PARENT AND CHILD AND LOVING IT

 We've got a nicely full home at the moment. One of our two medium-term foster children has been found a family home (kinship fostering) and another has gone to their real home (which is always Plan A if it's feasable), timing is everything as you'd predict.

So;

It's week 8 of our latest arrival; a Parent and Child placement.

Biggest problem so far? I'd say this; the mother is learning the enormity of parenting. An enormity that's even more enormous for a single parent. A single parent who's barely aged mid-teens. A girl who's away from home for the first time in her life because Social Services decided that the young mother's own parents were already on their rader hadn't got what it takes to teach her parenting and that therefore the baby might be at risk. 

The dear girl is learning that, while her ex-classmates are getting home from some weekend gathering at someone else's house at 1.00am, she's also awake; trying to comfort and feed a demanding  babe-in-arms.

She sometimes sits and has a little weep about where her life is at. But, to be fair, most of the time she's cheerful, resolute and philosophical. Or so darn tired she's on auto-pilot. 

What I'm reporting to each of the ten or twelve (I've lost count) professionals who are attached to her placemnent is; she's a loving, responsible, tireless mother.

Biggest plus so far? Actually - and moreover honestly - there are too many to mention them all. A few;

• The baby is a delight. Even when he wakes the house up crying for his guzzles at midnight and 3.00am. He's already growing into being himself, very bossy - he even lords it over my husband who's ten times bigger than babe. Whenever hubby takes his turn at giving the baby a hold, he finds that the baby grizzles if hubby doesn't stand rather than sit, and is required to show baby the views from our front and back room. It's a power thing.
• The mother is a delight. A good mum, she's also learning budgeting and cooking skills. Tonight she's cooking everyone Nachos. Her other speciality is cottage pie. She's on her way, all she has to do is learn that the clever family chef uses recipes which are a) budget-conscious b) easy on the washing-up.
• Our home is a delight. Nothing sprinkles sunshine around a house quite like a baby and a loving young parent. Those of us who've been round the block a few times (and I'd include plenty of the looked-after children we've loved to have in our home), are - from time to time -careworn, battle-hardened old soldiers, given to bouts of world-weariness and even cynicism. Not these two kids! No, this young mum and her kid ooze with hope and innocence, an inspiration for the rest of us.
• We get delightful moments. The young mum did her first food shop at Tesco's with me and came away from the till saying "I never knew food was so expensive!" The mum gets and hour or so of "Me" time every day, but she came looking for her son saying "I was lonely without him". Oh and this one…(she's bright but has had no education), she asked me…"Did you live through the Black Death?"

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THE SMALLEST FISH ARE THE SWEETEST

I've a friend who has a lovely turn of phrase, such as;

"The smallest fish are the sweetest."

For example if she gets a £2 win on a scratchcard (not exactly life-changing)... it's;

"The smallest fish are the sweetest."

I thought of her yesterday when this happened.

We have a parent and child alongside our regular fostering at the moment. A young mum (age 16) and her 4 month old baby. With a Parent and Child (P+C) placement, the foster parents have to stay on track with the main tasks which are a) to ensure the child's safety and b) keep accurate records of the parent's parenting to help a judge decide whether the parent has what it takes to keep the child.

I'm new to it.

Blue Sky prepped me for the job, I spent hours looking up the latest research on child development and baby care on the unbelievably outstanding NHS website, but I was nervous right up to day one.

One of my concerns (and it's an ever-present with me) is whether the young people who arrive will ever feel at home.

We all need to feel comfortable wherever we have to lay our hat.

To begin with the mother showed all the signs of homesickness; phoning her mum for an hour every evening after the baby fell asleep, dragging me round Home Bargains buying up half the shop because her mum's birthday was only two months away, dressing heself up to the nines for weekly Contact with her whole family…

Homesickness can be cruel. In fostering we try to ease it with little touches. For example, the young mum likes 3 spoons of sugar in her tea.   Luckily she's been advised by Health Visitors to keep her sugar intake up as she breast-feeds. Now, we don't take sugar any more in our house any more, but I Amazoned a sugar bowl and now keep it filled.

For the first few weeks she was a fish out of water around our house, obviously. But we did everything we could to help her feel at home.

She and I had plenty of friendly chats, she welcomed having half a shelf of our fridge to herself for her own "bits"…I felt things were going in the right direction, but you can never be sure.

Then, yesterday.

My other half was in the kitchen finishing the drying up. The young mum came in and put her empty tea mug in the sink. Then she boiled a kettle and made a cup of instant coffee and took it back into the living room.

After the young mum went to bed I said to my other half "Thanks for my coffee earlier".

He replied: "I didn't make it, she did."

I told him that when she got up to put her cup in the kitchen I asked her to ask him to make me a coffee.

Only she didn't. 

She made me a cup of coffee herself, and brought it to me.

Wonderful.

I told my friend, the one who's good with phrases;

"Ah," she said "She crossed the bridge right there then?"

I nodded, and said; "And I know what you're going to say next…"

And the two of us chorused'

"The smallest fish are the sweetest."

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YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE GORDON RAMSEY

 Every time a new child arrives (and I really do mean EVERY time)…

…you have to find out what they like to eat, and even more important, what they DON'T like to eat.

And do it quick.

And, if you want the quiet life, you indulge their preferences and avoid their aversions.

Simples.

As time goes by you can work on things and improve, but not on day one.

But;  it might not be as simple as I made out at first. If the child has any type of eating disorder you'd hope it had been identified before they arrive and you, as foster parents, are advised.

If they have a clean bill of health it doesn't mean they aren't picky, and you usually have to move heaven and earth to keep them onside at mealtimes.

Feeding them right is good for their karma, good for household peace and quiet, and (if you know a few tricks and hacks) it can be good for their health too.

