FOSTERING'S HONEYMOON PERIOD

 Been a hectic couple of days. A new child coming into the home takes up all one's attention.

So much for the foster parent to learn. And teach.

It's an even bigger thing for every child coming into care.

Jeez, think about it.

When I was age ten I discovered I was being sent to live for a week with my mum's best friend, Vera Caldicott. She had two sons, the eldest being about my age.

I was given no breakdown on why I was being farmed out, except to get a whiff that a) it would be good for me and b) that Vera's eldest child Malcolm was a handful, and that, because my mum was a head teacher we could have Malcolm stay with us on a return visit and she could help 'get him in hand'.

The week I spent with the Caldicotts remains a fresh memory for me. An experience which was half good half bad.

I mention this because it's crucial to try to imagine how things are for a child coming into care.

If we foster parents go the lazy way we say to ourselves; "Well, they've had a rough time in a mixed-up home, all I have to do is keep my home ticking over and they'll relax in the peace and harmony."

That thinking's a bit wrong.

See, every child coming into care has had to endure years of a chaotic home life, followed by a removal from their significant others, followed by finding themselves plugged into a family of strangers and lodged in a home where they don't know anything about what's where and how the toilet flushes.

So. Our latest foster child, Alicia, has been settling in for a few days.

The arrival of a new foster child is almost always an utter pleasure. The child is usually quiet, polite and compliant. It's called the honeymoon period, which lasts about 10 days to 3 weeks.

Then the child pays their foster parent the ultimate compliment. The child demonstrates that they trust their foster parent/parents…by having a meltdown.

Alicia remains, after 4 or 5 days, charming and ultra-co-operative.

But I know that some sort of storm is brewing, and a justifiable one too.

Alicia, as I mentioned in an earlier post, is transitioning. 

Transitioning is a new thing for me in fostering, although Blue Sky paid for me to go on a 5 star course on it, which is probably why they came to me with Alicia.

The first things I notice about Alicia is a huge intelligence. Then I notice a heartfelt kindness. Followed by an integrity. 

I'm deeply impressed by Alicia.

However, Alicia has a mountain to climb, a mountain Alicia has stared at and decided to climb, and my proud job as the foster mum is to be Alicia's sherpa.

When I came into fostering I seem to remember that the issue of transitioning simply didn't exist; there were people who cross-dressed and that was about it. And that was somehow different - or so it seemed.

I'm looking forward to chatting with Alicia - if they want to - about themself and how life is.

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'ALICIA' ARRIVES. PART THREE

"ALICIA'S ARRIVAL" PART THREE

Alicia drank coke and ate a biscuit. 

The kid seemed a quandary; gentle, soft and vulnerable on the one hand, yet hard as nails, bright as a button, and ready for the argument if one happened.

Alicia seemed to use what seemed to me to be a deliberatly flighty voice (which might have been entirely authentic, I'll  learn) and a light attitude to circumstances (being taken into care is a massive event in a child's life, yet I often find they prefer to treat it outwardly as another day at the office).

The conversation worked its way through Alicia's status while in care, plus Alicia's personal needs and preferences.

The rest of my family arrived home in dribs and drabs and steered clear of the meeting. I explained to Alicia a bit about who each one was and said I'd introduce them properly at teatime.

Alicia began to grow more and more animated as the meeting went on.

Nearly time for the social workers to go.

I joked that I could do spaghetti bollognese for everyone if they wanted to stay, but my Blue Sky social worker was first on her feet, saying to Alicia;

"Lovely to meet you, I'm looking forward to getting to know you better."

Alicia's social worker took the cue, and I saw them out.

The moment when you're on your own had arrived.

Time to give Alicia the tour of the house and allow time before tea to unpack in the allocated bedroom.

I usually have the radio on when I'm cooking, but that afternoon I wanted to hear anything I might need to hear.

I did.

First up Alicia talking in the bedroom quite loudly into the mobile phone that had come in under agreement.

Then silence.

I went upstairs ostensibly to ask if Alicia wanted spag boll with mince, or the vegetarian (spag+Dolmio).

I tapped gently on the bedroom door and there sat Alicia on the edge of the bed.

Crying softly.

Poor, poor kid.

I thought to myself. "Here we go…" Then I thought; "Come on girl, this is why you foster."

I said softly;

"Want to talk? Tea can wait."

