Past, Present and Future
I'm going through a change in life. Weird, since I just went through a major change 4 years ago, buy hey, that's what life is like, right?
Anyway, I'm writing this to let any readers I have left that I'm mothballing this blog for awhile. I do have good reasons, though, and I don't know that it will be forever. I just thought you might appreciate a heads up on my plans.
I've been doing software development for 17 years now. It's a good career, and it's served me well. However, it leaves me a little cold and frustrated these days. Nobody really cares about my work except me, and it won't leave any lasting impression in the world. In that respect, my part-time work fostering is far more meaningful than what I spend my days doing, often for 50 or more hours a week. If I'm going to be pulled away from my wonderful family for that big an ongoing chunk of my life, I'd like it to mean something big to somebody.
So I think soon I'll be going back to school, probably 100% online if I can manage it. I want to become a teacher at the high school level, or possibly junior high. I've spoken with a few people about it, and they all seem to immediately feel like I'd be a natural at it. I've done a lot of work in Boy Scouts and in fostering with this age group, and I have a special love for kids that are having problems of one sort or another. I really like it when I can legitimately feel like I've made a positive difference in someone's life. The best way I can see to accomplish this, given my skill set, is to get into special education.
One of the people I spoke with was a fellow foster parent who is also my wife's supervisor at a day treatment school (who is also a recent PhD in Psychology or somesuch) and who has hired special ed teachers for the school. She seems to think I could do this, and said she would consider hiring me after I get the proper certs and stuff. Of course, she takes 4-5 teenage girls at a time, so she's probably certifiably insane herself, but that's another story.
I figure I have at least 25 years left in my working life, possibly more the way things are going in our economic system. I can't spent that long doing what I do, or I'll end up a hollow shell of myself with not much to show for it except money. That's no way to live, and I won't do it.
So I have some serious academic challenges ahead of me, and I'm hoping to start sometime soon, whenever we can get the money saved for tuition and stuff. I'll continue to foster as we love it, it's needed here and it will be an excellent source of inspiration and fodder for class assignments. It will also keep me networked with the local people that I'll need to suck up to in order to have a better shot at getting a job when I'm done.
This isn't going to leave me much extra time for blogging and other outside pursuits, so I'm just going to let this blog go dormant the way it has been for a little while now. I may pick it up again later, once I've met the new challenges I've set for myself. My best guess at this point is that it will take me somewhere between 1-2 years to get myself positioned for a hire into my new field. At the end of that, we'll see. I may have professional ethical prohibitions against it at that point, but if I don't, I may well begin again.
Until then, I just want to thank all the great readers that have cared enough to leave comments and encouragement for me in this space. It's been a really exciting time and good experience to start up foster care and take care of these kids. I hope some people have found things here that have been useful in their own endeavors to help the kids that need help. Take care of yourselves until we meet again.
Or until I get mental constipation again and start writing. Heh.
Agency Discontent
Anybody who has ever done any foster care at all must have at some point wondered whether they were working with complete doorknobs. We are no exception. This was an expected "feature" of existence in the foster world, at least for us. We knew there would be good social workers and bad, good administrators and bad as well as good kids and bad.
But lately, it seems to us that the agency we have been working through has been really slipping. They don't seem to have been interested in our opinions on issues regarding the various kids we've had, they seem very out-of-touch with what we go through, and there's a certain amount of...distraction there. They're not focused.
This was highlighted this last weekend. Last week was a bad one for "Jake". The previous weekend, he had had a friend over. He apparently showed her or told her that he had "a gun" and some "drug paraphernalia" hidden in our house. Rule #1: if you're going to do stuff wrong, make sure you can trust people to keep their mouth shut before you show or tell them anything. Anyway, she goes to the same day-treatment school he does and she told one of her counselors, and the jig was up.
The cops came over and rifled his room, finding a bb gun and a pot pipe, which The Wife seemed to think was clean enough that it had never been used. "Jake" was taken to the hospital. Twice. Apparently they decided he was a risk to himself and others, at least briefly. There was general upset, and while he didn't have much to say about the whole episode, I think it was unsettling for "Jake".
You see, I've gotten to know this kid, and my gut tells me he is a decent person and can be trusted with most things (being alone with a girl he finds attractive NOT being one of them). I would personally feel comfortable sitting with him behind me holding a knife OR a gun. Let's face it, people. When you're dealing with troubled kids (or people in general) you're placing a certain amount of faith in God. If they really decide that they want to kill you, they're going to find a way to do it. A gun just makes it easier. And there's a far, far, FAR greater chance they'll do it to themselves before they'll do it to you or your family. And they'll find a way to do that too if they're serious, gun or no gun.
