Addendum to a Shitty Day

Had a meeting with our case worker yesterday, to get answers to the multitude of questions we had.

Turns out the decision to remove the children had been made the previous Friday, when she had come out to talk with us. It also turns out they are TAUGHT to mislead families when children are going to be removed (direct admission from our case worker).

And is it any wonder why there's always a shortage of foster families?

A Shitty Day

It would have to be a Monday, too...

Started off this morning at work, when one of my most valuable employees gave me his two weeks' notice...

I can't fault him, because he's wanted to go back home, and the opportunity availed itself. I wish him well, and know that he's going to treated far better by the corporate entity he's going to versus the one we currently work for.

Then, I received a phone call from my wife later in the morning. Our little five-year old has taken to increasingly violent and destructive behaviors, and nothing seems to help. It doesn't help that the social services system in this state is completely screwed up.

(I'm about to go on a major rant now)

So, when we decided to go into foster care, we knew that we were getting into something very deep. So, we wanted to set ourselves up for only receiving one child, in order to ease ourselves into this new world.

Our agency persuaded us to get approved for two, telling us that it would be very difficult to get it changed later. I still have my doubts about that, considering they wanted to send us a third after a short time with two. (the only thing saving us at that point was the state regulation that temporary licenses, of which we had at the time, did not allow us such an exemption...where a permanent license would)

So, without getting into details, the five-year old had serious issues with the amount of attention the infant was getting (since infants require more attention by nature). But it was hard for us to know which behaviors were normal for five-year olds, and which were as a result of tying to garner attention.

So, we asked our case worker for assistance...and she gave us a CRAP video that had to have been filmed in the late 70s. Not only did this NOT help in teaching us normal 5-year old behaviors, but it serious made us wonder whether anyone was even paying attention to our cries for help.

So, we continued on the way we were doing things, with zero help from any of the parties involved. The only thing they wanted from us was to sign up as an adoption resource. If we weren't going to help them with their ultimate plans, it seemed as though we were on our own.

An incident occurred recently which required our case worker to step in, mainly because the behaviors increased in severity, and no one was there to help us. We were directed in a specific fashion how we were to react to any behaviors the five-year old had.

The very next day, my wife called the case worker to ask for assistance on how to deal with a particular behavior. The case worker came and retrieved the child, presumably to watch her for the afternoon.

When the child was returned that evening, we were told the children were being removed. No advance warning, nothing.

Personally, I have to wonder if those in the social services system actually get their jollies ripping people's hearts out after driving the horse into the lake themselves.

Add on top of that, the entire time we were gathering the kids' belongings and trying to place them in their case worker's car (another post for another day, the need for a bloated system where 2 children require around 8-10 workers), we were in the middle of a torrential downpour that lasted for probably an hour.

All in all, a shitty day.

The Grandpa Gene

I have made an important discovery in the field of genetics recently, and wanted to share with the world.

The trouble is, this gene does not get passed on from parent to child, as with most genetic exchanges, but rather from infant to grandparent.

An ordinary, everyday man can hold their first grandchild, and the genetic exchange has immediately taken place. This ordinary man undergoes a genetic mutation, through which he loses all memory of past experience, and is converted into a instant pacifist / apologist.

I began to suspect my father had undergone such a transformation a few years back when one of my siblings (for the sake of time and sanity, I'll refrain from trying to explain the logistics of how they're related to me) had a child, and he became a grandpa for the first time.

Small things began to change. Suddenly, he became rather kind-hearted toward others and less upset (but not to where he never does) by the small things in life.

But it was not until we became foster parents that the truth behind the mutation had come forth. For months, he has spoken with me about the way in which we attempt to mold the young child's (not the infant) behavior through corrective techniques, claiming that all kids are like her.

The final piece of evidence in the puzzle, however, was the other day, when he made a statement about how "all kids are like that. You were a kid once, too, you know."

I call bulls---.

One must realize, when I was a child (perhaps a little older, but not by much), that my behavior had to be top notch. If I backtalked, ignored, or disobeyed instructions by either of my parents, woe to my backside...spankings were threatened, and then carried out (sometimes with a belt). There was no way I would stomp through the house in anger (at least not until I was a teenager, which is a separate post entirely). And if even a hint of a raised voice was in the air, I knew enough to stop what I might be doing and figure out how I needed to correct my behavior.

Of course, with foster care regulations the way they are, spankings are not an option, so other negative consequences have to be enacted (timeouts, removal of toys, removal of priveleges, etc.). One thing I do know is that with spankings, I had a lot of disincentive for misbehavior.

At least I knew (learned) enough to try and misbehave when:
a) my parents weren't around,
b) there was no way of them knowing what I'd done, and
c) there would be no physical evidence that my brother and I had whooped the s--- out of each other.

But when I hear my father try to gloss over my childhood behavior (and punishments in particular), it confirms my fears that he has been genetically mutated by

The Grandpa Gene

Just a Small Update

I certainly wish that I could say my extended absence was the result of prolific writing being accomplished, but unfortunately it's merely a matter of life once again getting in the way.

Earlier this month, extended family had some domestic issues, which resulted in our home being used as a refugee camp of sorts.

And then, our temporary foster home permit came in the mail.

Apparently, foster homes are in very short supply, because as soon as the paperwork hit the agency's home office, we had kids plopped in our laps the next day (I imagine...they didn't tell me personally when the paperwork was received on their end after it was sent to them).

Because of all the regulations and confidentiality issues related to the foster care system (which are a joy, I assure you), I can't really go into anything much more specific. Rest assured, it's been a rather harrowing experience thus far. And even more exciting, there hasn't been a free moment anywhere to get anything resembling writing done.

One can hope that a somewhat stable routine will emerge shortly, and the latest round of beta comments will get incorporated.

But then, I thought that would be the end of it after the first round of beta comments...