Respite Care or "I'm Getting Tired"

Some people find the very idea of respite care offensive. I've read or heard, "You would never put YOUR OWN children in some foster home for a weekend because you wanted a break! Parenting doesn't come with guaranteed breaks."

Of course these people will generally acknowledge that it is okay to have babysitters and that it is nice when grandma take the kids for a while or when they get invited to a sleep-over. But put your kid in another foster home because your tired and rarely have time to talk to your spouse? Come on.

Sigh.

These comments make sense from a distance, but the reality is different. My reality is that I Frankie can't go spend the night with anyone unless they have had a criminal back ground check and I am on call to pick him up. The reality is that Frankie is a difficult kid and even most people with criminal background checks (and I know a fair number because they are required for anyone who works in public schools) are not prepared to cope with him and would definitely call. My reality is that Frankie is not going to be invited for a sleep-over or go on a youth group trip any time in the near future.

My reality is that I am getting tired, that because Hubby and I do such a good job of taking turns being "on" for Frankie that we seem to have little time to be "on" for each other.

My reality as that though I have been actively looking for someone who could be a babysitter, I can't find one. The one we hired before spent three hours sitting next to Frankie at the computer periodically saying "Weren't you supposed to get off after an hour and a half?" while Frankie said, "Just let me show you on more thing..."

My reality is that the only way I am going to get time have a complete conversation with Hubby without someone coming in after three minutes saying, "Do you know...?" is to take advantage of respite.

I confess I don't like it.

Have you ever been in the position where you encourage others to take a break or take advantage of assistance while being pleased that you don't have to?

I haven't needed it for a long time. David and Evan had lives. They left the house for trips, sleep overs, rehab. When they were home they behaved like normal teenagers and sometimes spent entire evenings in their rooms. They did not have a need to tell me everything that they were doing, or share every thought they had.

I know that a big part of the reason I feel this way is that one or more of us has been sick for 3 weeks. I have felt like I am fighting off all the bugs that are laying them flat one after the other, except for Frankie, nothing stops Frankie. Ever.

Another big part is that work is just more stressful and demanding this year. We are under going our five-year departmental review and I am chair. 'Nuff said.

And I think that if I could just find a qualified babysitter, Hubby and I could go out for dinner.

But then I think we would just stare at each other in exhaustion.

I don't want to go out for dinner. I want to go to bed early and sleep for 10 hours, wake up and have a quiet breakfast with my husband. Then I want to read a book while he does whatever he does, take a leisurely bath, and go out to lunch and THEN have a conversation about something other than who will go grocery shopping or take Frankie to his next appointment.

And I am beginning to think that that is going to mean respite care.

Of course we will farm out the bioboys. That part will be easy. If I bring myself to tell the social worker to arrange respite care I can get them invited over to one of their friends. The friends' parents know us. I probably would only get as far as, "Next Friday night Frankie is going to be in respite care and..." before they offer.

But I don't know how Frankie will respond. I don't know if I will "pay" for it in escalated behaviors afterwards. I don't know a family that could take him.

I would have to, you know, trust the social worker's judgment.

So I know what I have to do. I have to call the social worker before I am too tired to be a good parent and ask her to identify a home that could provide respite care. I have to take Frankie there so that he can meet them and get comfortable with it.

I am going to have to accept that I am human.

Don't you just hate it when you have to do that?

Update: I went to lunch and sat down with one of my previous students. She is a non-traditional (read: somewhat older) student who has a nephew with Asperger's that she sometimes sits for. I found a qualified sitter! She has even been background checked already!

My day

Today I tried to explain to my students what is meant by the necessary desires of a rational agent. So I told them, "I just got a brand new MP3 player and my headphones broke. I want new headphones. Right now I am borrowing headphones from my husband and kids, and I really want my own pair. Is that the sort of desire that we would expect any rational agent to necessarily have?"

And my students looked thoughtful and said, "Hmm....yes."

---
And Frankie and I got caught in a traffic jam for over an hour.

So how was your day?

I guess this is better

He had a good day at school.

David came over and he told David that he would probably move out when he was 18 like he (David) did. He doesn't think he could stay here an extra year like the other boys. So I guess that means he isn't moving out right now.

He and Brian did the dishes and bickered the whole time. I did my best to ignore them. When the kitchen was clean Frankie came out and said, "Yondalla, do you know the difference between being a madman and being clinically insane?"

"No."

He then preceded to tell me but spoke so quickly I understood very little -- except that apparently one of the differences is that one of them is incoherent and the other can have a plan. He finished and said, "Right?"

I did not look up from my computer, just sighed and said, "Sure."

He turned towards the kitchen and yelled. "See Brian! I was right!"

--
I'm really tired tonight. I don't talk much about my job here, but it was one of those days that is too busy. You know, you work hard all morning, classes, meetings, etc. Then you sit down at your desk in the afternoon with your little to-do list knowing that if you just concentrate you can get it all done and then an email from the dean pops up that says, "This is just a friendly reminder that the document I told you about six weeks ago and you completely forgot about is due tomorrow." (Well, he didn't use exactly those words).

Hoping for a better day

Last night divided into three main portions:

Stage One:
Frankie crying and protesting that he hated the school because he did not have behavioral issues and wasn't learning while we exercise some listening skills and tried to gently explain that though he had made great progress, his day demonstrated that he did have behavioral issues and that we thought he was learning. Frankie crying and saying that he was going to leave the permanency program, and go back to where he used to live. "I guess I'll miss you guys, but right now my education is more important than family." He even left a message for his social worker telling her that.

Stage Two:
After crying in his room and being left alone to calm down, Frankie watches a movie and returns to a better mood. Meanwhile Hubby and I agree that we (by which I meant mostly him and partly me), have given Frankie the impression that he is correct, what with all our uncritical sympathy and Hubby's writing of notes explaining Frankie's concerns to the school. Like I said, Hubby said he agreed and changed tactics.

Stage Three:
Frankie in a more cheerful mood periodically brings up his complaints and we respond in a light tone expressing confidence in the school. So when Frankie would say, again, "I don't have any behavioral problems any more!" One or the other of us would listen and then say, "It seems to me that crying in frustration/running from the room/refusing to do your work/etc is a behavoral issue you need to deal with before you can go to regular school." And when he would say, "I'm not learning anything there! I need to learn X." One of us would say something like, "I think they are trying to teach you that there/give you the ground work so you can learn it" or "Maybe you should talk to the teachers about your educational goals. I know they want to help you reach them."

Sometimes we just said, "Well, I still think this is the best school for you right now."

We tried not to over-do all this campaigning in favor of the school. More than half of the time we just listened and tried to say other sorts of things. I would say something like "I can see how frustrated you are." Hubby would say, "I am really impressed that you are this dedicated to getting a good education!"

When he said, "Well, I am going to leave the program and go back to [last town he lived in] and go to a real school," we would say something like, "Well, I hope you can find a plan that will work for here, because we would miss you a lot."

The good thing about a perseverating child is that you get to say everything you had on your list. It is also permissible, and perhaps better, to just keep giving the same response. I mean, if they can perseverate, why can't you?

--
I have mentioned that Alanon has been some of the best training that I have had for being a foster parent. In some ways, I think what I learned was not all that different from really good Love and Logic classes, but I worked closely with a sponsor and called him every time I was upset. With every challenge I talked to someone who had my permission to "give it to me straight." Unlike you all (who sometime give me information and insight or suggestions that are very valuable to me), he would listen to me for an hour if necessary, ask me questions, and sometimes say things like, "Whoa, is that your problem or his problem?" or "What are your motivations? Are you trying to protect yourself or change him?" It helped of course that we were both dedicated to trying following the same principles.

Anyway, I felt on top of my game last night because first I felt very calm. In years past I might have stayed calm, but last night I felt it. Even when I imagined him really packing up and leaving. I knew I would be sad, but I felt no desperate need to make that not happen. If he decides that is what is best for him, then, well, he has to walk his own path. All I can do is be here and offer what I can offer. He has to make the decisions. Secondly, I realized that I never once thought that it was my problem to solve. I believe that Frankie can meet his educational goals at the school, if he wants to. He can talk with the teachers, he can ask his social worker for additional tutoring in the areas he feels he is behind in (like "pronounce-iation. I need help with that!"). Arranging that though is something that he can do, so it is not my job to do it. (Another Alanon principle: don't do for others things that are able to do for themselves.)

Oh...and just in case some of you are wondering, they make it clear when you enter this program that it is voluntary and binding. The student and the parents don't have to sign. Once they sign, they forfeit their right to transfer the child back to any school in the district, and probably any public school in nearby districts. The program is demanding and a lot of kids protest and want to quit. This is why Frankie perceives that his only way out of the program is to move across the state.

On the other hand, the school has a great reputation for catching kids up (well, going a long way towards that) and turning their behaviors around.

Responding to your comments

NB: This post will remain on top for a while. Please look below for new posts.

If you would like me to respond to your comment via email, please make it available in your profile or include it in your comment like this: "pflagfostermom at gmail dot com". If you want me to delete your comment w/email however it is written, let me know.

Bad Day

Bad day at school.

Very bad.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Well, it could have been worse. No one was hurt and there was no damage to property.

Update:
It was Frankie who had the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

He's going to move to Australia.

Or at least back to the town where he used to live where he can go to a real school and learn something.

