Going slowly at a run

I just had the most interesting conversation with the supervisor of social workers at the agency.

The first part of the conversation was expressing her concern that Frankie not go too quickly down this path.

I don't think that I let one bit of the impatience I am feeling with that come through in my voice. (Not because I disagreed, but because I am committed to it and EVERYone feels the need to tell me to go slow.) I assured her that we all agreed. That his counselor kept telling him this was time for research and "homework." There would be time for doing later. I didn't get around to telling her that Frankie agreed without hesitation to only dress in girls' clothes at home, and then only with the family. The second part was entirely his decision.

She told me that they were trying to think about what exactly to tell the state. They needed to be careful. They have a reputation for being a liberal agency and this is a conservative state -- and Frankie came from an especially conservative part of the state. I told her that the state worker had asked for me to copy him on emails and that, since Frankie had made his announcement, I had only copied him on one in which I said something like, "Frankie had a really hard day first day at school. He actually came home crying. He cheered up when his bras and panties arrived in the mail. We wrote a long note to the school about Frankie's concerns and complaints. We are waiting for them to respond." She laughed and said that it was quite likely that that comment just slid right by him.

The email was intentionally quite long and the note about the bras was buried in the middle. I didn't want to be accused of hiding anything, but I didn't really want to make a deal of it either.

Anyway, after first telling me that it was important not to let Frankie get carried away, she said that she and the director were talking about finding some expert in a Big City and sending Frankie there to be assessed.

I told her that I thought that the only physical treatment that might be appropriate for Frankie right now would be testosterone inhibitors. They would stop him from growing a beard and it would be completely reversible. If he stops taking them, puberty would start back up. (His voice has already changed, so it is too late for that).

Her response? She speculated as to whether stopping puberty might help him grow a little more.

Good thing she called to make sure I was encouraging Frankie to take it slow, huh?

I don't know what will happen next. The agency people feel they need to talk to the state people. And who knows what will go into the file, what his mother and her lawyer will think about it when/if they find out, and what will happen as a result of that.

Will Frankie be removed from my corrupting influence? Will he be allowed to explore his gender identity in therapy and in the privacy of his (our) home? Will he be sent off to the Big City and put on testosterone inhibitors to "help him grow"?

Stay tuned kids ... same bat time, same bat channel.*

___
*I know I sound glib, but I'm not really. It is just easier to pretend.

Supervision of Foster Children

Frankie's babysitter youth companion came over to meet him today.

She was a foster parent for 25 years, and a classroom aide for my husband. Now she is retired and volunteers at the school. She completely understands that Frankie does not need to be taken care of and yet probably should not be left home alone.

Wednesday Frankie gets out of school early and everyone else is either in school or has to be somewhere. So she will spend the afternoon here. She said she would bring a book. She should also be available for any of those other pesky teacher work days when the kids are off and Hubby is not. Who knows, maybe Hubby and I will even go out on a date sometime.

Rules regarding supervision of foster children vary widely. Where I am children cannot spend the night anywhere unless there is an adult who has had a criminal background check. They cannot spend more than 48 hours somewhere unless there is a licensed foster parent or social worker on duty. (It isn't too difficult to get an exception for school, church, youth group trips).

During the day time though, there are no particular rules, at least in my agency and with teenagers. I am expected to use a prudent parent standard. So, if Hubby and I want to walk the dogs for 15 minutes and all the kids are engaged in something, we take our cell phones and go. The kids regularly get home from school at 3:30 while I am usually in my office just 10 blocks away. Hubby is at his school several miles away, cleaning up from the day and getting ready for the next. One or the other of us is home by 4:00.

So we are not required to have a babysitter for Frankie on Wednesday afternoon, much less one who has foster parent experience and has had a background check. We are required to follow a prudent parent standard.

And my prudent parent o'meter tells me it is not wise to leave Frankie alone for 3 hours.

"You're going to blog this, aren't you?"

Evan: "You're going to blog this, aren't you?"

Me: "I wasn't planning on it, but I could."

Evan: "No. That's okay."

Me: "You sure? I often get 200 visitors a day. People all over the world are waiting for the next installment regarding the intimate details of your..."