I'm not above blending brocolli into a spag boll sauce…or pretending the child is a giant and that the cauliflower is huge trees…

The reason food and fostering is in my mind is this;

We've been getting to know a teenage girl who is the single mother of a baby, they're both with us right now.

The first thing I asked our Blue Sky social worker when the placement was confirmed was;

"What would she most like for her first evening meal with us?"

The answer came back swiftly;

"Cottage pie."

No problem. It's one of the top ten comfort foods. Plus I got a snapshot of family mealtimes in the child's real home; cottage pie is easy to eat with a single fork off your lap while watching Series 4 episode 9 of your favourite drama. Plus it's usually pretty bland and unchallenging.

So. First evening meal with us we all sat round on stools at the breakfast bar and NOT at a formal table. She said she liked the food. I'd done brocolli as a side and she ate some. I'd done a basic salad (lettuce and cucumber) and she ate some of that too, drenching it in Caesar Salad dressing.

Then she asked, as casually as she could:

"What spices did you put in the cottage pie?"

"Er..none. Is it OK?"

"Ye. But I quite like…y'know…paprika. And garlic. And oregano and basil. Cayenne, but not too much."

Me: "Chilli powder?"

"No! Yuk!'

Me "Anything else?'

"Lots o' salt. An' pepper."

She went back to eating.

They say that during the first 3 seconds of meeting someone for the first time the average person collects and processes 5000 pieces of information about them, instinctively.

It's about the same the first time you discover a new child's food preferences.

And if you're on your game it tells you 10,000 things about the child, their past life, who they hope to become…

…and what to serve on day two.

I took advantage that we were talking about food and asked her about all her likes and dislikes. She enjoyed the telling. I got her full book of favourites and no-no foods.

It was a win/win.

She felt cared for.

My meal planning was going to be a doddle.

Although, I'm going to have to look up the recipe for Nachos.

If there aren't a million of Nacho ideas up on YouTube, I'm Gordon Ramsey.

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IT'S JUST TURNED 2.00AM...

 Six weeks into our first Parent and Child placement in 20 years and...

PHEW!

The parent is a mother aged 15, the child is 4 months old.

The mum is a truly lovely young woman. I describe her as a "young woman", though I suppose technically she herself is a child.

My priority as their foster mum is to ensure the safety, wellbeing and positive development of the baby, who is a truly lovely boy.

I have to be on full alert (without appearing to be jumpy or judgemental) `to everything that goes on between the mum and her baby. 

I guide the mum towards best practice in everything, not by telling her "Do this" or "Don't do that", but by setting examples so that the mum learns and understands by adopting good techniques.

The psychologist who assesed her back before she came to us submitted an 82 page report, the gist of which is that she should be helped to work things out for herself rather than think of parenting as a set of rules.

I'm pretty sure I knew that consideration before I was given a potted version of the report, and one of the (many) social workers/parenting assessors/health visitors/review officers - the list professionals supporting this mother and baby is pretty long - kindly commented that I seemed to be getting that bit right without any need for coaching.

Example; the baby cries from time to time.

No surprise there.

Initially, the young mum would sit on the sofa with the baby horizontal in her arms and sort of gently bounce him in her arms, talking baby talk;

"Wassamatter little fella?" 

"Everything's alright…"

"Wassamatter…?"

Didn't pacify him.

So, I began saying, after a period of unabated crying;

"Shall I have him for a bit, give you a break?"

Staying in the same room as the mother I tried something I remember had soothed each of my sons when they were babes.

I simply stayed stood upright, holding the baby upright, with his head close to my face. I gently wrapped both my arms and hands around him so that he felt secure, and made soothing sounds, the sort he might have heard in the womb, for example; "Shhhhhhhh…" or a gentle resonant "Bedoomp, bedoomp…" (Like the comforting rhythm of a heartbeat).

And I moved slowly and silently around the room, changing the things he could see in order to distract him from his discomfort.

Whether it was the fact of being up high, or the swaddling in my arms, or the sounds I made right next to his ear…

Something worked, and he would stop crying in seconds.

My next job is to help the young mum watch and try to understand not merely that there is a way to soothe her baby, but that with parenting you're ALWAYS on the lookout for techniques that get results. You've got to keep exploring solutions to find the ones that work. 

What's good for Petronella isn't necessarily good for Paula.

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FUNNYISH MOMENT

 Funny how the mind works, and when its "On" I always end up thinking fostering.

So…

The cricket season has started (my other half cares about it).

How, you might ask, can cricket lead you to think about fostering?

My brain went like this…

Some years ago a 14 year-old lad came to us, a truly delightful kid whose dad had fled ages ago and his mum ended up going off the rails.

He'd had no life to speak of. Never had a holiday. Christmas and birthdays went unoticed. His schooling was described in his notes as "sporadic".

He spent most days and nights in his bedroom. His household didn't have a dime.

Then he joined us as a foster child, and took off.

Blue Sky helped enroll him at a decent secondary school where they played cricket. Someone tossed him a ball, and it turned out he could bowl. Fast.

So the very next game they had, the school had him open the bowling.

The match (his state school versus a public school) was played at the grounds of the public school.

At the time he was our only placement. My eldest son offered to drive him there and pick him up. And I volunteered to go along and watch.

Setting off early we got there an hour early. A proper posh school. The sports facilities were astonishing; four cricket grounds, innumerable rugby pitches, hockey pitches.. a golf course! I went up to their reception desk. A mahogany greetings room with leather chesterfields and marble pillars.

The receptionist asked if she could help. "Yes please" said little me, "I'm a parent, wondering where the cricket is happening?"

"It's on pitch number four, the Oval, too far to walk. Where are you parked." 

I replied;

"My wheels have gone off, so I'm on foot."

"Oh, no problem. I'll arrange a driver for you."

Then she said "Would you like lunch?"

I said I was okay.

She then said;

"Or coffee or tea?"

