When I was a kid growing up I lived in 22 different homes by the time I was eighteen. Aot of people say "Aw...that must have been awful." but really when it comes down to it, I am glad I had that experience or I may not have never known what a good home was supposed to be like. I mean when you think about it, how many people get to experience living and seeing the environment of 22 different homes and how all kinds of people live their lives. I got to see what I liked about each of the homes and also what I didnt like. That experience allowed me to know exactly the kind of place I wanted my own home to be. There were definately homes that I liked better than others and some I wanted to stay in permenently but sometimes it just didnt work out that way. For the most part I knew the people I was sent to stay with because they were relatives like aunts and uncles or cousins or sometimes friends I knew. There was a couple times that I had to go live with strangers and obviously that was a bit more daunting to me until I got to know them better.
The first time I had to go live with strangers I was taken in by a woman who was the best friend of one of my cousins. Her and her husband had an extra room because their son had moved out into his own place. My cousin Betty must have told her about me needing a home because my grandmother had died and she offered to give me a place to stay and they were going to sign up to become my foster parents. I was 15 years old at the time. I went over to meet them one afternoon and they seemed like fairly nice people. I loved that they had cable tv which I had never had before. I also told them I smoked cigs which they did not seem to have a problem with. The only rule was that I couldnt smoke in my room. Her reasoning was that she would rather me smoke in front of them than trying to sneak around since I was going to smoke anyway. Actually I thought that was pretty cool since I had to hide my smoking from everyone else I had lived with. I moved in with them the next week. It was pretty cool. We went out to eat most of the time since she did not like to cook alot. That was a treat to me because I had not gotten to do that alot.
She liked sitting up late at night talking on the CB. She let me talk on there too and we used to have alot of fun talking to the truckers and all kinds of people. My handle was Doodlebug. She liked to laugh and have fun and loved playing Yatzee and cards into the wee hours of the morning. She was the one who taught me the card game of Oh Hell...Her husband would go to bed listening to the police scanners and we would sit up all night laughing, playing games and talking on the CB. I drank Coke and she would always add a nip or two of rum to hers which made her even funnier. Whenever she would finally wear out and head off to bed I would sit up and watch movies on cable tv until I could no longer hold my eyes open. It was fun to me to be able to have freedoms like that which was alot different from some of the previous homes I had been in.
Her son was dating a girl and they would both come over alot of times with another cousin and the four of us would go do things together like go to the movies or hang out at the mall or arcades. It was kind of like double dating and I had never done anything like that. I liked staying there but unfortunately it only lasted about four weeks. Her son had lost his job and was having problems paying the rent for his apartment, so guess what? He moved back in which meant I had to move out because there was not room for the both of us. I was used to it but still I liked being there with them and wished I could have stayed longer. Probably the best thing I liked was that she treated me more like an adult than just some orphaned kid.
The other family I stayed with that were total strangers to me was a family that was an emergency home for foster babies. They lived right across the street from the high school and I was getting ready to go into my senior year. It was summertime and I was 16 then and had been kind of on my own a bit staying here and there with friends and different cousins. My social worker who managed my case from the time my grandmother died found out that one of my foster homes was not keeping me anymore and had told me I had to move out without notifying the foster care agency about it. They were still collecting the checks for me but I was no longer there. My social worker was pissed and even more pissed when she found out I was staying here and there and partying and doing things I shouldnt be doing!
My previous foster home had been a cousin I had lived with for the previous year. She told me I had to move out because it wasnt fair to her daughter to have to share a room with me anymore. She had two kids who were younger than me and I guess maybe because of my age, it was more than they bargained for. It wasnt that I was a bad kid, although I did skip school a few times, but I had not gotten into the drugs or heavy drinking yet... they just didnt want me there anymore, or rather her daughter complained so much about me and that she hated sharing all her stuff with me, so my cousin told me I would have to find another place to stay. So I left and went out on my own for a bit. That's probably when I got into the things that I probably shouldnt have. But you give a 16 year old kid the freedom to do whatever they want to damn well do and they are bound to get into things they shouldnt be doing. I was no exception.
Anyway... the social worker caught up to me and told me I would have to go back into foster care because I couldn't go off on my own and stay where ever I wanted to. She told me she had found a family that was willing to take me in and she wanted me to meet them. She said that most kids my age had a harder time being placed in families because they usually wanted younger ones. This family had read about me in the foster care newsletter and since they lived across the street from the high school they thought it would be a good match because it was only going to be for a year anyway. Beside she told me that if this family didnt work out, the only other choice would be to go into a group home for kids. I definately did not want to do that.
