Tag: adoptive parent

Open blinded eyes and warm empty hearts

“And I could be sitting on the sidelines, in blissful ignorance of the brokenness that surrounds me, enjoying the whole-ness of a sweet and sheltered life. Missing out on the beauty of breaking off pieces of my heart and my life to make another whole” – Foster the Family Blog

I found this statement today while researching blogs about foster care to try and find yet another way to send word that kids need help and homes – i found a blog called Foster the Family – and this statement was in one of the blogs and it is exactly why i do what i do – because i don’t want to miss out on becoming a part of someone else’s story because it scares me. I don’t want to miss out on becoming a safe place because I was afraid and most of all – i don’t want to turn a blind eye when I could help.

Here is the reality – we need foster parents – i could spin this any way and backwards to paint a pretty picture of “saving a child” – BUT it is not pretty and it hurts and it is scary and it is wonderful and amazing and filled with pure joy and all that you think it will be. It is also needed. Fundamentally needed. I am not tasked with saving children – i am tasked with keeping them safe. Maybe you are too! Just let me know and I can help you find the answers to how you can help too!

#befosteraware

30 days and some change

So 30 days of littles … what have i learned
 
The clearest lesson is that foster care is hard. Really really really hard. I knew that already.
 
I can’t get past how much I really hurt for these kiddos. I tell people all the time – it is broken system – we just help where we can when we can because it is the right thing to do.
 
The last 60 days has brought that point again.
 
This is my third emergency placement since September 1. The heartbreaking portion of this month, outside of the whole heartbreaking part, is this –
 
we had a placement for 3 whole days in September prior to our current littles. It was an emergency. We said yes as we usually do.
 
A 3&5 year old. The state determined that they needed to go from my house to a relative placement after three days. I wasn’t sad. If kids can go somewhere they know and it is a good fit, I am all for it. I am huge supporter of reunification and family support.
 
The heartbreak comes in every day when I see those kiddos. They go to the same daycare as my current littles. EVERY SINGLE DAY, those kiddos run up to me, hug me and ask to come back to my house. I don’t think they are being mistreated with their relative. I really don’t. I just think we were a lot of fun in a scary time.
 
My husband had off from work the day before the Via Colori Street Painting Festival 2019. He came to daycare with me to pick up our current group of 3 littles. The previous littles lost their mind when they saw him. Ran right past me and hugged him like their life depended on it.
 
I am not saying this because we are awesome and have the best foster home. I am saying this because those children, whom we had for 3 days, still want to come to our house. Two months later. Trauma imprints on the brain. Trauma will shape their lives forever.
 
I try to explain trauma like this –
 
It is a giant elephant in the kitchen. The longer you ignore it, the larger the elephant becomes. However, though the elephant won’t go away, it can become smaller and more manageable if you don’t ignore it. Maybe it can help with the dishes or cooking. Maybe just maybe it might get so small that you can put it in a drawer and only remember it when it rears it’s ugly head through triggers or flashes of things that make you revisit scary moments.
 
We want to help the kiddos in our world reshape and redefine their elephants. Being Trauma Informed is never ever a bad thing when it comes to working with kids.
 
The kiddos we had in September will slowly forget about us and we hope that they work through the trauma, but ultimately – we will never know.
 
The not knowing is hard. When you get an emergency placement – you know nothing. They usually hand you a scared kiddo and an empty binder. It could be weeks before you can piece together some semblance of a story. Or you could never find out.
 
We won’t know the whole story of any kid that comes into our home. That sucks. It is hard to fix something without all of the pieces.
 
However – i would suggest – if you can foster – DO IT! I hate that we need foster homes but I am glad to be a safe harbor.
 
I also struggle with the talking heads who don’t live on the front lines. I struggle with people who get on social media and claim to be changing the landscape and are so out of touch with reality. They chose to put on a happy face, say things are changing and deep down – I can’t figure out how they sleep night because it is getting worse. They put a pretty band-aid on a open artery and state that it is getting better. This is hard for me to swallow. Maybe I need to sit on some important committee and wake people up. On second thought, that is a terrible idea. My northern lack of filter would not be the best for a political landscape. 
 
So if you are like me and want to put your money where your mouth is and you live in Kentucky – consider becoming a foster parent. I can help you. Call me 502-338-3640
or visit this hand dandy website
 
I promise, you won’t be alone. You will not be on an island by yourself. You will be part of a movement to change the landscape of children. I can’t promise it won’t be hard but i can promise you – you won’t be alone in that hardness.
 