I okayed a tea,

2 minutes later a silver tray with a china teapot, a china cup and saucer, china milk jug, china bowl of white and brown sugar lumps and a sugar iced slice of cake with double cream.

Then the receptionist asked me this;

"When is your chauffeur returning to collect you."

Yep.

God's honest truth, I never make stuff up here...When I'd said :"I'm a parent" she assumed I was someone who could afford £50,000 a year fees.

What brought me back to thinking about fostering was the grand canyon of divide between the haves and the have nots.

Yet. I'm in touch with our kid, he's going along as well as any of the "Ollies" and "Julians" he played that day.

Best of all, I don't know much about about cricket, but I know when batsmen are getting their blocks knocked off. 

Which my boy did.

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WHAT IT MEANS WHEN YOUR SOCIAL WORKER HAS YOUR BACK

 We have a family friend who used to be a police officer.

He left the force after 20 years, said he noticed the job was "starting to get to him".

I guessed what he meant but asked him anyway.

"Well," he replied, "When you spend much of every working day in the company of people who are up to no good, you can end up suspecting everybody is somewhere between dodgy and downright crooked. Which is not good for the soul."

I told him that if he'd had a Blue Sky social worker at his back he'd probably have gone the distance.

What I'm on about is this;

The poor dear children who come into our homes to be fostered have sackfuls of troubles packed up in their old kit bag, and one of our jobs is to help them with the load.

There's no way you can do it without getting involved with their story.

"Centring" it's sometimes called. Where someone puts themselves in the other person's shoes.

I'm getting to understand the wheres' and whyfors' of the young mother who's been with us now a couple of weeks, mothering her 3 month-old baby.

To do the job well I need to learn everything available about her. The best source of that information is the girl herself, but I have to be skilfull to avoid her feeling interrogated.

It will be useful to me to know if she REALLY, REALLY wanted the baby. She's not old enough to leave school yet, but finds herself being a (very) young mum.

I say 'useful', I really mean 'crucial', because in a while, probably a month or two, a court will sit to decide the baby's future; or, to be precise, whether the mum can keep her baby or for the baby to be removed and probably put up for adoption. And my observations, recorded every day and fact-checked by my Blue Sky social worker, will be the basis for the court's decision.

So, no pressure there then.

After a number of chit-chats with the young mum I learned something that knocked the wind out of me.

The girl's mother has had nine children, but is only aged early thirties, and ...

…the first baby she had was when she was as young an age as the girl who is now in our care.

The girl was her mother's first daughter (there had been four boys born earlier).

As you'd imagine, I was struck by this revelation, and the possible insight it offered.

I recorded it, without any opinion or analysis.

I'm confident the many other professionals working on the case had already discovered the same information, but probably not from the mouth of the girl it most drastically affected.

My discovery was important because I saw in her expression as she confided in me, that what she may have decided was to give her mother affirmation for a life-choice the girl's mother might have expressed regret about.

Obviously, I might be wide of the mark. Also; with Parent and Child your records are restricted to the facts. My extrapolations aren't required. I have to stick to hard evidence.

But. Here's the thing…

It got me down.

Not a lot, but enough.

I began to suspect that maybe the forces that are striving to make the world a bit better are losing to the mysterious forces that either don't want that, or don't care about anything. And they're getting the upper hand.

I found myself mentally rehearsing asking the girl's mother "Why? Why do you keep having so many children, some of whom follow you off the rails?"

Of course I never would, but it was eating me.

Cue my Blue Sky social worker on the doorstep, all warm smiles and positivity.

She put me right in a heartbeat.

The world isn't full of people who don't (or can't) care. Every day, in lots of little ways, the folk who want to kiss the planet better are winning.

And when she left I was right as rain.

You need back-up in fostering, because you do a job surrounded by lots of other people's bad decisions, so you need a shot in the arm from time to time.

Oh, and by the by, my friend who used to be a police officer? 

He works at his local Youth Club, as a volunteer councillor. 

See, even though he didn't have quite enough back-up from the force, his heart  escaped unscathed.

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OVERWHELMED

 Every newly arriving foster child is full of surprises.

When a mum gives birth to her own baby that baby is in many ways starting from scratch. Yes they may have the mother's eyes and the father's nose, but up to the moment of the start of their birth they're largely untouched by the world.

Not so with a new fostering placement.

As foster parents we're given as much information in advance as possible, sometimes a lot, sometimes not so much. If the child wasn't known to social services prior to being removed the child's background is bound to be sketchy.

The minute the placement begins, the second the child arrives, the process of unearthing and understanding what they've been through begins. Our latest arrival, a young mother and her 3 month-old baby have been here for nearly three weeks.

Already I could write a book.

Infuriatingly I can't share the lions share with you as her privacy is paramount. But I can paint a few broad brushstrokes.

During the first couple of weeks we foster parents help the parent with some of the basic parenting tasks, to help the pair of them settle in. But a large part of the job is preparing the parent to do the parenting solo. Our parent - mum - now changes (almost) all the nappies and prepares all the feeds to supplement her breast-feeding. We drove her across the county to have contact with her mum and stepdad, but that deal is set to change; mum and baby to make her own arrangements to meet her family.

Mum increasingly cooks evening meals for herself, is set to shop herself for groceries, nappies, baby clothes - everything.

So that's the practical stuff under control.

The other bit is just as important, and much harder to manage.

The emotional stuff.

Imagine; you're 15 years old, you meet a boy via social media.

You're pregnant. The boy disappears from tne internet.

Social services get wind and decide your real family aren't up to supporting you as a young mum, and that the baby might be at risk.

Ahead of the birth you're taken to a town 100 miles from your home and placed with a foster carer you don't much care for.

Social services get wind all is not well and do what so many local authorioties do when the chips are down; they call in Blue Sky.

Now the poor girl and her baby are driven 50 miles across the county again.

This time to us.

She's giving it her best shot, this young mum.

But.

