"Ka-plunk," my light-hearted fd10 sang as she tossed her empty smoothie container into the recycling bin. In the background, her very smart, very funny, very know-it-all brother corrected her, "It's KER-plunk, but you mean bam anyway, because it's not kerplunk if there's no water."
Later in the morning, when both kids were ready for school and waiting for their ride, I asked fd10, "So is it kaplunk, kerplunk or bam?" She looked hard at me, searching her brain for the "right" answer. I whispered, "Whatever you want it to be." She lit up and declared with confidence, "Yeah. Whatever I want it to be, because I'm using my 'magination." For a girl who spent so many of her years needing her brother, only one year older, to be parent - someone who spoke for and protected her - this was a sign of her growth. She is finding her voice, she is seeing her gifts, she is using her power.
Now, how do you help a little boy who got fired from his parent role find his new identity? We're still working on that one, but it felt like growth when fs11 grumbled, "Why does she get to say whatever she wants when it's just not scientific?" He is asking questions. He is checking his perception. He is comparing himself to her instead of elevating himself over her as controller. It may be hard to see their progress in this little spat, but it was all so delightful and amazing to me.
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
Monday, January 29, 2018
Rooted Together and Growing into Our Future
Once we returned home - clarity began sinking in. Our foster caseworker came for one last visit before we were going to be transferred to the adoption team and assigned a new caseworker. We had to tell the kids and knew that their emotional response would be even more complex than my own. We told them - and mostly there was silence. Then little side-bar conversation leaked out throughout the week - in Walmart, in the car, at bedtime. My husband and I knew we wanted to somehow create space for a ritual, a marker of transition, an opportunity to reflect and share together as a family. This was a big deal - full of lots of questions, concerns, and feelings needing to be delicately unpacked.
So we put "dinner and family activity" on the calendar for Sunday night and created a visual tool to help us all see our winding road to one another - to acknowledge the story and all its light and shadowy bits. We told the kids that we are choosing them and we hope they can choose us. We made sure they knew that choosing us didn't mean NOT choosing their bio family. We had room in our hearts for everyone. We assured them that their mad, sad, glad were all welcome in our journey. We talked about hopes for the future.
My husband asked if everyone would be willing share a thought, feeling, question or concern - J (fs10) hid his head under a fuzzy blanket for a while, then tearfully peeked out long enough to share that when the strangers came to pick him up from school and told him he couldn't go home he felt hatred. We asked him if he knew where that hatred was directed and he said yes, but he didn't want to say. Later, in the sacred space of bedtime tuck in, he whispered to me that it was at himself. Oh Lord - these kids aren't ready to hope for the future. They have so much pain they've been mostly holding in for 22 months - hoping their mom could get herself together and they wouldn't have to face it.
Although it has been many months since either one of them has hit their heads against the wall or hit their self or voiced desire to harm their self - that self-hatred is lingering in their souls and leaks out in tiny tender moments. And we are doing our best to bind their wounds, to irrigate them, to not be afraid of the puss and blood and salty tears that come with these type of wounds. We are doing our best to not look away and offer love as a salve.
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
The Pretty Girl
When I introduce our foster kids to people, it has been fascinating, maybe even startling, to hear what they say in the interaction. J (our boy) often gets some version of "What activities do you like?" S (our girl) often gets some version of "I like your [dress, hair, shoes, etc.]." Sometimes this is followed up by an direct or whispered "You're/She's so pretty." And she is.
S also has an incredible imagination, loves to read, is adventurous, athletic and funny. J also has striking blue eyes and winning dimples. The gendered confines of our culture have never been so obvious to me. J is constantly bombarded with messages that affirm his identity as tied up in doing. S is constantly bombarded with messages that affirm her identity tied up in how people perceive her beauty. I feel like I'm drowning in my weak attempts to swim against the current.
Thinking about these things made me wonder about how my first-time motherhood might impact kids that came to us at ages 7 and 8. It's not the typical "first-born" story. How is my refusing to let S take home women's magazines offered to her from a craft table - on feminist grounds - effect her? How does my hyper-encouragement of J's love of things other than action figures and wrestling - on feminist grounds - effect him?
When I get in the weeds of these things, I suppose the best thing is to trust that the trail of love will lead us to the best possible life together.
S also has an incredible imagination, loves to read, is adventurous, athletic and funny. J also has striking blue eyes and winning dimples. The gendered confines of our culture have never been so obvious to me. J is constantly bombarded with messages that affirm his identity as tied up in doing. S is constantly bombarded with messages that affirm her identity tied up in how people perceive her beauty. I feel like I'm drowning in my weak attempts to swim against the current.
Thinking about these things made me wonder about how my first-time motherhood might impact kids that came to us at ages 7 and 8. It's not the typical "first-born" story. How is my refusing to let S take home women's magazines offered to her from a craft table - on feminist grounds - effect her? How does my hyper-encouragement of J's love of things other than action figures and wrestling - on feminist grounds - effect him?
When I get in the weeds of these things, I suppose the best thing is to trust that the trail of love will lead us to the best possible life together.