But "Jake" has been mistreated by the system, from what I can see. How else to describe the circumstances of a kid who's spent like 11 years in the system and been juggled around to well over 20 placements? They say he's RAD. I would be, too. So would you, if over 20 homes didn't want to hang on to you. At some point it stops being a disorder and starts being a rational response to how the world seems to be treating you, I would think.
Now...the professional mental health people have fully evaluated this kid, and some of them (people I trust) have raised concerns about him. They see something in him that isn't quite right...and I respect that. The kid does have problems. My issue is, have some of the things that have been done to "help" him caused those problems to be lesser or greater? There is now a dedicated husband-and-wife team who have gone to the trouble of learning to know this kid, who like him, who have at least some talent in working with these kinds of kids, and who desperately want to help him. Shouldn't such people be incorporated into attacking the problem and finding solutions? Apparently not.
The agency's response to last week's brouhaha? Friday night, at about 9:30pm, they called us and said they'd "feel more comfortable" if we would ship him to a town about 1.5 hours away for the weekend, to a group home he'd stayed at before. Immediately. No, they wouldn't provide transportation. Either way. Arg.
Mom and Dad happened to be over that night and were going home, and while grossly out of their way, it wasn't as out of the way for them as it would have been for me to drive all the way there and back again, so they volunteered to drive. Bless their hearts. For the 10,000th time.
I had the happy job of telling "Jake" that he would be going, and he had about 10 minutes to get his stuff ready. I made sure he understood that this was most definitely NOT my idea or The Wife's.
I am seriously considering whether we wouldn't be better off jumping ship from our current agency and just joing the local county's stable of foster homes. The reimbursement would probably be lower and the cases wouldn't be quite so..."Interesting". But then, we'd have an easier time raising a stink when something didn't seem right, and the cases would be much less..."Interesting". Heh. "Interesting" is very much a double-edged sword.
I think there's a lot of fostering left in us, and that seems to be rare. Not many people are built to take the abuse from kids, government bureaucracies and so forth that are sometimes required of foster parents. Cops have a similar requirement...they take a lot of crap they don't deserve from people who have no right to be dealing out crap, too. I admire them. I would be a horrible cop.
But we may need to make a change at some point. For now, I think The Wife is leaning toward trying to work this through, and she's probably right. She usually is, and I'm usually too eager to jump ship on things, so I'll follow her lead on this for now. But there IS a limit on what we can really accept, too.
And then there's "Jake". That poor kid has really been a stellar performer since he came here. By far the easiest kid to live with that we've had in most ways. I think we may have started to build some trust with him. He's got nobody else in the world except a sister that we haven't heard from since he's been here. He contributes as a family member, and loves the pets and Amanda. We've set up a nice little suite for him downstairs where he has better access to the 50" TV than we do. He cleans the basement without being asked, and does most other chores with only one asking. He pitches in on special home improvement projects, he cooks dinner once a week or so, he has an ironic sense of humor I love, and he is comfortable enough to give me an unending stream of guff about the state of my 1996 tracker that, shall we say, has seen better times, particularly since it was totaled hitting a deer and was resurrected to play the role of "old beater" for the rest of its days.
We can't let him go. He's only got a year of school left, and we could actually make a difference with this one. He's the kind that could decide to adopt us as his unofficial, or even official, family for the rest of his adult days. And we would welcome that, if it was what he wanted. I'd love it if he came back to visit for the occasional weekend and we went out and fished. That's the stuff life is made of, especially when I get on in years and fishing starts to look like a better and better way to spend my time.
This post feels a little disjointed...but then again, I guess that's how I'm feeling overall right now.
Labels: "Jake"
A Haitus from my Haitus
Anybody who is a long-time follower of my adventures knows that I'm prone to long, unexplained absences from this space. I warned you, back in the dim mists of the past when I started this thing, that I will not allow this thing to own me, and if I don't feel like posting I won't until I feel like it again. So there.
On the fostering front, nothing much has happened lately anyway (unless you count the cop and two sheriff deputies that stopped by for a nice little search of the Boy Child's bedroom today, but that's another post for later).
But the adoption front...well, let's just say that after months of anguish and worrying, many legal threats, thousands of dollars in legal bills, health problems for the birth mom related to stress, and some other rotten stuff, the court date finally came last Friday.
