Where are the children?

When you set out to foster or adopt children, you are met with mountains of propaganda trying to convince you that there are thousands of adorable children in dire straits just hoping and praying every night at bedtime that you will dash in on your white horse, scoop them up and make their lives wonderful.

The reality is there are maybe a few dozen kids who need permanent homes at any given time…at least that I can find anything out about…and that is all across Southern California. And learning anything about them is no easy feat. You are at the mercy of those who are seeking out the perfect household suited for the children before any movement can be made.

On the advice of folks at our agency, I’m scouring the lists of photos published of all these smiling creatures saying ‘please take me home!’ The plan is to start following up, learning the ropes and then greasing the wheels however we can to find out what’s really going on behind the scenes, making up our own minds about whether there is a potential match there and then advocating as best we can.

It’s supposed to in the best interest of the child, right?

SO…I am not writing much here, because there is not much to write about. Weeks and weeks racing to the finish line, believing there were thousands of kids out there who needed us. Only now to have two weeks of absolutely quiet.

I feel like a school girl waiting by the phone for her boy crush to call and ask her to the prom. And, then every time it rings it turns out to be a wrong number or the L.A. Phil asking for donations.

“I’ve got to get off the phone!” I want to screech at people. “They might be calling.”

So, let’s see if the craziness we anticipated starts in January. After all…new year. New beginnings. New family members?

Only time will tell.

A Home Study is the Bible...only about You

Don’t feel like reading a lot? That’s okay. If you read nothing else here: just read this: when it comes to fostering or adopting children in “the system,” nothing matters more than your home study.

That’s the HOME...STUDY.

When you venture into the realm of foster/adoption (or as they say for short: fost-adopt), there is life before the homes study and then there is life after the home study.

Let me tell you a little but about what a home study represents.

If you happen to be someone as ignorant as I was a couple of months ago, you would assume a home study means someone coming to your house to make sure you don’t have exposed electrical wires, a pool without a fence, an unlocked liquor cabinet, etc.

Well, what they really mean is a binder about 5 inches think with every detail anybody could possibly want to know about you. It has a picture of you (and your partner if applicable) on the front. It has information on your family history, your medical history, your life story, philosophy of parenting, a sample of your toenail clippings…well no. It doesn’t have a sample of your toenail clippings, but it might as well. It’s an extremely thorough profile of who you are and the type of home you are likely to provide.

So, now that we’ve been certified as ‘resource parents’ (i.e., the state’s relatively new term for parents cleared to take in foster children and/or adopt from the foster system) things have become pin drop quiet.

I am figuring this out as I go, but I have already managed to gather that social workers aren’t exactly beating down your door trying to push kids into your home. Nope. Seems you have to be an advocate for getting the right kids into your facility.

I’ve also learned that things tend to slow down quite a bit in December…for two reasons. One…when school is out, activity slows as teachers are off, and it seems most of the reports about problems in the home come from teachers. Also, people who work at the agencies and the county (and trust me…NOTHING happens without the county’s involvement) tend to take a lot of time off near the end of the year.

So, after three months of turning our lives upside down trying to meet all of the dozens of stringent requirements in time for the holidays, it seems little is likely to happen until after the new year begins.

So…back to the home study…since becoming certified, we are feeling really official. We’re now authorized to scour those online photo lists of adorable children who are just dying to call you daddy and inquire about their cases. So…I’ve looked into a couple, and invariably when you call the “hotline” that’s plastered everywhere you get patched through to some disgruntled county worker who wants to get you off the phone as quickly as possible. They’re not terribly forthcoming with information and not really keen on talking to you at all unless they have your HOME STUDY.

“Your agency needs to send over your home study,” she said.

“Okay…well I am sure they will as soon as possible…now about these kids who really need a home…”

“Work with your agency and make sure they send us your home study…then we can talk…”

Then I’m looking at these online lists that don’t require you to call anybody. You can just hit a button that says ‘Yes! I’m interested’ But, before you do, you have to swear under penalty of perjury that you have a completed HOME STUDY.