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
The Untraditionalists
Like most, my twenties were all about exploring who I was and where in the world I belonged. It was a decade of relocating, trying on value systems, deconstructing and reconstructing many times over. When I arrived at the end, I looked back and saw my three brothers (we're all about two years apart - I'm third of the four) had finished seven academic degrees between them, married, started families, and established careers. I had two degrees tied to a faith that I no longer identified with, was single with no prospects, and working in a context that made me feel overwhelmed, alienated and frustrated too much of the time.
R and I stepped from a professional to a personal relationship the week of my 30th birthday. I was dating a lot that year - perhaps a part of all that deconstructing and reconstructing. I was trying to be brave, be open, be curious. It had mostly left me feeling exhausted, disappointed and heartbroken. The thing is, I wanted a partner, a family and a meaningful career - but I didn't want vanilla. I wanted something more complex, surprising and exhilarating. I was on a date with someone who was interesting and generous, but not partner material, when I got a picture message from R.
An unusual and freakishly strong snow storm was blowing through our city that night causing my date and I to opt for pizza and a movie at his place instead of risking the journey to our reservation at a high end restaurant on the river. I had just returned from a trip home for Christmas that was tangled up in many personal and familial relationship challenges. My birthday was on New Year's Eve and a marker hovering as background noise through most of it. R's message was a photo of wine glasses and his fireplace asking "Where are you snowed in?" I received it as an invitation at a crossroad - to veer in a different direction. I told my date that I needed to get going and met R for a beer that turned into a first kiss that turned into a marriage.
Some would call our twenty year age difference a "May-December Romance" - I call it an untraditional pathway on my choose-your-own-adventure life. As R and I began exploring the possibility of life-long partnership we had to talk about things like expectations and desires around kids. R had been divorced for 5 years when we met and had two near-grown daughters from that relationship. Some years ago, he had a vasectomy never thinking his marriage wouldn't work out or that he may someday love a younger woman who wanted him to consider a round two. We landed at a place that seemed like our "least common denominator." We would intentionally invest in the kids that came across our path - nieces, nephews, neighbors, kids of friends - and we would consider foster care and adoption in the future if the time was right.
Five years into our marriage, the time has never felt right, hence the reluctant yes. We both knew these were the right kids and the right situation. Now our work is to trust that love and resolve, community and grace, will fill the gap.
R and I stepped from a professional to a personal relationship the week of my 30th birthday. I was dating a lot that year - perhaps a part of all that deconstructing and reconstructing. I was trying to be brave, be open, be curious. It had mostly left me feeling exhausted, disappointed and heartbroken. The thing is, I wanted a partner, a family and a meaningful career - but I didn't want vanilla. I wanted something more complex, surprising and exhilarating. I was on a date with someone who was interesting and generous, but not partner material, when I got a picture message from R.
An unusual and freakishly strong snow storm was blowing through our city that night causing my date and I to opt for pizza and a movie at his place instead of risking the journey to our reservation at a high end restaurant on the river. I had just returned from a trip home for Christmas that was tangled up in many personal and familial relationship challenges. My birthday was on New Year's Eve and a marker hovering as background noise through most of it. R's message was a photo of wine glasses and his fireplace asking "Where are you snowed in?" I received it as an invitation at a crossroad - to veer in a different direction. I told my date that I needed to get going and met R for a beer that turned into a first kiss that turned into a marriage.
Some would call our twenty year age difference a "May-December Romance" - I call it an untraditional pathway on my choose-your-own-adventure life. As R and I began exploring the possibility of life-long partnership we had to talk about things like expectations and desires around kids. R had been divorced for 5 years when we met and had two near-grown daughters from that relationship. Some years ago, he had a vasectomy never thinking his marriage wouldn't work out or that he may someday love a younger woman who wanted him to consider a round two. We landed at a place that seemed like our "least common denominator." We would intentionally invest in the kids that came across our path - nieces, nephews, neighbors, kids of friends - and we would consider foster care and adoption in the future if the time was right.
Five years into our marriage, the time has never felt right, hence the reluctant yes. We both knew these were the right kids and the right situation. Now our work is to trust that love and resolve, community and grace, will fill the gap.
Monday, July 25, 2016
The Dentist
I started thinking about writing this blog on the way to work this morning - an hour commute from my home. Our foster kids - siblings - just met almost all my extended family over the weekend. There were so many stories that seemed worth sharing. Like this one - J, the 8-year-old boy, asked my nephew Micah (of the same age), "Do you you know I'm a foster?" J seemed surprised when Micah's response was "I was too!" It was a touching moment of connection and belonging.
But - what really got me to write today was the dentist. S and J arrived to us three months ago rather unexpectedly. It was a scramble to get them from at our door with one duffle bag to settled into a new space, with a full wardrobe, stocked with age-appropriate toys, finished out of a school year, and registered for summer programs. They had a physical within the first week - that's a story for another blog - but it was obvious that a dentist visit should also happen. Our girl, 7-year-old S, has sporadically complained of tooth pain, lost three baby teeth and has at least four visible fillings.
