Let Yourself Off the Hook

 JayJay (BabyGirl's puppy) and Maxwell (right).

I haven't been able to write. There was so much involved with BabyGirl; I was drained emotionally. Every aspect of her life is troubled. But in my home, in the space that we shared, she was a nearly perfect teen.

As briefly as I can (and I'm long-winded), BabyGirl returned to her foster family, nearly 2 weeks ago. Her time with me was short - a weekend  of respite care. She didn't want to leave me. I wanted her to stay, but I missed the solitude of my stress-free, single-woman life and quiet home.

Fast forward to now: There were problems in BabyGirl's foster home, which lead to her removal and placement in a group home. She tried to reach out to me, but I missed her calls.

I was torn because I want to help her. I want to be involved in her life and making her a stronger person. But her problems are so heavy. There are so many and they are so profound; I don't know if I have the energy to be everything that she needs me to be. Other than love and strength, I am not able to be warden, nurse, psychiatrist, doctor, mother and friend to this child.

But I feel as though I gave up before fighting. I feel that this is why I signed up: to become a foster parent/mentor to the 1 child no one else wants. How can I back away from this teen because she's a challenge? That would make me a failure. That would make me like every other foster parent in this child's life. That would make me disingenuous. And this child would be shuffled again and again until she turns 18 and "ages out of the system."

I felt pressure from the Mister (man/boyfriend/significant other) to rescue BabyGirl from the group home and the constant shifting her life has become. 

In truth, I was leaning more toward passiveness. So I called one of my best confidantes. And God bless Ether Girl for giving me the words to grow on.

She told me that I can't save every child in the system; she told me that I didn't create BabyGirl's problems, and I wouldn't solve them alone. "Let yourself off the hook, Tiff."

Maybe this is giving up. Or maybe this is my realization that BabyGirl is more than I can handle or help. 

We Made It Through the Weekend

I'm a talker. Maybe too much of one. But I believe in the power of words.

And so Babygirl and I talk, and talk, and talk, and talk some more. We hung around the house on Saturday, doing laundry, napping, watching TV. I helped her braid her hair. I introduced her to my boyfriend and talked to her about how good, strong, Black men show their love, respect and affection.

We went to church on Sunday and talked more about the message and how we could apply it to our lives.

Over lunch, she shared more of her story and her background. She comes from a physically abusive past. I promised her that in this house, she is safe from that. We also talked about learning how to forgive those who have hurt us.

She wants to remain with me. And I want to work with her on becoming a stronger, good person. But I don't even begin to know where to begin. She's been out of school for 3 years. She doesn't want to return to high school and start again as a freshmen. However, she can't enter GED courses until January - also her birthday month.

So today, I'll work from home and begin working DSS.

On a different note, I'm beginning to hate her dog. I didn't think I had it in me to not fall in love with a puppy. JayJay is a 4 month, yorkie-chihuahua mix. He is a terror. He chases Maxwell (my 6 yr Bichon Frise) around the house, snatches toys away from Maxwell, nips or bites at Maxwell, and pushes Maxwell out of the way when feeding. JayJay has also nipped at my fingers. I know I'm going about this the wrong way, but I've been spanking and caging JayJay. That dog will not bully Maxwell.

It Begins Now

Throughout the summer, I had several near-placements. DSS would call, I'd agree to take the child, and for various reasons, the placement wouldn't occur. 

I really didn't think a child would be placed with me. Until last night.

DSS asked if I would serve as respite care through the weekend. The stats:a 17 year old teen girl with a puppy. No problems, although she does not attend school.

I agreed and never heard from DSS again. (DSS did not provide paperwork, nor insurance information, nothing but silence.)

Babygirl's (I'll call her this) foster father called for directions to my home, and the real conversation begins. His anger poured through the phone and continued when he arrived.


