After what turned out to be an entertaining weekend, Monday was back to the pleasures of work. The day started slowly with thoughts revolving around the pending visit of the social worker. Getting any work done with that distraction was difficult, to say the least. I sat in on a litigation case which really made my day. A Mrs. Jones thought it was her right to divorce and sue her husband even though she was the one who'd had the affair. She was going to, as she put it, take him for everything he had. Do we live in a crazy world or what?
Tuesday was the day of truth or maybe reckoning. You still get all the niggling doubts even though you know that you've thought everything out to the last detail. During breakfast you could hear a pin drop. Very little was said other than the usual. . . . Are you alright? . . . Do you want something to drink? When eventually the social worker did knock on the door, speaking for myself, I was a nervous wreck. Mary invited the official in.
I've worked with government appointed bureaucrats before and shall we say that they seem to have the ability to get under your skin like no other living creature can. But I was keeping an open mind.
After the usual pleasantries, she accepted a cup of tea but refused the biscuits. After what seemed like the third degree, we finally got to the subject that she had originally come to speak about.
Fostering is a very serious alternative to adoption. You would think that any reasonable and acute adult would indulge in the outcome . . . then get all the details talked through before their decision . . . then, and only then, get the authorities involved. But it seemed that this authoritarian Mrs. Goody was the giver of all that was sacred.
I looked at the social worker, then Mary. "This is not a power trip for me or my wife. May I ask that you act as your authority dictates. My wife Mary and I have thought long and hard of the consequences thoroughly. And I will, if need be, ask for a responsible adult from your department to go through all the ifs and buts on this serious matter. If you wish to be involved, then I suggest that you come down from what seems to be your holier-than-thou attitude." Being put in her place put us on a level footing. Not to her satisfaction, but you can't always have your own way. Mary sat back with a definite smile on her face.
The woman would have been perfect as an alternative prison officer. She was forceful and demanding to the extreme. After she departed the house, I took on a look of satisfaction to the shock on her face at being put in her place. Like it, she didn't, but I fully enjoyed it. Looking at Mary, I said, "It's a good thing older adults aren't in her care as they would be better off adopted if possible." I chuckled at the thought.
With all the information given under duress from 'that' woman. It was viable to either become foster parents or adopters. We'd told Mrs. Goody we'd be in touch with her office, and we had every intention of asking for this to be concluded by another social worker.
We talked well into the wee small hours discussing the do's and don'ts on how we were going to continue. After many hours of discussion, we went to bed to sleep on the matter. Over tea and breakfast the next morning, we talked at a pace to get all the details ironed out before getting back to the authorities. Our Priorities were to adopt Alan and Tracy. Then assuming that was successful, retaining a license to foster other children. First priority was another social worker, then accommodations. After some discussion, we finally were given another social worker and plans were made for the adoption. We also repeated our desire to foster other children.
Miss Dawson agreed to the following day for the assessment of our accommodation for suitability. Things seemed to move at a lightning pace. Friday our home was inspected and cleared as to social services requirements. The only concern raised was to get the pool covered for the children's safety.
Further detailed requirements were: criminal records, suitability, and if the child would get all their needs met. My employment seemed to be the most concern. Was I making enough money to support any child that was suitable. All this information took its time to be collected. Next would be to talk to the children . . . in this case Alan and Tracy.
Even though you are 100% sure that they will agree to the adoption, you still have that doubt in the back of your mind that they may not want to be your children. Stupid maybe, but such is the insecurity of being human.
Things then turn towards the children. The children, again in this case Alan and Tracy, will then be placed in your home. You fill out what is called a 'Notice of Placement' after six months have passed, then your social worker applies to the court for an Adoption Order for you and your adoptive child/children.
This can take some time, depending on circumstances and provisions for the child or children.
We were now on the home stretch. Our assessment was now completed and the placement a mere formality. Time to let the most important people in this adoption be told - time to talk to the kids. Mrs. Walters was up to date with everything that had gone on up to this point and it was her decision that Mary and I be the ones to talk to Alan and Tracy.
At home that evening we talked about how we were going to tell the brother and sister in a way that 'sounded special'.
The previous weeks we had filled out a mountain of paperwork and talked to numerous officials. But now it was finally over and we hoped; no, we prayed that we had a family of our own.
The weekend seemed to come around really slowly. Friday Mrs. Walters seemed really pleased about the adoption. The authorities as a courtesy had spoken to Alan and Tracy about adoption, but not given any details of them being adopted or the adoption itself. Mary and I weren't brought into the conversation, but they were asked for examples of the type of people they'd like to go and live with. This I knew was going to be fun but upsetting for them, all at the same time. Myself, I was going to love all the different emotions they'd go through.
At Mary's suggestion, she would go speak to Mrs. Walters while I laid out the scenario to Alan and Tracy. I wanted them to slowly build up to a conclusion, smiling at every little crumb that was handed out. Their facial expressions started with a slight smile, you could feel the heat radiate around their heads with the realization that they were going to get a family. Tracy jumped in, "I don't want any family if my brother can't come with me." She didn't even know who the couple were that had wanted to adopt them, or at least they thought they didn't.