Evan: "No, really, it's okay. You don't have to tell them."

Me: "Okay, I won't."

But maybe it's okay to tell that he called? Maybe it's okay to share that it makes me happy that he still needs me, even if he is nearly 20.

But that's all, because I said I wouldn't blog it.

Diagnosis Smorgasbord

I spoke with Frankie's counselor about all the diagnoses that Frankie has had over the years. We agreed that with the exception of ADHD none of them seem particularly accurate and that it is clear that ADHD does not explain all of Frankie's ... well, just Frankie.

I suggested that FASD (not full-blown) would explain everything, but maybe that was because it is poorly understood and the list of characteristics is so long.

His response was incredibly sensible. He said that we could get any diagnosis we suspected confirmed depending upon which physician we decided to send him to, and right now the diagnosis doesn't matter. Frankie is getting the treatment and care he needs. And there is no way of knowing yet what about him is the result of trauma and will go away when that is addressed.

I like this counselor. I really, really like that someone is resistant to the very idea of slapping a diagnosis on a child who has not been fully treated for trauma.

There is so much about Frankie that is puzzling. I hope I don't sound anxious and worried, because I am not. It is just a puzzle.

He does not seem to be repressing pain and anger over his past, it just doesn't seem to be there. There is an odd lack of attachment anxiety in our relationship with him. Is this connected to his childlikeness? Is there some organic reason that he seems like a child and is that causing the living-in-the-moment-ness about him? Or is he trying to avoid dealing with negative emotions and is doing that by being a child?

And what about this thing where he is so very, very boyish and yet wants to be a girl? Is that just the strange and wonderful way that he is? Will he grow up to be a woman who collects swords? Or is there something else going on?

I don't know, but I think it is going to be very interesting to watch this kid grow up.

Job, Granny, and Talking to Frankie

Well, I survived my first few days of school. I learned that the other two members of my department are going to be retiring sooner than I would like. I like them. And they do some things well that I frankly suck at, and I am not certain exactly how to write "must have the ability to deal with departmental political stuff so Yondalla still doesn't have to" into the job descriptions. Oh, I've been department chair for ages, and will continue to do so. I make sure things run properly and tell them what to do. When someone needs to deal with the dean or the president, one of them goes and has the pissing contest for us.

Yeah, I know, I even teach feminism.

But I survived the first few days.

Yesterday I spoke to Ann on the phone for the first time in a while. I called while Frankie was in an appointment. I had to cut off early because hubby kept calling every five minutes (and I don't know how to take a call without losing the first one, assuming it is possible). I finally said goodbye to Ann to talk to Hubby who just wanted to know if I made it in on time and why wasn't I answering my phone??

Ann sounded much better than she had before. She misses the girls, but she is no longer overwhelmed with sadness. She did not say this, but I think she is beginning to let herself feel the appropriate level of anger regarding it all. But she seems to be doing well. Being able to just take care of herself and Ray is right for her now.

Ann would never say anything negative about her girls on her blog, and I do hope she doesn't mind me saying this...but there is a big part of me that wants to sit one of those girls down and say, "You see how your little stunt worked out? You did not get what you wanted, did you? You are not with your grandmother, you are not where you thought you could make people put you, and if you don't stop being such a pill, you are going to get separated from your sisters. So shape up! The places they put kids who behave this way are not fun."

But I imagine her case worker and other people are telling her that and she is not listening to them. Why would she listen to a foster mother in another state? Perhaps she could have a nice long conversation with Frankie about treatment centers and other programs for behaviorally-challenged kids.

Ah well...Ann if you want me to remove that, I will.

But speaking of Frankie, in his appointment yesterday he again asked when he could start hormonal treatment. I was honest with him and told him he probably wouldn't start until he was 18. I told him that his mother still had parental rights and that the state would not want to even ask her about this, and that if her legal position did change there was still every reason to believe that the state would not give him permission.

I think it sort of went in one ear and out the other. Or all he heard was "Yondalla doesn't know."

I don't know that he got the part about his mom.

There's a post that I want to write about my complicated feelings about his apparent absence of complicated feelings about his parents and being in care -- but I don't think I can compose it yet.