Alicia took a big breathe and whispered "I don't know. But thank you anyway."

I said; "Okay, tea's ready in about ten minutes. Have a think about whether you want ice cream or fruit salad for afters."

I saw Alicia register the request. So, to drive it home I added;

"Or, as it's a special day, you could have both…"

Truth be told I needed to crack on. Tea was going to be one revelation after another, but I had 100% confidence that my other two foster children wouldn't remotely let the side down.

There's a cameraderie among children who are in care that's often deeply touching.

The job has begun.

Best job out there...

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'ALICIA' ARRIVES. PART TWO

Alicia is arriving at 4.00pm. I've noticed that 4.00pm is a popular time to bring in a new foster child. There are so many subtle things in fostering. If the 4.00pm drop-off is a preferred practice I can only guess as to why it works. 

The social workers (one from the local authority - who are overall guardians of the child) plus a Blue Sky social worker (supporting us - the foster parents) usually devote a full hour to the handover.

Then, at somewhere between 5.00pm and 6.00pm, they leave.

And, until you get the first phone call from Blue Sky the next morning to see how things are going…you're on your own.

What will Alicia be like? 

Our Blue Sky social worker arrived ahead of the child. They always try to do that, and I'm grateful to have a supporter in place. We supped tea and rattled on about Alicia. We were both equally excited. And trepidacious.

On the dot of 4.00pm a car stopped and parked up at our garden gate.

We watched discretely as the social worker emerged and opened the car back door to let the passenger out. All we could tell from distance is that the child is narrrow in build, neutral clothes, and has a tinge of purple amid a frenzy of dark brown hair.

The social worker goes to the boot and picks up two black bin liners.

Oh dear. If this stuff in bags is Alicia's life it doesn't deserve to be in a bin liner. Blue Sky have a policy on luggage. They did a drive a while back to get people to donate proper suitcases so that children coming into care had that dignity. But to make that happen they need to intercept the child on the child's collection and that didn't happen in Alicia's case.

No worries, there are worse things.

So. Now they're coming up our garden path. I've never quite resolved the question of whether to throw the front door open and give a smiling "Hello!" or wait for them to ring the bell.

Arriving must be frightening for the child.

Luckily our dog helps. She always has a welcome for anyone coming through our front door. Foster children percieve it as a celebration that they've arrived. I give the dog a treat and slip the child a treat and say "Looks like you've got a new friend, she likes these snacky bits."

It gets us through the opening awkwardness.

And it scored with Alicia, who went down on both knees to return our dog's affection.

In fostering you're always on the lookout for little moments that. Nothing huge, just nice little moments. 

The four of us; 1) the local authority social worker, 2) my Blue Sky social worker, 3) Alicia and 4) myself, sat down at the kitchen table. I offered tea or water or diet coke as an alternative. I get orders for one green tea, one mug of hot water and a diet coke.

Alicia's nod for a diet coke is another little plus. Hopefully it marks my home out as being up-to-date and, more importantly, well stocked. 

Flushed, I popped a saucer of chocolate digestives in the middle.

And got my first discreet look at Alicia.

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A TRANSITIONING (PART ONE)

 Had an interesting fostering day.

PART ONE

Got a call from Blue Sky; "Would I consider taking a child who…?"

On the phone I got a thumbnail of the child.

I said my usual 'definite maybe'. Blue Sky sent the paperwork.

The child is Alicia, previously known as Troy.

No problem so far, although she/he would be my first foster child aiming to transition.

Alicia is 14 and has suffered neglect and abuse.

Alicia had been left to fend for themself in their home since toddlerhood; scrounging food however they could, keeping themselves hidden from the adults who roamed the house day and night.

BTW, I'm not totally sure about referring to Alicia as "they". Blue Sky paid for me to go to a training session on trans people and I picked up some useful pointers. If Alicia joined our family we'd talk to Alicia about how they prefer to present.

Alicia came into care because of an incident at the home.

Some bloke had stormed the house having been locked out. There'd been a ruck. Neighbours called the police and when they went in and saw things they turned it over to Social Services.

Alicia was collected by a local authourity social worker who wrote the profile that got distributed to prospective foster parents.

I was sitting at the kitchen table reading the profile. 

Alicia had grown up alongside five or seven siblings (no-one knew for sure) on a run-down estate plagued with anti-social stuff. Commonplace was petty crime, cheap drugs and drink, abuse and bullying, hostilities, sexual misconduct, routine incompetency, negligence of basic responsibilities. 

