Showing posts with label The Process. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Process. Show all posts
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Developments
DHS must have sensed a disturbance in the Force... We got a last minute appointment today, drove to Paul's Valley (which is apparently somewhere in Texas), and entered inquiries on a dozen or so kids.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
And the beat goes on...
3/27: Lisa sends email about latest list of kids from DHS.
4/4: Lisa sends email reminder.
4/5: DHS responds, can't meet until "late next week" at the earliest. Lisa immediately asks for an appointment time.
4/11: "Late next week" is now "late this week", as in tomorrow or the day after. Still no response.
4/4: Lisa sends email reminder.
4/5: DHS responds, can't meet until "late next week" at the earliest. Lisa immediately asks for an appointment time.
4/11: "Late next week" is now "late this week", as in tomorrow or the day after. Still no response.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Once more into the breach...
We have another meeting with DHS coming up soon. We've got a new list of kids that was already weeks old by the time it got to us. We responded immediately, and of course waited another two to three weeks for a response. They're making another list Tuesday, and our meeting is later in the week.
In this age of instantaneous global communications, it is seriously disheartening to deal with a 19th-century communication lag on something as important as the welfare of children.
In this age of instantaneous global communications, it is seriously disheartening to deal with a 19th-century communication lag on something as important as the welfare of children.
Monday, February 6, 2012
As expected...
...the two girls we inquired about have already been placed. Only took DHS 2 months to get back to us from the time of the original match. I think they're competing with Dell for worst customer service.
Monday, January 16, 2012
So here's where we are...
Right after Thanksgiving, when we had been trying to contact our social worker for about a month to find out what was going on with our case, we received a list of children for whom we had been "staffed" (matched). The rules state that we have to arrange a meeting with our social worker to come into the DHS office to read the profiles. The profiles cannot be copied or taken from the DHS office, and the only person who will talk to us is our social worker.
Except that she doesn't. We immediately sent her an email and asked for a meeting. A week went by. Two. Three. Lisa followed up with another email. Another week. Another. Those wondering why I don't post much lately should understand that what I'm mostly doing is waiting. Endlessly waiting. Just to receive a response to an email or voicemail. For weeks at a time.
Finally, last week Lisa sent another followup, this time being a little snippy, and finally got a response. We arranged a meeting and went in to read the profiles. In the process, we learned that another staffing meeting had taken place and we'd been matched with a whole new set of kids, and no information was available about the first set. So apparently the game is to play with a one month information lag.
The profiles are woefully depressing to read. The litany of abuses and horrors these children have suffered reads like an account of the Inquisition. It seriously makes us wonder how much we can handle, and at this point we're just hoping to be able to find some kids we can work with. We've also asked to be signed up on the national websites, which apparently also requires some kind of OK from ourgatekeeper social worker.
We have formally inquired about the status of two little girls, aged 5 and 3. We feel fairly confident they're already taken, but we'll see what happens. Of course, in my mind I've already walked them down the aisle. It's crazy what this process does to your emotions.
Friends of ours who started at roughly the same time have had their kids at home for 6 months now. They went overseas to adopt. After dealing with DHS this past year, I'm beginning to understand why people do that.
Except that she doesn't. We immediately sent her an email and asked for a meeting. A week went by. Two. Three. Lisa followed up with another email. Another week. Another. Those wondering why I don't post much lately should understand that what I'm mostly doing is waiting. Endlessly waiting. Just to receive a response to an email or voicemail. For weeks at a time.
Finally, last week Lisa sent another followup, this time being a little snippy, and finally got a response. We arranged a meeting and went in to read the profiles. In the process, we learned that another staffing meeting had taken place and we'd been matched with a whole new set of kids, and no information was available about the first set. So apparently the game is to play with a one month information lag.