Sure enough…when the therapist came to visit us three weeks ago, he said he was there to complete our HOME STUDY.

Weird, I thought. DIdn’t that other social worker already walk the premises and make sure we had purchased all our child-proof devices? Wasn’t that our home study?

No. That was just a home INSPECTION. A HOME STUDY is the comprehensive stack of photos, forms and documents bound together by three magical rings, promising to unlock the questions of the universe. And, it has your picture on it. You know…the one of you and your hubby wearing ball caps and standing in front of Tiananmen Square last year.

That’s the HOME STUDY.

So…if someone were to ask me what I wished I knew in September what I know, I would say this: I would have liked to know what a home study is and how I get one. Because once you have a home study you have your ticket to venture into a whole new world of wonder and enchantment.

I have a home study now. So, let the journey begin.

Did I pass?

Ever taken a test and feel like your life depended on it? Sweating bullets wondering whether you earned a high enough score to achieve your next goal…or even passed?

I remember just under a year ago when we were buying a house. They really hold you up to the light, poke, prod and examine you from every possible angle. I remembering having to explain on a finance document why I was late paying the Macy’s bill once back in 2012.

“What do I say?” I asked my financial advisor. “I just forgot and so made the payment late.”

“Just say that,” she said.

It felt really strange having to explain myself to such a degree, particularly about something so insignificant so many years ago. I did it anyway, and ultimately we passed the test and were able to move into our new home and start paying the mortgage.

It’s never easy being scrutinized, and they really look at you through a microscope when you are doing something like buying a house.

Well, that was nothing.

I get it. Taking care of children who are technically wards of the state is no trivial matter. We are constantly remind of the horror stories about children being removed from their homes out of concern for their safety and well being only to go into a foster home and suffer much worse fates.

So, they want to be absolute sure you have your act together and are someone of solid character before entrusting kids to your care…especially those who are already coping with traumatic experiences.

Even so, it’s not easy feeling as though your life and character are on display for weeks on as you struggle to present a rock solid case that you are the world’s most perfect parent with the most perfect home and the most perfect plan to ensure no harm could ever possibly come to any children in your care.

In the last two months I have had a physical exam, two visits with my psychiatrist, CPR training, a tuberculosis test, an FBI background check, my car inspected by a mechanic and produced a mountain of documents that included pay stubs, tax returns, marriage certificate, proof of insurance…heck, even the vet records showing the dogs’ shots are up to date. 

We moved mountains to get items into the right hands as quickly as possible, because we don’t like creating delays.

Then a month went by, and we were lucky enough to receive a call letting us know it’s time for our home study.

The home ‘inspection’ actually occurred back in October, so for our purposes ‘home study’ is code for therapist guy comes into the house and asks you to tell your life story. He spent a couple hours with hubby and me as a couple then a couple hours with each one of us individually. He spent over six hours in our home.

We delved into our childhoods…what we liked and disliked about them. Our interests, hobbies, relationships with our family members, each other, how we resolve conflicts and on and on.

Then a couple days later we receive a written report detailing everything about our lives, our personalities, our approach to child care. And while it was surreal to read what felt like a non-fiction book about my life, my marriage and my home, it was comforting to read section after section reading ‘no concerns here.’

Shortly thereafter we received the congratulatory email from our recruiter. She said we’d be receiving a call in the coming days to make an appointment to come in and sign not he dotted line. SO, we’re thrilled. Only now it’s harder than ever having to wait.

Then yesterday I got an email asking me to explain more about why I started seeing a psychiatrist int he first place.

Easy, I responded. Primary doctor knew my family history, thought I was a nervous person and so recommended it.

Then today I got another email asking for more details.

Ugh. It was years ago, I responded. It wasn’t a big deal he just thought it would be a good idea for me to look into it for quality of life purposes. I’ve never been less than functional and I am fine now. I thought the letter from my shrink was enough to make that case already.

And now…continuing to wait again. Hoping that will be the end of the questions.

