Today was one of those I suck at this days.

Little Man is traumatised. He’s one of the most traumatised little boys I have ever ever seen.

And it’s just so fucking sad.

All I want to do is get down on the ground with LM and cry with him. I want to go and punch every asshole that has ever hurt him. I want to set fire to them for the damage they have done.

Instead while this baby sits on the hard wood floor of his brothers room and screams with such rage and despair, I sit with him.

I look him in they eye and I say

I know.

You are angry.

It’s okay.

Yesterday he raged for an hour. Anger just poured out of him for most of it and then after, for twenty minutes, he just sobbed.

I’m hurting and I don’t know what to do with all this hurt tears.

The whole while he looked at me.

Into my very soul.

Today I have been watching him like a hawk, waiting for another one, bracing myself for the pain, but today, he was okay.

Our little mute boy is talking to select people, he’s funny and so damn cute it will rip your heart out.

And like The Kid, Bed time with Little Man is my top favourite part of the day. And again, not because they are going to sleep (okay, maybe a little)

We read a bedtime story or two…okay, maybe three and then I turn out the light.

Before I walk out the door Little Man looks up at me and says “Sawah, will you pwease stay wiv me? Just till I falled asleep?” and not even an octopus in a clown outfit spitting worms would get me to leave that room.

I lie on the hardwood floor and let him run a matchbox car up and down my arm, or let him wind my hair around and around his fingers until he finally falls asleep, cuddling the soft toy dog that I bought him before he came to stay.

Dear Lord I love this child already.

…

The Kid had a terrible day and no amount of sticker chart, bargaining, bribing or  talking was going to make him calm down.

He’s testing us.

testing me.

To see if I will still love him and care for him.

He’s hurt.

Hurting.

He expects us to send him away and keep his brother as that is what has happened before.

And I’m not going to lie.

Today he had me so close to the edge I was gripping my teeth and ready for the fall.

I have to keep reminding myself.

All he knows is anger and aggression.

This is his vocabulary.

It’s my job to teach him new words and how to behave in the real world.

So, continue Kid.

Be angry.

You deserve it.

Why should you be anything but?

I’ll be here.

I’m not going anywhere mate.

This isn’t meant to be easy and i’m sure there will be days that are a million times worse than this…

Tomorrow is a new day.

Or some cliche.

We are expanding the family!

Tomorrow The Kid’s little brother Little Man is coming to stay with us for a while.

He’s four, loves Ben 10 (what boy doesn’t?) and loves ham sammiches coz that’s what makes little boys big and strong.

We are excited for both boys, that they get to see each other and terrified at the same time, however I do believe this is normal :P

(you can all stop gagging)

Happy Valentines Day Handsome.

I don’t love anyone as much as I love you… (just don’t tell Moo. He would be jealous)

Wife.

xxoo

We are in the middle of setting a routine for The Kid.

Get up, Eat Breakfast, Get dressed, Take medication, Brush teeth, Shoes and socks and if there is no whinging or whining or “I’m not goings” he can have half an hour of moshi monsters while I pack a lunch box full of awesome cool things that I wished I got when I was his age in my lunch box.

We take him to school, he sits in the front of the class with his same teacher that he had last year, who is so amazing and wonderful as she changed her job role from 15 years to teach a different year, in order to continue teaching The Kid for his consistency and routine. He learns separately to his class as he’s too far behind but included enough so he doesn’t notice.

For lunch he ignores the delicious lamington, passes on the cheese and biscuits, declines a chocolate custard (WHAT CHILD DOES THIS?) laughs at the sandwich I lovingly made and cut into triangles as per his request; and eats only a packet of salt and vinegar chips.

After school we wait with baited breath at the gates, hoping that we see a smiling child running towards us (he is the first one out every day) and not a scowling, eye rolling aggressive creature that lurks inside when he’s scared and confused.

So far the creature is hiding away, curled up for another day when he needs it to cope, when things get too hard or too sad or just too unfair for words. We come home and we eat the snacks from his lunch box that he neglected that day, do homework, I convince him to read, if only a few pages. We stumble but learn quickly and feel proud that The Kid feels comfortable enough with us to show us that he is struggling with school and needs help.

We barter, me for chores and good behaviour and The Kid for Moshi Monsters (we are experts now) Twilight-his favourite movie or trips to the beach or the pool.

Shower, PJs, Dinner and quiet time before milk, teeth and bed.

My favourite time of the day.

Not because he’s going to sleep and we get a break from the controlled (as can be) chaos but because in those moments when it’s just me and him and he’s lying in bed and I’m walking around and picking up dirty socks and school uniforms and toys from the floor and turning on night lights and fans that we talk quietly.

About the next day, what we need to do, where we need to go, what time he has to get up, what time he has to go to bed.

It’s where he tells me he wants to play soccer in a team and wants to go the the movies and the beach and go fishing.

Where he talks about how he likes “this bed” not his bed and how there are so many pillows and blankets and how warm and cosy it is.

I let him be cheeky and laugh at his jokes and watch him out of the corner of my eye as I unpack one thing from his box that he’s refusing to touch.

