My three year old foster son has a progress chart with weekly goals for him to work through and potentially earn a prize. One of those goals is to have a day with no meltdowns. Since the beginning of my time with him he's cried for his "MommyDaddy" over and over whenever I've told him to do something -- or NOT do something -- that he's not -- or VERY -- inclined to do.
I've had foster children in my care for less than a month, and it took me a week to realize this was his three year old version of master manipulation. He knows that crying in general gets a different reaction from me than crying for "MommyDaddy" - and I finally learned that I would not be getting anywhere with him until I called him out. It's been a struggle explaining to him that I am NOT putting him in time out because he misses his Mom and Dad. He's three after all. Every time he does The Melt, I tell him that I understand he misses his Mom and Dad and that's okay. But even though he misses them, he still has to [eat his cauliflower] [go to bed] [try to use the toilet] [do the thing he doesn't want to do]. I slump when I ask him why he's been in time out and he mumbles "because I miss Mom and Dad". And I always tell him that's not why...and he says okay...and on we move with the day.
Today I had a mini meltdown of my own when I asked my boys how their visit with their parents went today. They're brothers and my eight year old typically takes the lead in this recounting. He's making his way through the account of legendary lego building with his dad, lifting his Capri Sun and Starbust that were gifted by his mom high enough for me to see in the rearview mirror, and just as I pull onto the interstate he lets slip "and [my three year old kiddo] made Mom cry. Well, nothing he did, just she cried when I told her that he cries all the time for her, and you put him in time out for it."
I almost had to pull over, I was so upset. I tried to call him out on the spot, but one glance in the back brought me up short and I let it drop. I sometimes forget that he's all bluff. It's just as hard for him as my bawling baby sitting next to him as I take them mile by mile away from everything they know. Dragging out a Dixon Reckoning would be tantamount to puppy kicking, and that's how he sees it after all. He's not a poop stirrer by nature, and the moment ended up devastating me more for how I'm coming off to my foster children than how I'm coming off to their parents.
Not that I'm thrilled about that part either -- I mean seriously. How awful for them. Their parents did something - or didn't do something - that resulted in their children being removed from their home. I get that. But I'm still a stranger, and these boys are still their babies. They don't know I'm not a crumby person. The may spend all their time worried about their children instead of working through the things they need to do to get them back. It's my job to serve them too - to show them God and grace through this time of turmoil. To be a light in the darkness. I just don't know how to mend that, especially when we aren't able to communicate directly. Even if we could, why would they believe anything I said?
And then there's my kids. Somehow I need to let them know that all of us are on the same team. THEIR TEAM. I know being a pushover won't help anyone, but I've no other solution in mind to mitigate these behaviors and still reinforce my love for them. Time will show them more than any words I say - right?
Well it's nearly 3p and everyone still has all fingers and toes!