Kid Round-Up

I haven't heard from Carl in a couple of months. I'm officially teetering between annoyed and worried. I know it is not unlike him to drop off the radar for a while. Still, if you see him, tell him to call home.

Evan is doing very well at school. He is enormously busy and happy. He calls regularly, and stops by to get his mail. He is a college freshman.

David stopped by for a few hours today. We chatted and had our usual marathon of cards. I think I mentioned that he is the only one who will play cards with me. He told me that he and his roommate are planning on going to one of the state universities (not the one near here that Evan is going to) next year, so he will have to finish off his GED pretty soon. I'll believe it when I see it, but it is the first time he has been the one to bring up finishing his education and it is a positive step.

David by the way is completely supports the idea that I would upgrade Frankie's mp3 player to one that will play Netlibrary books. His sympathies are completely with Frankie. David knows what it is like to come into this house owning little to nothing and see all the electronics the boys have collected over the past decade. David also knows that most of the stuff was purchased with money given to them by relatives for birthday and Christmas -- except for the things that were bought by Grandpa during his summer visits of course. There are only a few things which they can claim to have "worked" for by saving allowance.

We'll see. I have a fair collection of audiobooks that he can listen to on the iPod several of which I purchased for the boys to listen to while traveling during the summer. Frankie is interested in listening to Eragon and The Eldest, both of which I have. so I think I will wait and see if he continues to enjoy the books and then make a decision.

Did you know?

"Did you know that the reason your hands get cold first is that your body is sacrificing the limbs to save the internal organs?"

"Yes."

"But I don't get it. If the body sacrifices its limbs, how will it feed itself? Are you just supposed to pull yourself along with your teeth?"

AAAHHHHGGG!!!!!!!!

It was a tiring morning around here.

I think Frankie is allergic to his contacts or the solution. I wish I had thought about that possibility before. He has been complaining that the contacts irritate his eyes and we have been accusing him of not adequately cleaning his hands or the contacts. That is possible of course. It is also possible that with his poor motor skills he is irritating his eyes when he puts them in, or that his eyes are just particularly sensitive and that he won't be able to tolerate any sort of contact at all.

In any case he announced mid-morning that he was going to put them in. He came up stairs crying in frustration, saying he couldn't put them in because his eyes would not stop watering. He sat on the sofa, wiping his eyes with his shirt and saying, "I'll just go blind! I can't get them in! My eyes won't stop watering and I can't put in the contacts! I'll go blind! I don't want to have a stupid piece of metal on my face and I can't wear stupid contacts!" (Put this on loop for a few minutes). At one point I put his hands up to his eyes like he was going to claw them out, but he didn't.

I tried Process' suggestion of mirroring, "You are upset that you're eyes are watering" but it felt so small and stupid in the face of his crying and yelling that I just waited for him to calm himself down. He finally did (some) and I told him it was his choice. He didn't have to wear the contacts or the glasses if he didn't want to. (Frankie's vision though not 20/20 is not terrible). He stomped off saying that he would give it one more chance but then he would just let himself go blind because he wasn't going to wear glasses. (I don't know why he thinks that not wearing glasses will make him "go blind" but it wasn't the time to address that).

A few minutes later he came back up almost screaming and clawing at his one eye. He said the contact was in, that it burned and he did wash it, he did! "AAAHHHGGG, I can't get it out! I can't! It burns! It feels like I have an eyelash in there! AAHHGGG" He ran into the bathroom and suddenly I was afraid that maybe he didn't have a contact in and was hurting himself, so I went to check. It was there, but he was too upset to cope so I called for (read: screamed) "ANDREW!" Andrew, who wears contacts, got it out of his eye for him while I kept my hand at the back of Frankie's head so that he wouldn't jerk back in reflex. (After he jerked the first time I told him I was going to do that and he nodded.)

For the next 20 minutes he continued to cry and yell about how horrible the contacts were and how he was just going to go blind.

Finally I remembered how when I wore contacts I was allergic to the first solution they gave me. I told that to Frankie, and the loop began to loose some of its intensity. He still kept getting up and pacing and complaining that his eye hurt and wouldn't stop watering. I finally suggested the audio book and he put on the headphones, collapsed on the sofa and has been quietly listening every since -- once again about two hours and counting.

It took a while for me to de-escalate myself. Though on the outside I had remained calm (except when I was yelling for Andrew), on the inside I was suffering from a major adrenaline rush. It was the first time that Frankie was so out of control that I was afraid he might hurt himself.

I guess the point though is that he didn't. And I suppose I shouldn't compare this to other moments of frustration because he was in genuine pain. Having something in your eye that makes it sting that you can't get out is difficult for anyone.

I'll call the optomotrist tomorrow.

Ensuring Good Foster Parents

The main worry that people seem to have regarding reimbursements for foster care is that it will attract unscrupulous people who treat the children poorly. Girl Speaks wrote about this today. She, like so many youth who have lived in the system, had foster parents who were inexcusable. A system that should have protected her hurt her. The question is, would there be fewer or more cases like that if foster parents were reimbursed for the full cost of raising the child. Since I have already advertised myself as someone who is being reimbursed adequately, I thought I would talk about my agency's standards and how they maintain them. (By the way, we did figure this out once. Though the reimbursements allow us to break even while the kid lives here, the only way we would not loose money in the long run would be to cut them off when they move out. Since we don't do that, giving care in the end costs us money too).

But back to my agency and their safeguards.

First, they require more training than the state does. In theory you can get your training hours in a wide variety of ways (I get to count the counseling appointment I hijacked as a training hour), in reality they have so many specifically required trainings at the agency that the family developer sees you quite a lot. Of course, that only goes so far.

Second, they make sure the kids know their rights. Before Frankie moved his social worker gave him a booklet listing and explaining all his rights. It includes things like "The right to know why you came into care and why you are still in care." I'll quote the first one in full:

You have a right to be safe
You have the right to be safe; this means living in a safe place and being free from people and situations that can harm you. No child should be disciplined or punished by corporal punishment. This means no spanking, kicking, hitting, or shaking. You cannot be denied needed food, shelter or clothing. Verbal remarks that belittle you or your birth family are not allowed. If anyone hurts you or tries to hurt you, tell your social worker or a trusted adult as soon as possible. You should have phone numbers to contact your social worker, or can call the office anytime, day or night at xxx-xxx-xxxx and ask for help.

Frankie has his social worker's cell phone number in his cell phone.

Third, the social worker is required to visit with Frankie in our home every month. What she usually does is pick him up from school, takes him out for a treat and then brings him back and spends a while in our home with him. Every month. They are supposed to make contact with us more than that, but I never remember how many times because I email updates so often that I cover that for them. The point is that they keep a close eye on us.

Fourth, much of the reimbursement is actual reimbursement. I have a generous and flexible allotment for clothing, but I have to turn in the receipts. Sometimes we loose them, and when we do, we don't get the money. (If I complain it is only to the person who lost them). They keep track of everything that I have been reimbursed for, add it to the inventory the youth made when he or she moved in, and then check when the kid moves out. (They don't actually inventory the belongings. Usually they just ask the youth if he or she is sure about everything). The point though really isn't the inventory, it is that I have to pay for the stuff before I get the money.

And while we are on the subject, Girl Speaks says agencies/state should not "cover your gas costs (especially when there are transport people)." Trust me, the agency would FAR prefer to reimburse me for the mileage to drive Frankie to his appointment than to pay the transport people their hourly amount. The social worker has agreed to arrange transportation for one of Frankie's two weekly counseling appointments in The City. The transport will cost at least four times what they would give me in reimbursement, and might even be higher than the cost of the appointment itself, given that they have to pay someone the transport service for time driving and time in the waiting room while he has his appointment. If it makes any of you feel better, I only get reimbursed for mileage when a single round trip is more than 35 miles.

Fifth, because they offer so much support to foster parents and youth (and the non-monetary ones are really more important), they are in a position to be selective. I know families who have worked for the state for years before and after working for my agency. One was the family who for a while took David's younger brother. The younger brother drew some pictures of himself hurting other kids in the family. He did not leave them out as a threat; she found them when she was straightening his room. Had she thought that there was an immediate danger she should have called 911. There wasn't and she didn't, which was good. She also could have called the social worker, or the hotline and requested immediate support. Someone would have been at her house within the hour and to talk to her and the child. They might have decided that the drawings were just venting and let the youth stay. They might have decided that he needed to spend some time somewhere else just to be safe. The mother did not do that however. She called the office and said that she had packed his bags while he was at school and she wanted someone to come and get him.

They revoked her license (with them). She spoke to David about it later (which was also inappropriate). She was surprised and hurt that they wouldn't let her take the brother back. I was surprised she was surprised. You don't treat kids that way. Period. She continues to do care for the state.

So as Parodie said in a comment on my previous entry, there are a couple of choices:
1. In the ideal we invest enough money to provide all the services kids need, enable a large number of people who want to be foster parents to afford to do it, and then be selective about the families who do care.
or
2. We can offer inadequate support and reimbursement and hope that means that only foster parents who are extremely dedicated will sign up.

I vote for option #1.

How much is silence worth?

Today I put an audio book on my iPod for Frankie. He moved from place to place in the living room, periodically compelled to tell me what was happening or ask my opinion. "Do you think that a bread knife is a good weapon?" (It's a St*phen King book). He has done this for more than 2 hours.

TWO HOURS.

