In fostering you get regular visits from your own social worker to make sure everything's hunky dory in your world. Well, you do if you're with an agency such as Blue Sky, who know how to look after their foster carers.
These visits are an absolute boon. Hand on heart I suspect I'm more sane and more well adjusted to the world because I'm in fostering than if I wasn't. I'd even go so far as to say I'm a whole bunch happier than I might be without it. And a large part of what I'm talking about (personal wellbeing) is down to the support we get from our social worker.
We're in the early days of a Parent and Child placement, so our Blue Sky social worker has been visiting once a week. We talk (last visit for 3 hours) about the mother and baby and how they're doing. But we also talk about how the placement is impacting me and my other half.
I find myself recounting and examining everything that the mum and her baby do and the why how and when of it. Then we focus on myself and my feelings and observations. We talk about the challenges of staying watcheful about the baby's safety (without crowding the young mum or making her feel she's being policed) and techniques for helping the mother learn how to parent (best not tell her what to do so much as encourage her to think about the best way of doing something so that she owns good decisions).
The reason I mention this is because the social worker was brilliant on her last visit.
She reminded me, gently to remember to also cherish and stay tuned to the rest of my family.
All she did was ask: "How is X (our other foster child) about all this?"
I had to stop and think!
As we talked about X it dawned on me that the Parent and Child placement had taken up almost all my mental and physical energy. I was loving the progress. I'd dedicated myself almost entirely to the two newbies.
X is a great young person, recovering from a shocking childhood, striving to become a good adult, and on the right road.
Dammit, I'd taken my eye off the ball with X.
Oh there was food on the table and clean clothes, a lift into town and all that stuff.
"But" I asked myself "Does X still feel as important to me as before, and am I giving X enough TLC and attention, and if not is there any sadness or resentment?"
I was able to say that if X felt anything bad about the changed dynamic in our house it hasn't manifested. But we agreed that might be down to the fact that X is keeping the lid on any feelings to help the presentation of X as a maturing young adult.
I did a lot of thinking after our dear social worker departed.
Then this happened.
It was late Saturday night, about 9.45pm. The young mum and her baby were upstairs asleep. I was snatching five minutes of me time and was about to pour myself a wee glass of Pinot Grigio. In fostering, especially Parent and Child, you need a clear head, so we limit ourselves a a couple of half glasses at the weekend. And enjoy putting our feet up in the privacy of our living room with the TV tuned to what we want to watch.
I heard X come downstairs and go into the kitchen. Then after a minute come into the living room and say ;
"Mum…) Yes X calls me mum, It's the most beautiful tune I know. "Mum, have we not got any Fanta?"
I had to stop and think. I said "I'll have a think..er..know what…we're out. Apologies."
"Aw no worries." X replied "I just fancied one that's all".
And went back upstairs.
Me, I didn't waste a moment. I grabbed the car keys and made for the front door.
Our corner store closes at 10.00pm. I should make it.
I did. I bought a sugar-free Fanta (X's preference) and an Oasis (the purple one, X's other fave tipple). To seal the deal I also grabbed a tube of Pringles (the salt and vinegar flavour, again, X's preference.
When I got home I texted X, and said what was in the fridge and the larder.
For X.
X and I don't do intimate chit chats much any more as the youngster has begun to view such things as a bit of a child thing. X is aiming for the self-suffiency of life as a well adjusted adult.
So, did X feel any better about anything the youngster might have felt such as the sense of jealousy about being usurped as the most important young person in our family?
I'm guessing X must have felt a bit cherished and cared for.
Obviously there are more profound ways of flagging up our awareness of X, our care and respect for X. I'm on it.
Hopefully X tasted more than Fanta, X tasted a good feeling.
I also know that thanks to that late trolley dash I felt good too.
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