It has been eleven months since Huckle came to live with us, as of today.
It has been ten months since TPR.
We started asking to see his file in February, when we met his new caseworker (there was no caseworker from December to February).
The file should have been deidentified by April 1, per Huck's CW.
Huckle's CW has been to our house for one visit since February, when he became the CW after the old one left in December. He also met us to sign surgery permissions in June.
I have written at least 3 emails per month and left at least 1 voicemail per month regarding the casefile. None have been answered. Emails and phonecalls made to the CW's supervisor have not been answered, either.
Huckle's CW has told my SW that he's been here each month.
Getting three forms signed by the CW has taken five months. They magically appeared last week.
Huckle's file has not been redacted (EIGHT MONTHS!), and even though we are still foster parents and could see it without blackouts, we've been told we may not. We've now been told through the grapevine that if we want to adopt (ever? dunno), we should sign a waiver.
A few months ago, a garbageman found a dumpster full of foster kids' files thrown out behind CPS. Many were current cases.
Now, how about some "ability to sacrifice" and general misery? My hair isn't growing back, I still can't get health insurance, Hubs has postponed his PhD, we turned down promotions/transfers to both coasts and two large European cities since Hub's old position was phased out by Booz Allen last December (because his company was about to be purchased by Northrup ), I'm down to 15 hours of billable time per week from last year's 55, Huck has 4 appointments per week between docs and therapists, his LOC is still basic, our new SW (the agency one) can't even tell us the day of the week without asking her supervisor, the state is trying to shut down our agency (its the freaking agency of the year 3 years running), my in laws will be here for a month starting Sunday (remember how much fun they are?), my grandmother is in the hospital, Huck's peeing all over everything, I've had the same migrane for three weeks, and Huck's dad gets out of prison in a few months (still unknown as to how much of a problem he may be -- when he went in it was "I will kill anyone who gets between us" but then not a peep.).
There's more. There's always more, isn't there? But now I am going to sleep. I will dream of the antidepressants I will be able to afford after January first, I will dream of my old life, I will dream of a future with a fantastic kiddo (this future fantastic Huckle will be much the same, except that future fantastic Huckle doesn't chase the dog to piss all over her.)