It is easy to judge a mother

Fiona- The Social Worker

Her face is almost purple with rage, she is incoherent. She was made bolder by whatever it was that fuelled her.

Alcohol, for sure. She stank of it.

Maybe drugs too, I wouldn't put it past her.

"I need to see my kids!"

I am inside the building with her children, they're crying. The young girl I saw caught a glimpse of mum through the window. I quickly direct them to another room.

"Do we get to see mum today?" The young black hair girl asks me, she is slender and small, with big hazel/green eyes.

I swallow and try not to let my tears fall.

"No, not today."

I sigh, I can’t help it all I can think is; "how selfish. If she really wanted her kids back, just get your act together."

The short stout fifty something woman smiles warmly at the kids and my heart swells.

At least they're safe in the care of this beautiful foster family.

Nina- The Foster Child

We are on the drive back in the white minivan Enid and Harry own after the cancelled access visit.

Mum was drunk, we were told.

Enid takes a deep inhale of her smoke in the passenger seat of the van.

"Sorry kids," she shakes her head and clears her throat.

I momentarily hold my breath as the worst of the smoke clouds around me.

I gaze out of the window, I'm a horse rider racing alongside the car, jumping over all the obstacles.

"These won't go on; we won't be driving this far just to have to turn around and go home. Fancy drinking this early in the morning," Enid shakes her head, eyes dart to Harry whose driving.

He gives a slight nod of agreement. She continues,

"She just got out of rehab! It's not fair on you kids. Getting your hopes up like this,"

She's talking about us, yet. We knew she didn't need our contribution. It wasn't often encouraged.

“She’s being a B.I.T.C.H.”

Harry grunts and turns up the music.

"Excuse the French, do as I say not as I do. Hey kids?' She giggles.

We force a laugh. Perform our part.

She'd repeat herself otherwise.

“Enough woman!” Harry demands, Enid bristles, she is quiet for the remainder of the drive.

Home, it's not home. It's our foster home. Home is at mums.

I blink a bit then go back to my imagination.

Gayle- The mother

"Prim stuck up cunt," I say under my breath glaring at the lady through the window.

Fuck her and her usual “up-tight look” with a tidy ponytail, crisp white work shirt and pencil mid length black skirt.

"Not today," she had said before she darted inside, heels clacking. Her voice shook even her hands shake. Coward.

She gave me a quick going over. I saw her eyes flying up and down, I saw the quick up turn of the lip, the lingering pause at my cleavage showing in my low-cut singlet.

I know I am underweight, my hair in need of another dye, my black regrowth heavily in contrast with the bright red I had tried to achieve.

I notice my second eldest daughter is trying to catch my eyes, she has the same colour eyes as me.

I see it, the look. Trying to reach me, the rope that will pull me out of the darkness.

It's too heavy for her, I whip my head away.

"You fucking cunts!" I roar, I turn around and fling myself into the car.

Simon passes me a vodka can.

I take a swig. The kids. Even when they weren't with me, why did I still feel like I was suffocating?

"Simon," I hiss jumping into his run-down, blue steel late eighties Commodore.

"Follow that van!"

Fiona- The Social Worker

The phone rings.

It's Enid. My lunch breaks in fifteen minutes and this woman can talk.

"It's disruptive," Enid booms.

I bristle a bit. I'm the leading case manager; it is my call to make.

I think about the three kids, as they were listening to their mother's obscene language.

The eldest girls tear streaked face, the oldest boy stoic and the youngest girl eyes wide with fear.

I can't help but feel put off by the minimal effort she had, again put into what she was wearing.

She stank of alcohol.

Now access was supervised she hardly ever showed up sober. For the first supervised access, she didn’t show up at all.

"I agree," I press my lips into a firm line.

Nina- The Foster Kid

We are called inside to have lunch; Enid makes a call.

She's at the kitchen table. She's never quiet. her voice even followed me when I went to my room. I never knew how to finish up a conversation with her.

The first I heard of "having a break from seeing mum" was an overheard phone conversation.

If I mentioned anything I heard from the call Enid would berate me for being an "earwig."

When Enid gets off the phone, Marcus turns his attention to her.

"I love living here," he smiles sweetly at Enid and Enid beams back.

He knew all the right things to say, to make her happy.

I look down so no one can see my face and resist the urge to kick him under the table.

Things were looking up for mum. I wasn't giving up hope.

I think back to how excited she was to show us this three-bedroom rental she had secured, on unsupervised access.