Mr. Jay described Babygirl as willful, stubborn, manipulative, hard-headed, dismissive of authority, a drug-addict and thief, sexually promiscuous and violent. He told of incidents where he and his wife called the police to intervene because she would "get in their face" and threaten violence. He said Babygirl would call men to their home to pick her up and take her out for partying, sexing or smoking weed. He described how her willfulness affected other children in their home. She lasted a month with the Jay family.


I wanted to cry. I was so overwhelmed. Mr. Jay told me that neither he nor Mrs. Jay would  return for Babygirl. He apologized for doing this to me and admitted that DSS had done the same to them - dropped off Babygirl without a clear explanation of her background.


"My G-d," I thought and prayed. "They have a 2 parent household. What can I possibly do by myself? Father, I beg you to help me."


After Babygirl settled in her room, I asked her out so we could talk about expectations. I told her the rules of the house are that we will respect one another - in our actions and our speech. We will live in here and try to grow together. But this was the starting line. All we have is how we act toward one another beginning at this point in time. Our past histories don't matter.


She seemed a bit receptive, asked questions about my background. We talked more and things seemed fine.


Later that evening we had our first "encounter."


She settled in her room, showered and came out dressed and cute. She was respectful in her tone when she asked if she could go out to the store. I told her that she couldn't go when she told me she wanted to walk. (There is no store in walking distance of my home.) It's too late and she's a vulnerable, young woman. 

She was visibly angry. She began trembling and retreated to her room.


I gave her some time and then went to talk to her. We talked again over dinner and opened up more to one another. She talked about her frustration with being out of school, the lack of responsiveness from her DSS caseworker and her anger at the realization that DSS will "age" her out of the system when she turns 18.


She wiped angry tears and asked if she could live with me.  Could she go to school? She didn't want to bounce around anymore. She revealed so much my heart hurt. 


Babygirl is why I agreed to become a foster parent. I promised myself that I would take the child no one else wants. Babygirl has been bounced around for 3 years, and has been out of school since 9th grade. She's angry. Probably mean. She's a fighter.


But I saw her vulnerability. When she sat on the edge of my bed and asked me to part her hair so she could braid it. When she rolled around on the floor and played with the dogs.


There's a child in that woman's body. She needs someone to touch her in love. She needs someone to fight for her. She needs a safe place. In the silence after she asked if she could live here, I already knew the answer.


There won't be anything easy about this journey.

Almost a Baby Momma

DSS called last night about a placement. Initially I missed the call, but I connected with the caseworker, Katrina, who was still trying to place the child.

The child, Briana, is an 11 year old girl; her mom needs to find a new apartment, and left Briana and 2 other siblings unattended for a few hours. The other 2 siblings were placed, and Briana needed a place. But they (my caseworker Katrina and Briana's caseworker) were certain it'd be a super temporary placement: 3-5 days. They were still working on returning Briana to the mom.

So for 2 hours, I sat in my condo with friends and hashed out whether I was ready. What I needed to do, etc. The food I needed to buy. What about child care?

And then the caseworker called back and indicated that they were able to return Briana to her mom.

I was sad. But realism set in. If I'm going to do this thing, I need to DO THIS. Enough. Time to put on my grown lady panties and clean up shop.

So the next 2 weeks I'm committed to making my home child friendly.

For starters, I need to buy some non-diet food. My crew told me I need some fruit cups, applesauce, and some food that comes in a cardboard box. (Ha!)

I need to get furniture in the guest bedroom. I need to stash some more money aside in case the child needs a completely new wardrobe.

Yeah, it's on.

I Said "No."

Last Friday, a DSS social worker called me at work. When I read the caller ID, I knew what the call was about.

"This is it." I thought. "This is your daughter."

As it turns out, once you're an approved foster/adoption parent, DSS social workers will try to place any child with you - regardless of the specifications that you've given.

I've asked for an African-American, female child, ages 8 to 10. However, I've agreed to be an "emergency" foster parent. This means I'd accept any gender, race or age if there's a child needing immediate shelter.