Don’t know what’s happening or why things I think are pretty straightforward should take so long. So I’m trying to distract myself and continue enjoying my perfect life and await word that we’re moving to the next step toward being blessed with having kiddos in our care. Trying to keep my eye on the prize. Trying  to keep my lack of patience in check.

It’s never easy to jump through a lot of hoops, putting your life and your personal business on display to people you have never met. But, you do without hesitation if it’s important. You do it if it’s part of the test you have to pass to achieve you goals.

So…I think the test has been taken now, and I am just waiting to get my grade posted so all is official and out in the open so I can move forward with what really matters.

Reminding a kid to brush his teeth, do his homework, eat his dinner, get ready for holidays, be a good person, tell the truth, study for his tests…

Hurry up and wait

I have many traits — not all positive necessarily. One of my worst is a lack of patience. When I want something I want it to happen now.

Ironic, I know, that someone like me would want to embark on a journey that would test even the most patient of people. But, I know that when it’s important, I can be extremely patient, so I don’t worry about that.

Here’s what’s making me crazy now. After about a month of non-stop insanity with doctor’s appointments, CPR classes, vehicle inspections, pet records, shopping for bulletin boards and child proof accessories for home — not to mention a MOUNTAIN of paperwork (I think I have cramps from signing my name so many times) — everything has come to a screeching halt.

And, now, we wait.

It seems we’re waiting for one of the most overwhelmed and understaffed departments in the nation’s largest county to approve our home as a ‘facility’ for foster children. We’re told it could take two or three weeks. Okay…

ARGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!

Again, I don’t mind waiting for things when I understand the reason for waiting. But, when you are just waiting for some bureaucrat to make his or her way through a pile of documents in the inbox to be rubber stamped, it could make one’s hair fall out.

So, I am taking deep breaths. Deep breaths for the sake of having the opportunity to do what I really want: experience the joys of parenthood while making some kind of positive difference in the life of a child who really needs it.

I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s true.

A respected professional recently told me that older parents make the best parents. No offense to younger parents (my mom was 22 when I was born), but it stands to reason that those with life experience and wisdom have a lot to offer a child and are well equipped to be the calm in a child’s storm.

And, in the process of growing my wisdom, I’ve acquired an understanding that sometimes in order to accomplish a goal you have to play the game. And, sometimes that game is the waiting game.

And, so here we go. Deep breath. Focus on painting the kids room, sprucing up the house and thinking deeply about all the wonderful ways I am going to teach kids about the wonders of the world.

So many innocent lives shaken apart by chaos and unrest in their homes. They need a place to grow and learn while their families regroup. I am here to help with that, and it’s going to be amazing for all involved. I am convinced.

And, so here we go.

Tic toc tic toc… 

Focus on the Fun Stuff While in Purgatory

When you set out to learn about becoming a foster/adoptive parent, you start Googling things like ‘foster parent in Los Angeles.’ Then you consistently get hit with websites that aim to convince you what a piece of cake it is.

‘Hey! Become a resource family now! There are thousands of children who desperately need you! It’s as easy as 1-2-3!’

Then you find out there is a lot more to it than filling out a form, giving a thumb print and a blood sample and calling it a day.

That’s because the 45 foster/family agencies in Los Angeles County want to recruit you. They are competing with one another, and the last thing they want to do is frighten you away so you end up running to another agency.

So…we learned quickly to go into this with an open mind and a lot of patience.

There are tons of meaningless forms and checklists that you are legally obligated to sign and post on your wall. You have to show you have enough canned food in the garage to feed everyone in the household for a week in case of an alien invasion or some other disaster. You have to submit copies of recent paychecks, car insurance certificates and all toenail clippings from the past six months.

Okay, so you don’t have to submit toenail clippings, but there will be items in the myriad of checklists that boggle your mind. So, just go with the flow and do what needs to be done for the greater good. There is really nothing on the to-do list that is that hard. It’s just a super long list of a lot of tedious tasks and can seem overwhelming at first. But, just go through it carefully and make plans and you will be fine.