Then I turn out the light and he closes his eyes and I close the door and exhale.

He likes it, I think.

The routine.

Today marked our first day as foster parents to J.

The foster provider we are with is just so brilliant and I’m slightly in love with them all. Our hands have been held the entire process from the interviews, the assessments and the modules and now finally our placement.

We are allocated a supervising social worker that is there for us and she will be with us the entire time we are fostering. She reminds me of my auntie Rosie, same looks and attitude and I feel so very calm around her even faced with a semi scary referral that is about to change our lives forever.

Before The Kid arrived, Lex and I went from extreme cold feet like “Ohmygodwhatarewedoingwearenotevennearlyqualifiedforthis” to joking it was the longest labour ever and when should we start to push, to “hold my hair i’m going to vomit”

I’m not going to lie.

I was terrified we were going to get some kid with a mullet and a rats tail.

The kid is small for his age, shorter than me (it’s really not hard) and has a full head of lovely blonde hair.

Dark green eyes and a wicked little smile that he saves for when he’s being cheeky or finds something hilarious.

Looking at us walking down the street you could be mistaken thinking he has come from me.

He is a fidgety little thing that cannot sit still.

He spent most of the day looking everywhere else but into my eyes when he spoke until we were waiting for tickets to his very first rugby match, when he looked me dead in the eyes and smiled.

He doesn’t like to be touched unless he instigates it and is very aggressive with play. Violence has been a big part of his life and we will need to work at playing gently and nicely.

The Kid has not had consistent discipline in his life and has hardly had any real structure or routine…as my routine is what keeps me sane and anxiety free he’s in the right household for that.

We discussed bedtime routines with him today over lunch and we have decided for now that bedtime is 8pm on a weekday with half an hour quiet time and then lights out and on weekends 9 with half an hour quiet time. I’m not sure what’s right and wrong and we are going on our instinct here. He’s a high energy child and he needs to have sleep or I think he will be difficult to handle the next day.

He went to bed quietly this evening, asked to have his galaxy lamp on with the multi coloured lights that show star patterns on the wall and ceiling (SO COOL) and was out cold in half an hour.

I have been reminding myself all day that this is not cool and exciting for J. This is scary and new and far away from everything he has ever known. Even if that knowledge he has isn’t appropriate for a child and unhealthy, it’s still home and it’s still where he wants to be.

And, while I have a few choice words to say about his mother, I believe that this is probably all she knows too and surprisingly I feel for her. I understand how hard it must be to know that your children are in care, separated from each other and with someone you have never met.

I spoke with her briefly and while i’m not sure if i’m even allowed to, I think she’s probably feeling a little more relaxed that she has at least spoken to the woman who will be doing the things that she should have been doing in the first place.

I do have some concerns. He has a mobile phone and she has that number and she called it four times in three hours.

While I understand that she is worried, she needs to be strong and let J settle in here without being distracted by her calls…other than the fact that she is breaking the contact agreement and her visitation could be in jeopardy.

We have explained to him that we have a house rule for any children living with us that they cannot have their mobiles in their bedroom at anytime. He may have it on (I won’t be putting credit on the thing as I don’t believe an 11 year old needs a mobile phone in the first place) but it is to stay in a common area like the kitchen/dining area or the living room.

We know that he is on a short term order which is up soon. Depending on what happens, he may be with us for a while or he may be moved on. With foster care there is never any 100%’s

***

The Kid loves fishing, swimming, going to the beach and loves lizards and reptiles.

He’s very hyper and is on ADHD medication and also mood stabilisers. For an 11 year old I find this just mind blowing and we will work with his GP and therapist to reduce these, put him on a diet of healthy food that isn’t processed and filled with preservatives and give him the discipline and structure that he needs. I am hoping that all of this will work. It feels wrong giving him that many drugs and seeing him visibly ‘dope’.

He has never been to the cinema or a birthday party with friends.

His favourite movie is Twilight.

He likes things with skulls and picks things that are black and plain which pleases me greatly.

He’s kinda beachy and looks like he belongs on the set of home and away.

Tonight, this is the first bed that he has slept in since mid last year.

He has never had his own bedroom before until now.

He pushes me a little when it comes to telling him what to do…or what not to do in this case :P and I think this says quite a lot about his family dynamic. He was amazed that I asked Lex to do something and he did it and said that the women are supposed to do everything not the men.

Oh how I laughed and told him he would soon learn.

I am boss of my world.

Hear me roar!

Or something.

And my softly spoken gentle husband is strong and authoritative with him. The Kid will do whatever he is told by Lex and will do it right away, where I have to ask him several times. I’m sure this may change in the future but it’s nice to see Lex flex his parenting muscles and it be successful.

Lex is pleased that The Kid loves soccer (or football for the POMS) he supports the broncos in the NRL and prefers to ride his scooter than his bike.

Tomorrow will be a test for both of us as tomorrow Lex goes to work and it’s just me, Moo (who is coping fabulously) and The Kid.

We need to sort out his bedroom properly and move him in, I have to do washing as he has very limited clothing (we need to go shopping) and then if he is good I have promised him a trip to the beach for a swim and a run on the sand and a BBQ for dinner.

