DREADED TEENAGE SLEEPOVER

 In fostering the business of allowing your foster child to have friends stay over can be a headache.

You want them to have fun, to be proud to bring pals to their current home, maybe even a bit proud of their current parents. Or at least, if not exactly proud…not too embarrassed.

First thing, the planned gathering must be cleared by both sets of Social Workers. If you're new to fostering, when I say both sets of Social Workers I'm talking about the broad structure of support we get. Namely, Blue Sky nominate one of their SWs who primarily looks after us foster folk and the Local Authority nominate a SW whose priority is the child. Nice balance there. Obviously there's a lot of overlap. 

But by Jimminy it's great to feel so much expert support.

So, what happened was this;

Last Monday or Tuesday, I can't remember, we were asked by foster child B if they could have a few friends over for a Saturday movie night.  We have a downstairs room with a biggish TV. It doesn't have a door as it's off the kitchen which makes it perfect for them to be private if we go into the living room and shut that door, but if we nip into the kitchen to boil a kettle we can get a bead on the movie party.

At first the guest number was four, then maybe five, then six.

We had the chats with the two SWs and based on the good progress and good behaviour of our foster child it got the green light.

Then came the wrinkles;

"It won't end 'til eleven and Abigail's mum says she's not coming out that late."

"Landro's dad is in Reading with his new girldfriend so Landro would have to get a taxi on his own."

Of course, we all knew exactly where this was heading; the dreaded teenage sleepover.

Certain issues are set in stone; for example there must be no alcohol. But then, if the guests have a nip before they arrive what can you do? Keep your eyes peeled, that's what.

The gender ratio was slightly confusing, by which I mean we let our child meet and greet and we didn't loiter at the door taking names and addresses and DNA.

Long story short, we woke up with 4 teenage guests for Sunday breakfast, they having dozed fully clothed on our sofas and floors.

I'm going to be honest here, I find these events a pressure, even more so than with our own children. There are extra responsibilities. But at some point there's always a huge release from worst case scenario syndrome (pregnancy? drug use? wrong movie?).

That moment of relief came like this.

Our young dog has a good nose. After the last of the party-goers had been picked up on Sunday morning she started worrying at a rubber plant next to the TV.

We investigated.

It was a teddy bear. One we'd never seen before. Brought by one of the guests to shore up their insecurities 

So; there we were all were, geared up to go charging in if we had to break up a hootnanny/shingdig/etc etc.

And one of them brought their teddy bear.

I got another whiff of something I suspect and hope;

This lot of kids coming along are going to be more than alright.

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LIVING A STRANGER'S DREAMS

 We're at the end of our most recent placement, a Parent and Child. A young father and his toddler daughter. The daughter's mother disappeared and the estranged father showed up claiming he could parent her. He was an unlikely dad; he had no job and nowhere to live. Social Services decided to place them with us to assess his parenting. There was a hint of the possibility that he was using the situation to get himself socially housed, poor lad. The conclusion of the Local Authority was that the father can't parent; so the child is to be removed from him and given up for adoption.

We gave him every chance. I showed him everything I knew, and really needed my Blue Sky Social Worker to help me deal with the possibility things wouldn't work out for them.

He was informed of their decision, I don't know exactly how as he was asked to attend their nearby offices to get the verdict. I guess that was in case he took it badly. He was matter of fact about it. I suspect it's not the first time he sufferred disappointment and failure. His Social Worker accompanied him back to our house for him to say goodbye to his daughter and to collect his things. His Social Worker handled the whole episode for which I'm grateful, I mean…what could a mere fosterer say?

He had to pack his things and go. He told them he would be able to get a roof over his head as he knew someone whose sofa he was familiar with. As for the daughter, Suzuki, she seemed numb. She'd only known her dad for a few days longer than she knew me and I'd established much more of a bond with her than her dad did, even though I knew she wouldn't be with us for long.

She even calls me "Nana".

Did I contemplate adopting her?

Do bears s**t in the woods?

But it was a pipe dream; I'm not approved to adopt. The process of being approved for adoption is long and thorough (quite rightly) and having approval to foster cuts no corners. I could have asked to foster her until my paperwork came through but that might take over a year. The fact is that Social Services are mighty cash-strapped and understandably preferred the child to go straight to a waiting adopting family. Of course I get that. I also get that the waiting family might have been desperate to start their adoption adventure and the sooner the girl is settled the better for all.

So good luck to them, and all my respect.

However, she's going to be with us for one more night as, although the Local Authority has a family in mind, there's a few lower case js and fs to dot and cross.

