When I started out in the shelter biz, I didn't have children. In fact, at 22 years old I was really a kid myself. And the fact that I was the youngest of all my siblings made me even less aware of typical child behavior.
What amazed me, then, about the kids I met at the shelter was how normal they seemed. Mostly. But what did I know?
Children are remarkable creatures. Their lives can be pretty dysfunctional but, hey, if that is their frame of reference they somehow just go with it. Mom whisked them out of their homes to an unfamiliar house with complete strangers, but as long as there were toys and a TV they managed to adapt.
In retrospect, I realized that this was actually a manifestation of their chaotic lives. They would adapt almost TOO well. It showed how accustomed they were to instability, to mom being upset and tearful.
I think it was the exception to see a kid really act out what they were learning at home. I do remember one girl in particular, I'll call her Tiffany. She was in the neighborhood of 6 - 8 years old, and already something of a demon. Her mom was trying to get her ready to leave the house one day, and Tiffany didn't want to go. She kicked her mom while she was trying to put her boots on and, as I recall, called her names that I don't think I can reprint here. In fact, I think she even spit on her mom. I don't think this girl was much better with the shelter staff, either.
Fast forward a few years...I happened to catch a TV news story about a house fire in a nearby town. There was a tragic fatality, a sweet young girl had lost her life. Yes, it was Tiffany. A horrible fate, I know, and not one I would wish on anyone. But their description of her nearly made me choke. That child was hateful.
Then there was Martha, a woman who came to us from straight from prison as I recall. I think she had set fire to her house when she was drunk, the details are hazy. But she had been in a violent relationship and had a young son who I think stayed with abuser's mother while his mother did time. Martha was trying to get back on track. She was sober and faithful to her AA program. She was thin, pale, quiet, and as fragile as a piece of paper.
Her son, Tommy, was only about 4 years old and a cutie. Mostly. But when he got angry he would tell Martha he hated her. I've since learned that kids do that, but this tore Martha up. I remember her eyes welling with tears while telling me about an incident in which he had tried to hit her with a TV antenna or some such thing while again telling her how much he hated her. She never knew what to do, but always told him that she loved him. Her guilt and pain were palpable.
Eventually Martha and Tommy did move to their own apartment. I can only pray that it worked out.
The most memorable child was Tina. She deserves her own entry.
So I'll just end this by saying that I left the shelter swearing that I was never going to have kids. I was so adamant about only having cats that when I did end up pregnant a few years later, there were people in my social circle convinced that it would be a litter of kittens.
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