And as a final note, Frankie today is sporting a lovely spaghetti strap summer top. It means his bra straps show, but they are pretty straps, so I think that is okay. Thus dressed, he is sitting at the computer yelling "Woo Hoo... I killed 50 people today! Oh Yeah!"

Better day

Frankie and Brian both had better days today, though neither is singing with joy either.

I think they both will be fine.

I am swamped with work at the moment, although I hope it will let up soon...maybe in a week or two.

At the moment, Brian is doing his homework, Hubby is watching a movie, and Frankie has joined him -- wearing a semi-formal black gown.

Just another ordinary evening.

Added: Because Clover-Elf wants to know -- Frankie loves his new bras. Very much.

The Rest of the Sides

Brian's principal called me this morning to tell me that Brian was crying and wanted to come home and did not want to go to the charter school anymore.

Ugg.

I told her that though Brian had remembered his meds this morning, we had just realized that he didn't take them the past two days. I spoke to Brian on the phone and reminded him of what I told him when he decided to go to this school, 20 minutes away. "I am not able to come and get you if you are having a bad day." I reminded him that he was probably feeling this way because he had missed some medication, and he had to figure out a way to cope.

He did. He came home emotionally exhausted and said that he had just been feeling bad. He was going to stay at the charter school. He said that he might even stay there through high school.

So there are more bright sides. This was the first time that Brian had an emotional break down and simply had to go on. Depression and anxiety are real. I know he does not make up how he is feeling. However, he has learned that he can go on. He can deal with it. I did not push him to tell me about his day, but I think he found the other students there more kind when he was falling apart. I don't think he is afraid that tomorrow he will be seen as the crazy kid who started crying.

I think that I will put the fact that Hubby and I did not have to tell him that he was staying at the charter school, whether he wanted to or not, in the "bright side" column too.

Frankie, from what I can tell, did okay at TLC for the first few hours, but broke down and cried at the end. Because he was un-enrolled at the the high school, TLC had to start him without having done all the educational assessments. They did not have work for him to do at his level, so he didn't learn a thing. All he experienced was being bullied to sit straight, hold his pencil in an unusual and uncomfortable way ("and they said to use my best penmanship, but I can't do that if I can't hold the pencil the way that I'm used to!")

When I picked him up he was crying. I took him home and Hubby and I listened. Hubby reassured him that he would get appropriate work and he would graduate from high school. He is not sure we are correct, but his mood brightened considerably when...

...his bras and panties arrived in the mail.

He told me that I was correct that the panties will not fit his current body, but the bras fit perfectly. He was very pleased.

He did not put on any of his new clothes however since he has counseling tonight.

Looking on the Bright Side

Andrew made it all the way through school without crying.

That's one out of three.

Where's my chocolate?

Three Kids -- Five Registrations

Yep. We are having a time here.

Today was my fifth registration experience for the year. We signed the intake paper work for The Learning Center (TLC). Hubby and I had to sign papers saying that we understood what all the rules were and that if Frankie was having a really hard day we would have to come and pick him up. It was explained also that getting into the program was difficult and that you were not allowed to decide to go back to the regular school. They decided. Since Frankie is fifteen he will probably graduate from the alternative high school (AHS) that shares the same building. Initially all of his time will be in TLC, but he gradually spend more time at AHS. Possibly he will be there full time eventually.

They had a list of goals or intentions, or whatever they were called. Things like "respect, clear thinking, anger management." Frankie was initially a bit miffed because he got certificates indicating he had completed programs in many of those areas already. I said that he would just progress on those goals. "For instance with respect, you are already very respectfu..."
"That's what I mean!"
"So maybe instead of just respect you could work on not interrupting."
He grinned.

Since he missed the first week he will have to come after school to complete orientation. Possibly as many as six times. Usually the new kids complete the orientation time and THEN start attending except...drum roll please...

The high school un-enrolled him as soon as they heard he was going to be transfered to TLC. He got to school this morning only to find out that he wasn't a student there anymore. They let him spend the day though. I think he just hung out in study skills all day.

Sound familiar to anyone?

Anyway, TLC will let him come start tomorrow as long as we transport him. Getting him on the TLC bus route will take a day or so.

