Random Thoughts from Childhood Series-The Visits
September 22, 2009
Mat's Memories From Childhood
THE VISITS
There were several types of visits from family members while in Ivy House. The first one involved a family member coming to Ivy House and meeting in a cottage. I don’t recall ever having one myself with an adult family member at cottage one, but I do remember this one kid having a family member show up. It played out with the adult walking to the cottage and us kids acting like puppies in a pet store jockeying for the best position to get attention. A group of my peers and me performed the bump (a dance in the 70’s) for this one adult. It must have been overwhelming for this adult as she was simply trying to enjoy her visit, but was being pestered like flies at picnic from all us kids.
I do recall several visits at the office with my little brother and sister. The office provided a more private setting to meet and kept other kids out. Each time my brother and I met our younger siblings in a private room with books and toys. We would be escorted in the room and an adult would close the door leaving just us four in the room. This visit was always awkward for me. I never knew what to say or how I was supposed to act or what the meaning of the visit meant. I never knew when the visits would happen which took place only about two or three times while I was in Ivy House. These meetings normally lasted about an hour. The closed door sessions made me feel like a rat in an experiment. Us four kids with the door closed and adults watching through windows. Each one played out the same. My little brother playing with toys by himself on other side of room and I would be staring at my sister while my older brother said “Hey.”
The last type of visit was off Ivy House grounds. If you were lucky enough, I thought, you would get to stay at a family’s house for the weekend. These visits like the rest where never announced a head of time nor did you ever know if this would be your first or last visit while in Ivy House. They could be four months, nine months, a year, or more between each one. There never seemed to be a rhyme or reason for the timing between visits. My brother and I on several occasions got to spend the weekend with our mom. A year had gone by before our first visit with our mom. This was the first time since being place at Ivy House that either of us got to see or speak to our mom. I was extremely excited to see her the first time and thought my brother and I were going home for good.
We got to her small apartment, shown our room and then we plopped down to watch TV. She went into the kitchen to make us a meal. She came out and sat between us and started to cry. She told us how much she missed us and how she was going to get us out of Ivy House. At this point, I thought my brother and I were done with Ivy House and figured she had miss spoken about getting us out. I was kissed on the cheek and she headed back to the kitchen. I spent the rest of the day swimming in my excitement of being home. I went to bed that night feeling on top of the world. Sometime during the night I left my room and climbed in bed with my mom. The next morning she made us breakfast and the three of us sat and ate together. As the day wore on my mom’s demeanor changed from happy to hostile. She started making comments about how Ivy House was not taking care of us properly, how we were dressed in rags, and how Ivy House would not let her have us. Then the bomb shell! Pack your stuff because I have to return you to Ivy House. I start crying and ran back to the bedroom. My head is spinning and I’m flooded with emotions. I don’t understand! My mom became short and yelled at us to get our stuff. Suddenly all these questions started running through my head. Why do we have to go back? What did we do wrong? Do we have to go back? Then the anger kicked in and my thoughts turned to my Mother. Don’t you love us? Where have you been since we got to Ivy House? Why have you not visited or called us in Ivy House? Why would you send us back? I said nothing! I grabbed my stuff and stomped out to the car crying. On our way back to Ivy House, she stated that she would get us out of Ivy House by next weekend. She dropped us off at the office and I stood there crying as she drove down the street. I ran back to cottage one and headed to my room. I cried myself to sleep that night. The next morning the emotional pain stilled lingered, but it was offset by knowing we would be going home for good by the end of the week.
The week flew by and with great excitement I started telling the other kids how I was leaving for good on Saturday. My trash bag was packed and I waited by the main doors of cottage one looking out the pane glass windows for my mom. I was so excited that I could barely stand still. The morning dragged into lunch, but I refused to eat because I did not want to miss my mom walking toward the cottage to get me. By late afternoon I sat on the floor next to my belongings and had a strange feeling that she would not show. A house parent walked by and patted me on my back and said it would be OK and then continued to his post. It was dinner time, but I did not feel like eating. I picked up my bag and dragged it back to my room and cried myself to sleep. This same example played out several more times while I was in Ivy House. I know that my mom meant well and sincerely believed what she was saying, but at such a young age I saw things very black and white. That meant she lied and could not be trusted! My brother and I were alone again! I’m not sure the emotional high of each visit was worth the wrenching pain I felt each time this saga played out. After each off grounds visit I would go through the same emotional bombardment as I did the first time I was placed in Ivy House. A matter of fact, I believe it would have been much less disruptive to me if the off grounds visits never happened. However, I guess I should be thankful for the ones I had because many of the other kids never had this opportunity…….
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Hoping from foster home to foster home. I never had any visits until after my adoptive mother had died and I had visits with my adoptive father. I was very excited to go visit for the weekend. I was very happy to go be with my DAD. Even though all he wanted to do was drink and to do nothing. Eventually, I went to find my old friends to spend time with and pretty much disappeared until Sunday. I hated leaving to go back to the group home. I wanted to stay with my DAD. Upon arrival back at the group home. I was mean and very rude to everyone. After several of these visits some of which I did not know about until that Friday. I was asked if I wanted to go and live with my DAD. My answer without any hesitation was YES and That is exactly what I wanted then. Even though as an adult it may not have been what was best for me at that time.. Because, My adoptive father and I never developed a good father son relationship. Even to this day. I have become thankful over the years for what I am able to have with him.
John