These kids aren’t mines- My life as a self sacrificing foster mom

As y’all can see I’m not ashamed or embarrassed of my life, I live an open book. I’m stressed and as I mentioned I decided do some of my journaling via my blog, so I can keep up with my personal life once again. I used to journal well, I used to call it praying through writing at least three times a week, now it’s like once a month. I have been so busy, blogging, posting and etc about events that forget to write about what’s going on in my life. I wrote an earlier entry and now back after an incident with my foster-adopted daughter.


Dear Nola Chic,

So tell me why I sent Niyah to tell Mimi, to turn the heat down, it was a nice day and I forgot to turn the thermostat off. My babygirl gets up, shouts from the room, “she’s not in her room.” In a sarcastic Mommy tone, I shouted “Girl, she in the livingroom!” Niyah ran to livingroom & back, looked in the kitchen, blows her breathe and said “she is not in here, she not in the whole house, unless she playing hide and seek.” I get up, knowing Niyah toying with my nerves,  telling her I don’t feel like playing with her. I retrace Niyah’s steps only to apologize to my baby and said ” that lil girl really not in my house, I can’t believe she left out my house at one o’clock in the morning….. I noticed my front door was opened about 6 inches and the security gate was unlocked. For the sake of my baby girl, who is saying she must hv went to the store, I agreed and said, ” yeah, I forgot I told her I wanted a Pepsi. We walked back to her room and she knew it was a good time to ask for ice cream, so I let her, just to get her mind off this bad teen role model who claims her as her little sister.


I waited until Niyah dosed off to actually go outside. I stepped on the porch porch and yelled “Mimi” and did the same on the back porch. I finally decide to wake up sleeping beauty who slept through someone opening the door to my room; where he is sleeping, walk pass him, unlock & open the front doors and leave out the house at 1am. How does one sleep like that in New Orleans? I hear pins drop in my house. So, Eric ole gullible ass just like the rest of yall who are suckers for Mimi, said ” she went outside to feed that cat, there was some food in the dresser, is it still there.” No, it’s not and it’s 1am, really Eric, you let the lil girl go feed a stray cat like the cat knows to come to my house at 1am for food. So, he gets up, looks outside, sees No Mimi, No Cat and No Cat food. He says, “But where is the cat food, why did she leave with the cat food?” I don’t know go find and ask the cat, Eric…

Oh well, something else to add to the her behavior list for the judge. She was suspended yesterday for being defiant to the Dean after he tried to intervene during a verbal altercation between her and a girl. In addition to that, yesterday she came home from school at 6pm. School let’s out at 315pm. She conjured up a lie about after school in-school suspension; with her head hung low & talking soft. I must admit for a moment I fell for her compassion trick,  as I call it. I thought she felt bad for disappointing me. The words “Oh you tired after not doing any work at school, after just sitting all day in the bad kids room, go get your…..

I was about to say Books, but once she heard the compassion in my voice, she lifted her head and bam there it was, this lil 15 yr old girl had blood shot eyes. My tone changed  ” oh no are you tired or is your ass high?!” She hurried up to happy report she was High, ” Yeah, I’m high, I smoked with some weed with friends.” I felt like every woman I ever met jumped in my body and I snapped. ” Who the F you think you are little girl!? Who do you think you are that you can come in my house at 6pm, high and suspended from school!!? I never came home high, not to y’all or my Mama, my kids didn’t do no ish like this and you think I just have to tolerate you doing this.!! How dare you continually defy me and my home, how dare you not be a reflection of me, I been nothing but good to you and you say fuck me after I keep on giving you chances, I agreed to keep you in my home, because I thought you deserved a life, but you keep kicking me in the ass!!!?  I do not what compelled this lil girl to interrupt me, but she did. She had to be super high to do this dumb ass shit, knowing I’m upset. Professional people would remark, document after observing her facial expressions after being confronted and redirected, ” this child had no emotions, she has this flaccid, blank, uncaring, distant, blank look not only across her face, but you could see it in her eyes. She interrupted me to tell me to sign the suspension form and that I have to take her back to school on Thursday. This is where I snapped, because some lady jumped in my body & said she Fucking with you, smack the piss out of her. So, I did, I smacked the piss out of her pissy ass and watched her head turn like an owl. She didn’t have no reaction, just grabbed her face with a slick look as if saying, ” Watch you back…”


This afternoon a worker came out after I made a call. She thanked me for being patient with the other worker who has been out since we spoke before Christmas. She came out just to show me support and to ask if I could give them more time and that she would work on getting Mimi a probation officer for the meantime. She agreed that things will only get worse and it’s best to return her to foster care, but they needed more time….


