Trauma at Cracker Barrel

Today was a good day. Alli and I (accompanied by Elvis, of course) went the craft fair at my school. We spent $2 total to get in and that was all we spent. I like to look but I don't need more crap in my house. It was good to see all the people and I enjoyed the time there. As we left, none of us wanted to go right back home so we decided to stop at Cracker Barrel for lunch.

At the time, I thought it a good decision. I love to eat there but we rarely do. It was just the 3 of us so it would be cheaper than eating out with everyone in tow. The girls' bio cousin works there and we hoped to be able to see her for a minute. And it did start out well. We got a good table that had room for Elvis' wheelchair. The assistant from his classroom was there with her husband and some friends. He loved seeing her and spent the rest of the meal staring at her. We were seated next to a family we know from church so there were some pleasantries exchanged. We got to see Cousin It. She didn't wait on us but had a couple of breaks to come chat with us and catch up. She's doing well.

And then it happened. My gaze drifted to the people who had just been seated in the next aisle and I realized I knew them. It was a long-ago foster parent "friend." I'd taught several of her foster kids in various special ed programs and I'd babysat her foster kids while they went out of town several times. Our friendship ended the day her 4 year old foster son came to school with some odd marks on his arm and hand. Just to make conversation, I asked him what happened. He looked me in the eye and said, "My mom hit me with the spoon she cooks with." He'd been with this foster mom since birth and she was his only mom. I didn't make the phone call but only because I knew an assistant in the classroom who also heard his statement was going to hotline it. Being mandated reporters, we had no choice. She made the call that afternoon and I was greeted first thing in the morning with a call from the investigator. By the time school had ended that day, they had closed that foster home and removed the 4 foster kids there at the time. It was ugly. Both the foster mom and her adult daughter had made some very explicit threats toward me. (They made the threats to the investigators.) They insisted I'd called the hotline with lies because I wanted their foster kids. (That was the reason I'd let the classroom assistant make the call. I wanted to be able to look them in the eyes and say I didn't do it. I did, of course, confirm for the investigator that they child had said that, but I didn't make THE call.) The idiot adult daughter called me several times immediately after the removal to cuss me out. I didn't respond. The investigators believed the threats to be credible enough to request the local police drive past my house a few times a night for a week or so. Oddly, I did end up getting one of the foster kids removed from that family. About 8:00 PM, the case worker had called and asked if I would take the 11 year old girl. They'd placed the little ones and the teen but not Anna. I took her because I knew her. Her bio brother was placed in a residential setting but had been coming to my house for weekends and holidays so it only made sense to take her, too.

My last contact with that family was almost 10 years ago. They lost their foster license and moved to a neighboring county. I never heard anything else from them or about them. And then today, there they were at Cracker Barrel. We didn't acknowledge each other. I sure recognized them and can only assume they recognized me. I just hated the way it made me feel. I'm not one to have physical reactions to emotions but I felt a little sick. I was nervous and jumpy. I had to resist the urge to just stand up and leave immediately after realizing who they were. I honestly don't know why I had those feelings. I certainly did nothing wrong to them. I'm not scared of them. If anything, I kind of pity them. However, I certainly don't want to see them again, especially not in a public setting. Good riddance to them. I hope I go another 10 years without seeing them again.