Big, Big Mistake

I called my foster friend with the four siblings and told her I had a respite for the week.  She asked who it was, and when I told her, she said, "Oh yeah, I've had him and his sister a couple of times.  They are in respite a lot."  

Okay, I get it.  As much as we love kids, we all could use a break every once in a while.  I know when I was a little girl, my  mother got a break every weekend when my brother and I went to my grandmother's house.  Truth be known, I slept over her house every weekend from ages three until sixteen when I moved in and had permanent sleep overs!  I get it.  We all need breaks.  No shade here.

But according to these notes, it looked like this little boy was spending multiple weekends every month in respite care.  How many breaks did these foster parents need?  And if they needed that many breaks, maybe foster parenting wasn't for them.

I suddenly felt very sorry for this little boy and very angry at the parents.  And... very, very angry at The Agency for not telling me how sick he was.  I had a baby (Bram) in my house who could get sick too, not to mention exposing us to the jerks.

I didn't sleep at all that night because the little guy kept waking up every time he had a bowel movement (which was very often).  Even in his sleep, he cried, "daddy, daddy!"  It was horrible.  

At 6 AM, Darryl and I decided that we we COULD NOT DO THIS.  He wasn't well.  We decided we would call the On Call number and tell them they would have to find another respite placement for him.  I felt horribly doing it; he had been bounced around so much.  I just couldn't.

The On Call case planner told us to pack up his things and bring him to daycare (did I mention that in addition to being in respite every other weekend, this foster parents had him in daycare from 7 AM - 5 PM every day?  When WERE they with this kid?)  and they would find a new placement for him.

So we followed those directions and that's what we did.  

I had never felt so guilty or so relieved in my entire life.