That wasn't the case.

The child in question is a 12 year old, African-American boy. He has ADHD and he takes medicine for it. He won't go to school, and he won't listen to his mother. [We presume the mother is a single parent.] His mom was so frustrated, she called DSS and told them to come and get the child. She no longer wanted him in her home.

That statement alone broke my heart. My brain screamed, "No! No! Nonononononono!" But my heart twinged. And then I heeded my better sense.

If this child refuses to listen to his own mother, there's absolutely nothing that I can do for him. And what if he's 5'10 and weighs 205 lbs? On my best day I'm 5'3. There's no way that child would even respect me as his authority.

So I declined.

This is a glaring reminder that I need to stop playing and finish preparing my home. I need more furniture in my child's room. (But in my defense, I've been on business travel for 1 consecutive month.)

Journey continues.

Approved!

Life has become extremely hectic. I've wanted to blog more about the inefficiencies of my caseworker and the Dept. of Social Services.

But it doesn't even matter. Just 20 minutes ago, I received email notice from my caseworker.

My home study was approved and signed off by her supervisor. I'll receive a certificate next week. 

I am officially able to become a foster parent!

God is awesome. I have been so stressed with work. And I had a wonderful praise session on the metro. I was simply overcome by God's love, goodness and mercy to me. I cried tears of joy on the very public metro, but I didn't care. I was just in a place of praise and thankfulness for my life, job, friends, health.

And then He further blessed me this morning. 

Motherhood is near!

Moving Parts

My 2nd home interview is scheduled next week. It’s clear to me that my caseworker has recently returned to my file and is rushing through it to fill in the blanks.

She called, wondering if my back-up caregiver had filled out the paperwork that authorizes a criminal background check and if my back-up had completed the medical form.

*record scratch*

For real? No, really? Yes, my back-up completed the authorization for the background check. And, um, his check was completed before mine was completed, some time in August 2010.

And in typical DSS form, they’ve introduced yet another requirement: a medical examination. I told my caseworker, this was the first time it’s ever been mentioned to me that my back-up needed a medical examination; this requirement isn’t written anywhere. Nor is there an authorization form for this. I’m growing annoyed with the haphazard, unofficial way DSS introduces new requirements to this process.

And to add insult to injury, my caseworker sent the below email, with the subject line: additional information.

HI,

Your mom was married to your biological father(name) they divorced when you were 6 she then married(name) who cheated on her and they divorced when you were 16. did she remarry after that? if so, then to who.

Wowwwww. So caring of her to 1) condense my life story into a few sentences; 2) recall the sordid details of my past; 3) neglect good grammar; and 4) send this to my business email.

Maybe I’m the fool, because I actually responded, filled in the blanks and corrected misinformation.

So then my caseworker follows up with this email (I changed names):

verification...

You lived with your aunt for about 6 months in NJ. Then you and your mom moved to NY where she met and married STEPFATHER (you were 8 when they married).  In the time between leaving your aunt and your mom re-marrying, you lived in NY and mom was supporting you guys.  Six months after your mom married, STEPFATHER began cheating on her, you confronted him but never told your mom.  They eventually divorced when you were 16.  The middle class life you described is the life with STEPFATHER? Why didn't you guys remain in contact? 

How long after the sexual abuse did you tell your mom.

And then I had to use my words:

CASEWORKER,

These are emotionally challenging questions.

It's also difficult to see my life condensed into a few sentences.

Let's discuss this in person.

Thank you,

I’m committed to honesty and openness about this process. But damn. How are you going to ask me cavalierly about sexual abuse as an aside? And in an email to my business address? There are so many incorrect points in that summation. I alternate between anger, insult, annoyance, shock, disappointment and surprise.

I feel like a moving part. A means to an end.

I can’t even begin to imagine how my child feels after living in multiple foster and group homes, after being ignored or abused. I hope DSS social workers aren’t this impersonal with my child.