#thisisfostercare
#befosteraware
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that one night

My day, about two placements ago, started with a call from my worker and ended this way –

Holy cow! 3&5 year olds are amazing! In case you were curious – all it took to get them asleep tonight was the following:

1. No nap and lots of confusion And a very scary start of the day. Lot of tears. Lots and lots of tears

2. A visit with new people to check to make sure the car seats I just bought today were in correctly! High five to my co-workers for helping out, and then off to go shopping for dresses to wear to school tomorrow (and pajamas, bath stuff, a toy each and converse shoes because Jojo wears them, Jojo panties because all others are subpar and socks which $250 later hurt my credit card)

3. Lunch at McDonald’s when “we aren’t hungry” before we pulled in and then “chicken nuggets” after we pull in and then back to a strange house for a bath. In a strange bathroom. But at least there were bubbles. In the tub and the floor and on a cat. But bubble none the less

4. 2 hours of watching a strange lady (me) take a toy out of a box (which I did without cursing once BTW – why the F@&k do we need so many zip ties and a sacrifice to get a Peppa pig tree house out of a stupid box)

5. Dancing to Jojo videos on YouTube and eating fruit by the foot while they explained how baby alive pees in her diaper.

6. Up and down the steps 598,876,541 times to visit jake and Griffin Dane

7. More dancing-this time with the strange lady’s husband Simon and 50,000 questions to said husband

8. Dinner at Chick-fil-A Elizabethtown because they have a playground

9.arguing with adults because one French fry means they have eaten and can go play now – right!?!

10. 15 minutes of play with teenagers in said playground – no shoes of course – but they did have to open the door three times to yell “I love you” at the top of their lungs across the restaurant to me 😂

11. Quick trip to Burke for Jojo bows

12. Waiting in the car for strange lady (they still can’t pronounce my name) to get the much need marshmallow unicorn cereal for breakfast tomorrow and pullups

I came back to the car and my son whispered that they were sleeping and I should be quiet

Griffy and Simon carried them in from the car

Look – if you have never lotioned and changed a five year old and a three year old into new footie pajamas (because jojo has those in her “tube” video) – you are missing out.

It is like maneuvering a wet noodle into a fleece hoodie. It is not easy.

But after that nightmare -they were into a strange bed but fell fast asleep.

This is foster care. It is not always this easy and tomorrow may be rough. Tomorrow I may want to punch a plastic Peppa pig in the face because she won’t stay on her stupid tree house swing.

Tomorrow it may take an act of Congress to get them to school and bed and to eat. Tomorrow may be easy too.

Either way

They are safe. And I am learning about the cult of Jojo one hair bow at a time.

And yes

They are as sassy as my Daughter

Boo

Circa 2016

Me to youths – “I am going in the basement to work – please let me know when the oven timer goes off”

Youth – “why – you baking cookies?”

Me – “no I am baking screaming heads”

Youth – “what- wait- why”

Me – “because that is what I bake when I am not baking cookies”

Insert diabolical laughter here

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Two years of firsts

She came to me almost two years ago. She really didn’t have much. My husband and I put her few boxes and suitcase in my van and drove her from where she was at to our home.

It was awkward- the first car ride. I do remember telling her that first day – “I don’t give a sh*t about where you came from, my job is to get you moving forward”

I was never accused of being subtle. I cursed in front of a foster kid. Appropriate or not, it worked for her. It was what she needed. Well let me say that it broke the ice. I promise, I was a lot less subtle as the months went on.

She was just a 16 year old foster kid I was asked to help. Scared, a lot shocked and nervous as hell. Those first days, I just wanted her to be safe and comfortable. No thoughts of forever – just get through each day one at a time.

Her past story is not mine to tell but I do want to share this…

She is no longer “just a foster kid”- she shares my last name. She is my daughter. I didn’t get a lot of the firsts that most moms get. The first words, the first steps, the first day of kindergarten. Nope I missed out on all that.

I did get her first day of her senior year, prom, first belle dance, first shopping spree, first Via Colori, first trip to philly, first train ride, first go kart experience, first driving lesson, high school graduation (with honors mind you), first going away to summer camp (or precollege), first body piercing, first tattoo, first visit to grandmom and pop pop and the day she changed her name to mine.

This weekend – we celebrate another first – her first day of college. See- I really didn’t care where she came from, I was never part of that story. If that makes me horrible, so be it. But I can’t change the past. And I will be damned if I allow her to be defined by it. F that. She can be defined by her bravery and determination. Her intelligence and resilience. She gets to define her future.

As she leaves for college, I care about the “forward movement” because she is a part of my story and has been since that day almost two years ago.