And things got better

Today is the official "Oh my G-d I can't believe it's the last day to get ready for classes" day. It started with the one hour car pool run, shall be interrupted by a mid-day department meeting, and by a mid-afternoon intake meeting at The Learning Center where hopefully Frankie will be safe and learn much.

So there is not much time for blog writing or reading.

But I thought I would give you a quick summary of the events of last night.

Frankie, with lots of bravado, tried to convince Brian of the romance of living homeless --primary advantages seem to be not having to go to school and getting to eat whatever you want (i.e. whatever you find). This was followed by a dramatic telling of being taken away by the police from a yelling and screaming father, an exaggerated (as though the previous was not already exaggerated) account of his angry and violent response to being kidnapped by the government, an extremely exaggerated account of life in the treatment center (okay, not extremely, but I know they don't put bad kids in shackles and make them spend the days in quarries).

In short, Frankie was having fun telling Brian the adventure story of his life. I came in the middle of all this and pointed out to Frankie that he was frightening Brian. Frankie then ran to find all of his certificates for good behavior and other evidence of his reformed nature.

Brian's first thought was that we didn't tell him because it was all too horrible. We finally convinced him that we did not tell him because we were stupid, it wasn't as bad as Frankie was making it sound, and because we really and truly believed that Frankie was not a threat to his safety.

If Frankie were not so good at dramatic story telling -- voices, sound effects, vivid descriptions -- it would not have been so tough.

In the end though Brian seemed reassured and forgave us for our omission. Hubby pointed out the difficulty between protecting one kid's privacy and responding to another kid's right to know. Hubby also wanted to tell him that most of the kids we had had for respite had violent behaviors in their pasts, but I wasn't so sure that would make Brian feel more forgiving of us.

Anyway, all seems once again settled.

And if you are considering doing care and all ready have kids at home -- be forewarned.

All kids enjoy impressing and scaring other kids; and some kids have really excellent material to work with.

What to tell Biokids about Foster Kids

I've talked to prospective foster parents before and I have given them the following advice: tell them everything. If you aren't ready to tell them everything, don't do care. If you leave something out, either the foster kids will fill in the details or their imaginations will, and either is worse than the truth.

So why the hell don't I listen to myself?

Why do I agree to take a child into my house who I know has had a violent past without talking to Brian about it?

Okay, so I and everyone else who knew about it agree that there is every reason to think that Frankie's violent past is behind him. There are reasons, not justifications but explanations, for why he behaved the way he did. Of course anyone could become violent, but there is every reason to think that Frankie is no more likely than anyone else.

So I am not particularly worried.

So why didn't I tell Brian? Was it because everything happened so quickly? We felt like we had to make a decision during his visit. We didn't have time after the visit to sit and talk about everything that we learned so quickly and make a family decision.

Brian was part of the decision of course, but we just asked him if he thought he could live with Frankie. We did not sit down and tell him everything.

And that was fine...right up until tonight when Frankie decided to tell Brian.

Damn.

The whole, "I used to be a danger to society, but I'm much better now" story did not go over well.

Damn.

I know better.

Can't or Won't

If you have a child with any number of different disabilities or trauma, you will find yourself being asked that question, and asking it yourself.

Most of us come to understand that the question is based upon a false dilemma. It is not that the child simply can't do it or willfully won't do it, but that the task the child, or adult, is being asked to do is difficult and reasonable expectations have to be made. Forming those expectations in a way that is realistic and encourages the child to develop, can be difficult. You have to get to know the child.

I'm going to use myself as an example. I have a problem where I switch words, especially names, without realizing it. I have a conversation like the following with one of my kids almost every day:

Me to Andrew: "Go tell Andrew and Frankie to come to dinner."
Andrew to me: "You mean tell Brian and Frankie."
Me: "Yeah. What did I say?"
Andrew: "Andrew and Frankie"
Me, sighing, "Okay...well... please go get them."

Most of the time I could swear I said what I meant to say. I don't notice. Less commonly I will do it with nouns other than names. Sometimes I will search for a word I know well. Sometimes my brain will just substitute another word. In an extreme form this is called "aphasia." I once, in a discussion about attendance policies, said to a colleague, "Well, what aphasia policy have you used in the past?"

