The Naughty Girl...

Farm toys

I was the youngest of three sisters and growing up we spent a lot of time on my dad’s farm. I was always outside, running around and helping out, always pushing boundaries and asking questions. If my older sisters had something I wanted, I just took it. I was impulsive, often thinking about the consequences later.

I was ‘the naughty girl’ but my naughtiness wasn’t about being mean; it was about being bold and curious. I challenged rules and routines instead of quietly accepting them. It must have been really annoying because my sisters still laugh about the time they tried to ‘send me back’ by posting me off in a dishwasher box. Mum and dad have the picture to prove it. Luckily for me, there’s a ‘no returns’ policy.

That questioning, mischievous little girl is still part of me today. She’s the part that keeps asking “why?” and refuses to accept “that’s just how we do it” as a good enough answer.

...Who Became The Understanding Mum

Letter blocks

I see myself in so many of the children I foster care for. The ones who push boundaries, ask “whyyyy?”, answer back, and act before they think. That was me.

Because I remember how that feels, I don’t see ‘naughty kids’; I see curious, overwhelmed or hurting children who need to be understood. I try my best to slow down, listen and show them that their behaviour doesn’t make them bad.

At home as a parent and in fostering, I use the same skills as in my day job: listening carefully, asking questions and looking beneath the behaviour to find the need. I believe in second chances and building resilience - one conversation, one hug or one “let’s try again” at a time.

The ‘naughty girl’ I was in my childhood has become the understanding mum I am today: still asking “why?”, but now doing it on behalf of the children in my life.

Teamwork Makes the Dream Work

Baking items, photographs

Mark and I are very different, but that’s exactly why we work. He’s calm and grounded; I’m the one who charges in, ready to challenge and ask, “Why can’t we do this differently?” When I’m about to go full steam ahead, he’ll quietly say, “Erm, Katy...Do you think…?” and it makes me pause and reflect.

At home, we’re a team. Mark’s often out early with his job as a baker, so I do the mornings and school runs. After school, he takes over so I can breathe, reset or catch up on what needs doing. If it were up to him, our house would be full of children; I’m the one who has to be realistic and say, “This is what we can cope with.”

Fostering isn’t something either of us could do alone. Our balance between his steadiness and my determination is what makes this dream of a busy, loving, slightly chaotic home actually work.

Lots Of Love To Go Around

Teabags

We don’t do this on our own. My parents live close by, and I speak to them every day. My dad still works from my grandad’s farm, running what he calls his “stress‑free” business, and my mum is always there when I need a cuppa and a breather.

My sisters, nieces and nephews are part of the team too. When we went on holiday last year, my sister moved into our house for a week so the kids could stay in their own home, with their routines and familiar space. I left her a long list of everything they needed every day. She was surprised at all the things we do in our weekly routine, but I just laughed and said, “Welcome to my world,”.

That’s what our wider family does: they pitch in, spoil the kids a bit, and show up when it really matters. It’s our village, like an extra circle of love around every child who comes into our home.

The Day Job

Biscuits and assorted items

By day, I’m the safeguarding and pastoral lead in a special school. I meet the children from their taxis every morning, check in with classes, run interventions, attend meetings with families and social workers, do home visits and welfare checks.

My room is a student hub so there’s always something on the table to do, squash and biscuits, a cupboard of hygiene products, and calm spaces where children can feel safe.

Some days I wonder why I chose a job that uses the same emotional muscles I need at home as a mum and foster carer. But I’m passionate about giving children the best possible chance in life. At work, just like at home, I listen, I notice the small things, and I fight for what they need.

It can be exhausting, and I have to switch off. I make sure my emails go off at five o’clock so I can be fully present for my own children. But the truth is, the same call to care runs through both parts of my life. I’m doing the same work in different places: making sure children feel seen, heard and safe.

Let’s Talk About Failure

Katy-Jane’s Inspirational card

If I had a magic wand, I’d start with the education system, especially for children with Special Educational Needs [SEND]. There are so many things to fix.