And the tribe didn't even bother to show up by phone.
All that crap they gave us, all the pain and heartache, those horrible days in the hospital after Amanda was born, and they didn't even bother to let us know it was okay now.
I'm going to say this now, and then I'm probably not going to mention it again. The Indian Child Welfare Act is a poorly written legislation obviously put together by B-team congressional staffers with no real-world experience. It is being used at least in some cases to punish women whose decisions the tribes disapprove of. It is fostering a bitter culture of racism and entitlement among many Native Americans, and it is building bitter resentment among non-natives who are/were otherwise well-disposed toward people of other races, including natives.
In short, it's a crappy law written by crappy lawyers being used by crappy people to do crappy things, and it should be at least massively amended and probably repealed at the first possible opportunity.
So then.
We have our beautiful little girl. She now officially has our last name, and is ours for life. It's almost like she knows it, too. In court she charmed the judge completely. The bailiff looked like some kind of pro wrestler, and I swear he was grinning from ear to ear when he thought nobody was looking and I was afraid he was going to get down on the floor and start playing with her.
She's our angel, and nobody can ever take this one away. Heh. Can you tell I've got it bad? Of course, as Daddy, it's my official duty to show a picture. Enjoy. I know we will.
Labels: Adoption, Amanda
Death Visits Us All
I had a best friend in high school. Let's call him B1. Actually he was my best friend from about 4th grade until graduation. He obviously was a major influence on my life at a very formative time for me.
He had an older brother that was three years older than us. Let's call him B2. He remains to this day one of my closest friends. He is an extreme victim of his own intelligence. He is vastly more intelligent than I am, I can say that without even hesitating. He graduated at the top of his class (rightfully so)...but he should never have been given the microphone at his commencement address. He delivered a valedictory address in about 1983 that is remembered to this day. Oooh. He talked about the president having his finger on the button, and how that was going to doom us all, etc. He embarassed his family, and (if he had only been able to understand at the time) he embarassed himself.
In later years, I kept in touch with both of these gentlemen. In August of 1991, B1, B2, myself and one other mutual friend went on a trip together. Many things happened on that trip, but suffice it to say that B2 embarassed us all.
Both B1 and B2 went to the Minneapolis area, as did I. I stayed in touch. They did not. Very difficult situation. But in the fullness of time, I came to the realization that B1 simply had made a clean break with his past (except for his family), which unfortunately included me. Too bad so sad, right? Except that I am not used to losing my friends. I had not yet given up on him then, and I have not yet given up on him now.
B2 is a more interesting story. He lost himself in drugs first, then in alcohol, though he'd never admit it. At one point, I'm pretty sure I was instrumental in getting him to go back to school. The guy was a valedictorian back when it actually MEANT something after all.
I say all this to say that their father died on Monday, and B1 called me for the first time in (I think) 20 years to invite me to the memorial service. I went today. It was...interesting.
First of all, they're Methodists. The Methodist style never appealed to me. Let's all get as dressed up as we can, no matter how uncomfortable it makes us, so that God will be happy. Somehow I don't think God cares so much what we're wearing.
But I did have a chance to visit my hometown, and also visit these people and their family, all of whom had such an influence on who I am today.
You have to understand that the man who died was a judge. He was an outstanding person, besides. He was also an insufferable man, a man who caused no end of consternation among his fellow citizens...but also a man whose passing caused a lot of pain, reflection, and self-examination among those who knew him well and those who knew him at all.
Such a man is to be revered. He is to be remembered. His words are to be, if not "followed", at least to be taken to heart. The program informed me that his political persuasion runs directly against me own. This does not surprise me. It actually makes me sing with joy.
Because if this man is politically against me and yet still loves me as he so clearly did, then I am still free to believe as I do and all is not lost.
God bless this man. God bless his family, as they struggle to learn what it is to be a group without his leadership. And God please let this be a vehicle for B1 and I to become closer. I am willing. Is he?
Only God knows.
Story Found
"Jake" is an interesting person. I found the following story written longhand in our kitchen. I don't know if he wrote it or copied it, but either way (grammar corrected because it drives me crazy)...
MY LIFE STORY
There was a little boy, a man, and a mule walking. After a while people noticed the man riding the mule, and said "look at that horrible man let the poor boy walk." So the man let the boy ride. After a while the people said "look at that nasty boy make the old man walk." So they both got on the mule. After a while the people said "look at those nasty people torture that mule." So they both got off and walked alongside the mule. After awhile the people said "look at those foolish people waste a perfectly good mule."