About the same as half of Parliament then? (Stick to the point Secret Foster Carer…)

A new one on me was this one; the notes spoke of; "parasitic behaviour". 

Parasitic behaviour; a lifelong dependence on benefits and benefit fraud, live-in 'lovers', in it for what they can sponge, sofa-surfers, pay-day loan junkies, middle-aged adults living with their parents, bread-winners excused of their duties through being in prison. 

Most of the people Alicia has grown up around identify as victims, but claim their problems are everyone else's fault. 

Clearly Alicia needs confidence and optimism that life is more than a vale of tears.

I called my partner, who agreed. I called Blue Sky's placement team. I said we'd take Alicia, if chosen. They said the jury was still out. 

The 'jury' is the team of social workers who have the job of choosing which foster home is best for the child. They often need to make a swift decision, sometimes the child might be sitting outside their office at social services HQ, homeless.

Blue Sky called; Alicia was coming to us.

Cue an excitement that's hard to describe. The hope that one can help a child repair? New beginnings and challenges for your whole family? Not to mention the warmth of being chosen, not a major thing, but nice.

I get all this wonderful fug whenever a new child is on their way.

And…once again; this is my first transitioning placement.

So. Dilemmas. 

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A PAIN IN THE NECK

 Once you begin fostering you should try to be an unofficial recruitment officer. We need new foster carers.

The Fostering Network says there are 52,000 children with foster families.

And that every year thousands more foster families are needed.

Blue Sky have a programme of payments for any of their carers who recruits a new carer. If you're interested, and you're with Blue Sky, ask your social worker. I understand the payment is worthwhile; a useful top-up on the allowances we get.

Last week I had to go to a chiropractor. Trapped nerve in my neck.

Cue mild family jokes about me/pain in the neck.

I sat down in the waiting area, there were four other people.

One was a young man with a toddler, aged about two. The toddler clocked me so I smiled back. Always gets a reaction from an infant, a nice kind smile. The little one kept glancing my way, and each time I smiled back. Then, after about three such exchanges I gave him a little wave. The young man - who I guessed was the toddler's dad, but you mustn't jump to conclusions - was oblivious, but after a while became aware that me and his toddler were engaged.

The young man had a bleary look about him, the look that parents have when their first-born still doesn't quite sleep through. I said to him, out the side of my mouth;

"Getting any sleep?"

He smiled at my sympathy and said;

"He's getting there."

I asked;

"Early waker?"

He replied; "Anything from four 'til half five."

And we were off. If you can't get a good chat with someone about their children, forget it. Parenting is the world's number one ice-breaker.

So I learned all about his situation; how Arther was their first, how Arther was named after one of his grandfathers, how they wanted one more. Talking about his son he was animated and alive. He told me he worked in haulage, refridgerated lorries. Talking about his work, his eyes died.

He didn't ask, but I squeezed into the conversation the fact that I fostered.

He lit up again and started asking about fostering. He wanted to know what it was like, how it worked, what sort of people fostered. 

I figured this was a young man who was interested in doing something more worthwhile than organising the driver rota for a firm that delivered frozen goods.

Memo to me: "Ask Blue Sky to give me some of their cards so I can say to people something like 'give this lot a quick call, they'll fill you in'."

I was called in to have my neck crunched and when I came out refridgerated lorry man was gone.

Pity, but who knows, he might make it into fostering on his own.

Memo to self; "Be more front-footed about selling fostering."

Fostering is, for me, the best thing in the world, why be shy about it?

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SO MANY WAYS TO CARE

 Just done a useful Blue Sky training session on managing allegations.

Until Covid, training sessions would be held at one of Blue Sky's offices, and that still goes on. Being in a room with fellow fostering folk can be really enjoyable, if you're a people watcher.

Which I am.

Obviously I don't allow my curiosity about the other people in the room to get in the way of the learning.

And managing allegations is such an important topic, you want to stay focussed.

But. Sometimes the leader asks us to give a brief description of ourselves. I often start with my staple; "My name is ****. I've been in fostering for thirty years, and I'm determined to stick at it until I get it right…"

Never gets a laugh, but a few wry smiles.

Then you get to hear; 

"My name is Andy, I was eleven years a soldier…"

"I'm Alice, I'm what they call a home-maker, our youngest left for University a few years ago and we had enough spare bedrooms, and I'd always fancied fostering…wish I'd done it sooner..."