Right now, too much of the curriculum is about exams and quiet rows of children sitting still for hours. Even adults struggle with that, never mind children who are anxious, sensory‑sensitive or simply wired differently. We talk about “failure” as if one set of grades decides a whole life, instead of seeing learning as something you can come back to, try again, and do in different ways.

I’d want a curriculum that teaches real‑life skills: practical maths and English, creativity, communication, resilience and relationships. Something that recognises individual strengths. In SEND schools, there is more flexibility, and that helps - but I still see children bending themselves to fit a system, instead of the system flexing to fit them. If I could change one thing, I’d build a kinder, more compassionate curriculum around the children we actually have, not the imaginary “ideal” students on paper.

Showing Up

Grab bag assorted items

Fostering has taught me that the best care isn’t about being perfect; it’s about helping children learn from mistakes and try again. There are practical parts like making sure there are clothes, toiletries, snacks, and a bedroom that feels like theirs from day one. But that’s only one layer. What really matters is helping children feel part of a whole system of people who will listen to them, believe them and stand beside them.

Being trauma‑informed is a big part of that. Many of the children I care for have been let down or even hurt, by systems or people that weren’t trauma‑aware. I try to be the opposite: to slow down, to let them lead where they can, to hear what they’re saying underneath the behaviour. I wish more services were intentional about learning how to do that.

What I know for sure is that change doesn’t come from grand gestures. It comes from showing up, over and over again, so a child starts to believe: “I get another chance. I’m not too much. I’m worth the effort.”

Long-term Lovin’

Pictures, football trophy

I’ve been with Tyler since I was 16, sitting my GCSEs. We met through Instagram with a liked photo here and another one there, and somehow we just… clicked. We’ve grown up together: from teenagers messaging on Facebook to a family with a baby.

We are complete opposites. I’m 5'2", chatty, sociable, the one who loves people and pushes us out of our comfort zone. He’s 6'4", quieter, more reserved, happy to stay in.

Our love isn’t grand gestures; it’s sharing a chocolate bar on a Saturday night, pulling an Irish exit from nights out because we’d rather be at home together, and supporting each other when things get hard.

This past few years has tested us a lot: serious illness, a baby, postpartum depression, but we have always found our way back to each other. Gracie’s first year is coming up soon and it has felt like a joint achievement: not just her birthday, but a quiet celebration that we did it. Our love is solid and true, and that’s exactly what I want Gracie to see.

Every Child Needs A Champion

Trophies of the Supported Children

I’ve seen how often children’s voices are talked about but not truly heard. Meetings happen, decisions are made, and the child is the one who isn’t really in the room.

Part of my job, at school, as a mum and as a foster carer, is to be that persistent voice. When a young person has questions which no one has answered, I say, “I’ll ask. I’ll try to get you those answers.” I will keep going until someone listens.

With my own foster children, that’s looked like challenging reports, pushing back on labels that don’t fit, and fighting for the right support. Even if it means I’m ‘being awkward’! - you have to be that parent sometimes, because you know your child best.

I don’t do it to be difficult; I do it because every child needs a champion, someone who won’t give up, even when the system is slow, complicated or defensive. For the children in my life, I choose to be that person.

Rich Tea And Gym Buddies

Water bottle and assorted items

I know that to look after everyone else, I have to look after myself.

For me, that starts with switching off from work when I get home so I can be present for my kid. I go to the gym a couple of times a week: circuit classes, strength and core. I don’t love it, but I sing along to the loud 80s music and get through the hard bits. For that hour, it’s just me and the workout. No meetings, no school, no case notes.

Self‑care is also simple things: being out with friends, Mark going on his long bike rides with his cycling club, or me popping round to my mum’s for a cuppa.

I try to stay self‑aware and reflective: noticing when I’m tired, when I need a break, when I could have handled something better. I’m not the same foster carer I was when I started and I am still learning, still changing. There are no angels here, just real people doing a hard, beautiful job today and then trying again tomorrow.