When I teach, I know times when this is likely to happen, and they are extremely inconvenient times. The worst is when I am comparing and contrasting two things. I mean, if I am trying to explain the subtle differences between the positions of Jones and Smith and I start mixing up their names without noticing, I am going to confuse the students. So I control it.

I write the names of each example on the board. If I don't have a board, I write on a piece of paper in front of me. I make myself speak at half-speed. I look at the written names, and write short notes under each name as I go. I listen very, very carefully to what I am saying.

I can do it, and it takes effort. I tell my family that when I make this mistake at home to point it out to me so that I can work on it, but I also tell them that if I am tired, or driving, or engaged in any other activity that takes concentration to please just go with it and only ask me about it if they didn't know what I meant.

I think you can construct any example for yourself. Can you sit and walk with better posture than you do? Can you do it all day? If you stop doing it at some point is it because you are being willful and noncompliant?

What about your last failed New Year's resolution? Could you have done if you had tried?

I can't do long division in my head, could I learn if I really wanted to? Probably, but it isn't going to happen.

My mother in law has trouble with vertigo. Could she learn to skateboard if she really, really wanted? Almost certainly not.

We are slowly figuring things out with Frankie. His tendency to talk constantly is not something he is doing to be rude. It is part of the ADD. He can control it, but he has to put effort into it, and that takes concentration. When he forgets it is not because he is being defiant.

So we are being selective about how much we ask him to try. We know that at school he is asked to do it all day. Whenever he acts impulsively, someone redirects him. When he gets home on school days he is allowed 90 minutes of video time. We have decided that that is his "down time" and we make an effort to let him talk and not correct him. He narrates away, encouraging his new pet to take down the critters, cheering whenever he kills something, complaining when he doesn't have enough money to buy what he wants. In short, he talks non-stop. Hubby is often in the same room, working at his computer while wearing his noise cancelling headphones. I sometimes decide that is a good time to walk the dogs and am considering a pair of those headphones for myself.

We are working on interrupting though. When he interrupts one of us holds up a hand. When I do it I keep my hand up as a reminder that it is still not okay to speak, and as a hint to whoever I am talking to that I need to take a break from our conversation. I try to remember that though it is appropriate for me to correct and re-direct him, getting angry is not helpful.

And I am thinking about this because I did not do so well today. Oh I've been much, much worse. I was signing off from my computer after reading an email from another mom about why she couldn't do the car pool shift she had offered to do yesterday, and getting ready to go to my office to work (and apparently to write a blog post). I said, "Carpooling is a nightmare!" And turned to Hubby to talk about the afternoon, "I want to get as much work done as I can, but if you..."

"What's car pooling?"

"Not now Frankie! Hubby do you need me to..."

"I just want to know what carpooling is!"

I took a deep breath and held it and looked at Hubby. He said in that patient teacher's voice, "Carpooling is when people take turns driving."

"Why is it a nightmare?"

"I'll explain in a minute. Let's listen to Yondalla now."

Me, irritable and fast, "Whendoyouneedmetocomeback?"

"Take your time, I don't..."

"But why is it a nightmare?"

I believe I may have given Frankie a dirty look as I slammed my last book in my backpack and said, "I'm leaving!"

Behind me I heard, "Why is she mad?"

Not the best day

Brian and his friends went to a movie. They did not specifically invite Frankie, who told us later that he didn't go because he was not wanted. "The boys would not want an annoying little kid along talking all the time."

This I thought was an interesting thing to say since on one hand he is right that the boys would not want someone along who was annoying and could not be quiet. He seemed to be able to predict this behavior and predict that he would not be able to control it. It is not the first time, by the way, that he has identified himself as "little" compared to Brian. He is shorter, but he is also two years older. Of course he seems younger to me too, but I don't think any of us have said anything to that affect within Frankie's hearing.

Of course if he had simply said he wanted to go, he would have been welcomed (well, at least accepted).

But Frankie stayed home, and since he seems to have casted himself in (or resigned himself to) the roll of the annoying little brother, he called Brian on Brian's cell phone in the middle of the movie. Brian turned off his phone when it rang and Frankie left a message...something to the effect of, "I'm watchin you....you can't see me, but I'm watchin you."