It felt like we were close to the next step, going home.

Marcus messed that up though.

He went snooping through mum’s things.

Found drug stuff.

Dobbed her in even after I begged him not to.

As soon as he told Enid, she got down the phone to make a call.

"Family meeting tonight!" Enid declares, shaking me from the memories.

Gayle- The mother

We are undetected as we followed the van, I jot down the address and we leave.

I stare out the window, memories haunting me, my mind drifts back to my time at rehab.

"You're a bad mother. You need to say it," the nun confronted me at rehab in a room full of the other attendees.

My eyes caught Simon's piercing green eyes, and they flashed with rage.

He had a "fuck the world and what everyone thinks" attitude.

I looked down.

My mind is on me and the kids all tucked in together on the couch watching a Pokémon movie.

We're in my new rental. I've scraped together what I could to set up their new rooms.

The social worker told me I was doing well; unsupervised access was a good sign.

I had hope they'd give me my kids back.

I only had to get through rehab. Some supervised visits. I looked up. My eyes hard and I grip the wooden chair.

"I'm a bad mother," I whisper.

The nun flashes her judgemental eyes to me, all I can see under her attire are her fucking cold stone-grey eyes.

"Pardon, you'll have to speak up," she hisses.

"I AM A BAD MOTHER!" I look towards Simon and he mouths;

"Fuck her."

Nina- the foster kid

Family meeting night is about to start with Enid and Harry.

We assemble around the kitchen table.

Dressing gowns on, cups of Milos in front of us.

"The only one who has really behaved well this week is Marcus," she beams at him, and he squares his shoulders and smiles back.

We smile and nod. My hands feel sweaty. My mind races through what I might have done wrong, whinging too much again?

"You know we love you kids, absolutely adore you," Enid croons.

“We need to fight for you kids, no one else will. You’re almost teenagers and they are hard to place.”

I watch Harry, although Enid did all the talking his face held a thousand words.

“I am calling the department tomorrow, what do you want me to say? Nina?” Enid eye-balls me.

I clear my throat.

"You'll have to speak up love, we can't hear you," Enid tells me.

I don't look at anyone but Harry when I answer. Seeing his face soften towards me for once. His encouraging smile and mouthing the word "go on, go on."

"Behave, impress them," my mind hisses at me. My body tense.

"I don't want to see mum anymore!" I blurt.

"Come here love," Harry calls to me, my body softens, and I walk over for a cuddle.

Gayle- the mother

We pull over, time slows down. Like I am watching a scene from a movie.

I see Harry watering the beautiful front garden, like my dad used to.

My dad was an avid and brilliant gardener when he was alive. A wonderful man.

The kids, my kids. They're happy, they're in close proximity to him and smiling.

Playing, giggling as he pretends to flick the hose towards them.

I momentarily close my eyes and imagine them shrieking at delight at my arrival, racing into my arms.

"Quick! Get inside," Harry shouts, shaking me out of my day dream.

The kids look terrified, they scatter away into the house, like I am some wild rabid dog.

My eyes pool with tears and I climb back into the car.

"Go," I whisper to Simon. I don't need to say much more, he drives away.

Nina-The Foster Kid

Mum really blew it when she showed up at the house.

Enid and Harry took out an intervention order and then they took out guardianship.

“Like adoptive parents,” Harry declared.

“Call us mum and dad,” Enid insisted.

Mum wasn't even allowed to send letters to the house. She'd send them to the department, and they'd give them to Enid.

Enid policed whether or not we got them, sometimes we did, and permanent marker blacked out her phone number.

Some years had passed; I was in my mid-teens. Marcus was old enough to move out.

I stood at his door while he packed. Hoping to find it in me to say goodbye to him.

"You know what?" He spoke up before I turned to walk away.

“Enid and Harry suggested I go through mum’s things."

When we were children, we'd always play out scenes and concerts together, rehearse them for mum.

Surprise her with a show, make her smile, when she finally got out of bed.

I wondered if he’d reach out to mum.

Gayle-The mother

"You're a bad mother."

When that nun put those words into my mouth she didn't have to.

I already knew I was a bad mother.

Above all else, I had zero authority over them.

My kids skipped school, roamed the streets, spoke foul language and shop lifted.

Enid and Harry had their shit together. I hated them and I was jealous.

Marcus had got up when we were watching the Pokémon movie and I saw him sitting in my room crying.

He had a bag in his hands.