A couple of evenings ago I noticed activity on the baby monitor I use for when they are in her room together. The baby was awake, and while not unhappy, making noises he hoped would bring his mum to him.

I knocked on the door and went in.

The young mum was on her bed wrapped tightly in the woolen blanket she'd brought with her from home. Right over her head it was. 

Overwhelmed.

It was the second time it's happened.

I manged to raise her resolve and remind her that her baby needed her.

To her credit she pulled herself together and did a great job.

So, yeah…I can teach her to sing nursery rhymes and make a bottle with one hand. 

How do I help a kid not to let everything get to them when, in her case, everything is so huge?

As the man on the radio used to say;

"Answers on a postcard please…"

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NEW BEST MOMENT IN FOSTERING

 Fostering isn't easy, I've always been up front about that. 

If a person contacts their local authority or a nearby fostering agency (I'm with Blue Sky, they're Five Star), you'll be given an overview of the role, and the ups and downs.

There are Downs.

Children coming into your care will have had a rough time. I always say; "Do not expect the Von Trapp children (those annoyingly perfect kids from the Sound Of Music)".

There are Ups too.

Here are my top ten, indulge me. Because THERE'S  A NEW NUMBER ONE.

10) Foster child who said: "When mummy comes out of prison can she come and live here to see what a proper mummy is like?" 

9) Foster child who heard me say the upstairs toilet was broken. He asked for a toolkit and went and fixed it.

8) Child was distraught; not allowed home for the weekend, only consoled by a late night dash to McDonalds. On the way back she said;"Ain't the moon beautiful going fru' the tops of them trees."

7) Abused child: "I wanna go home. But I love it here so much I wanna stay." This child I see in town sometimes. He's OK.

6) Foster mother of a newborn who had never had a childhood herself. We took her and her baby to the beach. She made sandcastles like the five-year-old she'd never been. I'll never forget her joy.

5) Eleven year old wanted/needed to cook a meal for us. And did. And it was…ok. And we ate it with delight and gusto. At the end she said "I know it was c**p, but thanks for pretending it was ok." BTW she is now a regarded chef.

4) A child whose father was a difficult dad. He wanted to prove he was better than any foster carer (you get this a bit). His child said to me "He's not really any good at anything, you have to sneak him little things to make him feel proud of himself" This canny child was six.

3."Please don't die. I'll be all alone and have to live in a doorway." A child to whom I'd said (thoughlessly) "Don't walk near the kerb, you'll give me a heart attack." She meant what she said…

2) A foster child who, holding my hand as we walked across the park simply said to me "Why are you so nice?"

AND MY NEW NUMBER ONE

1) We've started fostering "Parent and Child". It's early days, week two. The Parent is a very young mum. I took her shopping in Tesco and sent her off on her own to buy what she needed. When we got home she unpacked she gave me a bunch of flowers and said "I bought a card as well but didn't have a chance to write it." 

Then she said; "I bought the gifts for being so kind."

Only in fostering...

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THEY'RE HERE

 They've arrived.

Been here 48 hours.

Mum and baby. 

Would have filled you in earlier, but Parent and Child (P+C) is wall to wall.

They're asleep, it's 1.00am as I write.

She's called Parisa, late teens, baby is named Brax, three months.

My role is to observe and advise, in that order. And, obviously, ensure Brax's safety.

It means being close to them in our home at almost all times. Day and night there's a camera focussed on Brax's cot and I carry the tiny monitor that's paired with it day and night.

I have to keep a meticulous record of everything I see.

I've been specially coached by Blue Sky how to record everything on a special P+C form.

The key is to be objective rather than subjective.

My Blue Sky social worker got back to me after I filed my report for Day One and advised;

"You know that bit where you say Parisa heard Blax waking up and was happy to go to him and lift him out of his cot.."

Me; "I remember."

SW: "The judge could ask you 'How did you know she was happy?"

Me; "Ah. I see."

SW; "So, what led you to believe she was happy?"

Me; "Well, Parisa smiled. And said 'hello darling' in a soft voice, lifted him up with care and cuddled him."

SW; "That's what you report. The facts."

A penny dropped. Well, two pennies actually.

Penny One: The court doesn't want my opinion, it wants the facts."

Penny Two: What I'm doing in P+C is observing the parenting and recording it so a court can decide whether the Parent can retain the Child. If Yes the Local Authority investigates a permanent placement for the pair. If No the Child goes into care, possibly adoption. The Parent goes their separate way.

Big responsibility, but made easier by knowing my opinion doesn't count. All I'm doing in passing on an accurate record of things that actually happened.

And so, you ask, what sort of things are happening?

Well, mostly meetings! Our house is a meeting house. Parisa has her own social worker, Blax has another. They both visited on Day One. My Blue Sky social worker was all over everything. Blue Sky's P+C officer is in the loop. We've had not one but two virtual pow-wows with half-a-dozen professionals, some of whose roles I only partially grasped, but they have a part to play.

Even Parisa's mother showed up on a quarter screen during one such gathering.

I'm OK to give my opinion here;

I'm afraid I'd describe her as rather stony, hair pulled back flat on her head, grey skin like you often see in smokers. Unable to look at us, hardly spoke.

Didn't say Hello to her daughter, who was in attendance and on-screen.

Or Goodbye to her when we wound up.

I'll finish with this titbit; Parisa's Local Authority had to send a van to collect her stuff and bring it to our house.

I expected a wee driver and a runaround van. Then this thing I can only describe as a truck pulled up and two big fellas started unloading.

When they'd done we had bags in the hall, in the kitchen and in the living room.

I counted them; thirty six full-size bags of stuff.

Of the bags, thirty were black bin liners.

Not like dear old Blue Sky; they have a huge stash of proper suitcases, believing as they do that no child should ever see their life in a bin liner. Perisa's Local Authority hadn't caught up with that caring protocol yet.