I'm looking at her now, playing with one of the dog's toys on the kitchen floor under my feet, so innocent of all the strangeness that's beset her short life 'til now.

I'm doing that thing lots of us in fostering do when a child is leaving us. I'm picturing her as a young adult and imagining her making a life for herself. I've seen enough native intelligence in her (I watch their eyes, they can tell you the quality of the thinking that's going on) and I'm confident she'll do more than well at school. She seems settled in herself which means she stands a better than even chance of being emotionally well.

Now I get giddy; there she goes off to University. Oxford, naturally.

There she is gliding down the aisle a radiant bride, wow look at all that confetti!

What a lovely mum she is now with..let me count; one, two three..four. Four children! 

Is there a word for projecting glorious hopes and dreams for someone you've only just met and who won't be any part of your life ahead?

I don't think there is, because I doubt anyone but people who foster know the feeling, and fostering like we do it wasn't around back when they were inventing words...

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SEPARATING A PARENT AND CHILD

As I've already said, our Parent and Child placement is taking up most of our concentration.

You'd think the other young family members (our own chidren and our foster children) would be put out, jealous even.

Not a bit of it.

It's an interesting thing this, the value of having a teeming house. 

I remember an old friend of mine who was an only child telling me that one of the hardest things about being an 'only' is that there's no hiding place. The only child's parents have only one child to focus on and consequently the child feels like they are 'it' all day and every day. The parents know where the child is all the time, they know what the child is doing, even what the child may be thinking.

If you've a houseful of young ones they can each choose to disappear off the parents radar and enjoy the independence and privacy that comes with being parent-free for a while. Freedom!

Fascinating.

However, back to our Parent and Child.

Quick reprise; we're fostering a young man and his toddler daughter. The mum ran off and the child was due to be adopted but the estranged dad showed up and claimed he'd like to parent his daughter. He has no means, no home of his own, he's a bit of a drifter. Social Services will house him but only if he can prove he'll be a capable parent. My observations his will form part of that decision. 

It's a massive responsibility, but if you keep your focus on the needs of the child your conscience is clear.

The dad is beginning to show parent fatigue. Anyone who's had a child knows what this feels like; an infant is exhausting if you're doing it right. They need constant vigilance every minute they're awake, if nothing else to ensure their own safety. But on top of making sure they're safe, the parent has to keep up a draining barrage of stimulation. They must talk to the child almost non-stop, engage with the child, centre with the child's growing interest and competence with the world and all its wonders. It can be highly rewarding, but it's also exhausting.

A toddler's understanding is obviously limited and therefore the parent has to inhabit a world that is far less interesting to them than the world they've grown to enjoy. Unless they can find stimulation in their child's burgeoning development.

In a nutshell, I'm sad to say, the dad has become bored with his daughter. 

Here's what happened that helped me grasp that he probably will have to give her up.

He goes out when he can and hooks up with friends, leaving the child with me. Fair enough, we all need a break. But he's doing it more and more. I keep a diary. By way of balance I insist he also spends a proper amount of time alone with the child. What little I've seen of his playing with her leaves me wondering if he is making a connection.

When he returns from a jaunt into town he invariaby brings her a gift. A cuddly toy, a drawing book, a box of sweets, those sort of spoils. Then he'll disappear with her as required for play.

He came to me for advice.

"She don't want none of the things I buy her."

Me; "Oh dear. Such as?"

"You know that foam jigsaw thing I bought her? She ain't interested."

I'd sneaked a look at the toy and the box had stated it was suitable for 3yrs and above. The child isn't two yet. His explanation was that the shop didn't have anything for her age. Then he said this;

"She keeps nicking my phone. It's a nightmare. It's all she wants. I tell you every time I put it down if I'm not careful she swipes it and either runs off with it or hides it. Driving me mad. I buy her all them toys and all she wants is my phone."

I ached to say to him;

"Of course she does! You know why? Because her daddy is always on his phone. You buy her a toy and hope it'll buy you free time in her company. You expect her to teach herself how to play with it so you can disappear into your phone. You're teaching her that your flipping phone is more interesting, more enjoyable, more worthy of your love and attention than she herself. She doesn't want the phone, doesn't know what the heck it is, but knows that you love it. She is imitating you, which a major way kids learn. Plus she's jealous of it because you prefer it to her. Blimey she might even be trying inconsciously to BE a mobile phone!"

I didn't though.

Because he wouldn't have grasped it. As far as he was concerned it was a simple case of her being - to use his oft quoted word;

"Naughty"

It's terribly sad in some ways, but the dad simply hasn't got what it takes. After all, if he was up to scratch he wouldn't have walked himself into demonstrating to how little he understood - or cared - for his daughter.

