I love the word “adios.” Amongst my Spanish speaking friends, it really just means good-bye but the literal translation is more like “to God.” It seems like the perfect term to send off our latest little charge.
“La pequeña muchacha” has gone home. She was both funny and sweet and we really enjoyed her stay. Her last day went quite smoothly; she woke up full of smiles and greetings. She ate heartily, she played hard.
Around noon, the social worker called me to say that she would probably arrive in late afternoon to take her home. After a little debate, I decided to put her down for nap around 1:30 when my kids went to rest time. She was tired and cranky by then. She refused the potty before nap, so I put a towel under her for insurance. When I checked on her 5 minutes later, she was fast asleep. I left the door open a crack and enjoyed a few minutes of “mommy time.”
Around 3:00, the social worker called to say, “I’m 15 minutes away.” I think the phone woke up “la pequeña muchacha” because I heard her calling, “Tia, Tia” as I hung up with our worker. I went in to get her up and oh, my goodness. (Warning, the next part is a bit graphic!) She had taken off her clothes, pooped on the bed and played in it. All in the space of about 2 minutes!
I called my oldest to lend a hand and started the shower. Pepper bathed her while I cleaned up the mess (at least enough to not feel panicked about). I dried off the little one and told her in Spanish that we never touch poop. In my state of surprise I could not remember the word for “sick” so told her in English that it could make her sick. She repeated, “Sick?” and pointed to her mouth with a gagging sound. I said, “Si, sick” a bit emphatically. She then smiled up at me with the most angelic smile you can imagine.
I tell this story for two reasons: One, if you are new to foster care, you need to know stuff happens. When you take a child away from their parent — no matter the reason — they get freaked out and it will show up in their behavior and sometimes it’s distasteful. The other reason I mention is that every foster parent has a “list” (if only in their head) of things they think they can’t handle. In my case, it was poop smearing. Guess what? I can handle it. It wasn’t that bad. I had a cup of coffee to fortify myself, armed myself with disenfectant, and cleaned up the mess. It only took ten minutes.
When she left, we all went to say “adios.” I wish her a bright future. Like all our foster kids, I commended her into the hands of God. “Adios, la pequeña muchacha; go with God.”