We asked our case worker about dentist recommendations - she encouraged us to call around and see who will accept their medicaid. I tried good ol' google and found the medicaid website cumbersome, complicated, but eventually helpful enough to track down a few names in our county. One phone call yielded a "We no longer accept medicaid, but we know [this guy] does." So I called [this guy], who was also on the the list I had developed, and left a detailed message. Weeks later, I've heard nothing and my follow-up call was answered by the machine again. Yes, machine. Not voicemail. In the meantime, our caseworker sent along a flyer for a free mobile dental clinic at a time and date when the kids were at sleep away camp for five days - the only five days my husband and I had of uninterrupted silence and conversation since the kids came - another story for another blog. So several phone calls and researching efforts later - I came up empty.
Today - I revamped my efforts. I called an office in our community that works with kids and inquired how much it would be to do an out-of-pocket exam, x-ray and cleaning. The kind women on the phone asked me about our situation then referred me to a pediatric dentist in another county that accepts medicaid - without giving me the out-of-pocket cost. I was so hopeful about the referral - 45 minutes away from our home, but worth it if they work with kids and accept medicaid - that I forgot to ask again for the amount. I called the office they referred me to and the woman put me on a brief hold before delivering the news that they are only accepting new patients up to age 5. I ask her for a referral and she gives me a monologue about how each office is different and she really can't help, but I should look up the medicaid website. Sigh.
So at this point - I'm three months and like 20 phone calls in and still haven't gotten our kids a dentist appointment with their medicaid coverage. I called back the dentist down the street. It's $245 for the exam, x-ray and hygiene visit. Per kid. Since we're not officially certified yet, we're considered a kinship placement and don't receive a stipend like certified foster parents do - in Ohio it's about $700/month/kid. Our caseworker advocated and got a $500/mo stipend for us - not per kid, just total. The past two months, that money has gone to pay for child care and summer programs. It didn't even touch food, clothes - or dental care in this case.
When I have no less than five dental offices within a few miles of my home, how is it that I can't get these kids basic care? When I have a master's degree, white privilege, and an assertive personality on my side, how is it that I can't get these kids basic care? When I have a car and am willing to drive to another county 45 minutes away? When I have an office phone, mobile phone, laptop and tablet? A flexible work schedule so I can take time out of my day to make calls and write e-mails?
Dear powers that be - we can do better for people who are poor, for kids, for families, for the sick, for those that need their teeth tended to.
But - what really got me to write today was the dentist. S and J arrived to us three months ago rather unexpectedly. It was a scramble to get them from at our door with one duffle bag to settled into a new space, with a full wardrobe, stocked with age-appropriate toys, finished out of a school year, and registered for summer programs. They had a physical within the first week - that's a story for another blog - but it was obvious that a dentist visit should also happen. Our girl, 7-year-old S, has sporadically complained of tooth pain, lost three baby teeth and has at least four visible fillings.
We asked our case worker about dentist recommendations - she encouraged us to call around and see who will accept their medicaid. I tried good ol' google and found the medicaid website cumbersome, complicated, but eventually helpful enough to track down a few names in our county. One phone call yielded a "We no longer accept medicaid, but we know [this guy] does." So I called [this guy], who was also on the the list I had developed, and left a detailed message. Weeks later, I've heard nothing and my follow-up call was answered by the machine again. Yes, machine. Not voicemail. In the meantime, our caseworker sent along a flyer for a free mobile dental clinic at a time and date when the kids were at sleep away camp for five days - the only five days my husband and I had of uninterrupted silence and conversation since the kids came - another story for another blog. So several phone calls and researching efforts later - I came up empty.
Today - I revamped my efforts. I called an office in our community that works with kids and inquired how much it would be to do an out-of-pocket exam, x-ray and cleaning. The kind women on the phone asked me about our situation then referred me to a pediatric dentist in another county that accepts medicaid - without giving me the out-of-pocket cost. I was so hopeful about the referral - 45 minutes away from our home, but worth it if they work with kids and accept medicaid - that I forgot to ask again for the amount. I called the office they referred me to and the woman put me on a brief hold before delivering the news that they are only accepting new patients up to age 5. I ask her for a referral and she gives me a monologue about how each office is different and she really can't help, but I should look up the medicaid website. Sigh.
So at this point - I'm three months and like 20 phone calls in and still haven't gotten our kids a dentist appointment with their medicaid coverage. I called back the dentist down the street. It's $245 for the exam, x-ray and hygiene visit. Per kid. Since we're not officially certified yet, we're considered a kinship placement and don't receive a stipend like certified foster parents do - in Ohio it's about $700/month/kid. Our caseworker advocated and got a $500/mo stipend for us - not per kid, just total. The past two months, that money has gone to pay for child care and summer programs. It didn't even touch food, clothes - or dental care in this case.
When I have no less than five dental offices within a few miles of my home, how is it that I can't get these kids basic care? When I have a master's degree, white privilege, and an assertive personality on my side, how is it that I can't get these kids basic care? When I have a car and am willing to drive to another county 45 minutes away? When I have an office phone, mobile phone, laptop and tablet? A flexible work schedule so I can take time out of my day to make calls and write e-mails?
Dear powers that be - we can do better for people who are poor, for kids, for families, for the sick, for those that need their teeth tended to.
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