The profiles are woefully depressing to read. The litany of abuses and horrors these children have suffered reads like an account of the Inquisition. It seriously makes us wonder how much we can handle, and at this point we're just hoping to be able to find some kids we can work with. We've also asked to be signed up on the national websites, which apparently also requires some kind of OK from our
We have formally inquired about the status of two little girls, aged 5 and 3. We feel fairly confident they're already taken, but we'll see what happens. Of course, in my mind I've already walked them down the aisle. It's crazy what this process does to your emotions.
Friends of ours who started at roughly the same time have had their kids at home for 6 months now. They went overseas to adopt. After dealing with DHS this past year, I'm beginning to understand why people do that.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
And out of the blue...
...just received first list of adoption candidates from DHS. Suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
This is the worst
Today's parenting class topic: child abuse and neglect. AKA "all the different ways that someone could have ****ed up your adoptive child." It's like a parade of demons.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Into the breach
This past week we completed about 90% of the verbal colonoscopy that is the home study process. The contractor, a pleasant middle-aged man named Dennis, came over and interrogated interviewed us for about 8 hours, 5 on one visit and 3 on a follow-up. It was exhausting, to say the least, but nowhere near as much as the class we attended on Saturday.
We have 9 sessions to attend, 2 per Saturday for the next 5 weeks, with a break on Labor Day weekend. We've now completed the first two, which are largely introductory and relatively benign. Most of the conversation seemed to be about navigating the bureaucracy, managing expectations, and keeping DHS looking like a wonderful shiny happy organization. After all, it's for the children.
That last part comes off a little cynical, perhaps because it is. There's a lot of whitewashing going on, even when the folks sitting at my table and directly across from me brought up their direct, recent experiences with the bureaucratic heavy-handedness of that same organization. Like 80% of the class, they're involved in a kinship adoption, but for some reason one of the children involved has been institutionalized and they're getting stonewalled by DHS regarding her care. They're being told quite bluntly that not only is she "none of their concern", but if they don't drop it DHS can and will take the other kids away from them too. It's downright surreal, coming from an organization which throughout the class had been portrayed as having nothing but every child's happiness and well-being in mind.
Granted, much of this may be perception and perspective, but government bureaucracies are notoriously intractable, so I'm inclined to believe the gist if remaining skeptical on the particulars.
That said, the class itself isn't particularly difficult, since like all government programs it is made to accommodate the lowest common denominator. For example, I distinctly remember reading one section which painstakingly described a concept in several sentences that could have been summarized in a single word had the writer assumed the intended audience to have a high-school graduate's vocabulary. Most of what is said is basic common sense -- perhaps not to some, but to anyone with a little brains and a modicum of compassion. There are a few legal factoids that were new to me, but they could have been summarized on a 3x5 index card. I didn't really need 6 hours of lecture to pick them up, and they mostly pertained to foster families, which doesn't really apply to us.
The greatest danger of the class is boredom and fatigue. My brain checked out with about 30 minutes left in the second session. Luckily all they were doing at that point was reviewing -- again -- those half-dozen items which had been explained in grueling detail for the previous 2.5 hours. Not even the mighty power of 5-Hour Energy could keep me focused at that point.
Lest it sound like I'm being snarky (which I totally am), I should give props to the ladies doing the teaching of the class. They have a required syllabus handed down from on high, and they're not really allowed to deviate from it much. But they are doing their level best to keep it as interesting as possible, even though the curriculum has all the flavor and consistency of oatmeal and they're basically allotted 5 metaphorical raisins to drop in it.
Only 7 more sessions to go.
We have 9 sessions to attend, 2 per Saturday for the next 5 weeks, with a break on Labor Day weekend. We've now completed the first two, which are largely introductory and relatively benign. Most of the conversation seemed to be about navigating the bureaucracy, managing expectations, and keeping DHS looking like a wonderful shiny happy organization. After all, it's for the children.
That last part comes off a little cynical, perhaps because it is. There's a lot of whitewashing going on, even when the folks sitting at my table and directly across from me brought up their direct, recent experiences with the bureaucratic heavy-handedness of that same organization. Like 80% of the class, they're involved in a kinship adoption, but for some reason one of the children involved has been institutionalized and they're getting stonewalled by DHS regarding her care. They're being told quite bluntly that not only is she "none of their concern", but if they don't drop it DHS can and will take the other kids away from them too. It's downright surreal, coming from an organization which throughout the class had been portrayed as having nothing but every child's happiness and well-being in mind.