Alan sat quietly taking in what had been said when a light came on. "You're going to adopt us!!" Silence. Then he looked at Tracy. "Mr. Owen is going to be our family." Tracy looked around in disbelief, but with a smile that only a child can give. With the tears and excitement rolled into one, Tracy darted over, Alan stumbling behind her. I probably ended up with more bruises than a boxer's sparring partner. I would have given every penny I owned to capture their expressions, the tears, and the smiling faces that I was now getting for free.
Mary and Mrs. Walters slowly walked up behind two turbo charged kids. Alan fell headlong into Mary while Tracy tried looking at Mrs. Walters through the tears in her eyes.
"Sir . . . er, Mr. Owen, does that mean I can come live with you? I mean we?"
"Er . . . well I don't know." Silence. "Depends on how quickly you can have your suitcases packed."
Alan was now standing in complete silence. The silence seemed to go on forever. I got the feeling that there was a lot of disbelief floating around. "Is there anything wrong?" I asked.
"Err, Dad . . . I mean, Mr. Owen, will you hold me?"
My heart was ready to burst. I picked Alan up as fast as I could. Held his face to my shoulder and kissed his neck. Rubbed his back. Then held my other arm out for Tracy. "I love both of you so very much and 'Dad' is perfect." Alan was quietly sobbing while Tracy had tears running down her cheeks and falling slowly to the ground.
"Mr. Owen."
"Dad," I said, then tickled his ribs.
"Err, Dad," he said giggling, "will you help me get my things?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe if Mrs. Wilson says I can." With a sigh, they looked at their temporary mother. When she nodded, Mary and I were dragged through the house to get their belongings.
After all had been collected, we walked out onto the front lawn. Miss Dawson's car rolled up and came to a stop outside the gate. Mrs. Walters went to greet her. Alan and Tracy walked outside hesitantly at seeing the social worker. Looking at the two worried looking kids, she said, "You have a family. No one can take that away from you, I promise." They relaxed a little, then slowly walked over to Mrs. Walters.
Miss Dawson in turn walked over to me with her out stretched hand. After shaking my hand she offered me some papers. I called Alan and Tracy over. "You are now our son and daughter." Relaxed, they gave Mary and myself the tightest hug possible. Mrs. Walters came over, hugged the kids, and asked if we would like to stay for lunch. "Only if I can take my children to the park first." That got me a look of surprise and a stare for Mrs. Walters.
Mary and I walked to the park with our two hyperactive kids. Thank God for simple pleasures. After lunch we said our goodbyes and went home. To Alan and Tracy it was an adventure. The house became their playground. When they finally decided which rooms they wanted and all their things put away, we showed them the pool and the garden. We ordered pizza for dinner and sat glued to the table. Pizza, what pizza? They didn't leave a crumb. The mice would starve tonight.
We both tucked the kids in. I made sure Alan had everything he needed, as I didn't want him wandering about in a strange house on his own. Just as we were leaving Alan's room Tracy walked in the door, asking to sleep in the same bed as her brother. She was concerned about him being alone. We hugged them both as we tucked Tracy in beside her brother.
After what seemed like a very short weekend. The kids had laughed themselves hoarse. I rang the school Miss Dawson had recommended. After speaking to the principle I wasn't impressed. I told Mary of my concerns. After a long discussion we decided that we would home school them. That had always been the plan anyway, but with the authorities you have to step carefully. I rang Miss Dawson and told her about what was going to happen with their schooling. Tracy being in school would not cause a problem. But with Alan's condition it was a little more complicated. Separating them now, even if it was only during the day, seemed too soon. Winter break would soon be over, so we went into town to get them supplies. Books, pens, etc. We got them some new clothes and footwear as they were in dire need of the basics at least.
Thursday after breakfast Mary gave them their first lessons. The school work went down really well . . . not. Why is it that kids get something they like, then automatically think that what they don't like will just disappear? Chuckling to myself, I went to the office. Nobody at the office knew about Alan and Tracy, so after a few choice words of explanation I invited them over for lunch so they could meet my new family. It was agreed that Saturday they'd bring their kids over and make a day of it.
I dropped in to see a friend of mine on the way home. Doug was a burly man about six feet tall. His tone was rough, but he was a gentle giant. Explaining about my family, he guessed my reason for calling. I had thought about building out on my present house, but could only build from the back, so that now meant we would need to move. I explained about the get together over the weekend and invited him along. Bringing along details of properties that would suit. I rang Mary to tell her what would be happening.
When I got home I was literally mowed over by two express trains. I think I'm gonna have to take up exercises to keep up with these two. When I finally managed to get up, Alan grabbed my left arm, Tracy pulling on my right. The smiles I got would turn water into wine; however, I think that's already been done.
As I leaned over and kissed them both on the top of their head, I knew then what had been missing in my life. I wrapped my arms around them both and held them as if holding onto life itself.
'Oh, for the love of a child . . .'