Mind, thirty six!

Not sure if the Blue Sky luggage storage might have been stretched.

Might have been a case of "Dividends all round!" for Samsonite shareholders...

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COUNTDOWN BEGINS

 They're on their way!

Shortly after hearing we'd been selected by a Local Authority to foster a mother and her baby our Blue Sky social worker called to say they'd be arriving in 24 hours.

Short notice no problem; I'd been gearing up for a Parent and Child (P+C) arriving since Blue Sky first asked me to have a think about taking it on.

The mother and baby's bedroom is all prepared; Spring cleaned and hoovered, a new duvet and pillow set, an empty wardrobe with nice hangers , plenty of clean empty drawers. New towels.

I could enter Four In A Bed (UK TV series where Bed and Breakfast owners try to find dust and hair in each others' rooms), Mind, here's where I'm different; my vacant bedroom has piles of nappies, of course. And a scented bin for dirty ones. Toothpaste for the mum. A phone charge lead with a range of plugs so it doesn't matter if she's iPhone or something else.

All set.

I ought to feel in control oughtn't I?

Captain of my ship, master of my fate. That sort of thing.

Do I feel like that?

Do I heck.

I'm as nervous as a kitten up a tree.

Why? Here's how it is for me.

I've discovered that once a new placement has arrived and they've got their feet under the table, and the paperwork is done, and the social workers have drained their umpteenth cup of tea and said their goodbyes, believe it or not…

I can relax.

It's just me and my new foster placement.

Oh, my lovely family are alongside me for sure, but I've always been kinda the prime carer, the fostering boss, and that works in our house. And crucially, my fantastic Blue Sky social worker is only a phone call away.

But once I'm steering the ship myself I'm at my happiest.

So…here I sit with my umpteenth cup of tea, drumming my fingers, clockwatching.

They're supposed to be arriving at 4.30pm. An hour and a bit.

I could give the kitchen sink another wipe.  I could WhatsApp my best friend, the one I lean on when I need to, the one who loves sharing my fostering experience (she's a senior midwife, I know I can trust her discretion). We have plenty of wonderful chinwags. 

Or I could make doubly sure there's no hair in the shower plughole…

Nah, I'm having none of that.

Just sit here sister, enjoy the peace.

THAT'S IT! 

ENJOY THE PEACE!

Because starting anytime soon it'll be baby crying, nappies changing, dummies missing, meaningful conversations and maybe even adult tears…

And I'll enjoy the fixing of all that and more besides.

But for now, for an hour, before the P+C arrives, I'm going to enjoy my own company.

And the deafeniing peace...

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NEXT PLACEMENT ON THEIR WAY

Phone call from Blue Sky; "Would you consider taking a Parent and Child who…"

Cue string music...

Look, I'm a dyed-in-the-wool hard-nosed foster mum now, it's what I do.

Fostering defines me, alongside being a loving partner, a conscientious mother, a family brick, a loyal friend and a reliable colleague. (er…that's the idea anyway…).

I recognise adrenaline when I get some.

My point here is that whatever stuff I've given this far to foster kids coming into my care, I've got stuff back in spades.

And every time I get the call I get goosebumps on my goosebumps.

Here's the news. If you happen to have read the previous couple of posts you'll know that a few possible Parents and Child placements haven't come my way. They've been placed elsewhere.

Well, a Parent and Child are coming. To us.

Blue Sky go the extra mile to provide us foster parents every scrap of information they can to help us decide if the placement is right for us, and, if it is, and the Local Authority agrees, then Blue Sky go round again to trawl EVERY scrap of background about the Parent and Child that could be helpful.

All that has happened. Got the green light an afternoon ago. The Local Authority have chosen me. Well, chosen us. That is: me, our family, our home, and Blue Sky.

May I tell you what I can about the Parent and Child? For a start, they're a mother and baby. She's mid-teens, the baby is 6 weeks old. The pair were removed from her family home after the birth because the mother's mother and the stepfather were judged to be unable to help her care for her baby. They lived in cramped, crowded and chaotic social housing: two adults and six children. It would have been seven children counting the baby.

The baby's father is unknown to the mother. The two of them connected through social media. Nobody knows anything of him, not even his name.

The mother, according to our information, is physically 16 years old, but emotionally 14, however her Local Authority social workers believe she wants to keep the baby and be a good mum.

Now, I've always believed that sometimes the more you learn the less you know.

I feel this way about the 'emotional age' bit of the profile of the young person.

I know I'll do everything I've learned to do through practicing and working on my fostering, and hopefully do it well enough. So I'll wait and see for myself what the young person is like, although every morsel passed on in advance helps.

When you've been round the fostering block a few times you get to be able to spot what needs to be spotted pretty quickly.

We once had a child come to us who was six years old but we were told had endured things that led to arrested emotional development. She was emotionally "less than six years old".

Wrong.

The child turned out to be six going on twenty-eight. Children who've endured neglect and/or abuse are sometimes very street-wise.

With people who need to be taken into care it's sometimes only the people who do the caring who get to see the full picture.

The girl and her baby arrive next week.

Wish them luck.

And me. Sorry, I meant; 

"And us".

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THE GAMBLE OF FOSTERING

 So; this week I broke a long-term pledge.

Americans would say I "snapped a streak". I hear a lot of Americanisms in our kitchen. My other half likes Country and Western music. I love him in spite of it.

My pledge was this; from Day One in fostering I tried to never say "No" to any child in need of a roof over their head.

In the decades that I've fostered I'm immensely proud to have clung to that.

My Blue Sky social workers have ALWAYS reminded me that it's my right and privilege to - if I reckon a potential placement might be wrong for my home - decline a child.

It's happened more than once that Blue Sky's placement team and our Blue Sky social workers have identified that there might be a perfect fit, and decided to involve us in thinking about the possibilities, but we all sensed a general unease. 