Granted, much of this may be perception and perspective, but government bureaucracies are notoriously intractable, so I'm inclined to believe the gist if remaining skeptical on the particulars.
That said, the class itself isn't particularly difficult, since like all government programs it is made to accommodate the lowest common denominator. For example, I distinctly remember reading one section which painstakingly described a concept in several sentences that could have been summarized in a single word had the writer assumed the intended audience to have a high-school graduate's vocabulary. Most of what is said is basic common sense -- perhaps not to some, but to anyone with a little brains and a modicum of compassion. There are a few legal factoids that were new to me, but they could have been summarized on a 3x5 index card. I didn't really need 6 hours of lecture to pick them up, and they mostly pertained to foster families, which doesn't really apply to us.
The greatest danger of the class is boredom and fatigue. My brain checked out with about 30 minutes left in the second session. Luckily all they were doing at that point was reviewing -- again -- those half-dozen items which had been explained in grueling detail for the previous 2.5 hours. Not even the mighty power of 5-Hour Energy could keep me focused at that point.
Lest it sound like I'm being snarky (which I totally am), I should give props to the ladies doing the teaching of the class. They have a required syllabus handed down from on high, and they're not really allowed to deviate from it much. But they are doing their level best to keep it as interesting as possible, even though the curriculum has all the flavor and consistency of oatmeal and they're basically allotted 5 metaphorical raisins to drop in it.
Only 7 more sessions to go.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Things are starting to happen...
Color me shocked, but the home study contractor is actually calling my references. This is perhaps the first time in 20+ years of job interviews and various other forms. I'd come to think that the "references" section of any form was just a test to see if you had 3 imaginary friends.
Imagine my horror when folks who actually know me started saying that they got a call from "the guy" asking all sorts of impertinent questions. One such question was, of course, "would you recommend him as a parent?" My boss told me privately that he had no idea, really... all he knows with confidence is my worth as an employee and some random bits about my interests. But he's heard I have dogs, and they're still alive, so he figured that counts.
Let's hope my other references at least thought of that much.
Imagine my horror when folks who actually know me started saying that they got a call from "the guy" asking all sorts of impertinent questions. One such question was, of course, "would you recommend him as a parent?" My boss told me privately that he had no idea, really... all he knows with confidence is my worth as an employee and some random bits about my interests. But he's heard I have dogs, and they're still alive, so he figured that counts.
Let's hope my other references at least thought of that much.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
It moved! A little.
At the beginning of May, we filed the paperwork to get the home study going and our classes set up.
About a month later, we got a call from Tonya, who scheduled our classes for August-September, which is the first round of Saturday classes available (we didn't fancy the idea of going after work for weeks on end).
Yesterday, we finally got a notice from the home study contractor that they've taken our case out of their inbox. So it only took 2 months to be notified that our paperwork had made it that far through the bureaucracy. Moving at the speed of government, this must be a new record!
About a month later, we got a call from Tonya, who scheduled our classes for August-September, which is the first round of Saturday classes available (we didn't fancy the idea of going after work for weeks on end).
Yesterday, we finally got a notice from the home study contractor that they've taken our case out of their inbox. So it only took 2 months to be notified that our paperwork had made it that far through the bureaucracy. Moving at the speed of government, this must be a new record!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Holy crap, it's been a month already?
Where does the time go...
I took a vacation, we're waiting (again) on DHS to give us some information, and nothing much is happening.
While on vacation, I did get the chance to observe some parenting "in the wild" as it were, take some mental notes, and discuss my ideas with various folks who have done the deed. I'm fascinated by the process of parenting, and honestly can't wait to take our required classes to see how they mesh with what I'm thinking.
Back to the phones and voicemail tag...
I took a vacation, we're waiting (again) on DHS to give us some information, and nothing much is happening.