He spent some of the time at which the other kids were at the movie drawing a picture on the computer of someone hanging from gallows.

When Brian got back he yelled at Frankie for the message.

Frankie is now downstairs watching Brian and his friends playing video games. There doesn't seem to be any tension at the moment. Everyone understands that it is best if Frankie just watches. Though the other boys would be reasonably patient if Frankie did not play as well as they do and had a sense of humor about it, Frankie would get frustrated and upset.

Frankie was playing some sort of game on the cell phone but it wouldn't work right and was stupid so he deleted it from his phone.

If anyone is wondering what I did about all this, the answer is: I ignored it. Well, mostly. Hubby gave Frankie feedback regarding the whole movie thing, and I let Brian vent in my direction regarding the annoying phone call and message. Otherwise, we let them deal with it. It will be Hubby's turn to take Frankie to the counselor on Wednesday and he will bring the whole movie incident so the counselor can talk with him about it -- if Frankie wants to.

Frankie's phone allows him to make short voice recordings and he has made several to be personalized rings on his phone. If I call him his cell phone will sing, in Frankie's gravely and off-tune voice, "My mom is calling. She's better than your mom, because she calls me. Does your mom call you this much? I have a mo-om, and she is calling me."

Evan's blog

I know there are some mommies who send everyone over every time their children post, but I'm not like that. However, Evan today has written a post that will be particularly interesting to many of you.

He doesn't talk about it as deeply as I would want...I'm itching to ask him questions and get him to talk about it more.

How many faces do you present to the world? Do you feel that you present your real self to people when you first meet them? Those of you who are foster alum, and I know there are a couple of you out there, is it more difficult for you to present your real self?

And do you know who your real self is or do you sometimes feel like a collection of facades to be presented?

Thank you, and I'll take my response off the air --- I mean I'll read your comments at Evan's blog.

Frankie's New Toy

Frankie's new toy is... a cell phone.

About a year and a half ago we couldn't find Andrew when we had to go to The City. We ended up leaving without him. He called us after we had been on the road for 15 minutes and I had to tell him that he could ask if he could stay at his friend's house, across the street from the high school, or he could walk home (about a mile). Still it was frustrating, as we had missed each other by minutes -- each time I went to the school. I hated driving away without knowing where he was; and without him knowing were we were.

That evening we added cell phones for the boys to the family plan. Brian often forgets to carry his, but I find them wonderful aids to parenting. They are very good at not using too many minutes, and I can always get in touch with them.

And it is only fair to get one for Frankie too. Arguably he does not need one as he doesn't go anywhere but school, but that will probably change.

So I picked out one of the least expensive phones. It has no camera and no ability to hook to the web. It is not enabled for the purchasing of games, wallpaper, or ringtones. I even blocked texting.

So it is a phone. It can make and receive calls.

And apparently it has a function in it where you can create ringtones. I'm not exactly sure how it works, but it works. He is keeping himself quite entertained with it.

And so far it is not make me crazy.

I wonder if I can plug headphones into his cell phone...

Portrait of Frankie

So after a couple of weeks here, I thought I would try to give a complete description of this odd and endearing child.

He talks non-stop if you let him. If you sit and give him your undivided attention he will tend to stay on the same topic and go on and on...the story of his dream...his theory of how to solve all the world's problems (which involves everyone being required to consume a minimum of goods)...whatever. He easily becomes fixated on something and can become so consumed that he literally talks of nothing else for days (e.g. WOW). Having seen him one day when he forgot his morning pills, there is no doubt in my mind that he is NOT one of the kids who has been misdiagnosed with ADHD.

He has a difficult time being quiet even when engaged. He makes noises, narrates what he is doing, annouces anything that he thinks is interesting, stupid, or exciting. He does not notice when he has driven everyone from the room because they just can't listen any more.

There seems to be a complete absence of the "love me--I'll punish you if you love me" dynamic. He likes me. Though he does not have Down's, it is only in Down's people that I have seen this sort of innocent affection. He is very endearing. Just about everybody responds to him they way they might to a puppy. There is, so far as I can tell, nothing manipulative about it. He just likes us.