I went over to him and wrapped my boy into my arms. He was 13 now, I can smell the Lynx Africa spray I had gifted him.

I picture how small he looked as a baby.

"Would it really be different this time mum?" He sobs raising his face to look at me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

Nina- the Foster Kid

"Kids! Lunch!" Enid bellows from the back door and we make our way in.

Now seems as good of time as any;

I hand Enid the cash.

"Here's my board," I announce, feeling proud I was taking some of the financial weight off Enid and Harry's shoulders.

Now that I was old enough to work and get a Centrelink payment.

They often complained they were struggling with money.

"Thank you," Enid smacks her lips and checks the amount, her heavily ringed hands clinking as they usually do.

I eat my Vegemite sandwich and excuse myself from the table.

Before I go, I hesitate.

"Enid," I say, afraid to look anywhere.

Afraid to look at Harry.

I hesitate, words stuck. Unsure how to word what I was going to say.

"Come on, come on, out with it!" Harry snaps. I tense; he is already in a bad mood.

"Is it ok, if I um... Take up soccer?" I blurt out.

I was probably too quiet again.

"Soccer? Soccer," Enid snorts.

"I would pay, you just need to sign the permission slip," I add quickly.

"What do you want to do that for? You don’t have any talent in sports,” her eyes quickly dart to Harry, he gives a slight shake of the head, eyeing me off and she continues.

"Absolutely not!" She pulls her Avon catalogue towards her. Signalling the conversation is over.

"Why?" I square my shoulders this time eyes dart quickly up to Harry.

Harry explodes. The veins bulge on his neck, his eyes are wide and wild, his hand trembles, threateningly raised towards me as he stands up.

"Get to your room!" He thunders, spit splatters as he shouts at me. Dragging his hand down, as if it took everything out of him.

He hates it when I talk back, I have ruined my chance. I know I have.

He's the same height as me now. yet, still as intimidating as he has always been.

"Why, is a crooked letter that can't be straightened," Enid quips. Seemingly unbothered by Harry's explosion at me.

She'd remind me later I shouldn't be stressing him out, how it wasn't good for his heart. I wouldn't hear the end of it.

She picks up a pen and circles the red Musk perfume she likes, beaming.

Enid beaming reminds me of a bird fluffing out its feathers.

I make my way to my room. I pull out a letter from mum and turn it over.

I can see the number from the back. It gave me a great deal of satisfaction when I could outsmart Enid.

I type her number into my phone, then start a message.

"Hey mum, it's Nina. I miss you." I type out.

My heart races and tears sting my eyes.

I erase the message and flop down on my bed.

Enid likes to point out mum’s flaws, she makes her sound like a monster.

"Everything we do for you kids, is so you don't end up like your mum." she'd remind me.

She is my mum, what does that make me?

I close my eyes and picture mum’s laugh, her delight as she would gaze at us acting out a scene from a book.

Monster or not she still adores her children, no matter what.

Gayle- The Mother

Years passed by and I have tried countless times to imagine my babies as teenagers.

"Hey love,

I've been good. A bit sad. Simon and I broke up, you don't have to worry about that though...."

I scrunch up the paper and scrunch my nose.

I start again, when the letter is done, I gaze off into space.

My mind taunting me with flashes of memories always asking me the same thing.

"Did I do the right thing for my children?"

The drug shit Marcus found in my room was bloody Simon’s, I felt like no one believed me. They said it shouldn't have been there for kids to find, regardless of who it belonged to.

So, it was a step back with supervised access, I would not give up on the kids.

The day of the first supervised visit I had put on a nice button up blouse and pencil skirt, pulled my hair into a neat ponytail. Irritated by my regrowth, I'd put off my hair for the kid's room set up.

I took a deep breath and walked to the Department.

As I near the doors to the department, I can hear Enid on the phone.

"Skin and bones the kids were, nothing but a plastic bag in their hands," I see her puff out her chest.

My heart hammers in my chest. I'm frozen, she doesn't see me.

"Alcohol, oh and drug use. Yepp and the men," Enid snorts.

"Yeah, they are absolute angels. Resilient. Even though she dragged them through hell and back."

She hangs up, I turn around. Almost as though an invisible thread was dragging me there. The nun’s words always bouncing around my head.

"You're a bad mother."

I walk into the bottlo and get a vodka can; I crack it open there in the carpark and drain it.

It was then I had made my decision, let me show the world what a bad mother I can truly be.