"Just" a Foster Parent

Sass and I had the "privilege" of going to see the psychiatrist yesterday. I am not sure exactly why he is in the loop, since her medical needs can be managed by the pediatrician, but he is. Mr. Shrink is not my favorite man. He was not my favorite man when he would not hear me say that I thought the eldest blond brother didn't need meds. He was not my favorite man when he told me that the middle blond needed a few. I believe he gets a cut of the profits from certain medications. I believe he may be married to his prescription pad.

Yesterday, in between being 20 minutes late for us, his 1st appointment, and taking a personal phone call while we were in his office, Mr. Shrink asked me how I thought Sass was doing. I used at least 20 adjectives to describe how far she has come. He then asked Sass how she thought she was doing. She used three adjectives to say she is doing well. Then he pulled out his prescription pad. I expressed disagreement with his choices. His response was: You are just a foster parent. When you make the decision to be LEGALLY responsible for your own child, you will have more say. I am her doctor.

So just like that he was able to trump me. He is right in only one regard. I have no legal responsibility for Sass. Where's the sense in that? She lives with me 24/7. I take her to the ER. I am the one who stays with her when she cries herself to sleep because she misses her family. I am the one who schleps her to the various appointments to therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists to undo what those who were legally responsible for her have done. But I have no say in the matter. I am "just" the foster parent.

Needless to say, I was not a happy camper. However, I was an unhappy camper with a very impressionable audience. So, of course, I calmly stated my disagreement and left the office (vowing in my head to never return). I thought I handled myself well. I thought I managed to show Miss Sassafras that, even when disagreeing with someone, even if they make you SO mad, they should be treated with respect. I thought she had NO CLUE that I was mad as we left the doctor's office or that I had not recovered by the end of the day.

Apparently, I failed in my attempts. Later that evening, Miss Sass pulled out another one of Mo Willems' books. In this one, Piggie is mad because Gerald the elephant has broken her new toy. She is really mad. And she is mad for several pages. Sass turned the page to see Piggie staring down Gerald. "That" she said, pointing to the tornado-shaped cloud colored over Piggie's head, "is called holding a grudge. And you shouldn't do that....TAMMY!"