I recently ran across this 2017 comprehensive guide for those seeking resource family approval produced by the Step Up Coalition. It gives a detailed and straightforward account of what it takes to get certified as a resource parent. 

So, all that said…we hit a milestone this week: We completed our paperwork and passed our home inspection.

Hurray.

No explanation point there, because now we’re in limbo.

So, as i wait and think about fun things like what color to pain the kids room, here are a few insights:

• The home inspection is not a big deal. As long as you pay close attention to all the details on the checklist the agency provides you — even the ones that don’t make sense — you will do just fine. There is not really a lot to sweat over. If you have room for the kids to sleep and can show the environment is clean and safe, and reasonable social worker will support you.

• When something is important to you, you don’t drag your feet in making it happen. That is until the bureaucracies get involved. As long as we were were working alongside the foster family agency, everything moved quickly. We received responses immediately and were able to get questions answered. Now that our case has been handed over to the county for their rubber stamp the process has come to a screeching halt. It’s a good exercise in patience, and I am keeping my chin up, recognizing that now that I am not bogged down with paperwork, fingerprints, doctors appointments and CPR classes, I can focus on the fun stuff…like shopping for furniture and brushing up on my algebra and U.S. history so I can be effective at helping with homework.
  
  (By the way, i can't emphasize this enough: the advantage of having so many agencies who want you as their resource parent is important. If you can't get your questions answered or things don't move quickly enough, pick another agency. You need one that works at your speed and that you can connect with.)

• I think planning to be a resource parent is more involved than planning a wedding or buying a house — both of which we have done in the last 16 months. I suppose it makes sense. When it comes to the safety and welfare of children, why not put prospective caregivers to the most rigorous tests possible? So far we’ve passed with flying colors. Now…we swim through red tape and stay afloat.

Now comes the fun part…finding answers to the big questions. The ones that aren’t written down in any guidebooks. Like…how do you talk to children in your care about their experiences? How do you go about having a relationship with the birth mother? What should kids in your care call you? What’s it like interacting with a teacher who is accustomed to interacting with someone else (or not)? How will my dogs respond to having children in the house? How will I help ensure a child follows a healthy diet and learns responsibility and discipline without become the target of hate and anger?

Those are just a few that come to mind. i intend to provide answers to those as I go forward. So. More to come.

Today is My Favorite Day

“What day is it?” asked Pooh. 

“It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.

“My favorite day,” said Pooh.” 

― A.A. Milne

I’ve never been one of those people who spends a lot of time looking up and posting quotes for public view. I’ve always thought of people who do that a lot to be on the pretentious side.

Lately, though, I’ve noticed myself doing it more and more. And, I suppose a reason for that is I am embarking on new and unfamiliar territory, and so I am looking to the wisdom of others to guide me.

I know I need to be prepared for the inevitable pain and heartbreak that will come with fostering children. I know I will be thrown into situations for which I will be completely unprepared. And, so I am looking to available calming and centering thoughts to help keep things in perspective even when strong emotions cloud my thinking.

Moreover, as parent figures of any sort, we will need to know how to hold ourselves together to be pillars of reliability for children — particularly those who have experienced the kinds of trauma I cannot even imagine.

And, so keeping oneself stable and focused and — as our recruiter frequently says (they have folks who’s main job is finding and helping candidates to become resource parents, because more are always needed) ‘you need to be the calm in their storm.’

And, so hubby and I are doing our best to prepare our environment to be suitable for the job ahead. 

And, so wise thoughts that summarize some of our most deeply held values and guiding principles just might come in handy. Even more, they may help us in teaching children some of the most important lessons they will need to learn.

One lesson I’ve struggled with? Remember when and where you are.

Nervous people like me tend to spend a great deal of time and energy thinking and worrying about the past and the future…at the expense of the present. My hubby is a much more centered person than I am and really good at living ‘in the moment.’ It’s one of the reason people have often said we compliment each other well.

