Foster Further

It's really hard to rise above bureaucracy. There's pretty much no rising allowed. Either you do the petty paperwork or...you're out. Tomorrow we meet with our licensing social worker to renew our license. (This is social worker #3 in our lives. She's not to be confused with the foster care social worker nor the adoption social worker. If I believed it actually took some level of expertise to manage all the rules and paperwork for each area then I'd understand. But, in reality, all three of them give us the forms ahead of time and we fill them all out by ourselves, then turn them back in. If the forms are so easy a layman can do it--how does their agency need to hire three different people just to manage one family?) The list of things we have to do to renew our license is long and feels sillier by the minute. There's a 10 page questionnaire with statements like: In the past year have you kept your medications locked up? In the past year, if you own a g...

Today I've spoken with, or exchanged emails with, the adoption caseworker, the adoption caseworker's supervisor, the clerk of the court, and the guardian ad litem. All have given me different information about how and when the adoption paperwork progresses through the courts. The supervisor is obviously lying. The caseworker thinks she knows stuff and uses phrases like, "in my experience" but I know she's been on the job about six months. The clerk of the court tells it straight. According to the clerk no, we cannot switch over to the "quicker" judge and whoever told us that was lying (supervisor). Also, we should expect the signing to take up to a month, not be done in two weeks and whoever told us two weeks is lying (again, the supervisor). The supervisor called me in response to my pestering emails and phone calls and I called her on all her false promises by saying the clerk told me something different and she tried to backpeddle and claim she ...

From the last post of feeling so good, feeling so in love with my little girls, feeling so at peace and happy with the world...we come to today. Today I am frightened, threatened, angry, frustrated. Awhile ago Kate was supposed to have a 30 month well child checkup. When the social worker told me about this I totally blew it off. I figured by the time they'd get around to caring the adoption would be final and we could skate by. I made this decision not on my own but when I took her in for her flu shot and the nurse told me that she's up to date on all her shots. I asked them about a 30 month checkup and they looked at me funny and said, uh, nobody does that anymore. Okay, if the doctor's office says it isn't needed then I'm not about to pitch a fit trying to make them do something they can't even bill for. Last Monday the state's official adoption agency okayed the adoption. But, there was a delay in taking that paperwork to the judge because the subs...

Today was Jane's last therapy appointment. Last January I began earnestly looking for a family therapist experienced in the foster-to-adopt world. It was hard to find one who also accepted Medicaid. I wasn't wowed by her but she was nice enough and I certainly welcomed a listening ear when I needed to vent and ask for advice. I've felt for the past few weeks that I'm kinda done with seeing a therapist. I don't see her doing anything astounding with Jane. I'm past the point of desperately seeking advice. The more Jane has become "my" daughter the less I've needed outside help. This seems like a natural and healthy progression for me. But, I couldn't end, or more accurately, put on hiatus, our time with the therapist because I won't do anything that'd trigger more paperwork and delays from the agencies. I do believe we'll need therapists at times in our future but right now it's okay to take a break. I wish I could've had ...

I have read that the best way to stop being angry at someone is to pray for them. It's excellent advice. I've used it before and found it to be a humbling and calming experience. Today is, maybe, the last visit by social workers. I say maybe because they said this for the past two months and then, oh wait, we screwed up the paperwork, now you're still in limbo, we need to visit again next month. The house is clean; the children have been warned. I'm ready. Except for the little issue of my anger that incompetent, stupid people who've harmed and stressed my family in the past are coming to evaluate me sometime today. (Oh, it's an "unannounced" visit this month so I'm supposed to sit around today and tomorrow and wait--it's worse than waiting for the cable guy.) I woke up early today after barely sleeping last night. Went downstairs to a quiet house and made myself a cup of coffee and tried to pray. "Dear God, please help Kyra not me...

Got a call a few days ago with the results of the Special Investigation. a) we were found to be, "not out of compliance" with the charge of using corporal punishment. b) I was found to be, "out of compliance" by listening in on the private conversation between the social worker and the girls--which they knew about because I blatantly told them I listened in and that's how I knew precisely how the dimwits had questioned the girls to lead them into making false charges.  My punishment? I had to sign a paper saying I'd reviewed the rule saying those conversations were private. Uhm, okay, I'll sign a paper saying I read a rule. Wow, I'm so chastised for my dangerous, evil ways. Thanks for protecting the vulnerable children in your care. Gotta love the phrasing of, "not out of compliance". Bureaucrats with egg on their face are not gonna say, "you're innocent" or "we were wrong". Nope. Not gonna happen. So, it...