So off I went to meet them. They seemed nice and the man took me aside and assured me he would not try any funny stuff with me because that was what his wife was for. Not sure that I believed him at that point and I was taken aback by his directness but I guess because of my sexual abuse history it was his way of telling me I wouldnt have to worry about that. I wanted no part of having a discussion of that type so I just nodded. The wife was alot younger than the husband and they already had another foster child in their care, a baby boy who was about six months old named Kenny. He was adorable...bald headed and not a tooth one in his mouth. Big bright blue eyes with dark eyelashes and a big ole grin that just drew you in. I was more interested in the baby than the parents but we all agreed and they said they would let me stay on the 3rd floor which was the attic and they would fix the room up for me. I got to go and pick out wall paper and so it was settled and I moved in with them.
We had plenty of ups and downs in that year and I gave my share of grief to them. I almost got kicked out once because I came home stoned one time and had been drinking. But they weren't perfect either by a long run. The mother was actually a closet drinker and was having an affair with her husband's best friend. The husband was a bookie on the side and a high stakes gambler. He spent most of his time at the track. Once we had somebody come to the house to collect his money and a gun was shown as a threat to pay up. The husband accused me once of stealing money from them which when in fact it was the wife taking the money from her husband's hiding place. Boy, the secrets that I had on the both of them.... Plenty of trauma drama that I wanted no part of, since I had already had enough chaos in my young life to last a lifetime.
The one thing I did enjoy though was the babies. I loved Kenny and we had so much fun together. He got to calling me Sissy and I would tickle him and he would giggle and laugh and laugh until he could barely breathe. He always brought a smile to my face. We played hide and seek and I would read to him and cuddle him. I ended up babysitting him most of the time while both the parents went out and did their thing. I adored him and he was definately a little cutie. Kenny ended up being adopted by my foster parents. They had him since birth and his mother had major drug problems and was never able to get straightened out. My foster parents spoiled Kenny and gave him everything a kid could ever desire. Sometimes that can be a bad thing too but hopefully everything turned out good for him as he grew up. He would be a grown man now... it would be nice to see how his life turned out.
Since it was an emergency home for foster babies, we had several little ones throughout the year. After a while I got the real jist of why I was there. I think it was really to help out with the babies because sometimes we had up to three babies under a year old there at the same time. I really didnt mind a whole lot because I adored babies and children but sometimes it felt like I was being used not because they were caring people and wanted to give me a good home. Sometimes a social worker would come in the middle of the night with a baby that had been taken away from their parents because of neglect or abuse...such as the case with a tubby little bald baby named Willard. He had big brown eyes and was very alert. He was about three months old and looked about six months because he was so huge. This little guy was covered in filth when he came and he wasnt very happy. His clothes were practically stiff they were so dirty. His poor little ears took about sixteen cotton swabs to clean them. Willard was a little tub and the boy could certainly eat! He was still on formula and baby cereal. We used to fix the baby cereal for him in a special bottle so he could kind of drink it and he would suck every bit of it down in like 5 seconds as soon as you put it in his mouth. We didnt have him very long, but I got the joy of taking care of them even in the middle of the night. It gave me such good experience and it confirmed my love of children even more than I already had.
One little girl was very special to me. Audra was six months old when she came to us and she could not even sit up yet. Her mother had left her lying in a bed constantly and she only knew how to drink from a baby bottle. We had to work with her to build her muscles up in her legs until eventually she was up standing and walking. Soon she was eating like normal for her age and she learned so fast when somebody took the time to work with her. She was blond haired, blue eyed and sweet as could be. She was sort of bashful and shy and she had a cute little smile. I toted her around on my hip and took her every where with me. Audra's mother was 28 and had like 7 kids and all of them had been taken away because of neglect. She stayed with us for nearly a year before being taken back to go with her mother. Her mother had decided to let all the other kids be adopted except for the baby which was Audra. I cried when they took her away because I had become so attached to her. Often times I felt like she was my own. I had lost a baby when I was much younger in a miscarriage and so many times I wished I had had a child of my own. But it was not meant to be and I was way too young to be able to care for a child of my own anyway since I was still very much a child myself. The Great Spirit has a way a working things out like that. I am glad to have had the joy of children in my life at that time and I treasure a child's laughter and their sense of discovery and innocence. I take that joy with me. I often wonder what became of Audra and I hope she had a good life after she left us.
I guess that's really all for now... just things rambling through my mind. It's good to write about them and remember the things that were good from my life back then.
Until next time...
Love,
PolarB ;)