And reveal that he spent all his quality time alone with her texting mates and playing mobile phone games. 

But, it's also satisfying to know that the child will have a better future being otherwise parented. And the lad himself will be able get on with being a young man and not have to fish around for a babysitter every time he wants to party.

Just to repeat;with a Parent and Child placement the fosterer dosen't make any decision about the child's future, that is entirely the job of those who get called 'the professionals'. 

They weigh up everything they can pull in to get to the right call. The fosterer's observations are high on the list, but they edit out any opinions we may have, and just stick to the facts. When I told their Local Authority Social Worker about the mobile phone thing she made a note of what was said but I could tell she drew the same conclusion as I did, so my opinion wasn't needed.

Which is a relief. It's awful to feel that a parent and child are best parted, and this is where our Blue Sky Social Worker comes in and supports me with wise counsel and encouragement, reminding me that their separation will be best for both of them.

And help me get past the feeling that I've somehow failed…

"Bittersweet" is a strange word fostering is helping me understand.

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FAREWELL FELLER

So sad, this.

A lad came to us some years ago, I've talked about him on previous occasions but just to reprise;

He was aged 17, due to leave care any time. He was a charming young person, considerate round the house, articulate and emotionally intelligent.

He had plans. He wanted to create music and had bought some sort of keyboard/computer to kickstart. He had trouble sleeping and often stayed awake downstairs until 4.00am.

He used to skip college sometimes and hang around a park. Some evenings he'd take the train to a nearby town and I'd pick him up from the last train, him smelling a bit of smoke.

I had my suspicions the smoke was more than plain baccy, and talked to our Blue Sky Social Worker often about it. We agreed that his local authority SW should be informed informally of his possible activity, and the response was something like "Let us know if his behaviour becomes a concern." They promised to raise it with him, but meetings between children in care and their local authority Social Worker are often behind closed doors, because one of the things the SW is ensuring is that the child is happy in the home and their fostering is up to scratch. So they need to be able to speak freely.

This lad was due to recieve some sort of trust fund at age 18, and he was looking forward to independent life. We were told his dad, who was a bad apple to put it  mildly, put some money aside for him before he was sent to prison - for quite a long sentence as far as we could tell.

Independence is huge for almost all children, including and perhaps especially foster children.

The sad thing is I've just learned his independent life didn't last very long.

A fellow fosterer who I know well attended a training session and got talking to another fosterer she'd never met before who told her about he lad, who had stayed with her for a period, but they'd found him difficult and he moved on. Funny, I never found him anything but charming.

One thing I remember vividly is him sitting down to dinner with us on the first night and saying with a look of wonder;

"I've never sat down for a family meal before."

I believed him too, although it might have needed a pinch of salt to stand up in court.

To the point.

The fosterer told my friend the lad is dead.

Drugs.

Poor lad.

Thing is, I believed he had a chance.

I'll go on believing they all have a chance, but sometimes the way things turn out for them is a bitter pill for them to swallow, and likewise those that cared for them, and loved them.

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THE SADNESS OF THE TENDER HEART

 Have you ever heard a dog owner who's out walking their TWO dogs say;

"Two dogs are easier than one."

Well fostering is different. If you've one child that child and your family have to find a way to knit, but the knitting is kind of one-dimensional; a blood family/a non-blood addition. There's a lot of getting to know one another going on, it's hectic for all concerned, especially the foster child.

When you have more than one foster child the dynamics get complicated; you have a) your own family and b) the background and personality of the first foster child and b) the background and personality of the second foster child. So there are four dynamics that have to be kept on track: a+b, a+c, a+b+c, and of course b+c.

Right that's enough algebra, down to brass tacks;

Having a parent and child under your roof means having a whole lot more than the above, because you're helping and advising the parent, minding out for the child, and crucially you are forming a judgement about whether or not the parent is up to the job.

The father is now past his honeymoon with us and has started to beg for nights out leaving us with his 18 month old daughter. It's understandable in any young man, but I have to be up when he gets home to see his state. So far so good, although he smells of tobacco (I think it's only tobacco but I'd make a useless sniffer dog), he isn't tiddly at all. He makes no secret that he smokes and goes to the bottom of our garden for one. The question is would he do so if he was alone with the child in social housing accomodation? Or, would he simply light up, Social Services are dead against smoking in the company of a child for whom they Care.

Hmmm.