I am proud to be called her mother. I still hate her taste in music and most of her recipes taste like gym socks and sadness but she is my daughter so I guess I have to suck it up.

She leaves this weekend with a lot more than she came with – including me. I may tell her that I hope college slaps her right in her teenage face but she knows that she will always have family to come home to. And she better come home. We may not be perfect, but we are hers. This college thing is a first I can celebrate. Because it is another first in a long line of firsts to come.

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The fear in adoption – circa 2018

Let’s talk about another adoption. A potential one that is. So most of you know that I have a daughter hanging around my house. She is beautiful, sassy, smart and kind.

She likes all things pop culture and gives my kid a run for his money with anime knowledge. She helps out anyone and even though she listens to Nickelback, I have grown to love her. (Though the next time she plays that band in my kitchen, I told her that I am writing her out of my will – ick – I mean come on)

The potential for adoption seemed an impossibility for us. Her story is exceptionally complicated. However, we want it and so does she.

We have discussed this a lot. As a family. It was a huge decision. And one that could equal a hill of beans in light of so many things. But at least we are fighting for the same thing. Let me tell you why this was such a big decision. Because five months ago, I had decided that I would never ever adopt. Ever.

This decision was shocking because I had specifically said no adoptions. We wanted to be foster parents only. And we specifically said no teenage girl adoptions not five months ago. I actually said and meant – no teenage girls at all, ever. (See how well that worked out for me?)

And my husband, my amazing husband was adamant. No teenage girls. No adoptions. Ever. In fact, he literally would have been happy to be an emergency respite home. Like for a couple of days. Even if we did this a thousand times, he was ok with it. It meant no heartbreak. I was ok with his decision because he hurt too in the “before” times. He hurt a lot.

Yet even he is on the same page. Honestly I thought that it would have taken a ton of vodka and a ton of strawberry rhubarb pie to bribe him into opening his heart again to take a chance. The kids all thought this too. We had it plotted and planned right down to the words we, as a family, would say to convince him to do this. It didn’t have to happen that way. He is onboard too.

You have to meet her to know that this plan and decision of zero teenage girls backfired the minute she came into my life. Ugh. (😜) why does she have to be so damn awesome?

When she came home, I was still very scared of my heart breaking again. It had absolutely nothing to do with her. It was from the before times. She can tell you how guarded the whole family was. It matched her guards. There were a ton of walls all the way around.

I knew I couldn’t do it second time. That heartbreak would do me in. Literally. Have you ever woken up crying because I did two years ago. For weeks. I have never felt like such a failure. But life went on for two years and here we are.

She and I spoke about this because I felt she needed the other side’s perspective. The fear we feel about being hurt again is almost as great as hers. Slowly those walls crumbled around us. We didn’t even notice.

The one day, I noticed. I noticed big time.

The moment I left her at swanky science college camp and cried for an hour, I knew what needed to be done. She gave authenticity to this decision the moment she ran up and hugged me and called me “mom” when I picked her up from swanky science camp two weeks later. Damn kid. 😂

So now, the potential is there. Though it is slim slim potential. Not going to lie, it is going to take a ton of work by a lot of people and some seriously miraculous grace to make it happen, but when it does… well expect a story like no other. We are are optimistic but prepared for it not happen because – I think I mentioned it was complicated.

Doesn’t matter, either way, she is my kid. She was the minute I met her. And adult adoptions are easy to do. I think.

Some people, in their 40s, get a surprise baby. I got a surprise teenager.

It is worth the work. I have gotten really used to being called mom by my nickelback loving daughter. I have learned that when you are not looking, the universe throws stuff in your path that you need.

Sometimes that stuff is scary. But it is there for a reason. I accept that.

However nickelback will never be accepted …. doesn’t matter, I love her despite her questionable taste in music 😂😂😂

So keep my very quirky family in your thoughts over the next 9 months as we start this fight to have her become legally our daughter. It will be an uphill battle. So many things need to fall into place. So many people need to work so very hard. And one thing here or one thing there could shoot this plan to hell. Time is very limited and the cards are stacked against this but I have never met a challenge I couldn’t overcome.

Except for that one time when I tried to get the Loch Ness monster to Via – but that is whole other story.

If we, as a family, with the help of others can pull this off, it will be so so worth it.

Except for the nickelback part… that, that is never going to happen. She can listen to it all she wants. With headphones, behind a closed door, at college. 😂😂😂

2019 update – Because of things beyond our control as a family and the failings of a broken system – adoption couldn’t happen before her 18th birthday. But…..she now has my last name and my heart and will be leaving for college in three weeks ❤️ happy endings always find a way when there is enough courage.

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