And just in case you missed it, let me say again, Frankie has been mostly quiet and completely calm for two solid hours.

In the past few days Frankie has been having, according to Hubby who has been with him, more melt-downs. Frankie told the doctor that he did not need all three of his medications and it was agreed that one of them would be reduced as a trial. The trial period from our perspective has not been going well. Frankie has torn up instructions to something we bought him because it wasn't working to his satisfaction; thrown his CD player into his closet because the batteries ran out; given up on... well everying and burst into complaints and nearly tears several times.

I have not been here for most of it, but Hubby has.

But the audiobook was like the proverbial music to the savage beast.

If your local library is a subscriber, you can check out audiobooks from Netlibrary free. They have 15 Stephen King books. Most are about 12 hours long. That is 180 hours of free audio book time. Perhaps listening to an audiobook is just as bad for his social development as playing video games, but I just can't seem to feel as guilty about it. I mean, it is a book.

The rub is that iPods won't play Netlibrary books. They will play audible.com books, but those you have to pay for and it can add up pretty darn fast.

Most MP3 players aren't set up for audiobooks. Even iPods are not great. You can pause a book and the player will remember where you left off, but you can't put in a bookmark. Netlibary has tested players and there are a handful of them that do bookmark. I just got the new Creative Zen and though Netlibrary has not (yet) listed it, it does a wonderful job. You can set up to 10 bookmarks -- all in the same book if you like. The player will remember the bookmark until you over-ride it. The Zen will also play audible.com books, which is cool because I do have quite a few books I have bought from them.*

It is $130 for the 4g version.

How long would the Frankie continue to enjoy audiobooks? How long would it work to calm him?
Oh, how I am tempted...

We just bought him a less expensive mp3 player, identical except in color to the one that Brian has. It is not a good player for audiobooks from any source. I can't take it back for a couple of reasons, including the fact that Frankie ripped up the instructions (see above) and Hubby lost the receipt. Buying him a second, and more expensive player right away seems like a bad idea. It would not be good for his character and the other boys would be justifiably jealous.

But once I bought it there would be free audiobooks...and potentially hours and hours of calm and silence...

Sigh.

____
*Just in case anyone out there is doing this, I have found that I have to use the Audible Manager software to load the audible books onto the Zen. For Netlibrary I have to first open the books in Micros*ft Media Player in order to get the license and then have to use the Zen software to put the book onto the Zen. Silly, but not difficult once you figure it out.

A must read for blogging parents

Copied off of the Washington Post comic page:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/artsandliving/comics/index.html

Unpopular View, Indeed

This started out as a response in Process' comment box, but it was too big. So I copied it and put it here. I wasn't going to post about the recent study showing that almost every state reimburses expenses below the rate it costs to raise the kids. No particular reason, but I wasn't going to. If you haven't, first go read Process' post, An Unpopular View. [And for those of you who haven't been reading here long, Process and I have a long history of mutual respect and of gratitude by me for insight and guidance which is not the least changed by this disagreement.]

Well, not surprisingly Process, I don't agree.

As you know I work for a private agency and though even their monthly reimbursement payment falls below what the article states is the amount it costs, they reimburse enough other expenses (mileage for trips over 35 miles, school fees, full cost of clothes, etc) that it doesn't cost me money to be a foster parent. And I know a lot of people who work with them and not with the state. And I think the agency that reimburses all the expenses gets and keeps more good people. We talk about whether we will do this for a few more years or a few more decades. Eventually we decide that it is is time to retire. But we don't have conversations in which we say, "I care about the kids, but I don't know how much longer I can tolerate the system."

If you talk with us you will learn that we do appreciate knowing that whatever resources our kids need, they will get. Those of us who have biokids appreciate knowing that we will not be asking them to sacrifice things like money for camp or lessons. Even so, what we really appreciate most is being treated like a part of the team, being listened to, and being cared about ourselves.

And yes, good foster parents treat all the children in the house as equally important. All their needs matter and all those needs require sacrifices. We sacrifice full nights sleep, the chance to come home and relax after work, hours spent in the car driving a kid to appointments, evenings alone with our partners when our biokids accept spontaneous invitations to spend the night and our other kids may not because no one there has been background-checked, hours when we could be getting something else done worrying and wondering about the child, hours helping all our children learn to interact with and accept each other.

My husband is a elementary school teacher and like most good school teachers he takes from his own pocket to supplement the classroom for items for which the district will not pay. And that is what people who are committed to important jobs do. They sacrifice more money, time and energy in order to do it well.

Though it may be true that the truly dedicated make sacrifices, it is fallacious to conclude from that that you attract and keep the best people by requiring unreasonable sacrifices as part of the job.

If you want to attract and keep the best people tell them, "We will give you everything we can to help you do this job well. We will provide you with adequate resources so that you know by taking in one more child you will not have to take away anything from the children you already care for. We will give you training that actually gives you skills to do the job. We will hire enough social workers that they can help you work through problems and we will pay them well enough, treat them well enough, that they stay and you can come to know them and trust them.

Doing this will still require sacrifices. We pay your expenses, but we cannot afford to pay you even what a teenage babysitter will be paid for taking care of them. Your loss energy, time, and (sometimes) sanity will be rewarded by seeing children who sometimes succeed, and sometimes call you foul names and walk away, and all too often end up living the very lives you hoped to help them avoid.

When your heart breaks, all the compensation you will get is an understanding hug and a sympathetic ear.

We will do the minimum though. We can at the very least tell you you do not have to pay money for the privilege. We will pay the expenses. We will not ask you to sacrifice the needs of kids you already have in order to satisfy the needs of the next child we ask you to take. We will not put you in a position of accepting donations over the Internet (as Baggage had to do) in order to buy the children the clothes they need so you can still pay the rent. We will treat you with respect and provide you with the resources to do the job we ask you to do."

Funny thing happened on the way to the shelter

Our neighbors last spring decided that raising chickens would be a good home schooling project. They got eggs, kept them warm, held the chicks, and finally put them in a coop in the backyard where they made my dogs insane. I considered reporting them (the neighbors), as I believe it is against town regulations to have chickens, but I didn't after they told me they were looking for a home in the country and would be taking their chickens away.

They did move, but they left one chicken behind.

It has been wandering around the neighborhood, mostly living in a big evergreen bush on my yard and making the dogs REALLY insane. Today though Brian caught it. He called me at work and asked me what to do. I gave him the number for animal control and they told him that they would not come and get it, but if an adult brought it in they would take it. Brian said they didn't actually say they would euthanize it, but that he thought they would. I agreed.

Wanting to get it all over with, for Brian's sake of course, I rushed home and got the dog crate. Brian was sitting in the shade with the chicken looking glum. He put the chicken in the crate and said, "Did you know that chickens purr? If you scratch it behind the head it makes a purring noise." We talked about it and he understood that we had few options: the chicken would freeze to death or be eaten by a dog if it just wandered around. So we drove to the shelter.

But because of some construction I took the back roads. Though I have driven this road any number of times, I suddenly saw something I had not noticed before: a house with a yard with a dozen or more chickens! Quickly, I pulled in the driveway. After some calling out "hello!" a friendly Mexican American woman came out, listened to me for a minute and then turned and yelled, "CARLOS!" Three children came running from the field, one of whom was Carlos.

We told Carlos our story, and that we were on our way to the animal shelter when we saw all their chickens and wondered if they wanted another. He translated and then asked us if we were selling it. I said no, that in fact I thought the shelter would charge me for euthanizing (killing) it, so I was giving it away. He asked me if it laid eggs. Brian assured him that it did. So the mom shrugged, we got the chicken, and Brian told Carlos how it had been a home schooling project and was very gentle and would purr if you scratched it behind the head. Carlos removed the chicken very gently and it walked off to join all the other hens.

So it was a good afternoon for all concerned. The chicken was saved from certain doom and is now living on a farm in the country. A nice farming family has a story to tell about a couple of crazy gringos. And Brian requests that we eat something vegetarian for dinner tonight.

Peseverating and Threatening

Not threatening violence, so deep breath.

Yesterday Frankie was denied a "level up" interview at school because he was rude and obstinate in the morning. He tells us that the only reason he was rude was that he gets tired of smiling and being polite while he is being told that he has to be there to work on behaviors, when that is not true, and they are giving him work far below his level and he isn't learning.

We tried to talk to him. We tried to explain that in fact the achievement tests say that he is at fifth grade level. We understand that the work that he is doing feels baby-ish to him, but his academic progress has been so uneven there are holes that have to be filled in.

This information did not penetrate.

We told him that he could talk to the educational specialist at the agency who could review his achievement scores and talk to him and help him come up with plan. That also did not penetrate. He just kept repeating, "I'm not learning 10th grade material. I'm not going to be able to do 11th grade. I'm not learning anything and I am not going to be able to get a job."

Hubby told him that no matter where he went to school, he needed to do work starting where he was and work to where he needed to be.

We tried to tell him that though it is true that his severe behaviors are far in the past, there are behaviors or needs that keep him out of regular high school, LIKE WHAT HE IS DOING RIGHT NOW. You know, go on and on with a subject, not responding or seeming even to hear what other people say.

He said he was only frustrated because he wasn't learning and he does not get frustrated about other things, he doesn't have any behavioral issues and all the school does is work on behaviors and he isn't learning anything and if he isn't doing 10th grade work now he won't be able to do 11th grade work later.