After the lady left I fell for her lil compassion trick once again. I attempted to have some girl time with her, had a few laughs, spoke to her about her actions, ask her if she can turn her behavior around, she said she didn’t know. I asked her what she thinks of returning to foster care, she doesn’t want to She stated, but she doesn’t think she can stop doing some of the things and doesn’t know why she never ask permission. I know why she thinks she is grown and doesn’t like to be told No or what to do, but she will tell you what to do or force you into doing it, by not giving you a choice..

She took the kids to the park, I let her go to the store, she helped me clean and wash clothes. We were having a good day and she leaves out my house at 1am, unafraid of her uncle, a man, who already gave her one more chance. She wasn’t afraid to lie to Eric and walk out of the front door where he was sleeping and she left my door open.

Some think it’s easy being foster parent/ adoptive parent and do not realize the sacrifice. It’s totally different than raising your own kids or kids you have a relationship with. It gets harder as the child ages and how long they been in the system. It’d why do many people accept just babies and why babies are easily adopted. You are able to raise a baby as your own, whereas an older child has a parenting seed planted in their minds and it may not be a good seed.

Foster parenting it can be rewarding and gives you wonderful feeling to love children, be there for them, teach them and mold them into their best version of themselves especially when their biological parent’s can’t or chooses not to. I say choose not to, because not all parents who end up in CPS need the labeling of “A bad parent.”

There are parents who learn from their actions and do and give up drugs, men, crime for their children, their children mean more to them than anything, but then there are parents who choose people and things over their children, leaving the children with emotional wounds. The child never learned what it feels like to have a loving stable bond with their caretakers and issues develop. The fancy word for this is called “attachment disorder” which I learned in my psychology and foster parent classes. Mimi is diagnosed with it and other emotional mental health issues, which is why I keep giving her chance after chance. I tell myself she is just a kid. A very intelligent narcissistic kid.


She and her sister were placed with me years ago and as the therapist, social workers, psychiatrist and judge told both of them, that their behaviors should have changed as far as me being in their lives goes. I was thanked for being the most consistent, loving, giving, forgiving and dedicated mother figure they ever had in the 9 years they been bouncing around from foster home to foster home. I was the onlu foster parent who was willing to keep them together even after professionals suggested that they may fair better being separated, but CPS would never separate children, right? They would rather overloaded a young black super woman single mother and convince her that her love will heal these girls. I had to learn about their mental health issues after they were placed with me. I was being informed by cleaning up smeared poop and bloody maxi pads off my floor and walls, finding boxes cereal, cookies and rotten food under beds and hidden in my attic. You would have thought my attack was a food shelf how much food they took from the kitchen. I had to learn by hearing the other foster girls complaining about one of them exposing and touching themselves. They did not tell me the girls needs were so severe. I felt tricked and used by the county. I’m not sure if it was my complaints or that this mental health worker finally saw how bad things were, she thought i was raising them in fear. It was a blessing in disguise when the court intervene, but it took for me to go through so much.

The judge even went as far as to tell me and them that it’s a dishonor that I let them call me Auntie Dee. I didn’t think much of it, because all the kids call me Auntie Dee, but I understood where he was coming from. After he learned that prior to being told by her older sister that she would kill me in my sleep for not allowing her to chat with who she said was her best friend she met online. This best friend was an assumed 19yr old calling from somewhere in Mexico. I  actually went through his profile and it all look fake, he was a busy model and actor who needed an online best friend.  I told her it was a fake profile and wasn’t safe, that pissed her off big time. She called herself bracing up to me, she was1 bigger than me and thought her weight would intimidate me. So, we I shoved her off me and used a few choice words, she told me she she  was going kill me in my sleep and escape to Mexico.

Prior to that incident Mimi dosed my garage with gasoline, because I allowed someone else to pick what to watch on TV, because she picked earlier. She asked to go outside, I allowed her. My house sat on a small hill, my truck was parked in the back, not in the garage and I left out to run to Walgreens. As I drove pass my garage and heading up a small incline to my backyard I could smell gas. I went into to house and asked if anyone smelled it, thinking there was a leak in the house or neighborhood, but no one smelled anything. I made my way to my basement, still couldn’t smell anything. I opened the garage door and gagged on the smell of gasoline. She pour the two gallon gas container for the lawnmower on to the garage floor. Actually, she denied it, she didn’t smell like gas either, that was until I had to play detective and sniffed out gasoline soaked clothes and shoes. If she would have had a match she would have set herself on fire as well.

She was 10yrs old at the time and like I said I thought she deserved a good life with a loving Auntie Dee.. Unlike her sister who acted out sexually and was labeled as a child offender/ predator, it was easier to look pass her behaviors, because of the weight of her sister’s.

