Foster Parenting: Chapter 3: Barbie Trauma

Foster Parenting: Chapter 3.  Barbie Trauma and More

            For some reason we went to the store and bought two new beds for the house.  While I was looking at the instructions with pictures of how it connect “A” to “B”, our phone rang. It was Children Services calling because they heard we had two beds available. Two sisters ages 3 and 4 were in need of a home and ours would be perfect for them. The case worker explained that their mom and dad had some substance abuse and mental issues to work through and their kids needed a place to stay. The boys went to other homes, but they really wanted to keep the girls together.  Just for a couple weeks or until the parents get everything straightened out.  We said okay.

            Just as I hung up the phone, Kari said, “There is a car in our driveway.”  It was the sisters. Cute as could be, one blonde, one brunette. One is chatty (in baby language), the other may be mute or autistic the case worker only knew she didn't talk. We put them in their new bedroom to let them play with toys awhile.  Two minutes later the screaming started.  I can only guess the fuss was over a toy they both wanted. We got them settled down and gave them both Barbies to play with. Five minutes after that the screaming started again, this time it was Kari. I hurried to the room to investigate, and there was Kari trying to dress two nude toddlers who were playing with Barbies in ways that would make a mom's hair stand on end.  This behavior had not been discussed in our training sessions.

Being professional parents, we handled the situation with calm and patience. She told me to boil the Barbies while she dressed the sisters in pajamas. She then lectured the little darlings on proper doll play.  She left the room but left the door open and the baby gate up.  When she came back to the girls, they were both naked again.

NOTE:  Did you know if you put footie pajamas on backwards so the zipper is in the back and fasten them at the top with a diaper pin, you can prevent a lot of trauma in your life?

            The other behavior that was new to us is called, “Night Terrors”.  It is like a bad dream that occurs subconsciously and the child wakes up screaming.  In the morning they don’t remember the behavior. All you can do is keep them safe until they settle down. The girls woke up at least once nearly every night. Sometimes they would be crying out “Doggy, Doggy”. As they grew more comfortable sharing, their story began to unfold. They painted a picture of a household consisting of neglect, drugs, child prostitution, cult like rituals, and physical abuse. Needless to say, the two weeks turned into many years of therapy that continued into adulthood.

            How do you prepare for that? Our “special training” in the 1980s didn’t cover  this cover this type of behavior. Prescription medication for a toddler was uncommon and hard for the psychiatrist to decide what was best.  So, Kari did what she knew best. She mothered them. She read them stories, bought them dolls (with clothes that wouldn’t come off), dressed them in Polly Flinders dresses, took them to dance classes, and kept them under adult supervision at all times.

            We did what we try to do with all our kids. Teach them how to behave, bathe, brush their teeth, and get dressed.  We showed them how to live in a normal family.

            Normal?  We were as normal as our family could pretend to be. We certainly weren’t typical. A typical family doesn’t hear the fire alarm in church and immediately know who was responsible. A typical parent doesn’t continue shopping while their child is lying on the floor throwing a tantrum. I was sure I would make an appearance on “America’s Most Wanted”, with several videos of me carrying screaming little girls wearing frilly dresses and tap shoes from public places. They would probably call me the “Polly Flinders Kidnapper”.

            Although we only had them for a few short years, we must have made an impression. It has been decades and they still refer to us as “Mom and Dad”.  Occasionally, around the holidays one of them will call collect from prison just to let us know they are thinking about us. I am joking. A little. It is true that even though many of our kids are grown and have left our home, we still hear from some of them from time to time.  They have become part of our extended family.  They drop by or call us to say, "Hi." Some are looking for childhood pictures or they need Kari for some motherly advice.  We have had kids call us 10 years afters leaving our home to let us know they appreciate their time with us.  Recently, one of our kids who is now thirty something called at 2:00am (which is never a good time to get a call) to have Kari talk him down from an "episode".  

To summarize this chapter remember these notes to self:

1.  When you are a licensed foster parent never buy extra beds unless you expect them to get used in the near future.
2.  Get used to surprises. No matter what training you have had, reality will teach you a lesson faster than you can call your therapist for help.
3.  The lives you have touched may leave your home for a variety of reasons.  Somewhere in their heart you may have planted a seed that will take root years later and prompt a phone call to thank you.

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_Doug Lambert has been a Foster/Adoptive parent since 1980. He is not a Licensed Social Worker, a Psychologist, Psychiatrist, or any other kind of doctor. He lives with his wife Kari who is the driving force behind making a difference in children’s lives.  Observations made in this blog are based on experiences. Names and pictures do not represent foster children past or present.

Foster Parenting: 2. To Tell the Truth

Foster Parenting:  Chapter 2 

To Tell the Truth 

Before we started the Foster Parent Training sessions, we attended an orientation meeting to give us an overall picture of what we could expect as “specialized caregivers”. They brought in a seasoned foster parent to give us a “veterans view” of life in her special home. She walked up to the front with a slight limp. She, had bags under her eyes, and wore a scarf that covered her gray hair. When she spoke her voice was slightly hoarse, but loud enough for everyone to hear.  She said, “My name is Edna and I am 32 years old.” She said, “First of all, all you women take off your name tags. Once you finish this class and have foster children in your home you will all have the same name, $-I-T-C-H.  Well, she spelled something like that.