"My name is Denise, I used to be a secretary at a publishing firm, I've never had any children of my own, but I and my partner kept on at each other about fostering…so one day..."

"Hi, I'm Gary. I used to be a professional footballer back when you could earn more as a milkman, so when I had to retire with a dodgy knee…"

"I'm Emma, I was NHS, but ended up burned out. After I took stock I wanted to be my own boss, but doing something useful and with decent support…"

"My name is Mohammed, we came here six years ago. I work from home in IT. My wife is at home today because one of our foster children is off school unwell…"

All of the above are true, I've changed the names. The point is; you get all walks of life in fostering.

Sometimes the leader asks us to tell us about our current or most recent placement.

My antenna goes into overdrive;

"We've got a 15 year-old girl whose father's doing ten years..."

"We've got three siblings whose parents have gone to live in a commune somewhere in Shropshire..."

"We've got a parent and child. The parent's had to be taught nursery rhymes to sing to the child because she was never sung any when she was little…"

All true. I could write a book.

But back to the training session on managing allegations.

The 'allegations' are things your foster child may say you've done unfairly - in their view - or complaints that the parents of your foster child might make.

It's rare, but important we know about the procedures and safety nets in place to support and protect us.

It sounds unsettling, but Blue Sky always get to grips with any allegations that are made and that's massively re-assuring. Mind, their professionalism means they ask fair questions aimed at establishing the true picture.

They care about the child, first and foremost - in fostering the child is paramount. The wellbeing of their foster carer comes a close second. Nobody's perfect, everyone accepts that, and fostering is challenging. Blue Sky are fastidious in looking after all parties if allegations ocurr, and a key take-away from training sessions is that we foster parents have a powerful bank of talented professionals at our back to sort things out. They train us to keep ourselves safe as well as keep our kids safe.

It was my fifth or sixth training session on managing allegations; the messages were pretty much as ever. But one thing was different.

It was a Zoom session.

Brilliant.

Besides avoiding an hour 's drive to get there, I could sit in my kitchen and look at other foster parents' homes.

Pure noseyness I know. But I justify it by saying it gives me additional background to what they tell us about themselves and their current kids.

I get curious about the decor and the wallpaper. Is that a Star Trek poster? Is that a crystal punch bowl on the sideboard? Who has a sofa in their kitchen? Oh wait, it's a kitchen/diner/sitting room with a telly in the corner, useful in fostering.

When the session ended the leader thanked everybody and one by one people left.

In the end it was just me, two other carers and the leader, shooting the breeze.

I don't say much at these things, I'm more interested in what other people have to say.

The leader said to me "Hello ****. You're sitting there listening quietly, is there anything you want to say?"

I said; "Yes".

See, one of the two carers still online was a man called Terry. At his left shoulder was a huge fishtank, all lit up and teeming with darting fish. I said "Terry, we've got a goldfish. Can you give them anything to eat other than the dry fishfood?"

Terry was made up. People love talking about something they know something about to someone who doesn't know as much as they do.

"Oh yes!" he replied, with a big smile. "Peas. They love peas. About twenty at a time. You have to microwave them for thirty seconds out of the freezer, then squeeze them out of the shell - they can't digest the shell - then crush them into a paste and drop them in."

Me: "What about baked beans?"

Terry; "They don't seem to like them so much."

Me: "Maybe it's the sauce?"

Terry: "Don't think so, I rinsed all that off before I crushed them…"

This person, Terry, knows what caring is. Bet he's a fantastic foster dad.

I thanked, him, the leader thanked him, and Jetski (our goldfish) thanks him. She now gets peas twice a week.

Fostering.

If you haven't yet; try it.

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YOU CAN'T STEAM FISH!

 We've just had a child stay with us for a couple of weeks.  A rare duration for a foster placement in my experience, but his was an unusual story.

We got the call on a Friday afternoon. 

Blue Sky said that the local authority was looking for a short-term foster home for a 14-year-old boy whose foster mother had been rushed to hospital.

The boy had arrived home to discover his foster mum on her bed. The poor woman was in pain, there was blood.

He phoned 999 and she was hospitalised. The paramedics learned that the woman was single and that the boy was her foster son, and that he had no-one else to look after him, and was too young to be left alone. They called social services.