I guess the judge saw it that way as well, because he refused to allow me to fool myself into thinking I could help the girl. He terminate my adoption under a good faith clause and put another label on her ” unable to be parented/ risk to children, she had been in a state treatment hospital for 4 years now. No foster parents or family, just staff who are there to do a job. It hurt my heart to know that’s the life she had to live and I told myself that I would help Mimi, but I have to help Niyah who is worried and watching Mimi with this type of behavior. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t feel safe and to be honest with myself, this is the 2nd time she had left out my door and the door was wide open. Eric said he heard her talking to a boy earlier, who knows who he is. He could think if she is willing to sneak out like that, that he can sneak in and do whatever he feels as well.

In Louisiana they do not remove runaways from the home or put them in jail, but with me being an adoptive foster parent they can help me get in front of a judge and he can remove her, put her in juvenile, treatment and/or terminate my adoption as well.

I’m at the end of my rope, from talking to me like some Bitch on the street, having sex outside, fighting, running away and coming back days later demanding that I have to let her in, 3 STDs, failing several classes and finding a journal with her writing about her Puss… selling rates and how she will explain where her money is coming from. She doesn’t seem to have learned anything from me, she is reflecting the exact behavior of her mother who has been in and out her life since she was 2yrs old. I would say she is passionate about reading and writing, because of me, but she’s not writing anything positive anymore. She was reading ” How to kill a mockingbird”over the weekend.

As much as I believe she can be something Great, all this negative ish is taking away from me being Great and taking away time with Niyah. It’s too stressful, forget what they said about killing me in my sleep, she gonna give me a stroke and heart attack. My blood pressure has been severely high trying to cope with this lil girl.

She has to go, I’m sorry, but not sorry. I hope the social workers help me soon.


A native of New Orleans, who left her beloved New Orleans to spend twenty years of living in the land of Minnesota Not So Nice. Minnesota was full of opportunities but would learn that the soul of the state and the people who made it was just as icy cold as the temperatures. After the years and my 40th birthday flew by, I decided it was time to pack up my youngest child and come back to my roots, my birthplace the city that not only birthed me but gave me life. I would not be who I am without my New Orleans beginnings. I am all things that would challenge the belief of growing up in New Orleans. I was a 16yr old teen mother of a premature baby born with a severe medical disability. And only With the help of my mother, was it possible for me to BE! I was able to endure and survive the obstacles laid before my child and me. In a city that was built by my family, but did not allow for us to reap the benefits I overcame. Charity Hospital was my second home — a building filled with miracle workers who made it possible for my daughter to have life. I have lived a life of rainy days with peeks of sunshine, that are my children, including those not of my womb. I'm the proud mother of three and a grandmother of three. My dream was to live the life of the nursery rhyme of ”The Old Lady Who lived in a shoe,” and for the most part, I did. I cared for several children over the years as a special needs foster parent. I would learn that my love was not enough for some children, but I loved them through their pain. I'm not sure if I ever had a case of true love or came close to what love looks like on television, but I had my share of men and the mirage of love. I survived two abusive marriages. Though I longed to return to New Orleans on a daily bases, I must admit my move was one of the best decisions made for me. I am a college graduate; I was a successful entrepreneur. I coowned a soul food restaurant and catering company in Minnesota for 12 years. I developed the talent of creating custom cakes after the murder of my beloved cousin Melvin Paul. He survived Katrina only to go to Minneapolis six months later to be murdered over a parking spot dispute. But with the challenge of creating a simple wedding cake, I was able to find healing. I created the House of Cakes in honor of him. Minnesota life had me pretty materialistic. I worked to the point I do not remember much, but work and handing my children love money. I thought by having the big house on the hill, a husband, having a family, the ultimate provider and being involved in all things that matter, plus having the funds to match would cure me of what I was told was a generational curse of lack of everything from money, love to even self-love. But for the most part, that life poisoned my heart and soul. I was blinded by visions fed to me by the media. I was told I wasn't anything unless I was better than the Jones's. I lived being ok with a broken, bleeding heart. Life like this did not exist in my family while living in New Orleans from what I viewed with my eyes and soul. We may not have had all the things I acquired over the years, but we were happy, we were together. Family outside of New Orleans wasn't family anymore. We lived separate lives and had awkward moments when we bumped into each other in public. I hated living in Minnesota even though life their helped me in so many ways. I felt deep down the only way to repair it was to get back to my roots, my soul, my home, myself, my New Orleans. I'm here, and I love it. Even being in the so-called Blighted Area of New Orleans and not having all the financial and material security, I'm happy. I am determined that She, yes, New Orleans is a woman is just like me; together, we will overcome and will rise from all that tried to kill our spirit. Nothing like starting from the bottom and making your way back up!. I just know in my heart that New Orleans will provide for me. There's a bank account with funds in it owed to me by way of back pay for my ancestors. And I will receive my inheritance, and I will continue the traditions and customs of the old to keep the heartbeat of New Orleans beating. I'm down in the boot, living the life that feels right to me awaiting my destiny...

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