Our first little darling.

After six months of training, finger printing, psychiatric evaluations, and a home study we were certified as a Special Needs Foster Home. Before the ink was dry on our signed copy of the hundred page book of rules and guidelines, a case worker called with a “perfect match” for our family. From this child we learned about the things they didn’t cover in class. We officially became a dysfunctional family.

“Dysfunctional?”  “What do you mean by that?”

“I thought you were a loving family that opened up their hearts and home to suffering children.” 

Yes, that is true.  We didn’t consider ourselves to be an abnormal family. But from that moment on, every other family looks at you through ‘crazy glasses’.  Your previous soccer team/ballet class/come on over for a barbecue friends begin to distance themselves.  You find yourself drawn to families like yours, where you can have conversations about the recent antics of your kids.

A child that has been neglected and abused can develop behaviors that are hard to describe to normal families. Out of neglect comes self preservation. When they have lived without enough food in the house they will hoard food and gorge themselves at meals.  Once while we were at a buffet restaurant, we let her eat until she was full.  Halfway through a bowl of ice cream she looked up at us and said, “If I throw up does that mean I can’t have more?”

Then the lying started. All kids will tell a lie. Most of them, when confronted with the truth will cave in and admit that were lying. But not “special needs” children.  For instance, you walk into the kitchen and there is bite out of the birthday cake. The wrong response from the recently trained foster parent is to say,

“Did you eat some of that cake?”

“No.”

“Yes you did. Admit it. You ate a piece of that cake.”

“No. I didn’t. Why should I admit to something I didn’t do.”

You march her down the hall to the bathroom. Tell her to look in the mirror and explain to you again that she didn’t eat the cake.  She looks into the mirror and with horror in her eyes she wipes at the chocolate that is covering her mouth and cheeks and she says, “I don’t have any idea how that got there.”

Ten minutes later, the child is sitting at the kitchen table writing 100 sentences that say, “I will ask permission to eat the cake.” Though, you never actually received a confession to the crime.

It’s not just the cake icing on the mouth, it was also the milk mustache.  And pile of candy wrappers under the pillow.  Or, the mystery shower that involved no wet tub, dry hair, and a dry towel. 

There is no end to the lying. So don’t go there. It is easier to assume your child is lying. Use your all powerful knowledge and let them know you already know the truth. Just survey the situation and make your assumption and dish out the consequences. You will go mad trying to get to the bottom of every mystery.

For those that want to persist, they should issue these to every foster parent:

 

Your very own crime scene investigation kit.  Complete with UV light, DNA swabs, and fingerprinting.

Plus, the all important yellow “DO NOT CROSS” tape.

 This way you can spend all your free time taking dental impressions of teeth marks in a block of cheese or a saliva sample from a half can of soda.

She also had this other problem of getting messy pants. We didn’t understand the psycho lingo that could be causing this issue.  It seemed like leakage to me.  You wait too long to go and then something is going to come out no matter how hard you try to stop it. This appeared to be strictly a behavioral issue. We talked to our therapist and we tried a reward system and a consequence system. Then we took her to the doctor and tried fiber and medication. In the end, (no pun intended), this was all about control. It is called Encopresis. Or to put it simply: Once you have been neglected, abused and perpetrated on, you have lost all control of these external forces.  What you still have control of is the internal. Whether this starts consciously or unconsciously, eventually, this becomes a cycle that you can no longer control.

Encopresis or fecal incontinence.  This “soiling” is the involuntary passage of stools in conjunction with constipation. It is abnormal for children over 4 years of age, and occurs in boys 3 to 1 over girls.

What can you do with this behavior? Buy lots of underwear and pull-ups and schedule frequent baths.

When you add this to lying, stubbornness, manipulation, lack of eye contact, and destructive behavior it is hard to embrace and care for the child like your natural born kids.  You have to dig deep and be a parent by profession.

We had a therapist from the Carolinas assigned to our family. She had a sweet southern spirit and believed in the adage “There are no bad children”.  One day she took our little angel out for ice cream so she could spend some one on one time with her. On her return I noticed the therapist looked a little disheveled and red faced. When I asked her how it went she just replied in her southern voice, “I’ve never come so close to strikin’ a child in all my life.”

            There you have it. Our first special needs foster child. We were caught off guard. Our training went out the window when reality walked in the door.  After a year we felt that we really had a handle on this parenting thing and figured we were now well experienced and could not be surprised by anything.

Cue explosive laughter from audience.

Click here for more blogs by Doug on this topic

_Doug Lambert has been a Foster/Adoptive parent since 1980. He is not a Licensed Social Worker, a Psychologist, Psychiatrist, or any other kind of doctor. He lives with his wife Kari who is the driving force behind making a difference in children’s lives.  Observations made in this blog are based on experiences. Names and pictures do not represent foster children past or present.