Things you have to say to your current foster daughter when your previous foster daughter had some unusual hobbies:
"Don't be startled by the severed head in the cabinet. It's styrofoam."
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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@fosterateentheysaid
Things you have to say to your current foster daughter when your previous foster daughter had some unusual hobbies:
"Don't be startled by the severed head in the cabinet. It's styrofoam."
A $40 emergency snack and TP run? That must mean I have a new kid moving in tomorrow!
We pass kids on our walk, maybe 7 and 8. The girl is barefoot, with her hair curled and makeup on, riding a scooter. The boy stops me to ask if I know that he used to have a dog named Socks, and if I like his bike that looks like a motorcycle, and if I've read Prisoner of Azkaban. By the time he pauses for breath, his sister and Lola are the best of friends.
I can't wait till they send me more kids to mom.
The foster bedroom is all set up and ready for round two! Just waiting for some kids.
When Boychild left, I was so caught up navigating life with Girlchild that I didn't have time to really stop and process how much I damn miss that kid. I miss them both, my son and my daughter, and the way they would wind up draped across the foot of my bed at night, petting cats and telling me wishes.
The foster system: "Love them like your own. Get attached. There's no foster/adoptive/bio in our house, there's only son and daughter."
Also the foster care system: "We'll be there in two hours to get your kid and you might never see her again. She's going to a different foster home and we can't tell you why. We're not allowed to tell you anything. Also, we don't want to hear anything you have to say about all the things you've learned that might help her. Why are you crying? Why are you so obsessed with this kid, creepy foster parent?"
People will say teenage boys are gross, but I dare them to come clean the room my 13-year-old daughter left behind. You know that scene in Practical Magic where the girls push Aunt Gilly's chair and all the slimy frogs are underneath? Well, I just moved her bed and instantly created about five new house rules about what may and may not leave the kitchen for if I ever have more kids.
After two weeks of radio silence, I look up and she's standing in my living room. She's here to get some of her things, and it's a planned visit, so I'm not surprised, except that she came in so quietly even Lola didn't wake. I think of all the times her galloping feet have shaken this home on its foundation and I watch her stand dead still, fear and hope at war on her face. She thinks I'm angry. She looks taller, and, impossibly, younger. She looks tired as I feel.
She lets me hug her, but she insists on packing up her room by herself. She won't even let me inside, though clearly I've been seen the mess in the two weeks she's been gone. Seeing her eases the mom-worry that's been thrumming beneath my skin. It also soothes something in me, even as it breaks my heart, to remember how fiercely independent she is at 13. I've been hurt she hasn't contacted me. Now I remember it's nothing new. It's just that she doesn't like others to see her turmoil, whether it's her bedroom or her heart.
I stand just outside the door, keeping up a stream of small talk so she can track my location by my voice. I pray, God, I pray, that she will do the same for me these coming weeks.
I found this on the phone she left behind. It's from a few months ago and it's so blessedly normal. This is what 13 year old girls post sometimes about their mothers. You wouldn't think this would give me warm fuzzies, but it does. She called me her mom and she treated me like one. This makes my heart feel validated. I WAS her mom for a season, and if I feel like I'm dying, it's because I had a daughter and she's not here anymore. They call it ambiguous loss, but I don't feel the first word tonight, only the second. Man, do I feel the second.
Lola is sleeping heavily, refusing to get up unless she has to, not even trying to eye me guiltily for food when I eat, and she didn't even bark at the mailman.
Mabelcat is losing weight dramatically although eating voraciously, vomiting frequently, normal bloodwork two months in a row, treated for allergies, still no idea what is causing her illness.
My daughter is leaving on Sunday for a new placement, and no, I don't want to talk about it yet because I have to hold it together until she's gone. It isn't a good week for my trio of teenagers. My heart is broken and worried and weary.
Girl: "You are LOUD!"
Me: "Says the girl who meowed for an hour straight last night before she fell asleep."
Girl: "I'll have you know, I meowed for an hour GAY last night!"
I cannot win with this kid (and wouldn't want to)!
"Groundhogs are just American meerkats. They stand up the same way, but they ... you know. Have high blood pressure." -Girlchild
"Sarah, if I still need help in college getting stuff done like I do now, will you help me?"
Here's a girl who is budgeting carefully on her own as she walks through her favorite store, with no stress or complaint. No matter what happens in the future, this is something we did together and I'm crazy proud.
The alarm went off and I didn't immediately turn it off. Girlchild tossed and turned and put her head under the pillow and eventually yelled a frustrated "MOM!"
Mom.
Boychild's first football game of the season was last night. He made starter. I wasn't there because, with COVID, it was parents only.
What a ride, this foster care. My heart can feel so many things at the same time.
"Sarah? Do you think we've ever bought milk from the same cow twice?"
Lord, give me strength. We're to the "Stop talking to me! I don't like you!" part of virtual schooling. We are also on Day Three of the same pretest that she refuses to submit.