A couple of hours later he arrived at our house.

Nathan.

After tea I sat with Nathan to learn what had happened.

Nathan;

"I've been fostered since I was eight. My dad's on the run. I never knew him. My mum's alright but she can't cope with my brothers and sister. She ended up all over the place. I'm the eldest so I kind of organised things. She got taken to court for a benny bend (benefit fraud) and they found out she was doing bad drugs and letting us look after ourselves. We had a load of social workers turn up. I got taken away and they put me with Maggs."

Maggie is the lady in hospital. 

Maggie, it turns out, is a comparative latecomer to fostering. A retired midwife, a divorcee with no children of her own. Apparently she's a cracking foster mum.

Nathan continued;

"So Friday, I comes home from school and no Maggs. She's always in the kitchen when I come in, cooking. She loves cooking. Every night, a proper dinner. None of your beans on toast or Mackie D. We had roast chicken this week. On a Tuesday! So when I gets in and she's not cooking, there's no pans on the oven or nothing, I'm like 'Hmmm…something's up'."

I was warming to this lad big time.

Nathan continued;

"So I calls out; 'Yo Maggs! Alright mate?'  Then I heard this sort of moan from upstairs, so I runs up and she's in her bedroom, so I asks 'Can I come in mate?' and she goes; 'Yeah'. So I goes in and… I tell you I was shocked. She was half on her bed an' half off, and her leggings had blood on them. Plenty of blood. Blood on the duvet too. My head went 'Jees, she been attacked!' But she hadn't. She went 'Nath love, I've got a problem. I need a doctor.'

He phoned 999 then tended to Maggs until the ambulance arrived. 

He was her rock.

Maggs was in pain, and was groaning. Nathan offered her paracetamol and a cup of tea but she knew not to take anything in case she'd need pre-op meds. Being a former medico she knew.

Nathan told me how he had to pretend to be less upset than he really felt in order to help Maggs be strong. He said he held her hand and told her she was wonderful.

While Nathan was on his way to us, Blue Sky gave us the bigger picture. Maggs had been diagnosed in need of an emergency hysterectomy. The discomfort had been growing for several weeks and they'd tried to tackle it with treatment, medicine and lifestyle changes (Maggs was on the big size, didn't exercise, and had previously been a smoker). She'd lived alone since her divorce, but since fostering had shared her life with Nathan who became her part-carer. Not in a major way. He became a sort of compassionate companion.

Yep. Maggie was caring for a young man who had begun to care for her.

Ain't life sweet sometimes?

Maggs op went well, but she needed to stay in for a minimum of 5 nights. Maybe 8.

On day 10 she told them she was going stir crazy and wanted to go home. Told the hospital they needed the bed. Told them she'd never felt better. She was walking, talking, bathing, using the loo by herself; everything.

There followed some serious conversations about how she'd be cared for. There'd be daily visits from a nurse, she was to take it very easy, stick to her medication, hydrate properly. She was given a diet, and had the option of pre-cooked meals and other essentials delivered. Plus a directory of telephione numbers to call for support.

Then came the crunch question; whether Nathan could go back to be with her.

The question was given massive - and I mean MASSIVE - consideration by all parties. I was included. So was Nathan.

The local authority decided to return Nathan to Maggs on her return home. He was made up. His local authority social worker collected him from us for him to be there when Maggs arrived. 

I was asked to be on standby to have Nathan again in case Maggs had any sort of setback, but as one social worker put it "Maggs is a tough cookie. Plus she's medical herself and won't take any chances as long as she's responsible for Nathen. Mind, there's no way she's going to have microwave meals in the house, so Nathan might have to learn to cook…"

It's been nearly a week and we've heard nothing, so everything's fine.

I'll never forget Nathan's guffaws when I showed him the diet sheet that Maggs would be on, and the meals he'd have to learn to cook under Maggs supervision. He went;

"Steamed fish? STEAMED fish? How d'yer STEAM fish? The batter'll fall off. It'll go manky."

I started to explain that he'd be steaming fillets of raw fish, and he laughed and said;

"Know what I love about you mate, you're such an easy wind-up."

Nathan is, as I said 14 years old technically. But thanks to his resilience, and Maggs care, and fostering, he's got a fantastic grown-up heart and mind.

Fostering isn't necessarily a fall-back for kids, often it's a springboard.

If you know where to look, it's often a springboard for us foster parents.

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