school's out for the summer!

What can family holidays look like when you're a foster carer? Here one of our wonderful Cornerstone & Foundations Matter trustees takes a few minutes to share their humorous and inspirational insights from a recent trip...

​Way back in 1972, I can’t believe it’s half a century ago, the rock band “Alice Cooper” had a huge chart hit with the song, “School’s out.” For me personally, school was definitely out as I started work in August of that year as a trainee Chartered Surveyor. I still hear the song regularly, usually and not surprisingly at the beginning of the summer holidays and this present year was no exception. For children, it’s annual relax and leisure time and, for parents and carers, it’s more of “are we nearly there yet?” as the days to the schools returning are slowly and sometimes almost painfully counted down. As I write, school in Scotland is once again “out for summer” in the words of Alice Cooper’s song and, for my wife and myself, six or seven weeks of entertaining children loom ahead.
 
It’s not that my wife and myself are new to this game, as we have together successfully negotiated around twenty summer jollies with our own four kids. However, happily surviving the July and August holidays in Scotland is the exception that disproves the rule: it doesn’t really get easier with age and experience.
 
This year’s holiday away from home repeated a pattern of many years with a week away accompanied by our two daughters and three of our grand-children. Our foster child, J, my wife and myself, completed the Happy Campers, although hardly camping as we were all in a lodge together on a very nice rural site to the north of the town and not actually under canvass.
 
Our day of departure was a Monday in July but preparations to include the kitchen sink in the passenger manifesto started a week before. As the luggage gathered in our living room at home for only three of us (my wife, myself and J), I started with good reason to wonder if this might be a Guinness Book of Records attempt on loading up a Mini. Time would tell. I was up early on departure day, a Monday morning, with my wife suggesting an estimated departure time of 1pm. This was looking moderately achievable until the garage phoned to say that the long-awaited part for my wife’s car had arrived and, if we left the vehicle (affectionally called Mint, explanation later) over our holidays, it would be fixed by our return. In one sense this was really helpful but, in reality, I lost another couple of hours before the envisaged leaving time deadline. With the Polo (Polo Mint, get it) safely tucked up in the local garage, I was back at home over an hour behind schedule with packing the Mini starting in earnest. Sod’s Law then conspired to make an appearance in the shape of an un-announced visit from a friend and another hour goes west. Around 3pm, two hours late, I got the first look at Yo-Yo, our Mini; not a cubic inch was spare in the cabin and boot which was packed to the gunnels with everything necessary for a six-month expedition to Antarctica, never-mind just a week in Cumbria. I posed the obvious question to Alison that my dog had already clocked judging from his concerned expression, “Where will Aengus sit? (the said dog, a less than sensible Border Terrier). And so it was that Aengus assumed a new skill as a canine contortionist as he was allocated a “seat” in the car on top of a pile of bedding within licking distance of the roof and with the bonus of a cooling draught from the top of the rear door.  With the house checked and locked up for the week, we left our street around three hours late and headed towards the motorway. It’s not a long journey at around two hours thirty minutes but anyone who knows the M74 will realise that some of the hills might be quite a challenge for a heavily laden small car. Yo-Yo struggled up the inclines but sped down the other sides powered solely by weight and gravity like a ballistic missile. Before long, the inevitable question started from J, “Are we nearly there yet?” and the dog started howling. J was obviously given a polite reply and Aengus was left to wait on the first comfort break at Annandale Water Services. Aengus loves this particular service stop. He got to raise the metaphorical roof barking at the ducks as usual and the bonus was that he was actually rammed under an actual roof in the process. Nothing else eventful happened, excepting the mouth-watering fuel prices at Gretna Services, and we wheeled eventually into our lodge just after 7pm only about four hours behind schedule. Our daughters were both in residence by this time, along with the grand-children and were very much in holiday mode. I answered my younger daughter’s question, “Where have you been?” by throwing a frisbee at her from close range. I was really surprised at how quickly a thirty-five year old hair dresser could move when faced with a fast moving projectile heading towards her. I guess this type of thing could be a normal customer reaction to a poor cut and she could be well experienced in diversionary moves at speed to avoid fast moving straighteners and the like directed at her from in front of a salon mirror.
 
What of the holiday you say? “Where to start,” I reply. For those of us who are possibly more mature with empty nests, I should remind you that kids love being on holiday and know how to enjoy themselves, especially if there are a few of them around. The responsibility of any adult sharing the experience is to facilitate this enjoyment by arranging trips and experiences but, perhaps most importantly, by supplying transport and finance. What does the adult receive in return? Only happy exhaustion and the hope of an early bed a 9 O’ Clock if possible. This holiday saw us visit an aquarium, a Beatrix Potter museum, a country park, play parks, a lake, a climbing wall, a beach, a chocolate factory, a train, putting greens, boating ponds and eating houses. Adults can do all this by themselves of course but, accompanied by children, the enjoyment factor soars to levels beyond imagination. There were too many individual experiences to relay but one especially is worth a mention. On the final day of the holiday, J, myself and my wife were on the beach by ourselves. It was a hot day and really pleasant. J wanted to make a sand castle and we set about building one with a moat, towers, ramparts and a flag. The finished castle wasn’t half bad, even if it was the first castle that I had a hand in constructing in thirty years when our own children were young. Several days later, J said it was the highlight of her holiday. Do you know something? It was the highlight of mine as well. The foster child had indeed made my holiday as well; they take but they give even more!!
 
So fostering is not straightforward; these kids have issues to some extent or another, and they take patience, energy, understanding and effort from you to some degree, leaving you generally at the end of the day in a pleasant state of exhaustion but, and it’s a huge “but,” foster kids don’t just take; they give you far more back in abundance.  Be very prepared to be proud beyond measure at positive changes and personal achievements in their lives. And remember, you are acknowledging God’s request to look after His orphans. These are not bad rewards come to think of it. What’s stopping you?
 
A few fostering myths debunked then to help you along the way :
 
Firstly, “I can’t do this!” Well, nearly fourteen years ago, that’s exactly what my wife and myself thought. However, with the help of training, our supervising social worker and our own child rearing experiences, my wife and myself found out what everyone finds out who goes down the fostering path, we can do this. Also, our church fellowship, especially the young families, grew into this work as we did and are always on hand to offer a day off here and there to allows us a quick battery recharge.
 
Secondly, “I couldn’t give a child back.” Actually, you’re not alone here. This is by far the most popular reason given to me for not wanting to foster. Well, you can indeed hand children back when the inevitable time comes. You leave each and every-one secure in the knowledge that they go blessed by their time with you and that God has assuredly entered a life that otherwise might have been left barren.
 
Thirdly, “I couldn’t deal with behavioural issues.” Where behaviour lapses, it’s only a cry one way or the other for help. You will have in your corner age, experience, a supervising worker, training, fellow carers as buddies, friends and, importantly, prayer and your faith. There is absolutely nothing you cannot deal with.