small mark on an otherwise clean top to a tiny skin blemish for which the carer could be held responsible. Not all parents do this but a sizeable proportion do, and I can see only too clearly the reasoning behind it, although this doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. In having their child removed the parents have lost virtually all control over the child’s upbringing, and have effectively been told that their parenting wasn’t good enough. Human nature being what it is, it therefore makes some sense for them to retain what little control they still have in their child’s upbringing by criticizing the carer and wanting things done differently. Also, trying to show that the carer is doing a less than perfect job in some way minimizes their own shortcomings and failings.
However, I have worked with plenty of parents who recognize that, for whatever reason, they were not able to raise their children and want to work with me. This makes life so much easier for all concerned, particularly the child, who isn’t subjected to divided loyalties between the parent and the carer. Given that Tracey had all her children in care, and that had been so for fifteen years, I hoped she’d come to terms with this and would therefore view me as an ally and not an enemy, for the benefit of Reece.
With Reece at last settled under his seatbelt in the car, and with a couple of books to keep him amused, I headed for the council offices, which were on the other side of town. I had allowed half an hour for the journey, which would get us there in good time. Contact started at six o’clock, so I had allowed an extra ten minutes for parking and then phoning and waiting for the duty social worker to arrive. I had entered the duty social worker’s number on my mobile, which was now in my handbag on the passenger seat.
Reece was pretty quiet in the car, not looking at the books but peering out of his side window at the brightly lit shops, which were just closing. He was making a low humming noise which, although mildly irritating, was considerably less distracting than the jarring sounds of planes and cars crashing which had accompanied our previous car journeys. I had explained to Reece what was going to happen — i.e. that we would park in the council offices’ car park, and a social worker would come to the car and then take him to see his mother in a room in the building.
‘Why aren’t you taking me?’ Reece asked.
‘I don’t know which room you will be in,’ I half-truthed, ‘so they thought it would be easier this way.’ I could hardly say his mother was considered dangerous.
It was 5.50, and I was waiting for a gap in the traffic so that I could turn right into the council offices’ car park. As I glanced across I saw that the car park, which flanked two sides of the six-storey building, was virtually empty. By this time most of the council employeeswould have left work, so I guessed that apart from a few employees working late — the social workers, security guard and cleaners — the building would be deserted, like the car park. I knew the building was normally closed and completely in darkness by 7.00 because I’d driven past it on a couple of occasions on my way to see a friend, but clearly they would be keeping part of it open tonight for Reece’s contact, which wasn’t due to finish until 7.30.
I made the right turn and slowly drew across the car park so that I could park beneath the one lamp that lit the otherwise dark parking area. I nosed the car up to the dwarf wall that skirted the car park and nearly jumped out of my seat as Reece bellowed ‘Mum!’ at the top of his voice.
I looked over and saw a lone figure come out of shadows of the building and begin towards us. I felt my heart start to race. Pulling up the handbrake, I turned off the engine.
‘Mum!’ Reece yelled again, releasing his seatbelt.
‘Stay there until I let you out,’ I said firmly. I looked at the woman, who was now about 10 yards
However, I have worked with plenty of parents who recognize that, for whatever reason, they were not able to raise their children and want to work with me. This makes life so much easier for all concerned, particularly the child, who isn’t subjected to divided loyalties between the parent and the carer. Given that Tracey had all her children in care, and that had been so for fifteen years, I hoped she’d come to terms with this and would therefore view me as an ally and not an enemy, for the benefit of Reece.
With Reece at last settled under his seatbelt in the car, and with a couple of books to keep him amused, I headed for the council offices, which were on the other side of town. I had allowed half an hour for the journey, which would get us there in good time. Contact started at six o’clock, so I had allowed an extra ten minutes for parking and then phoning and waiting for the duty social worker to arrive. I had entered the duty social worker’s number on my mobile, which was now in my handbag on the passenger seat.
Reece was pretty quiet in the car, not looking at the books but peering out of his side window at the brightly lit shops, which were just closing. He was making a low humming noise which, although mildly irritating, was considerably less distracting than the jarring sounds of planes and cars crashing which had accompanied our previous car journeys. I had explained to Reece what was going to happen — i.e. that we would park in the council offices’ car park, and a social worker would come to the car and then take him to see his mother in a room in the building.
‘Why aren’t you taking me?’ Reece asked.
‘I don’t know which room you will be in,’ I half-truthed, ‘so they thought it would be easier this way.’ I could hardly say his mother was considered dangerous.
It was 5.50, and I was waiting for a gap in the traffic so that I could turn right into the council offices’ car park. As I glanced across I saw that the car park, which flanked two sides of the six-storey building, was virtually empty. By this time most of the council employeeswould have left work, so I guessed that apart from a few employees working late — the social workers, security guard and cleaners — the building would be deserted, like the car park. I knew the building was normally closed and completely in darkness by 7.00 because I’d driven past it on a couple of occasions on my way to see a friend, but clearly they would be keeping part of it open tonight for Reece’s contact, which wasn’t due to finish until 7.30.
I made the right turn and slowly drew across the car park so that I could park beneath the one lamp that lit the otherwise dark parking area. I nosed the car up to the dwarf wall that skirted the car park and nearly jumped out of my seat as Reece bellowed ‘Mum!’ at the top of his voice.
I looked over and saw a lone figure come out of shadows of the building and begin towards us. I felt my heart start to race. Pulling up the handbrake, I turned off the engine.
‘Mum!’ Reece yelled again, releasing his seatbelt.
‘Stay there until I let you out,’ I said firmly. I looked at the woman, who was now about 10 yards
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