It was noble of the dad to step forward and announce that he would look after his daughter once the mother had disappeared, but he has to do the job properly. It might be a case of waiting to see if the novelty wears off. Social Services have tried to make clear to him that he has to make parenting his daughter his absolute priority, that they'll be running regular checks and if he blows it the child will go into Care alone and probably put up for adoption. That process would take up time, effort and the Courts, but it's the only way. He nods his head while the deal is explained to him but I'm not sure if he's any good at listening. Lots of people switch off when another person is talking.

So; we know he smokes. But doesn't appear to depend on alcohol.

He struggles with making age-appropriate conversation with his daughter. This is partly because he doesn't speak clearly. Not only that, he uses negotiation as a tool to get his daughter's co-operation and you can see she doesn't always get it. 

Example;  he might say to her

"If you go and get daddy the remote control off the TV stand you will earn a biscuit"

But it comes out like this (phonetically);

"Ere yer are, go get va remote off o' the telly fing and I'll giv yer a bikky"

It's hard enough for a child to pick up a language, but when the individual words are skewed and run together it's harder. Even harder when the adult uses slang and lazy speech. Even worse when the behaviour the adult seeks is mildly wrong in lots of ways. In the case of the above, the proposition is absurd because when he said it he wanted to watch Sky Sports which would alienate him from his daughter when he ought to be engaging with her. Not only that, if he was too shiftless to get up himself and get the remote he would probably have deferred the 'reward' until he was next in the kitchen, so the child would have felt cheated.

But; at least there was some effort at engagement…

The above example is not exceptional. Single-parenthood is difficult in many ways. In some ways it can be better than having two parents if, for example, those parents fight a lot. But in many ways it's harder, not just in that there's no-one else to share the jobs and no-one at home to talk to about the child.  It can be lonely.

This young man still has plenty of his youth to enjoy.

I'm starting to lean towards saying that in my humble opinion he's going to struggle and therefore so will his daughter.

Luckily the final decision rests elsewhere, but my views will be listened to.

I must be honest, although it may be for the best that the child is removed, I have a heavy heart.

Our Blue Sky Social Worker is magnificent. She is constantly reminding me that we're in the business of doing what's best for the child. She tells me of many cases where the best thing that ever happened to children she's looked after was to be separated.

My head gets that.

It's the heart that struggles..

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PARENT AND CHILD

A lost mitten belonging to a child has been hanging on our gatepost for the last couple of days. It looks miserable, but the hope is always there someone will rescue it and get it back together with the other one. Bit of a metaphor for fostering actually. 

A neighbour said to me he was surprised somebody hasn’t stolen it. When I said that I didn’t think anybody would steal a single small mitten he replied;

"You’d be surprised."

A fostering friend once told me that her stock reply to anyone who ever said to her "You’d be surprised" is to say "I’m in fostering. Nothing surprises me."

I like to think the same thing applies to me.

However our latest placement has definitely raised my eyebrows a notch higher than ever before.

They’ve been here now nearly two days and nights, and the usual adjustments to our home are bedding in. It always takes a bit of time before you understand a new placement and work out how the people dynamic in your house is going to operate whilst they are with you.

They are not my first parent and child pairing. I go back to the days when it was called mother and baby. Even if they still call it that, we wouldn’t be able to in this case. For the simple reason that we’ve got the dad and his child.

Let me tell you what I can about the backstory of these two. The father and mother of the child are unmarried, and are in estranged due to insurmountable and sometimes extremely hostile difficulties.

The mother was looking after the child who is now 18 months old. She was living with her parents but it appears that her volatility cause ructions in the house which culminated in the mother running away leaving the child leaving teh child with the grandparents. The mother's whereabouts are unknown but she was seeing a young man who describes himself as a man of the road, living as he did in a converted van. It seems there are no fears for her safety at the moment, and although we understand the police are on the lookout for the van should its numberplate literally cross the radar, it’s it’s not yet a missing persons thing.

The mother's parents are neither able nor willing to look after an infant, so social services stepped in and were about to find a foster home for the child when her father showed up. He had heard the news on the grapevine. Correction; there is no grapevine anymore, he read about it on Facebook.

To his credit he said he’d like to look after his child.But here’s the thing, he himself is a bit of a sofa surfer. His parents are separated and he doesn’t have anything to do with them. So social services were looking for a foster home that would taking dad and his child until they could do two things. Number One find some social housing for them, Number Two to establish that he is capable of parenting his child

At this point enter myself. Or should I say enter them into our home. The job of Parent and Child is a kind of fostering plus, you have to provide all the things you normally do in fostering, but on top of that social services ask that you make ongoing assessments of the capability of the adult.

