A lockbox inside a lockbox

CPR training is every bit as exciting as it looks.

It's always been my policy at work not to let anyone know all I'm capable of, lest they expect me to do it. As I am now, weeks or even days from being licensed to foster parent, I worry about the things I know how to do. I know how to administer psychotropic medications. I know how to restrain a kid who is trying to injure me without causing harm to him/her. How to stop him from choking me, biting me, kicking me, grabbing me. How to perform CPR. How to properly discipline a traumatized child, one who may be acting out as a result of any number of tragedies. How to keep a Life Book so the child has a continuing sense of place, understanding of self. I know how to protect him, care for him, and properly provide for him. I'm just afraid I may have to do it.

Over the past two months, Shawn and I have been working with our new agency to become a licensed foster home. Outside of the mountains of paperwork we've completed and 20 hours of training, we can prove to anyone that our cars are inspected and insured, that we've paid all our taxes. We can show you our three-year certified driving history, our diplomas, the fire escape route for our home. We've documented where we'll be if there's a disaster, we've wall-mounted a fire extinguisher, we've re-vaccinated all the cats. I'm in the process of background-checking my parents and sisters. The health inspector and fire inspector have signed off. Essentially, it's all over but the lockboxes.

MINIMUM STANDARDS FOR CHILD-PLACING AGENCIES
Subchapter J, Foster Care Services: Medical and Dental
Division 4, Medication Storage and Destruction
§749.1521. (4) Store medication covered by Schedule II of the Texas Controlled Substances Act under double lock in a separate container.

The only thing left between us and a foster license is a series of locks. Locked up tools, locked up cleaning supplies, and in the case of certain medications, a locked box inside another locked box. As I think about my errands for the weekend, it just barely strikes me as odd that I have to find a way to keep Schedule II medications under double lock as required by law. It no longer occurs to me that it's strange that I even know what I'm talking about (I know most people don't). What I know is if I don't have a lockbox inside a lockbox by Tuesday morning, we won't get our license. Tuesday is the first of two visits by our caseworker that will finalize the process, part interview and part home inspection. After that we will begin to receive broadcasts for available children again, this time for legal-risk foster placement in our home with the intention to adopt once the child or children are legally free.

I'm excited that Shawn and I have worked hard and have nearly survived another trial on our unique path to parenthood. And I'll have all those locks in place on time. What I'm more concerned about is what we are unlocking. This license is the key to opening ourselves up again, to more children with the potential to become ours. Opening up our home to the fishbowl that is foster care and the visits from CPS and agency caseworkers and child advocates. Opening our minds to the idea of documenting every doctor visit, every pill taken, every t-shirt purchased, every altercation, every breath it seems, that this child or children will take in our care. Opening our hearts and our arms to troubled kids who will not be ready to love us back. To be honest, it's my telltale heart I wish I could put inside of two locked boxes sometimes. But it's a bit late for that. Because soon, everybody is going to know what I can do.