He does not seem to get personal space at all. He is not a touchy kid and tends not to invade space, but if he needs something and you are in the way, he reaches for it. If this involves stepping on your toes or leaning against you while wrapping his arm around you, he does. He just doesn't seem to recognize that you are there, somehow.

He tends not to notice if he is getting on someone's nerves, or pick up on other social cues. On the other hand, he does not get offended or hurt if you tell him something like "I need to be alone for ten minutes." He will likely say, "Okay" and then come back in ten minutes.

He is not uptight about routine, accepts change in schedules well, laughs appropriately at jokes, makes a few jokes of his own, and does not have a phenomenal memory or any other sort of "savant" skill that we have noticed (just in case any of this was adding up to Asperger's for anyone.)

He has a low tolerance for frustration and will cry -- really cry with lots of tears -- when it gets to be too much. Neither Hubby nor I find him especially difficult to de-escalate, although it can take a while.

He seems very much the little boy. He just got his allowance and he wanted to spend it on toy guns, a subscription to WOW and candy. Even though he has been talking about wanting to be a girl, and I do not disbelieve him, he seems to me to be a little boy. It is not like Carl who was sixteen and enjoyed letting himself be a kid again. Frankie seems like a little boy 24/7.

He tends to slur his words, has difficulty remembering how to pronounce words once he has it in his head that they should be pronounced differently. He does not read well, although he tries to fake it. He has made some "dyslexic" type mistakes. For instance while reading the WOW manual he wanted to know what a "morlock" was. Andrew told him that was a "warlock."

He has difficulty calculating time, although he is getting better. He is allowed 90 minutes of electronic time (video/computer/TV) on school days and he is highly motivated to figure it out. Still, he will often ask me how long he has played if he started at 3:45 and ended at 4:24. (That sort of calculation is not one that I can always make quickly myself). He makes simple mistakes when deciding how to spend his allowance. He tends to think that if you have 40 dollars and spend it on something that costs 22 dollars, you should still be able to buy something in the 20-dollar range. It is unclear though how much of that is just excitement and not stopping to think.

He is normally compliant with requests to do chores, which is to say that he is willing to do them and prone to forget. He is disorganized, looses possessions within seconds, and tends to forget about anything that is not in his sight.

He speaks positively about his parents. He does say that his transition plans would freak them out, but usually when he talks about them it is to pass on something interesting that they taught him. His memory seems to be jumbled.

He is extremely excited about the prospect that he may get to take hormones and have surgery and be an action-figure-playing, toy-gun-loving girl.

Shopping Complete

Well...at least for now.

At first Frankie didn't want to try things on. I put a man's shirt over our pile of clothes and told him that if any asked we would tell them he was helping to pick out clothes for his cousin.

He got very excited about getting his cousin clothes. He learned that you really have to try on women's clothes. They are cut differently and the size on the label really doesn't mean a lot. The more he looked and tried on the more wired up he got. "What do you think of the Yondalla? Do you think it would fit my cousin?" "I think she would like this, but you probably wouldn't buy it for her since it's so short, huh?"

In the end he picked out 4 black dresses, three long, three skirts, a nightgown, a pair of shoes, and I lost count of how many tops.

We came home he settled right in to play WOW.

I don't know about you, but I am pooped.

Reflecting on the appointment

When I first took Frankie away from his appointment I was a bit confused. I mean, I thought that the counselor had wanted to persuade Frankie to go slowly. Frankie was just as excited as ever about shopping for clothes and starting treatment. More so, if possible.

It was after a while that I realized what the counselor had done. He asked Frankie what sort of girl ze wanted to be and how ze wanted to be perceived. Frankie said that ze wanted to look like a real girl, not like a boy dressed like a girl. Based upon that, the counselor guided him to decide to only present as a girl at home and with the family -- for now. One step at a time.

Frankie would need to practice, especially with the voice, and ze might even want to wait until after hormone treatments, before going out in the world as a girl.

The counselor I think did this very well. Frankie feels really good about this process and knows that ze is surrounded by people who are supportive. And there is no rush. Ze can take all the time in the world learning how to walk and talk like a girl before living full-time.