Well, now is my chance to pass on that lesson to others in a new generation. And, if I can help a handful of children carry these bits of wisdom with them as they grow into wonderful adult human beings, then I will have done a worthy job.

So…for the moment. Remember what Pooh said. The most important day is today. It’s the only day you have. Do everything you possibly can to make it the best day of your life.

To Foster/Adopt in Los Angeles California

When beginning to embark on this journey, I immediately set out to absorb as much as possible by reading about others’ experiences. I was pleasantly surprised to find heaps of blogs and discussion forums from around the globe— and yet unpleasantly surprised to find a dearth of such groups in Southern California or even in California.

(I figured it those most similar to me would be those in the same system or at least those who have to abide by the same state laws.)

It’s not to say there are none…they’re just few and far between, and you really have to look for them.

And, so as a gay, middle-aged prospective foster/adoptive father in Los Angeles, let me say a little about what I have learned in a short amount of time.

Real quick though…before I do that, I really need to plug a blog I stumbled upon written by a woman in Los Angeles who decided with her husband about a decade ago that they wanted to adopt a teen-age boy from the foster system.

It’s about ten years worth of posts…I am only on Month 4, and I am absolutely rioted, so check it out, and start from the beginning if you can.

So, back to what I have learned so far.

Here are a few nuggets:

1. Find the right agency

There are roughly 30,000 kids living in foster care in Los Angeles County. Not surprisingly, the county’s child welfare department is overwhelmed and spread thin. So, if you are not a fan of bureaucracies that move about as quickly as the I-405 during evening rush hour, then don’t work directly with the county. Work with one of the 45 foster family adoption (FFA) agencies that partner with the county to help match prospective parents with children who need homes.

Many of these are funded largely by private donations and so can provide resources that the county often cannot. The way they work is they are licensed by the county to work on your behalf to certify your home as a ‘facility’ and you as a resource parent. There are many to choose some, and most organizations recommending contacting multiple agencies, going to multiple orientations and finding the agency that is a good fit for you.

Here’s a useful list from 2018

2. Find an agency that’s close to you

You’re going to be spending a lot of time there, so don’t kill yourself finding one 100 miles away.

3. Start thinking about the mundane things early

Start making appointments with your doctor, book a pediatric CPR class (if you have’t been certified or re-certified in the past year) and order items for your home as soon as you decide you are serious. It’s not that any particular item on the long list they give you is that hard to do. It’s just that there’s like 100 things you have to do to show you are serious and committed (and…oh yeah…to prove you are not a child molester or anything). The time it takes to accomplish all these things — especially if you have a full time job like I do — adds up quickly and you’d be amazed at how one seemingly minor thing can hold you up for weeks.

4. Bear with the classes

The County has a specific curriculum that the parent classes must follow, 80 percent of which will not be useful to you. But, they have to do it, so grin and bear it and respect the facilitator (he/she has no choice but to put you through this torture). The agencies DO have flexibility though in how they deliver the classes. We found that while some agencies require you to go to classes over a six-week period, we found an agency that enabled us to knock all the classes out across two Saturdays. The faster you can get through it, the better.

5. Identify a babysitter fast.

No…this isn’t asking your neighbor’s daughter to come over for a few hours for $20. If you ever need someone to watch your foster children for you, it has to be someone who jumped through most of the same hoops you did. SO, find a trusted friend or family member who loves you enough to be willing to do all kinds of mundane tasks to be qualified. You can always get more later, but you need at least one to start with (helpful hint: if you know folks who have already been certified to be foster parents, they will work just fine).

There is more I could say about what we’ve learned, but I realize this is already getting incredibly long, so I will stop and add more thoughts as I go.

If you take away one thing from all this, it’s this: shop around for the right agency. They’re not all the same, and putting in the time and effort up front will save you a lot of headaches and frustration down the line.

Perspective is Everything

“I don't want to bring another kid into this world. But, how do you argue against loving one that's already here?” (Quote from the film The Martian Child)

I haven’t seen that movie. I’ll have to put it on my to-do list…my very, very long to-do list.