While on vacation, I did get the chance to observe some parenting "in the wild" as it were, take some mental notes, and discuss my ideas with various folks who have done the deed. I'm fascinated by the process of parenting, and honestly can't wait to take our required classes to see how they mesh with what I'm thinking.
Back to the phones and voicemail tag...
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Prints
We went for the fingerprinting today. They used the electronic version this time... last time I was fingerprinted it was with old-fashioned ink and got screwed up along the way so it had to be redone. This time the computer complained if it wasn't clear enough, prompting the officer to clear the print and start over.
$40 and 20 minutes later, we're ready to be booked into prison or become adoptive parents. Take your pick.
$40 and 20 minutes later, we're ready to be booked into prison or become adoptive parents. Take your pick.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
In the pipe, five by five
The pre-homestudy walkthrough went fine. We gave her a quick tour of the house, went through yet another questionnaire that repeated a lot of questions from the initial application we sent in a month or so ago, and had a short discussion about the process going forward.
We covered one question I was dreading…
"Are there any weapons in the house?"
"Why, what do you need?"
OK, I didn't say that, but I wanted to. She sounded reasonably certain that our various precautions were sufficient in that regard.
Shopping list:
Fire extinguishers
Smoke detectors
Child-resistant cabinet door latches
About a billion (give or take) of those little plastic dealies that you put in electrical outlets
The last one gave me pause. We're probably looking at first grade and up as far as age goes, and I kept trying to remember how old my brother was when he stuck mom's keys into the electrical outlet in our bedroom. Whatever, we'll buy the stupid things and just not use them if the kids we get are old enough.
Oh yeah, and the dogs are all going for booster shots. That'll be fun.
At this point we've got about a week or two while the latest questionnaire goes through channels, after which we'll be contacted by a contractor to do the actual home study, and we'll be given contact info about how to set up our parenting classes.
The whole thing still makes me grit my teeth, but I'm maintaining my calm.
We covered one question I was dreading…
"Are there any weapons in the house?"
"Why, what do you need?"
OK, I didn't say that, but I wanted to. She sounded reasonably certain that our various precautions were sufficient in that regard.
Shopping list:
Fire extinguishers
Smoke detectors
Child-resistant cabinet door latches
About a billion (give or take) of those little plastic dealies that you put in electrical outlets
The last one gave me pause. We're probably looking at first grade and up as far as age goes, and I kept trying to remember how old my brother was when he stuck mom's keys into the electrical outlet in our bedroom. Whatever, we'll buy the stupid things and just not use them if the kids we get are old enough.
Oh yeah, and the dogs are all going for booster shots. That'll be fun.
At this point we've got about a week or two while the latest questionnaire goes through channels, after which we'll be contacted by a contractor to do the actual home study, and we'll be given contact info about how to set up our parenting classes.
The whole thing still makes me grit my teeth, but I'm maintaining my calm.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Today's the Day
Our pre-homestudy walkthrough happens today. It'll be our first real contact with our caseworker. We spent a few minutes this morning fussing over the making of the bed, fretting over whether this or that was clean enough, wondering what to do with the dogs, fretting over things out of place or looking cluttered, and so forth.
We're a little wound up.
And of course the laughable nature of the situation came back into conversation with my coworkers this morning. If you've got fully functioning reproductive organs, you can pop out as many kids as you desire, and as long as nothing gains the attention of the authorities, you never have to say or do anything. But if you're going to adopt or foster someone else's kids, you have to invite the government into your home, seek its approval, get background checked and fingerprinted, take classes on parenting, and jump through any number of other hoops I haven't discovered yet, all for the crime of being infertile.
I can already hear the protests: "but it's for the children!" If that were so, all of this would be required before you could have kids naturally. Line forms to the left.
We're a little wound up.