In my case the issue was often how a new child would fit alongside our other foster children; we've sometimes had as many children as one's allowed.

I remember a recent occasion when we were approached to take a young person for respite care. It would have been for school holidays; two weeks at Christmas and Easter and six weeks in the summer. My worry was about one of our existing foster children, and the possibility that there could be some antagonism.

I believed we could work around any heirarchy jealousies, but I could also see that the young person being assessed might be a perfect match for a foster home with no other children to fit in with.

Before I was asked for a definite "Yes" or "No" came the news the young person had been allocated a respite home nearer where he was being fostered, leaving everyone happy and my own personal commitment intact.

However.

I (and my family - blood and foster)  have agreed to Blue Sky's nudging that we invite Parent and Child ("P+C") placements. We topped up our training and two weeks ago were good to go.

Our first two possible placements went elsewhere. This happens aplenty across fostering, one has to learn not to be disappointed or feel rejected.

Our third offer looked on paper to be especially challenging, and I had to get serious about what I can and cannot do.

I'm not able to give any details about the case that might result in someone recognising the young people involved, but I believe I can outline enough to give you an idea of the dilemmas without unmasking anybody.

The Parent was a teenage girl. The Child was a newborn baby. 

Blue Sky's P+C head honcho had, a few days prior to the offer of the young lady and her baby, invited myself to a digital pow-wow with a group of other carers who specialised in Parent and Child. I struck up an instant friendship with a lady who loved P+C and knew the ropes inside out. She told me that for her the most important word in the world of P+C fostering is…"No" - to all manner of requests. And she'd been doing P+C with huge success for nearly ten years.

Back to the placement I was given to consider;

The mother, Blue Sky upfronted, had several mental health issues. She was on the spectrum of a well-known condition, had a mosaic of another, and couldn't concentrate for any length of time. The father (and I believe I can tell you this much as he's never likely to read it himself) is an unaccompanied asylum seeker from an African country, who speaks no English.

Well, me and my other half sat up late discussing the whole kiboodle.

We were emotionally compelled to say "Yes", out of humanity and pride in our fostering.

But there are limits.

We talked about whether the father was truly under 18 years old (the definition of "unaccompanied", as I understand it). I've read about some desperate middle-aged souls masquerading as teenagers in order to benefit from the compassionate provision our dear country makes. We even talked about whether those whose job is to consider all possibilities might have no option but to try to ascertain (if it were conceivably possible to do so) that he may have facilitated the pregnancy to strengthen his case not to be deported. Equally, he might be the most noble person ever, but the professionals must consider all the possibles, however unsettling.

Mama Mia.

We ended up agreeing that this particular case was not the place for us to begin our new role in P+C.

The minute we'd made up our minds I phoned Blue Sky and told them. They accepted our decision beautifully. They ended by telling us that the case was going before a court and a positive outcome was on the cards involving a professional residential environment where the mother and baby could be observed round the clock, and the father could be managed.

I felt a bit down. My other half hummed a Kenny Rogers song about poker and life. And how to play the cards you're dealt. He sang (off key):

"You gotta to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em..

Know when to walk away, know when to run."

A bit of dramatic overstatement there, that's the lovely Yanks for you...

Anyway, like hubby said; we aren't running away from anything, we're running towards something. Our first Parent and Child.

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GONE.BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN

 I've held off telling about our latest fostering episode until the dust settled.

Our most recent placement has left us.

He/she was a treasure in our family. A young trans person; an absolute model who all those poor youngsters who are angry or feckless or self-obsessed could learn so much from.

"Alicia" has gone to live with their favourite aunt. I believe it's called something like 'kinship' fostering.

The youngster wanted it, Blue Sky and the local authority made sure it was definitely what the child wanted, and that it would be best for all concerned.

As always, Blue Sky are there for us foster parents first and foremost. Our social worker squeezed us to make sure we weren't going to grieve losing Alicia, which can happen. We were ok. We were pleased for the kid.

Turned out his aunt came forward and offered her home partly as a challenge to her sister (Alicia's real mother) who had been intolerant to the transing. The aunt appears to be a really good egg.

All this happened a few weeks back, and it's gone well.

It means we have a spare bedroom, and Blue Sky said to us:

"Do you fancy another go at Parent and Child?"

We said yes. They walked us through the requirements, we had Zoom meetings with Blue Sky's P+C team, they ran the rule over our home's Health and Safety, and now we sit awaiting the phone call "Would you be willing to take a parent and child who…".

The whole thing takes us back to our one and only previous experience of this type of fostering.

It was a long time ago; before we joined Blue Sky. 

We were a bit underprepared.

For a start, it was called 'Mother and Baby'. Which was wrong because you can just as easily get a father and toddler!

However, our only P+C placement so far actually was a mother and baby.

The pair of them came and went. But not before we'd tried our hardest to help the mother become a suitable mum.

See, that's not the nitty gritty. The nitty gritty is recording the parent's parenting and providing your reports to social services, Blue Sky, and the parent.

If for example, the parent leaves their baby on the edge of the bed while they go downstairs to make a coffee, you log it, and advise the mother how to do that thing better. What action is taken with an oversight like that is for the professionals. The professionals are reliant on the foster parent's recording to make a judgement on whether the parent will ever be able to look after the child properly.

Talk about a massive responsibility. Mind, Blue Sky have been at pains to stress that one's reports are only pure facts. No opinions or judgement calls.

So. Here we sit, coiled and ready.

PS Just for the record; I'm always hearing that readers like a bit of colour…

The girl who came to us with her second baby; she asked to stay in touch with me, and that was agreed. I don't chat with her on Facebook any more, I let that taper off.

However, with a view to doing P+C again I decided it would be a professional thing to do to check how the mother had got on in life. So I searched her.

She's a full adult now. Still kind of homeless, an inveterate sofa-surfer. Judging from her photoshopped and deeply filtered images she's still active romantically.

