Foster child. Case Number. Placement. Sibling group.
These are all words generally used to describe a foster child within minutes of them coming into care. They are stripped of their belongings, their comfort zone, their families, and now their identity as they go from being Sally to being "the foster child".
The labels don't stop there.
There is a stigma that follows foster children with a genre of their own labels.
Delayed.
Hyperactive.
Lack social skills.
Deceptive
Run away.
Angry.
Food Hoarder.
Withdrawn.
Drug dependent.
Empathetic.
Depressed.
Anxious.
Shy.
Rude.
Broken.
Abused.
Too far gone.
I've seen it.
I've heard it.
I've been guilty of doing it my own.
Can you take a nineteen year old foster child who was disrupted from his current home due to known drug use?
H.E.L.L N.O
Coincidentally, my best friend took a leap of faith and fostered him for two nights. Most respectful, kind teenager she had, had in a long time.
Presley has wanted to do this beauty pageant for a few months. I was hoping she'd forget about it or the loose the registration form. Two weeks before the deadline to register the registration form reappeared on the front of the fridge. I couldn't hide from it. She was determined to take part in these beauty pageant festivities.
I couldn't understand why. None of our girls have ever been interested in pageants. Kenzie and Hayden both competed in our local elementary school's small pageant, only because it's "church attire" and really just an inexpensive social engagement.
We had someone donate a beautiful dress for Presley to wear. It was everything a beauty pageant dress should be- a beautiful color, shiny with jewels and embellishments and, of course, big and fluffy. Unfortunately, it fit around the waist but wasn't long enough and the straps were too tight. I spent all morning wrestling this beast around while I loosened and resewn the straps to add length to the dress. This helped one problem but just created another as now the back of the corset sat too low on her back.
I decided we would visit every thrift shop and consignment shop in the county because, let's face it, this Mom of 12 kiddo's budget does not have room for a $600 new dress. Presley never complained, even when I had her try on dresses from the thrift store that I am pretty sure Dolly Pardon herself wore at some point. She was absolutely content with whatever I chose for her, and her expectations never exceeded the small dollar amount that I was able to afford.
We just couldn't find anything. There were tons of nice, short dresses her size but they were more "Homecoming" worthy and not beauty pageant attire. We found prom dresses that were somewhat decent, but the plunging necklines and thigh high slits just screamed eighteen, and definitely not eleven.
In an attempt to at least find out what size Presley wore, we wound up at a local pageant dress shop. Judging by the fancy string lights and shabby chic decor lining the store front windows, I knew this was definitely out of our price range, and so did Presley.
We decided to go look anyways, with one understanding- no disappointments when we leave empty handed. I know we stuck out like a seashell in outter space, but we pressed forward. Once we entered the building, I immediately asked if they could point us towards the clearance rack. I am almost certain they did everything in their power to keep from laughing. Apparently there is no such thing as "clearance" in pageant world.
We aren't in Kansas anymore, Toto.
Presley's eyes lit up as she thumbed through multiple colors and styles of dresses. She was speechless when one of the women asked her if she'd like to try one of the beautiful gowns on.
She looked at me..
I looked at the price tag..
The attendant must have read my face. Within minutes Presley was in the dressing room and beautiful women with perfectly polished make up and hair styles came flocking from all directions. One was getting shoes while one was passing the other different dresses of all colors and styles. It was nothing short of the Disney scene in Cinderella when the fairy god mother turns Cinderella's rags into riches.
I was getting nervous.
Palm sweating, heart racing, anxiety thickening nervous.
I couldn't afford this. Not now, not later.
After they found the most amazing dress and matching silver shoes, they twirled Presley up onto this stage lined with mirrors and bright lights. Presley's face lit up, and that's when I realized why we were doing this.
Just like that, it was like the years of foster care labels broke completely off in chunks. All the negative thing she had grown to hear about herself were just rolling off of her like a rock slide. You could see the weight literally lift off of her shoulders as she peered into the mirror and saw herself for the first time in two years.
No more foster care.
Now forever adopted.
No more foster care stigma.
Just a beautiful girl, in a beautiful dress.
In the midst of all these women that I swear co-hosted those dress shows on TLC, stood the owner. She was so friendly and had lots of knowledge about pageants and dresses. She could literally see the anxiety setting in my face as I was fumbling through my wallet trying to figure out how in the world I would be able to afford JUST the rental fee for such a beautiful dress. Without hesitation she told one of the assistants to take the dress up to the counter and that she would ring it up.
Y'all, this woman blessed us by cutting the rental cost by almost 65%. I was absolutely blown away by this stranger's generosity. She most definitely did not have to do this for us, especially since her shop is one of the most busiest pageant and gown retailers. I stood there in complete shock as she just typed up the paperwork and took care of the whole nine yards.
I learned two things-
Not everything is what it seems. I had absolutely no idea why Presley was so persistent about this pageant. Though she was absolutely thrilled to be adopted, I think she desperately needed a moment where she defined the stigma that follows her history.
And.. Kind people are the best kind of people.
No comments:
Post a Comment