Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “grill.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!
To join in with Linda’s challenge, click below:
Grilling is not my forte, especially when it involved a foster kid who was not toeing the line.
We’d put up with lies, deceit and school truancy, but there is a line and this kid went WAY over it.
We all like to look smart but you don’t wear fishnet tights, high heels, mini skirt and low cut top to go babysitting.
I made her change.
The boyfriend called and together they walked to the bus stop.
The boyfriend’s mother rang me later to ask what time we were going to drop their son off home after the party.
What party? and why were we playing taxi? I had to tell her I knew nothing about it and believed the two were babysitting elsewhere. She wasn’t impressed.
Midnight came, and no teenager. Partner went to bed leaving me to deal with it.
One am. Still no sign, not even a phone call.
Two am. Finally a car drew up and she alighted.
I met her at the door, and she knew she was in trouble.
I told her to wait for me in the lounge and made tea.
How do you grill someone on their whereabouts and behaviour when your job was to be supportive, provide shelter and security, and give these kids a sense of purpose, trust and love to the best of your ability?
It was unclear whether they were babysitting or at a party, but during the course of the evening he wanted to take their relationship to the ‘next level’.
Now we were getting personal and intrusive to her privacy, something I had promised to respect.
I was aghast that she appeared to know nothing about how babies were made let alone contraception, despite her age and the reasons she was in care to begin with.
It was sad really, or she was playing me.
By 3am I had established they had not gone ‘all the way’, despite his assurances that he could not make her pregnant. I was curious how he could guarantee that.
‘Because he eats a lot of polo mints,’ she replied.
Apart from keeping them balanced on the end, I could not see how that would work, and by 4am she had a more accurate understanding of ‘young love’, responsibility, the good bits and the pitfalls.
By 4.30, we had agreed for her to see her Social Worker for permission to put her on The Pill, then retired to bed. I was shattered and it didn’t help when Partner decided to grill me as to the outcome.
I do not regret my fostering days which were the most rewarding time of my life. As carers, you took the rough with the smooth, but I always tried to be fair and treat them with respect, something I expected in return.
This one turned out to be my last placement.