Spring Break will never be the same....

The past few days have been rough. 
For the past two weeks, I have been taking care of business for a friend who is out of town.  She has an ecommerce store, and ships multiple orders, all over the world, every day, as well as local deliveries.  This, in addition to my impromptu parenthood, was a bit overwhelming. In the final days before spring break, I thought for sure something was going to hit the fan very soon.  The To-do list got longer every day, and every day there was still things to be done from the previous day.  As we were trying to get ready to leave, I had to seriously prioritize, and cut out what wasn't urgent.  Even after cutting the unnecessary, I still didn't have enough time for everything.  The phone wouldn't stop ringing.  It was one of those days.  And the worst part was, Anakin had a counselling appointment, half an hour away, for an hour.  I didn't have two hours.  I didn't have two minutes.
This is the isolation I will talk about later.  I was feeling the weight of wearing too many hats.  I realized that I was trying to do everything, and I needed help.  I arranged for Anakin's over-qualified respite worker to come and take him to the appointment.  When he arrived, it was like a weight had been lifted.  It was like there was a second set of hands carrying the load.  It gave me the relief to get through the rest of the day.   It was a clear example for myself of how important it is to ask for help, and how lucky I am to have amazing people around.
Spring Break started, and our daily routine went out the window.  Anakin was seriously over-stimulated and it manifested in every way imaginable.  And I was not much better.  It was a rough few days for both of us. 
We took the last day of school off, and escaped to my parents 'other' house, an escape on the coast.  My parents were already up there with their brood, and it was cramped quarters.  Factor in, that five of the kids have mental health diagnoses, and three have developmental disabilities. Eight unique routines jammed into 2000sqft.   Two dogs.  Three Bedrooms.  Nine people. 
Anakin was like I have never seen him before.  When I spoke to him, clearly, directly- it was like he didn't hear me.  His ability to process incoming information was crippled.  It took everything I had not to get frustrated with being totally ignored.  He would ask a question, I would answer, and I could see on his face that he hadn't heard any of it.  I would slowly repeat myself, and he he says "thank you" under his breath as he walked away.  He was constantly fidgeting with anything he could get his hands on.  When we packed up to leave, I found a hidden stim-stash of the 4-year-old's toys and small plastic things.  I can only imagine what he put in his mouth.  He has a habit of orally soothing himself by putting bits of plastic, paper, erasers, or anything he can find, into his mouth, chewing and swallowing them.  That's a whole other story.

One thing I never anticipated [in the two weeks] that I 'prepared' for parenting, was how isolating it would be.  I'd heard of it from other foster parents in all the trainings and interactions I'd had with them, but I never realized the extent of it.  It might not be so bad if I wasn't a single parent, or even if I had other kids, but with just the two of us, I feel alone a lot.  Prior to being a foster parent, I loved being alone.  The further I could get from people and civilization, the better.  But now, it is all a little bit different.  It is going to take some getting used to.
I often get caught up in the day-to-day routine.  I forget the importance of all of the things I have been taught.  In every class, training, conference or workshop I have ever been in, there has been a portion of the curriculum dedicated to self care.  I always just brushed it off. In the past, self care was my mission statement.  It was all about me.  Now though, I am realizing that I probably should have paid better attention.  I am feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, in a whole new way. 
I understand and accept that I have a challenging kid, and that as long as I provide him a loving, healthy home, I am doing my best.  Still, I constantly question myself.  I feel like I am not doing well enough, like I am doing more harm than good.  I don't have a second opinion, or someone to support me.  I don't have someone to tell me when I am screwing up.  I'm not crying loneliness, but I suddenly understand why the Creator made it take two people to make a child; it takes two (or more) to raise one. 
And it was with this realization that I came out of my anxieties.  If there isn't someone here, I need to seek out more mentors and supporters.  I know amazing people, many of whom are lifetime parents, who have been through all of this and more.  I will not find the answers in my head, but I will find them if I reach out to the people closest to me.  I am surrounded by elders and friends who are only a phone call or a door bell away.  All I need to do is ask.  To speak up and say, "I need guidance." Tomorrow, I will try harder to put myself in the presence of these people, and to incorporate that act into my routine, ongoing.  Tomorrow just happens to be a very good day for that, as it is Tuesday.  More about Tuesdays tomorrow. 

palma non sine pulvere

The way life used to be...

I was born on the west-coast, a truly free-spirit, that went wherever the wind carried me.  I love camping, being outdoors, kayaking, hiking, and walking the best dog ever.  After high school, my year-off-before-university, became my 8-years-off-before-university.  In the first 4 years...I only remember about 3 days.  And I loved it. 

I had dead-end job, after dead-end job.  I worked in customer service call centres.   I was a 'Resolution Specialist,' meaning, I got to listen to angry customers complaints, and then tell them, as nicely as possible, that there was nothing anyone could do to help them.  The sickenning part, is that I was really, really good at it.   One caller stands out, from my time at a wireless customer service agency.  A man called, he was distraught.  He explained to me that less than two months ago, his daughter was diagnosed with luekemia.  The hospital was across the bridge from their home, and they had a $1500 bill for the roaming charges of calling home.  My heart broke for him, he cried and begged, and there was absolutely nothing I could do.  He was also American, and now had this cell phone bill on top of the mounting medical bills.  I spent hours on the phone with this man, while I tried and tried, to find any loophole in the system that would allow me to help him.  I was willing to put my self at risk of disciplinary action, if I could somehow credit this mans account.  I was helpless.  And after hours of searching, asking managers, even going to executives, I had to tell him, that there was nothing I could do.  I couldn't bring myself to tell him that if he did not remit payment soon, we would disconnect his service.  It was brutal.  I swore I would never be the helpless bearer of bad news for a multi-billion dollar corporation again.  I left. 

I found a Canadian company to do the same work for, but this time, the policy was -the customer is always right.  As soon as they expressed dissatisfaction, I could send them a cheque for their money back.  After the cheque was in the mail, we asked them for their suggestions to improve the product, and the customer service.  It was a whole different world.  Ahhh.....Canadians.

Customer service was not a life-long career, and after I had done my time, I moved on.  I spent a couple of years travelling and exploring what I might want to do with my life.

Throughout those years, I followed my passions- outdoors, activism, and advocacy.  I found a way to combine all three, when I discovered Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder.  My biological parents were foster parents, also an impromtu life change for them.  They cared for three little girls, ages 1, 3, and 4.  All three of the girls were affected by FASD.   My parents had experience with special needs kids, but this was unlike anything they had ever experienced.  There was no rhyme nor reason for the way FASD manifested in these kids.  Something that was easy yesterday, could be a battle to the death today.  It wasn't until we as a family, educated ourselves, that it all beame clear. 

Shortly thereafter, I was offered a job as a respite/relief provider for families raising kids affected by FASD.   The service helped bilogical parents, foster parents, family members raising kids- anyone who asked for it.  And the service was offered at no-cost to the family.   It was the best job I ever had.  I could take kids to the park, play, and explore, all while educating the parents.  It was amazing.  And then the funding ran out.  

FASD was still my passion, so I carried on providing bahvavioural consulting services to families.  It was still a lot of fun, and so rewarding to actually be able to give parents strategies that made their lives easier.  And this is how I met the boy that would one day become my Son.