He said he would do whatever he had to do to get an education. I said great, he could work more on things at home. He did not just have to learn at school.

He said he needed to do whatever he needed to do to get an education and learn, because if he didn't do 10th grade work now he would not be able to do 11th grade work next year. If he had to he would leave the permanency program, leave this foster home, and go to a foster home where he could go to a school where they would teach him.

***
Allow me to interrupt my narrative for two comments:
First:
I hereby declare that any period which might have been considered a "honeymoon," although it is really "observation and assessment," is officially over.

Second:
It occurred to me every time he said that he could/should move to a different foster home that he was trying to push my buttons, get me as upset as he is. In his script I suspect that we either get upset and promise to do whatever we have to to keep him, or else yell at him for suggesting such that he might leave us. Ah, but Frankie, m'dear, you don't know who you are up against. We have been trained by manipulators far more subtle and skilled than you. I have managed not to be excited by professional princesses and RAD ragers. I have stayed calm while dealing with teenage girls (and the people gasp in amazement). I can handle you.
****

Meanwhile, back in the living room....

"I can you know. I am voluntary-ily in this program and I can leave and go to another foster home where I can go to school."

"You are right. You can. We would miss you."

"Because I am not learning anything at that school. All they care about is behavior and I am not a behavioral. Do you think that I spit on people and throw desks and hurt people?"

"No. Your issues are dealing with frustration and anger."

"I only get frustrated about school! I wouldn't get frustrated if they gave me work at my level. If I don't do 10th grade work I won't be able to do 11th grade work next year!"

Hubby says that he can review Frankie's scores to make certain that he is being given work at his level. Frankie says, "It is not at my level. I am in 10th grade! And I am not doing 10th grade work! If I don't do 10th grade work now, I won't be able to do 11th grade work next year! Maybe I should just go to a different program. I will leave this foster home if I have to to get to a school where I can learn."

I said, "I understand. Why don't you wait until the morning to decide what to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it is past the time you normally go to bed, and I know I am tired."

"I am not learning anything at that school..."

"Frankie! Listen sweetie. It is time to sleep. You can figure this out in the morning."

"I could just go to a different foster home."

"You could. I would miss you, but if you wanted to call your state worker and demand to be moved you could."

"I just want to learn. That school only works on behaviors and I don't have 'BEHAVIORS.' I don't throw desks or spit or hit people. I don't need to be somewhere for behaviors. I need to learn. If I don't learn 10th grade work now I won't be able to do 11th grade work next year."

"I understand. It is time to go to bed."

***
Like the writers of Groundhog Day, I wanted to give you enough of the conversation so that you could really understand. Unlike the those writers, I will stop now that I think you are saying, "Okay, I get it already." Suffice it to say that the conversation actually was much longer than what I have typed, but I have not left out anything that we said. We just said it many more times.

I did leave out the part where I considered telling him that if he wanted to give up WoW he could use the time to study and get himself to a different academic level. I decided not to for the obvious reasons.

There is also the problem that the school IS giving him work at his current level. The problem is that he knows so much and manages to "read" material at a higher level on his own, but he misses a great deal of the content. His vocabulary is spotty, his ability to speak grammatically is poor. Sometimes of it may have to do with the way he processes language, that he cannot remember to say "rogue" or to keep the various forms of words sorted out (e.g. "attracting/attractive, " "voluntary/voluntarily"). Some of it may be the language patterns he grew up with like "more better". Whatever it is, he does not have the vocabulary and language skills that an average sixth grader does.

And his math skills are also about fifth grade. I know that at the Treatment Center they had him working out of an Pre-Algebra book, but the testing shows that none of it stuck. It is frustrating to go from pre-algebra fifth grade math, but those are the concepts he needs to master.

And of course there is the issue that he does have behavioral problems. They are not problems with violence. They are not issues with a basic lack of respect for adults. However, there is an issue with frustration, perseverating, not listening when he is worked up.

Sigh.

He got up just before I left for school. He was cheerful and talking about WoW when I said goodbye.

Responding to Dimitra Daisy

Dimitra Daisy delurked to write a long and very good comment on the previous post, Do disorders come in natural kinds.

If you want a good indication of whether Frankie has Aspergers or not (but only an indication!) look to see if he looks at people's faces to get information about things. Ifyou were frowning because you can't possibly hear another minute of talking about WoW, would he be able to tell? And, even if he can, does he look out for this sort of information? He might be able to tell you are angry, but does he check to see how you feel when he's talking with you? Does he do it consistently?

I want to answer these questions, and those of you who know more about Asperger's can give me feedback if you have any.

First answer: Yes, he can get information from faces, or at least faces with small noises. I gave an example a while back. He came into the living room with something messy and I made a little "uh" sound and he turned and looked me right in the face waiting for me to tell him what was wrong. I told him that the thing he had should stay in the kitchen. At the time I thought he was definitely "reading my face" but as I type this I wonder if he was really responding the distress noise.

Another example would be the other day when he asked me if I thought blood elves were "attracting" I said "Yes, definitely" with a total deadpan followed by a tiny smile. He burst out laughing. Again, he seemed to understand that my face was telling him something other than what my words were saying.

Most of the time when he is talking to someone he does make eye contact.

Second answer: not when he is caught up in an obsession or is frustrated. When he is worked up about WoW he does not check your face to see how you are responding to the conversation. You cannot get him to stop talking about it by giving him a bored face or annoyed face (not that I have tried that for long). I have always thought about it as the obsession/frustration being too strong to be stopped by a facial expression. Sometimes when we have told him that we need him to stop talking about something he has left the room -- not in a huff. It just seems like he knows that is the only way he can not talk to us.

I think it might be the case that he looks at our faces when he is asking for information and it seems like he can "read" them. When we ask him for information he is less likely to look, and when he seems compelled to tell us something he either doesn't look, doesn't "read" or doesn't use what he has read to guide his actions. If he has started to tell me about something he HAS TO FINISH even if I tell him early on "yes, I do know about that" or even "remember, I watched that show with you."

And a comment or two: Frankie has excellent eye contact for a kid in the system. Maybe it was because in the centers/institutions they made him. I know that at his current school they insist upon it. Maybe the group homes and treatment center were like that. In any case, Frankie generally does better than my other kids did. With most of my kids, direct and sustained eye contact was a pretty good indication that the kid was trying to deceive me.

Frankie does not monitor emotions like the other kids did. All the kids learn to insulate themselves from the emotions of others. Some try not to care about what you think. Others try to maintain a sense of control by keeping you wound up. However, they were all very aware of my emotional state. Part of how these kids survive is by watching the adults carefully. So though they might mistake me being tired and cranky with me being angry, they were always aware. Frankie though does not monitor and does not even notice more subtle emotional states. He also does not suspect me of lying if I tell him that I am just tired and not angry.

Do disorders come in natural kinds?

There has been a debate in philosophy for since forever about whether there are natural kinds. Philosophers who think that there are not natural kinds often call themselves "nominalists." "Nomos" is Greek for "name" and monimalists argue that our perception that the world comes in categories is entirely dependent upon our words.

It makes a lot of sense if you think about bodies of water. The name of my home town is an American Indian word which I am told means, "large flat body of water." It can refer to a lake or a bay. We have words like creek, river, stream, not to mention pond and lake. The world just has water. We divide it up according to our interests and then we think it comes that way.

Of course a true nominalist thinks that nothing comes pre-categorized, but in order to explain to you what I have been wondering, we need to assume that some things do come in natural kinds (like elephants and giraffes) and some things don't (like musical instruments).

We no longer regard consumption as a natural kind. Years ago if you had a chronic lung condition, you could get diagnosed with consumption. If we could go back in time we would diagnose most of the people with tuberculosis, but a good chunk of them would be people with bronchitis, pneumonia, asthma, emphysema or lung cancer.

Everyone with me? Consumption, as a kind (natural or nominalist), is not something we recognize anymore. If someone were to go back in time and tell doctors that there was no such thing as consumption they would be stunned and show us all the sick people. It might take a while to explain we weren't denying the existence of the sick people, just the category. By the way, if I'm wrong about consumption, I don't really care. This is set up.

And I wonder how many of the things in the DSM (pick your number) will be regarded as "real" in one hundred years.

There is just so much cross-over in symptomology. Disorders/conditions are described and there is no definitive test to figure it out. Consider all the forms of autism and FASD, not to mention OCD, ODD, RAD, ADHD, ADD, borderline personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder, social anxiety disorder, and.. you get the idea.

It seems likely to me that someday we will regard ADD and ADHD as symptoms not diagnoses. I could really be wrong, but I think so. And I wonder if we will think that FASD is "real" or if we will decide that fetal alcohol exposure can cause damage to different parts of the body. We know that mothers who have Rubella (German Measles) when pregnant can have babies who have hearing, vision, heart, and cognitive impairments. We don't however think that there is such a thing as "Rubella Spectrum Disorder."

I have all this going through my head as I am getting ready to schedule Frankie for his neuropsych evaluation. The hope of many of us is that he will go with his file which includes at least four different disorders (two of which are generally considered to exclude each other) and come out with one. It is not clear that he has ever had a complete evaluation like the one he is going to get. He has had IQ tests, aptitude tests, and been diagnosed with various sorts of things based upon behaviors that he exhibited at the time, behaviors that might have been entirely reasonable responses to very unreasonable living conditions. (Did you know not so very long ago at least one physician diagnosed slaves who kept running away with Drapetomania? Of course the word just means "manic runaway slave" but the point was that some people regarded the reasonable behavior of running away from salvery as a psychiatric disorder.)

