My Pleasure

Our littlest left for a family visit last Wednesday. On Saturday I answered a phone call from the County Department of Children and Youth Services. A report had been made alleging that I had harmed Our Littlest. In between sighs and eye rolls, and then some nervous laughter, I explained that OT had not been in my care for the past three days and that when I dropped him off on Wednesday he had a scab on his elbow. After a bit more conversation the worker discovered that she would not be able to investigate the case because our agency contracts with her agency and so a 'conflict of interest' comes into question. The worker thanked me for my time and said she would pass the report back to be given to the regional state office for investigation.

I hopefully waited for a call from that agency, but no call came that evening. Or the next day.

While I was waiting for that phone call, another call came through on Sunday morning. Our agency was told that OT could not return to our home following his visit later on Sunday, but would have to go to a respite foster home for the duration of the investigation. An investigation which as I far as I knew hadn't even begun.

Crazy. OT was being disrupted due to false allegations that hadn't been addressed yet.

Thankfully he was able to go to another family where we knew he would be safe and well cared for.

Finally at mid-day on Monday the investigative worker called and scheduled to come to our home on Tuesday - the day of the predicted epic snowstorm. On Tuesday he scheduled to come on Thursday. Then on Thursday, since he hadn't yet been able to dig out his car, he scheduled to come on Friday. That is tomorrow.

Since this was our third conversation, I felt comfortable enough to keep him on the phone with some questions.

Had he seen OT?  - Yes, on Sunday.

Was OT okay? -  Yes, in the situation in which I saw him.

How long would it take to complete the investigation?  - I have sixty days to complete it.

You realize that that is ridiculous since everyone knows the allegations are false?  - That is how long I have. When I get a case that appears to be simple to close, I work on it first to get it off of my desk.

His last statement gave me some hope.

I hadn't planned to stop and write until the investigation is over.

I had thought that this time would be different since I know how ridiculous the allegations are this time around. The report did not match the actual situation. The child had a scab.

This parent is desperate to have their children. This parent does not like me because I am the wrong color. This parent was seeking revenge for an action by the agency. This parent seems to think that if the foster parent can be seen as unfit, then a judge will send the child back to the birth parent.

Meanwhile OT is probably wondering why he is not home. He might be scared or confused. This situation definitely works against the stability and consistency we are trying to build and maintain in his little life. How is this parent demonstrating the capacity to be a good parent?   A stable parent? A loving, compassionate parent?

I have gone out of my way to be in communication with the agency and OT's attorney every day. Just so they don't forget I'm here... and he's not. Just so someone in this big, overworked, under-staffed system remembers that there are actual children involved and foster parents who lose sleep over them.

The silence from the placing agency is astounding. Just as it's been for the past year of this placement. Case workers have changed three times, with the most recent being right before this incident. This newest worker seems to understand after just a week that something is seriously wrong with this case. She asked me, "Who gave the birth parent all this power? Whatever they want they get? Why are there these unsupervised weekend visits? Who is following up?" My answer, "Your agency."

The agency has allowed this parent to bully their workers - calling the emergency number every weekend multiple times, texting a worker up to fifty times a week, complaining to the workers about how I cut OT's hair (which I haven't cut, ever) and other trivial - and usually untrue - matters.The foster parents have also been bullied; OT has a sister with another foster family - we've been told to wait thirty to forty-five minutes to meet for a visit, we've been yelled at and degraded. When we asked to have an agency worker available at the visit transfers, we've been denied. This parent gets to say and do whatever they want with no accountability.

And now this. Now my character and parenting are being called into question by this person. Now OT's life is in confusion. Now another foster family - who was given little information - is being expected to step into this mess. 

Yesterday I sent an email to the case worker, the supervisor, the supervisor's supervisor, and the person above that. In it I stated that this case has not been managed well and that this birth parent has been given permission to wield all sorts of crazy power, now manifested in these lies of a child abuse report against me. I requested that OT quickly be returned to our home and that going forward unquestionable boundaries would be in place to ensure the stability of these children and the safety of the foster families.

I ended by saying that it is our pleasure to continue to care for OT. And it is. In the waiting and frustration and disrespect and questioning and scariness and uncertainty... it is my pleasure.

Best Laid Plans

Life with teenagers.

Laughter, sadness, joking (sometimes turning ugly), questions, answers (sometimes turning ugly), debates, arguments, accomplishments, privileges, technology, discipline... and that was just this morning - or at least it feels like it most mornings.

We are less than a month away from having our last "permanent" kiddo round the corner to thirteen, which will bring the grand total of teenagers in the house to six. Lots of new emotions, strange smells, and uncharted territory. It keeps a mom on her toes and awake most of some nights, thinking through ways to help navigate these incredible young people through this crazy world.

Navigate. That's the word I've landed on. For some time the word had been "battle," because honestly, that's how it plays out in many situations. A battle against my kids, yes, occasionally; but more often a battle FOR my  kids against everything and everyone who does not love and want the best for them as deeply and passionately as I do.  And sometimes it's a battle against myself to want to exert my rightfully earned mom-power and ultimate control - ha! - clearly faulty thinking...

This morning one of the kids came to me with a request which due strictly to time constraints, I denied. It was a reasonable request, but just couldn't be honored in the 23 minutes before the bus came. This child - who lately has done a fabulous job of taking "no" as an answer - compliantly returned (I thought) to the task of getting ready for school. Some minutes later this child appeared to me in the hallway dressed in pajamas and announced, "I am not going to school today." 
When I inquired as to why, the answer was, "I just don't want to go. Call me out sick."
"Are you sick?" I asked.
"No. But I am not going."

Navigation mode. It looks like this: I walked away.

Within minutes my child - still in pajamas - found me in the kitchen.
"Can you drive me to school?"
" Why do I need to drive you? You have time to catch the bus."
"I don't want to ride the bus because I don't want to go to school. I don't want to see anyone."
I dropped my guard and answered, "Well, you don't have to want to go, or have to want to see anyone. But you do need to get an education." Left myself wide open there -
"I don't NEED an education! If you don't drive me to school, I'm not going." Stomp, stomp, stomp, SLAM!

Twelve minutes until the bus came. I began to tackle the mountain of crusty pots, pans, and baking sheets in the sink to keep my hands as busy as my brain. This child is blessed with overwhelming tenacity and determination. I had to stick to my navigation plan of "no questions; no answers." But what if that wasn't enough? What if this child really did miss the bus? There were plans for my day, appointments to keep and errands to run. Leaving this child at home alone was not an option. Getting this child to agree to get into the car was something I couldn't envision. Did I have time to call a babysitter? Who would I feel comfortable enough to put in that position? Should I just compromise and drive to school and come up with a creative consequence later? What is REALLY going on?

As I scrubbed and thought and watched the clock, other kids called, "Bye, Mom!" as they headed to the bus stop. I'd better have a plan in place.

Three minutes later this child came downstairs, dressed coat to sneakers, and said,
"The bus has passed. You need to drive me to school." No answer.
"If I leave now, the bus will be gone already." No answer.
"If I miss the bus then I'll just walk to my friend's house." No answer.
"And I know that will be skipping school." No answer.
"I don't want to go to school." No answer.

A slow, sneaker-dragging thirty seconds later, I heard the back door open and then slam shut. I hoped that meant what I thought it meant, but waited for an explosion back into the kitchen. It didn't come. And fifteen minutes later, all was still quiet. And forty minutes later there was no call from the school reporting my child absent.

Plan unnecessary. Navigation successful.