And of course the laughable nature of the situation came back into conversation with my coworkers this morning. If you've got fully functioning reproductive organs, you can pop out as many kids as you desire, and as long as nothing gains the attention of the authorities, you never have to say or do anything. But if you're going to adopt or foster someone else's kids, you have to invite the government into your home, seek its approval, get background checked and fingerprinted, take classes on parenting, and jump through any number of other hoops I haven't discovered yet, all for the crime of being infertile.
I can already hear the protests: "but it's for the children!" If that were so, all of this would be required before you could have kids naturally. Line forms to the left.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Phone Call!
Got a call from Tonya today. We've got an appointment for a pre-homestudy walkthrough. I think, based on past conversations, that this means our background check didn't turn up any problems (not that I figured it would).
Back to the Wait
The 'rents are headed back to Ohio, bearing the news for the rest of the extended family (at least, the ones who aren't on Facebook). They really enjoyed the video that DHS sent us, and said it changed their attitude toward adopting teenagers, as it did my own.
The teenager question is a weird one. I go from thinking it'd probably be OK to thinking it'd be a disaster. Suddenly having a 16- or 17-year-old hanging around is an extremely intimidating image. At that point it feels like the best you can offer is a sort of "finishing school" to prepare them for The Real World (by which I mean, not the show on MTV). It would necessarily be a cooperative effort, and if they don't feel like cooperating I don't know how much could be done about it.
I spent thewaffling weekending weekend waffling between complete confidence and near panic about the whole thing. There's so much to talk about that I felt like I couldn't figure out where to begin, so I just kept blurting out random thoughts like a Tourette's patient. We had some good conversations, and I'm sure there'll be more in the months ahead.
Oh yeah, I left another message with Tonya, and attempted to call Gisele...
*drums fingers on table*
*twiddles thumbs*
*whistles tunelessly*
...guess that's about it.
The teenager question is a weird one. I go from thinking it'd probably be OK to thinking it'd be a disaster. Suddenly having a 16- or 17-year-old hanging around is an extremely intimidating image. At that point it feels like the best you can offer is a sort of "finishing school" to prepare them for The Real World (by which I mean, not the show on MTV). It would necessarily be a cooperative effort, and if they don't feel like cooperating I don't know how much could be done about it.
I spent the
Oh yeah, I left another message with Tonya, and attempted to call Gisele...
*drums fingers on table*
*twiddles thumbs*
*whistles tunelessly*
...guess that's about it.
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Cat's Out of the Bag
My parents are visiting, and have been told our plans. Naturally, they think we've gone and lost our minds. Wait, that's my friends. My parents are thrilled.
So now everybody's in on the secret... and feeling the pain of waiting. Dad-unit has already complained that he has to wait another 6 months (or whatever), and half-seriously suggested we might have just waited until we had a permanent placement. Of course, that wouldn't do because I'm chafing under the wait too, and everybody knows that the best way to endure misery is to spread it around.
At least, that's the theory one of my friends has been operating on for the past decade or more.
It's been a month since we've had any contact at all with the DHS folks. I probably ought to put in a call in the vain hope that it might be returned. The waiting would be a lot easier if there were only a little bit of communication.
So now everybody's in on the secret... and feeling the pain of waiting. Dad-unit has already complained that he has to wait another 6 months (or whatever), and half-seriously suggested we might have just waited until we had a permanent placement. Of course, that wouldn't do because I'm chafing under the wait too, and everybody knows that the best way to endure misery is to spread it around.
At least, that's the theory one of my friends has been operating on for the past decade or more.
It's been a month since we've had any contact at all with the DHS folks. I probably ought to put in a call in the vain hope that it might be returned. The waiting would be a lot easier if there were only a little bit of communication.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Differently gruntled
Is that how you say it nowadays? I can't keep up.
Going on two weeks now, no word from Tonya. I can only assume they've received the application and are merrily shepherding it through the bureaucracy.
Or it's lining the bottom of someone's bird cage.
Those are the choices. Nothing in between.
Going on two weeks now, no word from Tonya. I can only assume they've received the application and are merrily shepherding it through the bureaucracy.
Or it's lining the bottom of someone's bird cage.
Those are the choices. Nothing in between.
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