So, after this evaluation will Frankie be determined to have Asperger's, FASD-ARND, or will be told just that he is a sweet, clumsy kid with ADD?

And will whatever they tell us be really helpful? It will certainly have a great affect on the sorts of services I can get for him, but will it be real? Is it based on truth?

Or is it just the category to which he will be assigned. "Nope, too short for a mountain -- you are really a hill."

Hijacked Appointment

Today Frankie had his appointment to get "fitted for contacts." Poor thing almost came to tears trying to put them in. Putting in contacts requires fine motor skills he doesn't really have AND preventing your body from behaving in a sensible way. At one point he turned to the woman who, with infinite patience, was trying to teach him and said, "It's just that this is like totally contrary to my instincts."

Yep. My instincts would be to blink if uncoordinated fingers were coming at my eye too. But he got them in and didn't actually cry. We all pretended that the watering eyes and dripping nose were purely physical responses to the experience. Actually, I was really proud of him. I have never seen him deal with that much frustration without melting down.

I found out this afternoon that he also had a med check appointment tonight, which gave me the excuse to hijack his counseling appointment. It was a fun-filled family outing. The five of us piled into the van, Hubby dropped me off at the counselor's, and drove off to take Frankie to the psychiatrist who decided not to make any significant changes to his meds, at least not until after the neuropsych evaluation.

I told Frankie in advance that I was going to talk to his counselor. He asked why and I told him that I was worried about how much World of Warcraft seemed to have sucked out his brain and that I wanted help figuring out what to do about it. I told him that it had occurred to me that cutting off his access altogether might be a good idea, but that I thought that would be too hard for him. And I told him that other people had suggested that I put him on a high-protein diet free from all sugar, yeast, artificial dyes and flavorings (I'm exaggerating, but it was fun) but that was too difficult for me. He claimed that neither option was acceptable for true Americans and indicated that he trusted his counselor to guide me through these murky waters.

I had a good long talk talk with counselor. I told him that I suck at behavior mod, learned all my best parenting techniques in Alanon, and was interested in some advice. He got some more information out of me about my family, remarked on how well Frankie has settled seeing as he has only been with us for six or seven weeks (amazing isn't it?) and then made two entirely reasonable suggestions. First we should come up with an agreed upon signal to indicate we no longer wanted to talk or hear about WoW. Second, I'm to attempt to sign Frankie up for one or two classes or activities to give him something else to think about. He also said, "I don't want to recommend anything more specific until after we get the results from the neuropsych evaluation." (Anyone sensing a theme?) We threw around possible diagnoses, agreed that he had a whole lot of Asperger's-y characteristics, except for being good at reading emotions, including sarcasm which seemed pretty basic to the diagnosis.

Anyway, I agreed that even someone as bad as I am at behavior mod can manage to sign up a kid for a class at the Y, and saying something like "Dude, I don't want to listen to anything more about WoW" is right up Alanon-road.

After the appointment the five of us went out to dinner at one of the finer fast food joints. Frankie was clearly prepared for me when I said, "We need to come up with a signal for when we need you to talk about something other than WoW."

He said, "Why don't you call me by my full name?"

"But that will sound like you did something bad. Wouldn't you prefer for us to say something like, 'now entering WoW-free zone'?"

"Naw. Why don't you just say 'Heh. Lastname' (giving his step-father's last name).

"You're certain."

"Sure."

Brian said, "I'm sure going to be saying that a lot."

I picked up my folk, took a bite of the salad I like to pretend is low-calorie, and said, "You counselor also thinks we should sign you up for an activity. What would you like to do?"

"Can I learn rock climbing?"

"Sure, they have a class for that at the Y." I say, continuing to munch.

"Cool. Someday I want to climb Mt. Everest." He precedes to give us copious amounts of information about the mountain, the equipment one needs, and low chances of survival if you don't do it right. "Did you know that are lots of dead bodies just lying around at Base Camp 4?"

"No, I didn't, but please allow me to express my pleasure that you brought that up while I am eating my dinner."

He giggled and choked on a french fry.

Definitely a satisfactory evening for all.

Regularly Scheduled Melt-Down

I thought I told him before that I was told that Tuesday morning was scheduled maintanence on WoW. I really thought I did. But I might not have, or it might not have made a difference. In any case, WoW was doing scheduled maintanence and Frankie was worked up with frustration that he couldn't play.

It was horrible you know, last night he had a counseling appointment and barely had time to play and do his homework, and now he can't play this morning and he has to go to the stupid eye doctor today, and...

I got him to calm down enough to listen to me and said, "Frankie, I am concerned that you get so upset over this game..."

He interrupted me to explain to me that that the game didn't upset him, it was not playing that upset him. I tried a few more times, but with no real success. He paced frantically while complaining. I tried to maintain an attitude of calm. Well, I succeeded there, but I don't know if it made much of a difference. He did suddenly decide that he should just go to his room and try to sleep more, and I let him go.

I really appreciate all the ideas regarding dealing with this behavior.

I am pleased that I neuropsych eval will be coming up soon. I will also talk to his doctor about his medications and see if he thinks it is appropriate to add or change something.

Helen -- I can ask about anti yeast and fungi treatments. I doubt though that he will be able to get any treatment with only anecdotal evidency.

A.S. -- Thanks for the suggestions. I wish that we could shift his obsessions to that degree, but I don't think we can. I said that we could shift them some, but not that much.

Baggage and others who suggested on-line groups: I'm hesitant there. He is already using all of his electronic time on WoW. I am not inclined to expand the time, and I don't think that he would be willing to spend any of the time that he does have anywhere else.

And for now, Hubby and I have decided not to take away WoW. We've come to the conclusion that it is really not the problem. It might be nice if he were obsessed with something that we felt comfortable letting him do all waking hours, but, well, he isn't.

I'm definitely following up with the medication suggestion though.

Some of your suggestions are really interesting, and the thought of trying to implement them has made me realize how serious it is. I can't imagine right now trying to get him to think of what he is afraid of, for instance. He really can't think about anything else.

But again, I really appreciate the feedback. It is good to know there are so many caring people out there!

A friend?

I've been getting some really good feedback on the I need help post -- so thanks and keep it coming.

Today Frankie came home asking if he could go to his friend's house. You may remember that on the weekend he had no friends, but by the time he got home he did. Hubby drove him over, though he insisted it was close enough to walk, in order to do the whole parent meeting parent thing. Here's hoping!

I also got approval to schedule Frankie's neuropsych eval. It will probably take a couple of weeks, but I'll get it on the calendar anyway.

And then we shall see if it gives us a clearer picture and some guidance, or it it will just be one more thing in his confusing and contradictory file.

I need help

From the BTDT* crowd. If you have a child who obsesses, I would love for you to share your experience. Please understand I don't mean a kid who was totally caught up in one thing for a while and then eventually got over it and went back to a variety of interests, I mean a kid who is always obsessed about something.

I don't think I would have known the difference before living with Frankie. He has been obsessed with WoW and we got him for a while to spend some time with another game. He did, and the rest of the day he could talk about nothing else. We have tried a couple of times to get him interested in all sorts of things. It either doesn't work at all, or he gets this intense, obsessive interest in it. It really looks like he can shift interests, but whatever he is interested in consumes him.

Though he complained very much about Brian not letting him hang out with his friends, and about how he does not have any friends of his own, he is very resistant to any suggestion that might change that. He does not want to go to the GLBT-youth support group, or any other youth group. He does not want to go to organizations for kids in foster care. He does not want for us to invite one of the couple of kids his own age at his school over to hang out with him at the house.

I mention this because I think it is part of the same issue. I think the reason he has trouble making friends is that he can't maintain an interest in what other people care about. His own obsessions take over. It is all he can talk about. It is more complicated than that, but that is part of what is going on.

I mentioned Asperger's to Hubby, who is a special education teacher, and he said to me in his Mister Rogers voice, "Children with Asperger's have difficult understanding other people's emotions. Frankie has trouble regulating his own." Okay. Check. But again, the diagnosis might not really matter. I need to decide how to deal with it.

Idea One: accept and enjoy Frankie just the way he is. Whenever I have decided to try to change something basic about a kid it has just made me crazy. As I have said before, I suck at behavior modification. When kids have made major leaps in their development or behavior it has always been because they have decided to do so.

To be clear, I am able to enforce basic rules and insist on basic respect. Last night, when Frankie ran out slamming doors I walked down and, with a quiet but insistent voice, made him come back up, speak appropriately with Brian (they did not resolve anything) and then walk quietly to bed without slamming doors. I can refuse to buy junk food, or let them spend more time than I think they should on video games. All that I can do.

But "being obsessive" is, I suspect, too much like "being deceptive" or "being shy." It is part of who he is and I have doubts that any level of concern or intervention on my part is going to make an immediate difference. It will either go away because it is symptomatic of something that can be treated (possible, but I'm not counting on it), or because he heals after years in a safe environment.

Idea Two: Get some good ideas from people who deal with this on a regular basis for how to respond to it.

I feel like I have a handle on how to help Frankie deal with any instance of frustration melt-down. I point out to him that him that he is getting frustrated and he should apply his skills. I stay quiet myself. I tell him to take a deep breath. I let him talk for a while and then I tell him it is my turn and I insist that he listens to me. It takes some energy, but at the end of it, Frankie is calm again.