I wish DSS would just move out of the way and give me my daughter.

Doubt

I claim joy. I claim happiness, success, favor and bounty. Love and wealth are mine.

I call it faith, others may call it positive thinking. I don’t believe in allowing the public to know my personal sadness or disappointment. I will live my life as if it is everything is perfect – and more – in an effort to claim and enjoy my best self.

Always a smile on my face.

But the truth is, I have doubt. I doubt that I have enough parenting/leadership experience to guide a child. I doubt that I’m strong enough, willing enough to help someone else. I doubt that my intentions are enough.

Am I doing this out of loneliness? Am I doing this to fill a void? What is the “right” motivation to have in order to become a foster parent?

I am uncertain if I’m ready to become a foster parent.

My second home interview is scheduled for early February. I am scared of what more the social worker will ask. The first interview was difficult and revealing. For real? She's going to dig deeper? I have laid my soul and my home open for the Department of Social Services. I'm not sure how much more I have to give before giving up.

Two friends have recently told me that single parenting is hard, difficult, frustrating, exhausting work. Both asked me if I am ready. And honestly, I told them I don’t know.

What am I doing? Is this right? Are my reasons selfish? Am I still pursuing this out of a fear of failure? Can I help someone grow and heal when I have more development of my own to do?

I am scared. And I have doubt.

Fire Safety Inspection

 The above video isn't really how it went down. I just like the levity.

The inspection was scheduled for 8:30 this morning. But by 8:50, the inspector hadn't arrived nor had he called. When I called the fire station, he had a convoluted story about how he was acting chief today, there were unforseen delays, yadda yadda yadda. Ummm, would have helped if he'd called and told me that he was running late. It was a good thing that I told my job that I might be late.

Anyway, the inspection lasted approximately 20 minutes. The inspector basically checked to make sure that I had certain items in the home: smoke detectors, carbon monoxide detector and fire extinguisher. The inspector didn't actually check whether any of these items worked. I got "bonus" points for having a sprinkler system. The inspection was more of a learning lesson for me because the inspector showed me how to turn off my sprinkler system (in case it's accidentally set and water pours into my home). And I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that in the nearly 6 years that I've been in my condo, I never knew that my windows open into the home for easy cleaning!

My windows are large enough for a fire fighter to enter the home, wearing equipment, and they're large enough for us to escape easily. And that's that. I passed with flying colors!


"What's next?" you may wonder. More waiting. Waiting for the social worker to interview my personal references. Waiting for the social worker to ask more probing questions about my life. And waiting. 


I think I have the patience of Job.

Home Interview

This post is two weeks overdue. The home interview went very well. Although my social worker warned that it would take 2-3 hours, it only lasted 1 hour and 10 minutes (my mom timed it).

The social worker reviewed a questionnaire I'd filled out about my childhood. The questions were deeply invasive. She asked why my parents divorced and how it affected me. I told her about growing up with stepbrothers and my mother's second divorce. We talked about the sexual abuse I experienced in my childhood and how I healed. She wanted to know about the drug and alcohol abuse by some of my family members. We talked about my strained relationship with my siblings. We even discussed when I lost my virginity.

Whew. Some of the interview was difficult because I had to recall painful experiences. And my mom was in the guest bedroom with Maxwell, so at times I lowered my voice. I almost felt like a child airing our dirty laundry.

After the interview, the social worker took a 3 minute tour of the condo and finally met Maxwell – who growled and cried because he was locked in the room away from me. She checked my closets (which was weird), the fire extinguisher and smoke detectors.

This is only part one of the home interview. She told me that she's juggling 6 active cases before she would begin interviewing the rest of my training class. The Dept. of Social Services is in a rush to interview new adoption/foster families before the launch of a marketing campaign for more families.

This stage will take 2-3 months. But I'm at a crossroads. Now is the time when I really need to decide what age and sex I want to take. Once I'm approved, the process will finally speed up and I need to be ready.