I had a gander at her 'family'.

No mention of a partner. Or her mum, who I remember being very hard-hearted. Or her sisters, with whom she had bitter rivalries.

She's all alone.

Except for…her SIX kids.

SIX.

Six, so far, and probably still counting.

No details on the page as to where the kids lived, or with whom.

PPS; the page listed them by name, which of course, I can't pass on. She'd loaded up her children's names in a beautiful italyic font. Somewhere in that gesture was all her love, pouring out to six babies.

Mind, she's probably got seven now.

…and probably still counting.

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"WAIT-WATCHING" IN FOSTERING

 Our fostering home is now officially able to take a Parent and Child (P+C) placement.

Blue Sky have this slightly specialised branch of fostering well covered.

Great that they do; there's a big need for homes to help a parent who needs help with their parenting.

But it must be done properly, and BS have got it taped.

We kinda 'qualifed' (got all our ducks in a line) on the Monday after we'd finished helping with our grandchild's half-term.

My mobile went off a couple of days earlier; Blue Sky's Parent and Child bods had a case in front of them and they thought we might be a match. They knew we couldn't start until Monday, but that fitted. Those magic words: "Would you be willing to take a Parent and Child who…?"

Then followed an extensive pen pic of the case, they told us everything they knew.

And I can share the gist of it without compromising anybody.

A 15 year old girl whose baby isn't born yet, excluded from her family home because she's made allegations about a man in the house; a small house with not enough bedrooms. The case is going to court. The father of the baby has a criminal record (he's 16) and got himself on the offenders register. He won't be allowed to visit his partner and his child  at their foster home while they're in foster care. They will meet at an officiated Contact centre, probably 3-5 times a week.

Our job would be to coach the mother in parenting her newborn and record her efforts and skills.

We said yes.

The placement went elsewhere.

My mobile went off again.

"Would you be willing to take a Parent and Child who…?"

We almost said "Yes" straight out, we just wanted to get stuck in.

The mum is 16, the eldest of six by several different men, the chaotic waves ripple outwards from this family in every direction. All the stepfathers were vocal and combative about the pregnancy and the boy who will be father. The young mother needed a break from the tumult and tension. Another small house with too many people. Social Services want to give her a chance to be a passable mum.

We said yes.

The placement went elsewhere.

In a nutshell, without giving too much away, one of the local authorities thought they could place the P+C  somewhere less expensive. The other had it decided for them that the P+C should go somewhere (much) more expensive.

Ye, go figure.

So here we crouch in the starting blocks.

C'mon! We want this!

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FOSTERING GETS WITH IT

 Fostering is about to get a shot in the arm.

The government are preparing to upgrade fostering. 

BTW I'm not sure whether the changes will affect fostering in Scotland and Northern Ireland as my (limited) understanding is that fostering is what's called a devolved issue, meaning that those territories can introduce their own legislation.

My gut is that the proposals will sweep in across the board because fostering needs help and support from Land's End to John O'Groats.

In a nutshell, and I suspect, dear reader, that you know this already, but let's start at the beginning - there aren't enough foster folk. Worse, the numbers of folk who foster are reportedly falling, while the numbers of children who need foster homes is rising.

It's apparently more than a human crisis; it's an economic one too.

The human crisis is obvious. There are literally tens of thousands of children whose 'real' homes are simply no-go areas for them. Social workers battle round the clock to find safe havens for them. They might start by investigating close relatives of the child or children; it can be the best solution. But it's usually impossible. They search their books for approved foster carers who have a vacancy and a match between the child and the foster parents. If they draw a blank the only alternative is to place the child into one of the growing number of residential care homes that are springing up. 

The human crisis is this. That huge numbers of children from broken homes are not getting the family life they require, deserve and want. The government is aware that the early-life experiences of these children could cause them serious problems in the future. Not to mention problems for the people they have around them as they go through life.

The economic crisis is also very real. The increasing numbers of residential care homes for children is becoming a huge burden on the country's coffers.

an example.

Do you mind if I caution that the example I have for you is not proven to be the case, so it might be off the mark. But I heard it from a reliable source, namely a foster carer I know, respect and trust.

But if the following is horse manure, remember I'm not Panorama.

So; a foster carer gets a call asking if they would consider taking a parent and baby. The mother and father are teenagers. Social workers are of the view that the mother and father should continue to live separately so the mother can concentrate on her newborn. The foster mum accepts. The case goes to court for a decision.

The judge is a person whose crusade is to 'keep families together". Since the fostering agencies and the local authority are unable to find a foster home that can take both teenagers and the newborn, the judge rules that the threesome should be found residential accomodation where they can be together.

I could go on about the flaws in the alleged judgement, but won't, because I pass this on to illustrate the extent of the possible economic crisis which is becoming a threat.

Here we go;

And remember, the numbers I'm quoting are a) ball park and b) not confirmed.

But I believe they're close to the mark:

The cost to the nation of fostering (in a conventional domestic foster home), a teenager for a year = approx £20-30,000.

The cost of same in a residential care home = up to £300,000 per year.

! 

Right, I just need a cop-out for myself. These numbers were quoted to me by a wonderful foster carer, but that doesn't mean they are correct or representative.

My gut is they're likely to be not far off.

So.

The government is on a recruitment drive for new foster carers. It's rumoured they plan making it easier to foster, possibly even providing grants to help familes pay to have an extra bedroom built.

And more.

The propsals will be published anytime soon.

Anyone interested in fostering should get ready to rumble.

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THE HEROISM OF THE FOSTER CHILD

 Our eldest foster child - who's transitioning - is definitely my new hero.

Actually, just about every child we've fostered has been my hero. Jeez, the stuff they've survived is beyond what their foster carers can process.

So, our kid is doing their thing and bothering nobody.