And I have realistic expectations about his over-all behavior. My goal is not: help Frankie become the sort of kid who handles frustration well. My goal is just to help him calm down whenever he is doing poorly.

But I don't know whether I should do something similar with the obsessive behavior, and if so what exactly it should be.

Of course sometimes the frustration and obsession overlap. Last evening he was trying to do something that probably can't be done. He was anxious and was not letting it go. I told him, "I will help you with this one more time, but that will be it."
He said, "I know."
"I don't think you did know until I told you."
"No, I do know. This time it will work."
"Frankie, put your hands in your lap and listen to me." (Pause to wait for him to assume good listening posture). "I know this is important to you, but it is not important to me. I am willing to help you one more time, but if it doesn't work, I am going to do something important to me."
He seemed to get it.

And when it didn't work I left. After a while he came back and announced that he was going to take a completely different approach to the problem. He was calm and spent some time thinking out loud about what might work. He was less intense, but he was still stuck on the same thing. (And yes, it was a WoW thing, but I don't think that is the point).

So this is long, but I really need some feedback here. Is my usual approach of acceptance plus boundaries to protect my own piece of mind the right way to go? Or is there something else I should be trying?

So...ideas anyone?

___
*Been There Done That

Weekends are difficult

It's just too much us, you know?

Too much of Brian and Frankie getting on each other's nerves. Too much Frankie getting on everyone's nerves.

Too much for Frankie to deal so long with non-professionals who don't respond to him dispassionately. Too much time in a non-structured environment, too much responsibility for self-regulation.

And I am trying to get over this lingering cold that has no significant symptoms other than a slight amount of congestion and a periodic headache -- and exhaustion. I haven't wanted to sleep, but I haven't wanted to do anything either.

Hubby kindly took Frankie out for a couple of hours on Saturday and Sunday. Frankie was really mostly okay. I would like to say that the things that made me tired were fall-out from his conversation with his mom and sisters, partly because I think it would be healthy for him to show some reaction, but the truth is that his behavior was not very different than it was any other time.

Early Sunday evening he came up to me to tell me that Brian still did not think that Blood Elves were attracting but his only reason was that they were animated, did I think they were attracting. I have him a total deadpan look and said, "Oh yes. Definitely." He looked at me a minute, realized I was kidding and burst into laughter. I laughed too and neither of us could explain to anyone else what was so funny.

An hour later Brian accused Frankie of wearing out one of his books/magazines and Frankie denied that it was his fault. They yelled at each other and Frankie finally yelled, "Fine. The next time I get allowance I will buy you all the books you want and never get anything for myself again." Then he stormed out, slamming doors as he went.

So you know...typical weekend.

Processing

I'm still processing my feelings about Frankie's feelings.

Or the lack of them.

He was very happy to get to talk to his mom and his sisters. He wanted to tell them all about the animals and seemed to expect them to be happy for him. He was proud that he was finally in "a real home with a real mom and a real dad." Yep, they could call anytime they wanted and they could talk as long as they wanted. There were no restrictions on when he could have calls, because this was a real home. We even have dogs and a retarded cat.*

It bothered him that his sister was so sad. He wanted to cheer her up. It distressed him that he couldn't, and he really did try. In the end promising that he would come live with them when he was 18 seemed to work the best. He tried hard to explain to his sister why he couldn't home. He said it was all about choices that he, his dad, and their mother had made.

He was genuinely distressed when he warned his mother not to fight too hard for her rights because when his father did that he went to jail.

Hubby noticed that he was more relaxed with them. Hubby now wonders if some of "did you know..." conversations are partly anxiety about trying to impress us. Maybe. He did try to do a little of that with his family, but not as much. Mostly he asked them how they were and bragged about his real home.

After an hour he said he had to go because we were going to watch a family movie, but he would call them back. He hung up and told me laughing about telling his mother about wanting to be a girl. He said that his mother got back on the phone and said that she accepted it, but that his step dad was going to have to take some time to get used to it.

He was relaxed and happy and started telling me about the two glasses that he bought at the dollar store. "Do you know why Chinese glass is thin and American glass is heavy? It is because American floors are so hard. If you drop a Chinese glass" (he holds up the blue glass goblet he bought) "onto an American floor it will go crash" (He didn't say "crash" but I don't know how to spell the crashing sound) "but the Chinese have different floors and if you drop an American glass" (holding up the C*ke bottle glass) " on a Chinese floor the floor will break!"

And then he wanted to watch the movie. He had seen the movie before so he could give me useful information so that I didn't get confused "Those people are that guy's friends" and so I wouldn't get frightened, "It is going to be really spooky, so you might not want to watch this part, Yondalla. He doesn't die though."

And it seemed odd to me that he seemed to have so little to process. It was just the same ole Frankie, laughing at the scary parts of the movie.

And for some reason it was all so surreal to me. It was strange that it took him so long to figure out why his sister was upset. It was strange that he seemed to think they would be happy for him because he was in a real home with a real mom and a real dad. He used that description a dozen times. I know that he was proud to be out of institutions and group homes. He did not seem to get the implication that he was suggesting that I was more real than his real mother.

Of course that is not what he meant. I know that was not what he meant. He meant that he was out of institutions. Hubby and I are real parents, not paid employees. He did not mean to imply anything at all about his own, first, natural mother. He just wanted them to be proud of him. He worked hard and he got to leave the treatment center and the group home and live with a real family.

But that upset his sister, and it took him a while to figure it out. Actually, I am not sure that he did figure it out. Promising to move in with them when he was 18 seemed to help, so he said it.

And though Hubby insists that he does not have Asperger's, and I have completely agreed, suddenly I am not so sure. How could he be so clueless about the emotional states of others? How could he talk to the sisters and mother he has not spoken to for six weeks, rarely seen in years, and not seem to have any emotional response?

And I don't know why it is bothering me so much, except that he seemed so foreign to me tonight, so incomprehensible. I've been worried about him, and I guess the gap between him and the rest of us just seemed so much bigger tonight.

But he is still Frankie. As he settled down to the movie he said, "Do you notice there aren't many black people who are heroes in movies? We are still racists you know. We should be more like the Orcs or Trolls, they don't have any racism. So we should be like them.... Only not as dim-witted."

___
The cat is not retarded, but it is brain damaged. In some parts of the world they are called "spastic cats." Fortunately our kitty's condition is mild.

His mother called

His mother called this evening. Her voice trembled as she introduced herself and said she was calling to find out how Frankie was. I was so excited, and nervous, for him that I forgot all about introducing myself. Probably the fact that I am a bit nervous talking to her played into it. I just told her that he was fine and said I would get him so she could talk to him.

He spoke to her and his sisters for about an hour.

Mostly he was very cheerful.

And yes, right away he told his mother than he was transgendered and he wanted to be a girl. Of course he first asked her to promise not to be shocked or to blame us. He reported later that after he told her she said, "I'm going to take a little breather and let you talk to your sisters."

When he spoke to his first sister he said, "I understand Mom is having trouble with her breathing. Does she have cancer?" He stayed pretty cheerful throughout the phone call. He told everyone about our open kitchen, our brain-damaged (he said "retarded") cat, our dogs, etc.

He tried to reassure his sister that he was "in a real home with a real mom and a real dad." It surprised him that this upset his sister. He then reassured her that no one could replace her or their mother. At one point he referred to Hubby as his dad and then corrected himself, "You know, my third dad. He's my F-Dad." This made him giggle.

I don't think it helped his sister much.

He tried to cheer up his sister. He spoke to her in a Darth Vader voice, "I am Frankie. I am your brother." He told her to stand on her head so her frown would be upside down and then she would be happy. He told her to be happy over and over. "I'm in a real home, with a real mom and dad. Be happy."

He promised his sister he would visit. He said that he couldn't run away to live with them because he would just get caught and locked up. He said when he was 18 he would come to live with them and never leave.

No Friends for Frankie

Even though the previous post may have had a light tone to it, things are difficult for Frankie right now. He really doesn't have any friends.

At this moment Brian is downstairs with two of his friends. They are playing video games and have told Frankie that he may not play with them. I'm torn. There is the part of me that wants to tell Brian that that is rude, and that he must include Frankie. There is also the part that remembers how outraged I would be if I had been made to include my little sister in my games. And I know how I would have treated her if I had been made to.

But Frankie is hurt. Though he often accepts that he is annoying to others, and has left the other boys alone when he realizes he is getting on their nerves, he does not like being told he is not welcome. Who would?

[I am remembering seeing a documentary (or an episode on a news show?) about the book called "You can't say, 'You can't play.'" Is such a rule fair? Could I make it a rule in the house? Would it work if I did? Somehow it seems a better rule for a group of children the same age rather than for siblings at significantly different developmental ages.]

But Frankie really doesn't have friends of his own. He complains he can't make friends at school because he isn't given enough free time to interact with them. I suspect that is not true. I suspect that the time they can interact is very controlled, but that the making of friends would be possible if one had the skills for it. But I asked him if there were any kids from that school he would like to invite home to try to get to know better.

He said no. There are all too little. They are all little kids, under 10. (They aren't, but I am not quarreling with him.) I asked him what age he would like his friends to be. "An age where I could get along with them. My age. Like fourteen or fifteen."