Frankie has also decided that he is happy with the number of people who know. When I talk to my friends I will tell them that I have another boy at home, a boy who was referred to us because he is questioning and needs a safe place to work things out.

It is difficult, partly because Frankie is so immature in some ways. He knows that his mother freaked out when he wanted to dress like a princess when he was five, and that a previous foster family wouldn't allow him to be with other children unsupervised when he came out to them (this brought angry tears to his eyes), and he knows that suddenly the social worker, family, and counselor he is working with are supportive. I don't think he had a very clear idea of what the world at large was like. How do most people respond?

It is difficult. On one hand, the closet is a terrible place to be. It is damaging to the psyche. I certainly don't want to tell anyone that they should closet themselves, nor set anyone else's time table for coming out. On the other hand, Frankie is naive. It is important for him to be fully informed so that he can make good decisions about how out to be at any given point.

None of this is easy for any of us, least of all for Frankie. Frankie has spent 10 years trying not to want what he wants, and trying to conform to other people's expectations for who he should be. Suddenly it is okay to be authentic. It must be a strange place to be.

I promised her we would shop for girls' clothes tomorrow.

First Appointment

Frankie came out of his first appointment have clearly talked with great excitement the entire time about transitioning. He agreed with the counselor that he did not want to "come out" as a transexual or as girl. Frankie decided that he wants to be able to be a convincing girl before he presents as a girl to anyone outside the family. He thought that might even be after he started hormonal treatment.

Though the social worker had told the counselor that it was unlikely that Frankie would get permission for hormonal treatment prior to turning 18, Frankie was talking very excitedly about starting as soon as possible.

I understand the motivation. Frankie's voice has already changed and is quite deep. His overall body type though is petite. He has not developed a beard or much body hair. He would like to start the hormones before his body masculinizes further.

He is not going to get permission to do that any time soon. Possibly he won't get it and won't be able to start until he is 18.

--
And then on the way home he told me all about a long complex dream. It sounded like the plot of a very complex time travel novel. There were battles, and cat-people and cow-people and the destruction of the human race, and his own grief at leaving his wife and children.

I asked him if he was ever a girl in his dreams and he immediately said that he was and that in fact in this dream the reason he went to the future, the reason he volunteered to do it, was that he would get the money for the surgery.

I don't think that this was a real dream, or at the very least not all of it. It was a story that grew as he told it. I don't know that Frankie being male in the story means anything one way or another. I think it was just that the hero in this dramatic tale was male.

I think. Still, it was strange to hear this story in which he played the male dramatic hero, right in between talking about saving for quality falsies and his desire to get hormones.

--
He called his social worker and told her that he did want her to give his mother our phone number. He told me over our dinner about how shocked she would be when he told her about his plans for transitioning. I'm torn. I said very little, but I wanted to say more. I still don't think he understands there is a custody battle. I don't know how telling his mother about his plans will affect that, or if it will.

[Update: I just said to Frankie in the kitchen, "You know, you might want to let your mother feel safe and comfortable with you living here before you freak her out." Frankie giggled and said, "Yeah. How do I do that?" "Well, it's up to you, but maybe it is a good idea not to tell her about your plans for transitioning until after she feels okay about you being here." Frankie grinned, "Yeah. I probably should."

Sigh. I think I handled it okay. Certainly it was better than saying, "Your mother is trying to get custody of you and I support that if it is the right thing. However, the hearing is going to be a very conservative part of the state and I would hate for the judge to decide to move you because we are turning you into a perv."]

---
It's strange. He so often seems like a little boy, very masculine. Then he talks about "becoming a girl" and he is clearly happy and excited.

Sometimes being with Frankie is very disorienting.

Did you know?

After his counseling session we had dinner at a fast food place. I called Hubby on my cell, and Frankie said: "Did you know that in the old times, like the '90's most people didn't have their own phones?"

"Did you say the '90's?"

"Yeah, before, in the old times, people had to call a woman and tell her who they wanted to talk to and then she put the thing in the board and they could talk but she could listen. Then in the 90's some people started getting cell phones."

Um...where to start?