***

Lessons we have learnt from today.

Do not forget the medication. This will be disastrous in a social setting with thousands of people around you and it is difficult wrangling an 11 year old who can’t sit still to save his life.

Tissues are a must. Tomato sauce gets everywhere even if you watch him eat like a hawk.

“Because I said so” is not a valid comeback as parents. I can remember how infuriating it was my parents saying it to me and I saw the frustration on The Kids face when I used it today. I have learnt why it is used though. For me today, the issue was too complex to go into with him and something that he wouldn’t understand or agree with.

“Why can’t I talk to mum whenever she calls? What happens if she needs me? She gets scared and I need to talk to her to calm her down.” is a hard statement to hear and I need to find a delicate and appropriate answer to that. It’s not appropriate that he is being manipulated…regardless if his mum knows she is or not and I will not have it in my household.

Time shopping trips around after medication time and also after eating. He will be calmer and you won’t have to power walk everywhere or repeat yourself eleventybillion times.

Even though there is a little messed up sad Kid tucked up in his own bed tonight, he is still a young boy.

He likes to laugh and has a great sense of humour and his smile just lights up my day.

He’s beautiful and a little broken but with a lot of hard work we can glue those pieces back together. He won’t be shiny and new, but he will be just as precious and important.

Good night world.

Tomorrow is a new day and I can’t wait to see what it has in store.

We are placed.

The Bee household will soon be filled with all things 11 year old boy-ness.

Stinky boys.

I will be surrounded by them and I couldn’t be happier.

holycrapyouguyswearefinallygoingtohaveakid!!

and

I really hope he likes Iron Man.

More info soon.

xx

The final part of the foster care process was to have our GP sign off on our medical health declaration.

As we haven’t properly found a doctor here that we are happy with we have only seen the after hours clinic when in desperate need for medical attention. (Like the plague that husband infected me with, with no regard to my safety. I thought I was going to die!)

So, knowing that we had mere hours before we were to be seated in front of 6 serious looking people at panel and asked the hard questions like ‘would you like tea or coffee’ and ‘what is your name‘, we had to find a GP and fast.

Thankfully our new GP was awesome and saw us at last notice (or early notice as we were outside the surgery at 7am) and got on with doing our health check.

We were about to finish up when he decided that he should probably weigh us (WHY? I ALREADY KNOW I’M FAT) and took us into the treatment room where one of those scales is…you know, the one that doesn’t lie about your weight and gives that look of “You shouldn’t have had that bag of chips you heifer”

Husband stood on the scales first and then I was up.

Now, I’m going to say that I was feeling cocky.

After the plague of death I had lost 5kg from my life almost slipping away and I haven’t put it back on.

I had visions of myself telling the doctor that I am making a good hard effort in losing weight and see? i’d lost 5kg!

He would pat me on the back kindly, congratulate me and then give me a sugar free lollypop in grape flavour because it’s my favourite.

However what happened was mortifying and horrible and so very depressing.

The scales looked menacingly up at me and sniggered “tsk tsk chubs, you fail at life”

The scales said I was 10kg heavier.

10.

1 0

ten

TEN

I wanted to die.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to eat a donut in the dark and blame it all on heavy shoes.

And then husband saved my life.

He took my handbag off my shoulder.

The handbag that was carrying my life planner, our foster care assessment files, the kitchen sink and enough loose change to buy a house rolling around a bag Mary Poppins would be proud of.

And I instantly lost 10kg.

The deep shade of red my face was took a little longer to disappear.

The end.

Panel is over.

We are officially signed, certified and registered foster carers.

Finally.

FINALLY!

Kids soon.

Very soon.

I’ve spent days getting ready and I have come to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter how much I ready us…

we will never be fully ready for what we are about to experience.

I’m excited and i’m also terrified.

Remind me in a couple of months how much we wanted this when i’m crying into my coffee and sleep deprived and sick of the sight of my washing pile.

Hold on guys.

It’s about to get real bumpy.

I love this man.

This is his “How can I express how amazing my wife is” look.

The answer is with these boots…

I may have already ordered these and they are currently on their way… It’s a gift. From me to you to give to me.

you’re welcome.

Catching up on the photo a day

My poppy ‘fix it’ made this for me when I was a kid. I’ve still got it and I keep all my jewellery in it.

Everytime I use it I think of him.

I’ve spent a lot of time in here recently in the worst endo pain of my life (what am I saying, it’s always the worst pain of my life because it’s pretty much constant)

I don’t remember what it’s like to be pain free.

It makes me into a cross snappy snarly cranky pants and I don’t like the person I am.

I do however love my bed.

Husband won husband of the year 2011 for buying this for my birthday.

It’s amazing and i’m in love.

Of all the housework chores there is, washing is my least favourite.

Actually, the washing part is taken care of my that really awesome contraption called a washing machine.

It’s the hanging out that I hate.

and I am SO aware that our washing is about to multiply by the power of a bazillion.

I could cry.

I do have to say though…

i’ll be sleeping on clean white sheets tonight.

There isn’t anything better in the world.