And there is at least part of the problem. Frankie plays like a younger child. Merely by the fact that he says he wants friends to play with, we know he is not operating on a teen level. Most fifteen-year-olds want someone to hang out with. They would not want to make spears and hunt boxes in the back yard. I haven't taken him to the support group for GLBT teens because they are developmentally so much older than he is. They would be kind to him once, maybe even periodically, but they would want for an adult to take him away so that they could have important teenage conversations (and flirtations) without the little possibly-transkid saying, "Did you know..."

And so we have the problem. Frankie is fifteen, but developmentally much younger. He does not want to play with younger children, and their parents would probably be made nervous by it anyway.

And I don't know where to take him to meet developmentally delayed teenagers with whom to play and quarrel. I suppose there is some sort of organization for mentally retarded children and adults somewhere, but I think Frankie would respond the same way he does to the idea of playing with younger children.

Frankie is not mentally retarded. The last time his IQ was tested it was definitely below normal, but not low enough to qualify for any services based upon his IQ alone.

I feel badly for him, but I really don't know what to do for him.

I will ask his teachers if they have any ideas. If anyone would, it would be them.

But if you have ideas, please share.

___
Update: Hubby and I talked about it, and we have no solutions. I asked Frankie if he wanted to go to the youth group for GLBT teens tomorrow. He said "maybe" in a voice that meant "no." Same thing when I asked him if he wanted for us to arrange for either of the kids his age at his school to come over to visit.

The sad truth is just that Frankie does not have the skills to make friends. He cannot maintain two-way conversations. He can only "play" with someone who is older and being indulgent. Just like he can only have conversations with people who are willing to listen to him talk.

But that doesn't mean that he isn't lonely, or that he doesn't feel hurt when Brian has friends over and says, "You can't be here. Go away."

Frankie and Brian

Once I was a married woman with one child.

I cooked things that my husband and I liked to eat. My one child seeemed motivated to eat what I did, although he did not like his food all mixed up. Still, it seemed no big deal to pull out some strips of chicken before adding the curry and put them on a plate with a carrot stick and some rice.

He came up with odd ideas about the world, and we listened. I gave him focused praise, just like the books said to. I don't think I ever insulted him. I wasn't perfect, but that one child grew up in a nuturing, positive environment. He was generally welcome to join us in whatever we were doing. If I was making a jig saw puzzle I would let him help, even help him out. He felt respected by the people older than he.

And he asked for a younger brother or sister. He said he liked little kids and he wanted to be a big brother.

We decided to have another child, not for him of course. Our lives changed. Having two children at two different levels oftem destroyed the sense that we were adults with a child. We were PARENTS. And the older child we had so carefully nurtured changed when the baby we brought home grew into a small child. The older brother who had been surrounded by love, praise and encouragement turned to that younger child and said, "You are a stupid poopy head!" When the younger child wanted to join him in his activities he said, "No! You will ruin it. Go Away!"

Of course the older brother was mostly a great older brother, but not always. When the older brother approached teenage years he started spending more time with friends and he did NOT want his younger brother, who had few friends, along. The younger brother cried, said he missed the big brother who would play with him, and said that HE wanted a younger brother to take care of.

And now we have a third boy who is devlopmentally much younger than the younger brother. The third boy makes mistakes and the first boy, who spends much time somewhere else, tries to speak in patient voices and tries to be helpful. The second brother says, "That is so stupid! Why did you do that? You will never have any fun if you keep doing that!" He said it with scorn in his voice. "How can you think something so dumb?"

And the second brother, who increasingly has friends of his own he wants to spend time with, yesterday told me that Dad was going to take them somewhere, but would I keep Frankie home so he wouldn't annoy them. I said no. I took him aside and helped him to remember all the ways that his older brother's behavior had hurt him. How badly he felt when his older brother insisted that he not join them in their games.

And Brian looked at me and said, "Now I understand why!"

Frankie: Education and Future

I have a post I am working on about why Frankie is dis-satisfied with his school (TLC) and why his complaints are generally ill-founded, like his lack of friends isn't because they don't give students time to interact or that the work they give him is not below his level even though it looks "babyish" to him. (This second we can definitely see over the past few weeks as they have slowly moved from work that he could do easily to work that he asks us questions about).

But that post, in its entirety, is boring. The point of the post was to get to the more interesting question of how educable is Frankie and what does his future promise? So let's just jump there, shall we?

On one hand clearly the answer is that we cannot yet know. Frankie has had inadequate schooling throughout his life. His achievement and aptitude test scores are not very good, but I am not certain how much faith to put in them. We we have a better sense of it in a year. If he jumps several grade levels, like FosterAbba's Danielle, then we can have pretty high expectations.

But what if he remains what he seems to be now. Those of us who work with him are doubting more and more that the child-likeness is any sort psychological defense mechanism. I think he will mature some. I certainly hope he gets better at dealing with frustration, but I can't imagine him in college and I am not even certain that he will be able to earn a high school diploma, especially if the No Child Left Behind policy of achieving 10th grade proficiency remains.

I think he will continue to have a lot of facts at his disposal, although not necessarily the ones that other people are interested in him having. I suspect that his ability to make wise judgements will continue to be poor. I think he is going to need a job with a low level of stress and a high degree of supervision.

Right now I can see him stocking shelves and returning carts from the parking lots. There are certainly other things, but he will never be able to do the sorts of jobs that the other boys can do.

And will he be able to live independently? Will he be able to manage even a basic budget? Will he be able to do the things that people need to do to keep a car: remember to pay the insurance, remember to get basic maintenance, cope with a flat tire? Somehow I don't see it. Ideally he would work a job, ride the bus, and live with or near a responsible adult who would help him with the all the problems that crop up.

Back when we were students we lived for a while in a complex of townhouses. One of the people who worked maintenance was child-like man, let's call him "Bob." One of the units was the office -- and his apartment. He had one bedroom. The second bedroom was storage and the living room was the main office, and of course he had use of the kitchen. He was sweet guy. I remember that I asked if the bush obscuring my window could be trimmed. The manager told me that she would have it trimmed down some, but not much. She sent Bob who came out and cut down the bush. I ran into the manager later and she shook her head. She said she had a conversation with him about it. "What did I ask you to do?" "Cut the bush." "How low did I say to cut the bush?" "Halfway down the window?" "Yes. And what did you do?" "I cut it down." She was a bit frustrated, but mostly she seemed to think the solution was to make sure he did unusual jobs RIGHT AFTER getting the instructions.

I always wondered how that arrangement got set up. It was perfect for him. I know that he did not have to worry about paying for utilities or rent. When he needed new tires on his truck the manager noticed and sent another worker with him to the shop. They paid for the tires and then took it out of his wages a little at a time.

I don't think Frankie would need that much support, although he might.

It is too early to make these decisions, but I can actually imagine a future in which Frankie does live with us for a decade or two or three. I haven't even brought it up with Hubby, but I can imagine it. Of course he is going to outlive me in any case, so he will need another environment, or more independent living skills.

Or maybe he can live with Mrs. Butter B.

Interesting facts for the morning.

Frankie came into the kitchen this morning with one hand over his left eye. "I went to pet the dog and she jumped up and banged my eye!"

"She was trying to kiss you."

"I know, but she banged my eye."

"Will it be okay?"

"Yeah, it hurts though. Did you know that it only takes 5 pounds of pressure to pop an eye?"

"Why no, I didn't."

And then I was treated a long list of fun facts to know and tell, like how it is possible to commit suicide by drowning yourself in your bowl of cereal. I finally laughed and commented that he seems just chock full of information. "Any chance you have some happy information in there?"

Frankie laughed, and told me about how smart dolphins are.

Did you know that they once put one dolphin in one tank and another dolphin in another tank and put intercoms in the tanks and right away the dolphins figured out how to turn them on and started talking to each other?

Morning Report (update)

Broke favorite tea mug.

Spilled tea on self, chair, and floor.

Spent 40 minutes in office wearing regalia with pants draped over heater in front of fan.

Am now off to teach wearing damp pants.

---
And when I got back to my office I caught my shirt on the little triangular things that stick out of the side of the door and pop into the hole in the frame when you shut it (the door) and it (my shirt) ripped.

Definitely a wardrobe malfunction sort of day.

I have one more class to teach and then I am going home to put on clothes that are neither ripped nor tea-stained.

Living with him

This evening after dinner:

Frankie. "Yondalla, will you help me find the headset?"
Me, "No, I'm busy right now."
Frankie, "Do you know where it is?"
Me, "No. If I knew where it was I help you, but I don't know where it is."
Frankie, "Do you think it might be with the electronic games?"
Me, "Frankie, what part of 'I don't know where it is' is confusing you?"
Frankie giggles and says, "None. I'll find it."
And he did.

Recently I have been getting a lot of "I don't know how you do it. I could never deal with Frankie."

And I am not certain how to respond, because I wouldn't have thought I could either. The description I got was not wrong, but it was not accurate either. I was told that he was fifteen, had had some anger management issues but was doing much better, and had done some gender identity questioning. I made certain that he wasn't dangerous to the kids and agreed to meet him.

If I had been told that he was going to seem like a much younger child who tended to obsess and almost never stopped talking, I don't think I would have taken him. I think I would have said that I could not deal with that.

But it turns out that I can. It turns out that I did not know what I could do until I tried.