Even so I saw the quote and I love it. Even if it sounds a bit harsh.

Let me be frank: I have long thought there are too damn many kids in the world. I mean, the Earth’s population is ballooning, and there are so many millions of children who don’t have enough to eat and don’t have roofs over their heads. So, why do people keep having more kids? Moreover, why do people have kids they know very well they cannot take care of?

I don't know the answer to that question. But there are questions that — with a little reflection — I have made progress in answering.

Right here in Los Angeles, thankfully most children have access to food, clean water and shelter. But there are so many — literally thousands every day — who don’t have the satisfaction of knowing there is someone who cares whether they live or die.

Yeah…I’ve often thought of myself as a heartless bastard (no, not literally…I was born in wedlock). At times in fact, I’ve worn it as a badge of honor. Not sure why.

But, even I have to admit that I have a heart. And, it breaks at the thought of a child who feels sad. A child who feels like there is nowhere to belong. Without a home. Without a family. Without anyone who cares. Without any hope for the future.

I complain far too much about my own childhood. Growing up poor…struggling with my identity during a time when homophobia was still perfectly acceptable…and all the mistakes my own parents made (however innocently).

But, I can’t say I have ever wondered if anybody loved me. I can’t say I have ever wished I had a home. I never had to wonder if anybody cared how I did in school. Dang…I never even had to talk about how much it sucks to the child of divorced parents (mom and dad have been happily married for nearly half a century).

I am pretty damn lucky. And, with all the shit I’ve endured in my short life, I’ve come out pretty okay. I dare say better than most even. I have a beautiful home. I’m pretty healthy. I have a huge network of family and friends who are amazing. And — most importantly — I have a husband I’ve been with for nearly 17 years…and waking up to him and coming home to him every day is just as exciting as the day I met him.

So, I’m pretty happy.

And, if I can find an opportunity to share that happiness with someone else — i.e., a child who really needs a little happiness, than of course I am going to jump on it.

So, in case you are wondering why I decided to embark on this journey, I’d say there are many reasons. But, that’s probably the biggest.

Question answered. Now you can rest easy.

Never say Never

I never thought I was the marrying type. And, yet here I am…just having celebrated my first wedding anniversary.

I never thought I would be able to afford a house in Los Angeles. And, here I am…four bedrooms, a yard, a husband…and a tenant in the front room (and, he’s a super cool guy).

Heck. I never even thought I’d be a dog owner. So much responsibility, and I can be kind of selfish. Plus, so many heartbreaks when I was a boy. And, here I am…the proud papa of two chihuahua mixes for seven years now. Oh, how I love those little animals.

And, a few years ago, when I said I was adopting dogs, friends would say “You know it’s just a stepping stone to having kids.”

I would laugh, firmly saying, “No. Not this time. Without a doubt, absolutely not.”

And, yet here we are. Hubby and I are embarking on a new journey…to become parents…for the first time at age 46 (hubby and I were born about a month apart, albeit in different countries).

What kind of parents will we be? Don’t know.

How many children will we have? Who will they be? How old will they be? Will they be boys or girls? How long will they live with us? Where will they come from and where will they go in life?

Don’t know.

We’re at the tail end of completing a mountain of paperwork, getting examined by the doctor, finger-printed, and submitting copies of finance records, insurance certificates and sketches of the floor plan of our house. We’re doing things I never thought I’d be doing ever in my life: installing child-proof locks, compiling food and water for a disaster kit and a fire extinguisher in the hallway.

Oy my god. we just put in a land line.

All of this so a social worker can poke around in our drawers and cupboard to make sure our home is a safe place for minors.

Our lives are under a microscope...even more so than when we bought our home. All because we want to get the certification to become foster parents or even adopt from the foster system.

I am not usually comfortable with answering a questions with ‘Don’t know.’ In fact, I’m kind of a control freak. But, this time I have to be. Because the journey has just begun, and we have no idea what shape it will take.

Which is one of the reasons I am writing all this down.

More to come.