Home Sweet AnnaBelle











{February 27, 2011}   The Depths of my Rage…

So, I’ve disappeared a bit. There are reasons for this, and while I can’t get into particulars here, I want to discuss a few things that I’ve had the dubious honour of learning over the last 3 months.

First, the foster care system where I live SUCKS. Just…SUCKS.

Aboriginal children are treated like possessions, paycheques, and houseplants, at best.

No mind is paid to attachment. NONE.

Respite caregivers are helpless, even if they’ve known a child their entire life, and been a steady caregiver throughout.

Our system is more concerned about saving money than saving children’s lives, or saving families. You’d think they’d be able to strike a happy medium, right? Yeah, well, hope springs fucking eternal.

Foster parents are nothing more than vendors and have no power to advocate for the best interest of children. Zero. The courts and any other powers that be quite simply don’t GIVE A SHIT.

Even in the face of a reasonable solution that will provide minimal disruption for the child, Children’s Services will opt for the option that makes the least sense, and will turn a kid’s world upside down. EVERY. FUCKING. TIME.

Foster parents are naive, but it’s often not their fault. We ask questions, but those questions go unanswered in an effort to cut foster parents off at the knees and keep them quiet. I wouldn’t ordinarily say something so brazen, but what I have witnessed recently shocked even me, and I am not easy to shock when it comes to anything pertaining to foster care. Really.

So…I just want to say, if ever there is a foster parent reading this post:

PLEASE advocate. Don’t rely on your worker to tell you the whole truth. You MUST, MUST, MUST continue to ask questions, attend any court dates you are permitted to attend, and fight TOOTH AND NAIL if you believe a child to be in peril. You MUST, because it is your moral obligation as a foster parent, and a human being. Please do not simply “accept” what you are told by the system. Get lawyers, escalate complaints, write letters and be tireless.

Children die. Child abuse is not going away, but common sense IS. It’s NOT OK to send a child back to abuse without a fight of some kind. It’s not.

Children’s Services needs to remember who they work for. CHILDREN.

Advertisements


{August 29, 2010}   It’s NOT Getting Any Easier

I am missing my Dad SO MUCH. Today was a Mommy & Boy day. We had fun, we went to visit “Gaga” (which is what he calls my mother…If she only knew the woman with whom she shares that monicker…HA HA!). Anyway, we took the route out to her home that goes through/past the teeny town (hamlet) where M and I are looking at properties.

When I was a kid, if we drove by cows, my Dad would always honk the horn and say, “Hello, Ladies!”. And now, barring a compelling reason to NOT honk the horn, I always do the same.

We drove by a field of cows today, and I looked back at A, making ‘mooooo’ sounds, and I honked the horn,  and called, “Hello, Girls!”. He giggled, and I chuckled, thinking about how my Dad would tell my son at some point about his youth spent cattle ranching, and some of the funny stories that came with it.

A will never hear those stories from my Dad.

You know, I am beginning to understand this loss, and sometimes, I even feel a sense of peace. But it’s things like this…The little things…that really hurt. He got to see all his other grandchildren grown, and he LOVED my kids. He told EVERYONE about them. He thought they were the cutest, funniest, smartest kids he’d ever known. There was something invigorating to him about having wee ones around again, after so many years…

I don’t know. I’m rambling. And I’m sorry. My point, though, is that the loss seems to become more and more profound as time goes, and as I tally up the moments that I will never have again, or that my children will never have at all.

It makes my heart ache, and I feel so fucking cheated. I’m not even 30 years old, for Christ’s sake, and he’s gone already. I feel like everyone else got so much more time.

But then I remember a buddy of mine who lost his Dad when he was 14,  and many I’ve known who never had fathers in their lives at all…and I think to myself how blessed I am to have had him as long as I did. I guess there’s that. He saw me grown. He walked me down the aisle. He met my kids. I also got to see him in his older years. Much more subdued, mellowed out, and finally not swimming upstream.

Right now, though, I just don’t give a shit. I want him back, to say all the things I wish I could have said if I’d have been at the hospital just a little sooner.

FUCK.



et cetera