I think it helps that he speaks in a deep voice. It just isn't the high pitch screaming sound that some kids make. Perhaps having lived within institutions makes a difference, since he doesn't seem to expect you to escalate with him. He may be frustrated to the point that he is lying on the floor crying, but he really isn't trying to work me up. And of course it helps that he is not terribly difficult to de-escalate, assuming you have any skills in that area at all.

Besides, a lot of the time he is just plain funny.

While I have been writing this he has been playing his game. I just notice that he is not narrating and that he hasn't been narrating while he plays for a while. Anyway, he stopped and walked over and leaned against my chair. "How are you Yondalla?"
"I'm fine. Do you need something?"
"No. I just thought I would take a little break and say hi."
"Okay."
"So are you having fun?"
"Yep. Barrel of laughs."
"Okay. I'll go back now."
And he did.

Morning Melt-down

Abbreviated for your reading comfort.

Scene opens at 6:45am with Frankie trying to play WoW and making loud complaints about hating the computer and how he got up early, like he does every morning, to play WoW for half an hour and now he can't because it wants to download a stupid patch and the patch won't download and the people at WoW are stupid for making him down load a patch and then he yells to Hubby, "Do we have a fire wall? It says to turn off the fire wall!"

Hubby in his Mister Rogers voice, which he does not loose all morning, walks over and tells him to turn off WoW and reboot the computer. He (Hubby) will then turn off the firewall and Frankie can start again.

Scene continues with Hubby and Yondalla preparing their breakfast and ignoring and constant stream of complaints about firewalls, companies who make them, stupid old computers that don't load quickly, stupid people at WoW who make stupid patches and then, "The patch still won't load!"

Me: "Frankie, did you start to load the patch before giving Hubby a chance to turn off the firewall?"

Frankie: "Yes!"

Me: "That's not what he said for you to do."

Frankie continues to complain about firewalls, patches, and computers.

Hubby: "Leave the computer alone for now."

Frankie clicks seeming at random at settings in N*rton. Complaining continues.

Me, trying out my own version of the Mister Rogers voice: "Frankie. Everyone else.." Frankie interrupts. Actually he interrupts every few seconds, so just imagine this little speech coming in tiny spurts, me telling him to listen and starting over. "Frankie, everyone else gets up with just enough time to get themselves ready for school. No one has time to help you with the computer." (Wow, that was short. Why did it take me like three minutes to get it out?)

Frankie: "I KNOW. I just want to ask HUBBY to help me."

Me: "Frankie, tell me what I just said."

Frankie: "I don't know. You kept interrupting me. I couldn't hear you!"

Me: "Frankie, what I am going to say is important. Listen: everyone else planned just enough time to get ready. NO ONE has time to help you. Now, tell me what I just said."

Frankie: "No one will help me. But I got up early just so that....and this stupid patch....and... "

Hubby and I ignore him, continuing to gather our things. Well, I am gathering. Hubby is sitting at his computer going over notes for his substitute. I get Frankie's communication book for school to write that he had a meltdown this morning.

I hear Hubby tell him firmly to stop trying to change the N*rton settings. I tell Frankie to back away from the computer slowly with his hands up (trying for a little humor).

Frankie says, "I'm deleting it!"

Brian yells, "What did you delete?!!"

Frankie, "MY shortcut!"

Brian, "DUDE! That could delete EVERYone's shortcut!"

Frankie stomps off downstairs to his room.

I tell everyone to have a nice day and go to work.

There's a big thumb sticking out of America...

Today on our drive home from Frankie's appointment...

"There's a big thumb sticking out of America, but most people don't see it. We are at our apex and no civilization stays like that, so we will fall. When we fall, how do you think people will think about us?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like the may-oes."

"Did you say 'tomatoes'?"

"NO. The May-Ons. Will people remember us like we remember the May-Ons?"

"OH! I am sure people will remember us, just like we remember the Mayans."

"Because now our president is getting too much power. When we made the Declaring of Independence we said that the president could not send people to war. That power went to the Supreme something. But now the president does it and it is a big thumb sticking out of America."

---

"Isn't 60% better than 55%?"

"It depends of what it is 60% of."

"Well it says here that roy-jes can reduce their eminees to 60% of their power but warriors can reduce their eminees to 55% of their power."

"In that case 55% is better. It means that warriors can make their enemies less powerful than rogues can."

"Oh."

--
"Do you want me to find that radio station again? Maybe there will be another song by that cobra guy you liked."

"You mean Nat King Cole? Sure. See if you can find it. Let's listen to the cobra guy!"

And Frankie laughs.

Earlier he asked me if I liked Beet-oh-van. I said yes, but I liked Motzart better.

Asperger's?

Someone asked if Frankie might have Asperger's. I don't think so, although it is something that some people have considered. Here's my check list:

Asperger's

Engaging in one-sided, long-winded conversations, without noticing if the listener is listening or trying to change the subject:
-- well, long-winded and one-sided, but my sense is not that he doesn't notice that we are uninterested but that knowing that isn't enough to make him stop.

Displaying unusual nonverbal communication, such as lack of eye contact, few facial expressions, or awkward body postures and gestures
--No. He makes eye contact and has an expressive face. His postures and gestures are appropriate to a younger child.

Showing an intense obsession with one or two specific, narrow subjects, such as baseball statistics, train schedules, weather or snakes
Well, yeah. Although, as obsessed as he with WoW, he is a collector of all sorts of information. He knows all sorts of things. Last night at dinner Evan asked me how my class was going and Frankie said, "Do you know about Socree -- Socrat -- Soe---" "Socrates?" "Yeah! Did you know that he died from poison? They made him take it because he wouldn't stop teaching ... something." I assured him I did know.

Appearing not to understand, empathize with, or be sensitive to others' feelings
No. He can tell what others are feeling, although he generally doesn't know what to do about it.

Having a hard time "reading" other people or understanding humor
Just now he came into the living room with something mess and I only got as far as "Oh" and throwing him a concerned look. He stopped and waited for me to tell him what was bothering me. When I said, "that needs to be in the kitchen" he went without protest.
He understands humor, as long as it is not too subtle. He laughs at the same thing a 7-year-old would. Put on a show with a lot of physical humor and he will roll on the floor laughing.

Speaking in a voice that is monotonous, rigid or unusually fast
Well, fast, but not monotonous or rigid

Moving clumsily, with poor coordination
Yes. Trips over air. All pieces of furniture have joined in a conspiracy against him. I swear chairs stick out their legs when he walks by.

Having an odd posture or a rigid gait
No

Seeking Recommended Handheld Game

So here's the deal. The bioboys have had to buy all their electronic gaming stuff with allowance and/or gift money. (Well, we got them the Wii for Christmas and I did replace Andrew's DS when it was stolen.) However, the bioboys have accumulated so much STUFF that whenever a boy moves in who has nothing we have always discussed buying them one thing: CD player, MP3 player, hand-held game console (e.g. Gameboy).

This WoW thing is getting really exhausting. Frankie does NOT have the judgment skills or patience to play it well. He just doesn't. He is obsessed with it, but he is not doing well.

It is beginning to try my patience too. Today I listened to a long debate about whether he should create a character on a heavily populated realm so that there would be lots of high level characters to beg from (yes, I said beg), or on a less populated realm so there would not be so many people to pick on him. (That he perceives characters in WoW as laughing at him when they clearly are not is very worrisome, but that is another issue).

After an hour on that topic he spent the next couple of hours debating whether he should be a warrior or a rogue. This kid has, by his own count, created and played at least 20 characters in the past month. Most of them he has deleted. He has tried out every occupation and every race. He should know which one he would like the best, but he doesn't. He kept reading me descriptions of abilities and asking me what I thought. I said four times, "Frankie, I need you to be quiet while I am grading papers" (each request got me an "Oh yeah. Sorry" and ten minutes of silence) and then said, "I really don't know which is better. It has to be your choice" about 10 times.

So I want to tempt him into spending his electronic time on something else. Of course he may spend his time playing something else and TALKING about WoW ALL THE TIME, but that is a risk I am prepared to take.

So... if you are a gamer, I am seeking recommendations.

I would be looking for a game that:
-is easy to do well in both in terms of strategy and in terms of fine motor skills (DS games that require careful moving of the stylus are no good).
-is fantasy-related, preferably he would get to play as a wizard or druid or elf or something cool

I have a good gaming re-sell store so I can probably get older games and older machines.

And as long as I am seeing advice -- anyone who knows anything about helping children deal with obsessions, I'm all ears.

Do I tell him that he is not allowed to talk about it more than a certain amount of time? Do I continue to let him do what he is going to do and say things like, "Hmm" and "Interesting" and "I really don't know, sweetie" indefinitely?

I'll be so glad to go back to work tomorrow.

ISO Richard "Clay" OConnor

Now I wouldn't do this for just anyone -- but a foster care alum trying to find another foster care alum -- that's not just anyone.

• Stepdad owned a tattoo shop
  Went to Academy of Richmond County
  Was in the foster care system of Augusta, GA
  Knew Connie Lord (shes the one who said you were looking)
  Previously lived in Oklahoma with sister-in-law and brother
  Previously lived in Gainesville, FL
  Blonde hair, about 5' 8"
  The names Tina Oates, John Chandler, Bill Rigdon, Margery Hall, and Clifford Black should ring a bell with him (not to mention Mr. Johnson, our high school principal).

If you know him, or might be him, please go here and contact Cari. She would love to get in touch with him again.