I’ve always found it a massive massive responsibility, and the first time I did it I hold my hands up because I know I got it wrong. I was too keen to help the parent keep her child, I believed that if I was given enough time I could’ve turned her into a good enough mum. Social was sceptical and looking back they were right.

I had to be reminded that my responsibility was mainly to the baby and I ended up agreeing that it should be adopted.It came as a surprise to me to discover that the mother didn’t bat an eyelid at the news she was losing her child which only went to show me how far off the mark. 

I can tell you a little bit about father and child. Starting with the child (I’m now consciously putting the child first). I can’t tell you the child’s name, but it’s useful for me to conjour one just to paint the picture. To give you some idea of her name let's say she is called Sue, short for Suzuki. Children coming into care often have arresting and exotic names, I don’t know why. Little "Sue" as no idea of her circumstances obviously, but he is curious, engaging and playful and seems blessed with all the normal competencies of a toddler. It never ceases to amaze how well balanced babies can turn out to be despite whatever chaos and shortcomings the biological parents carry around.

So, here I am at present keeping an eagle eye on Sue to ensure she has all she needs, the right food and drink, safe environment and mental stimulation mainly in the form of contact and conversation and interaction. I’m keeping a different kind of eagle eye on Lenny (I'm calling him) watching to see how he develops the skills necessary to be a complete single parent where usually two doing the job find it easier to share responsibilities.

I don’t think we’re allowed to say anymore that two parents are better than one so whether I think that or not I’m not going to go into here. Come to think of it it won’t be long before we’re not allowed to say that a child in infancy needs a mother more than a father; it's a fast changing world - mainly for the better by goodness we have to concentrate.

Besides checking that Lenny knows or he needs to know information about potty training and feeding and sleep patterns I’m also watching to see what his inborn parenting skills are like.

These things are difficult to measure but measure I must; so I’m constantly on the lookout for empathy and the signs that he is worth Sue attaching herself to and absorbing pieces of his personality.

Social Services are not intending to begin the hunt for some social housing for the pair pair until Lenny gets approval to take her on.

I’m looking forward to getting this one right and next time I’ll be able to tell you a bit more.

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HEADS WE WIN

 A reader, "Lilbets" asks how things are going with eldest foster child's resolution to geet me with a cheery "Good morning!" instead of the usual grump.

The novelty lasted for…

…one morning. 

Had my hopes, but did anyone expect anything better than that? 

Not me. I bet not Lilibets too, much as I feel Lilibets is on side. I suspect Lilibets knows which way is up. But; there is a big "but" namely that although I don't get the ultra-flamboyant Hollywood-esque Von Trapp children's nauseating cheerfulness, there has been a detectable improvement in disposition.

Now, and teenage child is duty-bound not to come over all nice as pie, because that would be, to them, a capitulation. Not only that, it would be stretching things a bit because the child would have had to concentrate really hard coming down the stairs and on top of everything, that kind of greeting is toungue in cheek, almost a micky take.

But I've ALWAYS found in fostering, where the child needs help with something, the progress is so slow you can hardly notice it and this is what has emerged the big win of the "Good Morning" resolution.

He's marginally, slightly, only a tiny bit better, but you'd need an atomic miscroscope to get anything concrete. It's in the air that surrounds him. It's a slight raising of the temperature, a lightning of the dark cloud that hovers over him (except when he's watching a Simpsons).

For example, he came down from his room on Sunday and plonked himself on a kitchen chair with only me there, and asked me what he should do with his hair. Sounds nothing to many people, but not we fosterers.

Many children in care need control. They've had such little control during the chaos of their real homes that they crave ownership; of themselves and their property.  This is why I get co-operation at bathtime with my much-trumpeted technique of getting them into the bathroom by saying;

"Which woud you like; a bath or a shower?"

The question appears to give them control, while actually it's me that's getting their own way.

So; for a child to risk handing control of something as personal and prized as his hair is a huge moment.

Huge.

It got better. I keep some electric clippers in a kitchen drawer, he knows where they are because he often takes them up to his room to do a bit of hair maintenance.

This time he asked me to have a go at it. He's seen me cut other people's hair in the kitchen, he knows there've been no disasters.

Nevertheless, it's a big something for a teenage child in care to trust his look with his foster mum.

And so okay, he's stopped his jaunty "Good Morning!" but replacing it is a closer relationship.

The very act of cutting his hair (he wanted a number two on the sides and a bit off the top but the front bit left to grow) meant I had to get in his space, something he's previously been wary of.

So, Lilbets; thanks for asking. I'd take what he ended up giving over what I'd asked for any day.

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