For the past few months I've had this weird sleep pattern happening a couple times a week. I'm super tired and go right to sleep and continue to sleep for about 30-40 minutes. Then, I come rushing awake with my heart thumping, gasping for breath. My mind is flooded with anxiety about some tiny, specific thing like when you've already left for the trip but suddenly remember the crucial thing you forgot that absolutely must, somehow, be retrieved. I'm so anxious--and sleep-addled like when you can't fully come out of a nightmare--that it takes me 1 to 3 hours to go back to sleep. All the while feeling desperately tired and then angry that I can't get back to sleep. Because being angry sure is a relaxing way to soothe a tired brain to sleep. Yesterday we got a call from the Guardian ad Litum (the attorney for the girls). It was a brief check-up as it always is. He asks no questions beyond his first "how's it going"; wants few details. But, he is u...

Today the social worker returned to our house to interview the two older boys, Seth (17) and Gus (13). He spent about five minutes with each one. First he schmoozed a bit (and, seriously, no, these boys do not imagine this guy showing up out of the blue for the express purpose of investigating spanking actually cares what they think of their homeroom teacher...give them some credit and cut the bullshit, already). Then, he asked them two questions. 1) How do your parents discipline you? 2) How do your parents discipline other kids in the home? Both boys gave the answer we told them to give: timeouts. No follow up questions, no deep probing, no crafty ninja interrogation skills from the Special Investigation guy who's been, "forensically trained" as I kept being told as if I should go ooh, ahh, wow, each time the phrase was uttered. Theo keeps telling me that this piss-poor job is a sign the guy actually recognizes we're fine and this whole complaint stemmed fro...

A few weeks ago I wrote about two major stressors in our home--incompetent house painters dragging out a job while also making our yard a danger zone for playing kids; and young, inexperienced social workers who thought they'd uncovered something happening that isn't allowed by the state (spanking) which launched a Special Investigation. It's been a very long couple of weeks. I did ask the house painters to make some changes that they agreed to and it helped. They, supposedly, entered the final touch-ups three days ago. It was only, "a few hours work" three days ago and they've put in three more 6-8 hour days and still aren't done. They've packed up and then brought back all their ladders and equipment three times in three days. Because that's the kind of highly efficient, highly organized dweebs these guys are. Enough of them. I don't even care anymore. They'll be gone by October...I think. And today the big Special Investigation beg...

I keep having these imaginary conversations in my head. Outwardly I'm driving or cleaning or folding laundry but inside I'm screaming, ranting, finger-wagging, castigating. Making that perfect point that puts my imaginary listener in his/her place. Makes them widen their eyes and take a step back before bowing their head and walking away, out of my life, forever. Why do we do this? I get in this state when there are too many things coming at me at once. I suppose I'm fantasizing that if only I'd responded perfectly the first time then those stressors would've gone away forever. Or maybe I'm just wanting them to feel the pain that now I'm suffering due to their stupidity. I never said I was a saint. Or maybe this endless replay of past events is akin to why we worry about future events. If I can just rehearse and rehearse until the grooves are worn smooth in my brain then I'll be prepared for next time... Here are the additional stressors that hav...

Let me start by saying that in my professional and personal life I've known lots of social workers and some of them are the smartest, wisest, most insightful people I've ever met. Several are the kind of person I hope I grow up to be someday. A good friend of mine, who is a social worker, got a full ride to college and probably could've gone into any degree area she wanted to pursue. So, lots of smart social workers out there...just not the ones we have. Our adoption social worker called yesterday for this purpose: SW: what's your monthly income me: didn't we put our yearly income on X form (I can picture it in my head) SW: yes, but I need the monthly income pause  me wondering, will she figure this out? nope. me: couldn't you just divide the yearly income by twelve to get a monthly income? lengthy pause SW: (still thinking hard, trying to puzzle her way through this complex math problem) yeah...I guess...I think that would work...okay! It worked! ...