she asked.

"Forty two years." Came the reply.

"Goodness,' said Her Majesty "You must have seen a great many changes in that time?"

The man thought for a moment then replied;

"Not really…"

The Queen didn't miss a beat, she went; "How interesting..."

and drifted away.

I mention this story because it's just dawned on me that I've been an accredited foster parent for nearly as long as that world-weary hack.

And am I dulled by the neverending ups and downs of fostering?

Not yet, not by any stretch.

But if her Maj had asked me if I'd seen a great many changes in fostering my answer would be the same as the man's.

Because the basics are what they always were and always will be; to help a needy child/children get through a nightmare part of their young lives, providing each child with what they need as individuals. A freshly made bed, the right clothes, good food, good company and the warmth of a good home.

Plus helping them get back to their real homes with a better chance of the chaos being reduced or even conquered.

Oh, for sure there's a bit more paperwork in places. Rules and regulations get tweaked and polished, but I always keep in mind a great bit of advice I was given by a Blue Sky director way back. He said "If ever you're not sure about something, there's always common sense to come to the rescue."

One thing that has changed is this. Back when I started there were no mobile phones. And you don't need me to tell you that we are all ultra-reliant on them for SO many things.

Parents have had to learn a whole new language in order to have any useful engagement with our kids in care.

How many of the below are you familiar with?

• IMO: In my opinion.
• BRB: Be right back.
• JK: Just kidding.
• NVM: Never mind.
• TBH: To be honest.
• TMI: Too much information.
• YOLO: You only live once.
• IRL: In real life.
• LMK: Let me know.
• NBD: No big deal.
• NP: No problem.
• FWIW: For what it's worth.
• FYI: For your information.
• GG: Good game.
• FOMO: Fear of missing out.
• TFW: That feeling when. 

 

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UNANNOUNCED DELIGHT

 Just had an "unannounced visit".

So; this is where your Blue Sky social worker turns up without giving notice. Happens infrequently, but I'm glad it happens.

It's something that one can see the importance of, but a newcomer might take it slightly the wrong way; as if someone's suspecting one of putting on a performance of fostering when one knows a social worker has booked a visit in advance, and the rest of the time one fosters to lower standards.

Part of the reason I'm all in favour of unannounced visits is that way back we took in a child whose parents were often reported to Social Services by neighbours, but the social workers would telephone ahead and fix appointments to visit and check. The children were intimidated into saying they were loved and cared for, despite the fact they were being abused.

There's light years between that scenario and Blue Sky's levels of care - which prioritises us foster parents, not just the children - but I keep it in my mind as salient.

And, crucially, "unannounced visits" aren't random; everyone gets the same and the same amount of them. It's a standard.

But the thing that takes any edge off these visits is the way Blue Sky do it.

And BTW I have no idea if fostering folk who work under local authorities or other agencies get unannounced visits; all I know is how our people do it.

They turn up with big smiles. Make you feel like they enjoy your company so much they were made up when they were allocated making a surprise visit to you.

The thing about unannounced visits is that Blue Sky social workers have a job to do; to double check we carers are okay and getting everything as good as we can. But one can always sense that they're careful of not making us feel under scrutiny.

No-one wants to be under scrutiny, but it's one of life's neverending burdens; the boss, management, one's schoolteachers, parking wardens…the neighbourhood nosey parker who checks other people's wheelie bins are put out right…

However. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, does this type of checking up better than Blue Sky.

So;  our social worker turned up, beaming smiles, like it was a drop-in for coffee and gossip. 

And in a way it was exactly that; she came in, fussed our dog, went through our tub of herbal tea bags choosing a peppermint tea and settled at our kitchen table with me and my cuppa, and we had a blast. Nattering and laughing, it was a real boost.

But. The professionalism was never out of comission. 

She wanted know how are things, how's the fostering, how's our life, how is fostering working with the rest of our family lives.

Then; a bombshell.

One of our children struggles to get to school. We do everything we can to get the child to school, but the child is dealing with medical/emotional challenges (nothing alarming, simply the residue of a lifelong chaotic family). In our house we manage the child's school attendance using common sense. We get the child to school every day, sometimes it stretches our commitment, but it's what they need.

Once in a blue moon it's not do-able. Same as with other children, and our allies; Blue Sky, the local authority, the school itself, recognise and understand.

As chance would have it, the unannounced visit happened to be a day when our foster child had simply no chance of going to school. The child's fears, anxieties and suppressed angers, were too much.

So; downstairs I had a social workere checking out we were getting our fostering right. And upstairs we had a foster child who should be at school but isn't.

The child struggles to engage with people, but is improving.

The child struggles with authority thanks to poor parenting.

The child has always resisted engaging with social workers, but we're working on it.

I texted the child that our social worker had dropped in unannounced.

Never expected what happened next.

After a half hour the child suddenly appeared at the kitchen door. Swanned in and said a confident "Hi" to us. Our social worker didn't milk the moment, but I could tell she was lit up.

Child sauntered to the kettle and made a cup of instant.

Then the child came and sat with us and chatted. A milestone.

Yes, there were machinations going on; the child was saying "Look how much I benefit from skipping school sometimes."

Bottom line; it all worked out Jim Dandy.

The child is starting to attend school better and better. Our social worker was knocked out.

And I got to feel a rush of pride and happiness that my fostering was going along okey dokey.

And for me, as ever, fostering is more than okey dokey.

It's the bees knees.

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