Children in care are desperately deprived of almost everything; mainly their real home and family. They might also have been removed to a place where it's difficult or impossible to see their friends. They might even be relocated a new school which brings the hardship of starting all over again with teachers and pupils. All they own is the things they bring with them, clothes and other familiars. They live the ultimate life in a suitcase.

Being young they put up with it.

If they rebel against anything it's something other than the vacuum that's become their new life.

Imagine that you're a young person who has discovered they have been wriongly assigned a gender. It means they are trying to shed themselves even of the person they used to be.

Our eldest foster child is taking all this in their stride.

The child is outwardly cheerful, charming and helpful around the house.

And guess what? The child is now assisting me with the other two foster kids we have in our complicated home.

Middle child is less happy than they might be. A couple of days ago I needed to suggest they go to their room to calm down and when they felt better could come down for a treat.

That's how I try to de-escalate. Sometimes it works. I really needed to go up with the child and have a chat, but dinner was half-underway and the washine machine was coming to a climax. I was up to my neck.

When the dust settled I noticed that middle child was still upstairs but there was also no sign of eldest.

I drained a saucepan of spaghetti and heard people coming downstairs. It was eldest and middle. Middle had sorted themselves out and looked at peace.

Eldest said; "We're all fine now. we're sorry about the wobbly. Okay if we have that ice cream cornet after dinner? We both fancy a mint and chocolate sprinkles one."

Deal.

Later on, in a quiet moment, I asked eldest what he'd said to middle that took away his upset.

He replied that he didn't say much, just listened. Middle needed to have a rant. It's possible the rant included that I'm unreasonable and poke my nose in everywhere. 

Harsh, but fostering folk can handle being the bad guy from time to time.

Eldest didn't do details, he implied it was between him and middle child.

Fine by me, fine by them, fine by God and the universe.

Middle enjoyed the spag boll, then onto his cornet.

Eldest enjoyed his food to, and his treat.

I now feel there are more than 2 foster carers in the house, there are 2 and a half.

And what a half!

My new hero.

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TURN OF THE SCREW

 Attended a Blue Sky training session last Saturday morning.

First Aid.

It was scheduled for a Saturday to fit some people's work commitments. Folk came from far and wide.

Always fascinating to meet other fostering folk you've never met before.

It was a beautiful mixed bag. Fostering takes all sorts; younger and older. One attendee was a smart woman, probably mid-fifties who hadn't even started fostering but was on her way.

ps I mention her age and that she was female only to underline that it's never too late to foster.

First Aid is a particukarly important one. Blue Sky arrange for their fostering folk to undertake a session once every 3 years (as I understand it).

Half of it's done online in advance. You go through the info on your laptop with a coffee at your elbow. 

The session  saw about a dozen of us in a room at one of Blue Sky's HQs, and it was great to see a member of their managment and one of their social workers there to take their own training.

Our instructor was a firefighter by trade, who undertook his responsibility to us with great seriousness, but we had a few laughs along the way.

Much of the session was devoted to CPR, the procedure to re-start a stopped heart.

Everyone had a go at heart massige using one of three dummies he provided.

Then we had a go with a defibrillator. It's an amazing machine. A robot voice inside it tells you what to do as you go along. The machines are increasingly available in high streets and communities, and although they're idiot-proof it's useful to have experience of rigging one onto someone's chest and pressing the button.

During a coffee break I had a natter with a Blue Sky manager who was doing the training alongside us carers. A really amazing bloke. Turned out he'd started life working with children in care homes before wanting a change of scene so he joined…

…the prison service! 

Remember "Porridge"? A UK sit-com about life in prison starring the one and only Ronnie Barker as a repeat offender, Norman Fletcher. My new Blue Sky chum was what Fletcher referred to as a "screw"!

This lovely bloke couldn't stop trying to help people make the best of their lives. 

He told me that one day, on the landing in his prison, a particularly large and serious looking inmate came up to him:

"I been after havin' a word wiv you," the prisoner said looking down from his full six foot four.

"Oh" replied our man.

"Yur. Only I fink I remember you."

"…oh…"

"Yur. When I was little I was put in a home. An' you was one of our carers."

"..oh.."

"Yeh. I jes wanted to shake your 'and. You was an alright geezer."

The exchange contributed to our man wanting to get back to helping children, which is the ethos that arcs over Blue Sky's place in the world. So he joined Blue Sky.

The morning took 2 hours.

The training session was 10/10.

The people experience 11/10.

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FOSTERING'S GOLD STANDARD

 My march towards becoming a foster mum to a Parent and Child is picking up pace.

Our Blue Sky social worker visited this morning and we got through a pot of tea dotting the lower case Js and crossing the lower case Ts.

Nothing is left to chance, the fostering family, in our case our extended family, the home, the family pet…everything has to be lined up.

It's so crucial, is Parent and Child.

The child is often (but not always), a newborn baby. The parent is often but not necessarily a young mother.

Our wonderful social worker and I covered all the theoretical stuff no problem.

We kept returning to the biggest matter in hand - that we won't know the specifics until the placements arrive.

Will the Parent know how to feed, how to keep the Child safe, clean, stimulated?

What will the relationship be like between the Parent and Child?

How will the Parent need coaching and support?

Then we got onto some truly thought-provoking stuff.

Our social worker asked things such as;

"What are the things, if any, that might make you upset or sad? How will you react to those things?

How will you and your partner feel if the parent takes a particular liking to one or other of you?

Are you prepared to fill out your report sheets with diplomatic honesty so that the Parent can learn from them?"

And so on.

Next will follow meetings, mainly on Teams, to equip Blue Sky's Parent and Child officers to find a match for us. More essential reading matter and paperwortk is to come.

How am I feeling?

As if I'm going up a level in fostering.

To shore up my confidence and belief I'm decribing Parent and Child to myself as the Gold Standard of fostering.

It's not, of course, but it helps.

Every foster parent, every placement, is Gold Standard.

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