No matter which way you do it, it's wrong.
This kid does some thinking, and does have ways of expressing it.
Labels: "Jake"
Cabbage Patch or Cop Shop? Meh. Same-Same.
Saturday we went to my company holiday party to collect a nice free dinner and a door prize. As the prize-giving was winding down, we got a call about an emergency placement. We are apparently the only baby-ready foster home they could find on short notice anywhere in the area.
Needless to say, we stopped off at the cop shop on our way home and picked up a brand spanking new foster daughter, 7 months old. She and Amanda have already hit it off, and I'm pretty sure they've agreed to be in each others' wedding parties by now. Women bond quickly, you know. Especially when they're sharing tummy time and stuff. They'd be going to the bathroom together if they could...maybe The Wife and I should be changing their diapers next to each other at the same time to foster a lifelong friendship.
This little girl is in trouble, though. Bad, bad, BAD situation with the mom. Not sure about the dad, but it doesn't sound good. Based just on getting to know the little girl and examine her, it's not good. She's WAY overweight, with no detectable muscle tone. Her legs could just be so much spaghetti, and her favorite thing to chew on is her foot. When we took her into our laps and started playing with her, it was like she had no idea what we thought we were doing (but it did look kind of fun).
Our impression has been that mom hasn't done much besides sit her in the corner in her carrier or crib and prop a bottle once in awhile. This was reinforced in my own head when The Wife told me she had fed her at night and she downed an entire bottle pretty much without even waking up. She seems starved for affection and attention, and isn't really sure what to do with it when she gets it.
On the other front, we've been having trouble getting Amanda to eat. Since the new child is on a different formula, we thought it would be a good time to begin switching Amanda, so we started that on Saturday. The change has been instantaneous and miraculous. This child who acted so hungry and then stopped eating and started crying almost immediately now starts eating and then takes the whole bottle nearly in one breath. She's probably eating close to twice what she was eating. I have a feeling she'll be putting on quite a few pounds over the next couple of months. Fingers crossed.
In the meantime, we're enjoying the interaction of these two. At 5 and 7 months, they have no idea about race or differences between them. Amanda has not the slightest worry that this girl is overweight, and what being seen with her will do to her image. They only know "hey, there's another little person in this land of giants. Maybe she wants to play!"
Ah, to be an infant again. No, scratch that. I had a hard enough time figuring out the whole toilet thing the first time around. And I'd REALLY rather not go through the whole kindergarten thing again if I don't have to. My kindergarten teacher taught me what it was to have the little hairs on the back of your neck jerked when you misbehaved.
Today, that would likely get her crucified by the ACLU, but in the early 70s it was a very effective and widely used technique to get early control of the troublemakers and thin their numbers (I was more or less a thinnee I guess)...and MUCH more effective than "time out", no matter WHAT the "child experts" say. Holy crap, but that woman was effective. I'm still scared of her a little bit, and I think she died several years ago.
Labels: Amanda, Babies
The Greatest Joy
It is with a spinning mind and an immense joy in my heart that I hereby announce to anybody who cares that I just got The Call from The Wife. The judge has approved our adoption, and in a couple of weeks we will officially be Amanda's mommy and daddy.
I'm in shock. I've become so conditioned to the idea that nice guys finish last, and the court usually makes the decision I would rather they didn't, and the law was more often used to cause mischief than to deliver justice. That we should be granted this gift finally, after all the shock, grief, wrangling, rage, muttering, cursing, pleading, and who knows what all else over these last months...well, it's a kind of gratification I don't recall ever feeling. I MAYBE felt something akin to this when I studied and worked my last quarter in college to earn 26 credits, and, for the first time in my entire scholastic life, received straight A's on all 26 credits' worth. And then, if I hadn't been so tired of school I just didn't want to deal with it, I could have participated in commencement exercises for two different schools within a few days of each other. Instead, I just fled to the lake cabin and spent a week or so sitting on the dock, tanning, fishing and recuperating.
I don't need recuperation this time, though, except maybe emotionally. And I have a wonderful wife and beautiful little girl to help with that, thank God.
I...I don't have any more to say right now. I have to work the rest of the day anyway...I may have more to say on the subject tonight. Or maybe I'll just sit and hug my little girl awhile and think about how good God can be when He has a mind to.
Labels: Adoption, Amanda
