The icing on the cake.
My-nephew-the-freak called me tonight. He assaulted a teacher, he's been kicked out of school, and charges may be filed. If he doesn't finish 45 days in "alternative" (read "reform") school, he's expelled for two years. If charges are filed, he probably goes to juvie."
Of course, he reports that he just bumped into her, but knowing my nephew, I suspect it was accidentally-on-purpose. And I listened to him tell me about it, and the words I heard coming out of his mouth were the same goddamn victim role that I heard from his mother all the time.
He reports taking 21 pain killers last night, because dying seemed easier than dealing with how his grandfather was gonna react. It gave him the mother of all stomach aches. But he doesn't want to be in foster care, because it would take him away from his brother.
I called him a chickenshit. It felt like the most constructive thing I could say in that moment, and to this kid.
I have to call CPS. I'm just waiting for the other "auntie" to find physical address so I've got something to give them, in case there's more than one kid with his name in Florida. And of course, the social workers I work with tell me the Florida child welfare system is notoriously bad.
If he can keep his ass out of jail and CPS doesn't prevent, we're gonna try to get him out here this summer. Auntie #1 (I'm #2 in this instance) will put him up. And we'll see if there's anything left we can work with. He needs to be in therapeutic foster care, and I can't pull that out of my hat. I hate feeling so helpless.
How did Georgia ever manage to go and make this kid my responsibility, without even being my "sister"?
Of course, he reports that he just bumped into her, but knowing my nephew, I suspect it was accidentally-on-purpose. And I listened to him tell me about it, and the words I heard coming out of his mouth were the same goddamn victim role that I heard from his mother all the time.
He reports taking 21 pain killers last night, because dying seemed easier than dealing with how his grandfather was gonna react. It gave him the mother of all stomach aches. But he doesn't want to be in foster care, because it would take him away from his brother.
I called him a chickenshit. It felt like the most constructive thing I could say in that moment, and to this kid.
I have to call CPS. I'm just waiting for the other "auntie" to find physical address so I've got something to give them, in case there's more than one kid with his name in Florida. And of course, the social workers I work with tell me the Florida child welfare system is notoriously bad.
If he can keep his ass out of jail and CPS doesn't prevent, we're gonna try to get him out here this summer. Auntie #1 (I'm #2 in this instance) will put him up. And we'll see if there's anything left we can work with. He needs to be in therapeutic foster care, and I can't pull that out of my hat. I hate feeling so helpless.
How did Georgia ever manage to go and make this kid my responsibility, without even being my "sister"?
posted by Journey | 9:51 PM
1 Comments:
It's not so much age or having a boyfriend as it is income level and a lack of space to put him in. And, like I said, I don't know what we've got to work with. I'm sorry, but any kid I ever foster is going to be held to the same rules I grew up with, and they're pretty strict. I'm patient, but I'm not a saint, and this kid needs one.
Thanks for the good wishes. We'll take all the help we can get. *wrygrin*
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