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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