House of Healing : Troubled Children Thrive in Huntington Beach Woman’s Home

Ann Belles’ boys are gathered around the big wooden table in the kitchen of their home, watching their 17-year-old brother, Chris, blow out the candles atop his white-frosted birthday cake.

After Chris rips open his presents--which include a backpack, a Jim Carrey video and lots of back-to-school clothes--the boys push the table to the side of the room and start dancing to Fleetwood Mac and Neil Young tunes on the linoleum floor.

With seven boys in the house, birthday parties are a common event at Belles’ Minerva Lane home. Yet, for these youngsters, the simple act of coming together as a family is a privilege they only recently discovered.

Belles’ boys came to her from state hospitals, from families that felt they could no longer care for them, or after being shuffled from one foster family to another.

Their medical, cognitive and behavioral problems are so severe that most of their parents want nothing to do with them. One parent moved away without providing a forwarding address; another went so far as to tell Belles, “Don’t call me unless he dies--and even then, be discreet.”

When doctors first examined the boys as babies, they predicted that some wouldn’t live to become teen-agers. Most home-care providers took one look at their medical and emotional needs and turned them away.

But when Belles met Chris, Matthew, Robert, Phillip, Jose, Barry and Danny, her heart filled with hope. She jumped at the chance to obtain legal custody of two of the boys, and lobbied hard to have the five others come live with her and her housemate, Mark Andrews, at their Huntington Beach home.

Now, as members of this large and loving family, the boys--whose ages range from 9 to 17--are defying most people’s expectations. Some have learned to walk, talk and play sports. Three have steady girlfriends, and all attend regular public schools.

“No one should pity these kids,” said Belles, 32, who has operated a licensed group home since she was 19. “They may look different, but they’re typical kids. What goes on here is not too much different than what goes on in your own house.”

Having grown up in a home devoid of family pictures, Belles’ walls are covered with school photographs of her boys showing off toothy smiles.

The kids’ paintings and drawings also are tacked up throughout the house. And the refrigerator is stocked with milk, eggs, fruit, and, of course, a gallon carton of rainbow sherbet.

That’s not to say that Belles’ family, and the events that transpire inside her brown frame house on this well-kept cul-de-sac, are exactly conventional.

Along with Andrews and the seven boys, Belles shares her home with three dogs, a potbellied pig, seven birds, several fish and a pet rabbit. Eight trained helpers work regular shifts at the house to help care for the boys, and the youths are frequently visited by a music teacher, a speech pathologist, a technology specialist and a nurse.

On a recent afternoon, 13-year-old Phillip sat in the family room banging on a tambourine as his musical therapist sang “This Land Is Your Land.” In a neighboring room, 10-year-old Barry cracked jokes as a staff member cleared a tube lodged in his throat, allowing him to breathe more easily.

“You just know they’re taking good care of those kids,” said Margaret Lysaght, who lives next door. “They’re a real family. One time, I remember coming home and seeing Chris watering the yard on his knees. When he saw me, he waved and began hosing my yard like a good neighbor. I know that people, at least on this side of the cul-de-sac, are very fond of this family.”

Learning to Communicate

The boys came to Belles at different times during the past six years, from places where they had been languishing.

Because he did not speak and often sat lifelessly in his wheelchair, some people assumed that 12-year-old Jose was profoundly retarded. He once was described as being like a plant that simply needs to be watered to stay alive.

But after Belles met Jose at a Santa Ana school and persuaded his parents that he might be better off at her home, she had Jose tested and learned that he has above average intelligence.

Jose, who visits his parents every weekend, still cannot speak and relies on his wheelchair to get around. But he has learned to communicate by using a sophisticated communication device, and by raising his eyes when he means yes and lowering them when he means no.

“When we first saw him at school, his teachers said he was never going to do anything,” Andrews said. “But he’s the smartest kid in the house. He doesn’t have much mobility in his body, but his brain is functioning 100%.”

When Belles first met Barry at the Fairview Developmental Center in Costa Mesa, his nurses showered him with attention, but treated him as if he was too fragile to do anything on his own.

Barry, who spent the first eight years of his life at the state hospital, breathes through a hole in his throat and eats through a tube, which is inserted in his stomach.

“When we first got him, he was afraid of everything,” Belles said. “He would throw a fit if he had to sit on the grass, and he would panic if he saw a dog or even a bug.”

Now, Barry has an orange belt in karate, is learning to walk independently, attends regular public education classes and has a 9-year-old girlfriend, Erin, who comes to visit him nearly every day.

“I’m a real boy now,” Barry said.

“Before, I never got to see the ocean because they didn’t let me do anything at Fairview. Now, I do a lot of fun things.”

Before moving in with Belles in 1991, Chris couldn’t read, was afraid to try new things and didn’t take on even the simplest of tasks. He now performs household chores, runs errands, visits his girlfriend and holds a part-time clerical job at Edison High School in Huntington Beach, where he is enrolled in special education classes. Belles gained custody of Chris after state officials removed him from his natural mother.

A Model Home

Once unable to walk, talk, feed himself or even use the bathroom by himself, 14-year-old Robert now rides a bike, has gotten parts in several television commercials and takes the bus by himself. Belles brought Robert to her home in 1989 after seeing him at a Garden Grove nursing facility, where he was placed after his mother relinquished custody of him.

And 15-year-old Matthew, who ripped curtains, hosed the inside of the house and threw constant tantrums when he first arrived in 1992, is now one of the calmest and best-behaved boys in the house.

“I feel tremendously comfortable having him there,” said Matthew’s mother, Teresa Cain, who with her husband is one of only two sets of parents who regularly see their sons. “It’s the closest thing to an ideal environment for Matthew and the other boys that I can imagine.”

After Matthew was placed initially at a Los Angeles County group home, his parents removed him when circular bruises appeared on his back.

“We hunted and hunted for another home, but we got so frustrated that so little was available for children like Matthew,” said Cain, who lives in San Diego and met Belles through a friend of a friend. “It was complete serendipity that we met Ann.”

There are many “small family homes” in California, but only a few provide care for children with severe medical and behavioral problems. Belles is one of only four family-home providers in Orange County who take in children with the most severe medical and behavioral needs--and county officials said she serves as a model.

“Ann’s home is a great example of how things can and should be done,” said Harry Taylor, community services planner at the Regional Center of Orange County, a nonprofit agency that provides assistance to people with developmental disabilities. “I can’t say anything negative about her because people who live with her really seem to thrive. She really has a home, and that’s what it’s all about.”

Belles’ desire to care for the disabled is a lifelong interest that she nurtured against her parents’ will. At 14, while many of her classmates were dating and going to parties, Belles spent her free time visiting patients at the state hospital in Costa Mesa.

“I would tell my mother I was going to the library, and then I would ride my bike to the hospital,” said Belles, whose parents still do not like her caring for the disabled. “I would have to coordinate my visits with the library hours to make sure my parents wouldn’t find out.”

After graduating from Ocean View High School in Huntington Beach, Belles began working as a teacher’s aide at nearby Wintersburg Guidance Center, a school for handicapped high school students. After a 16-year-old girl came to school with cigarette burns on her hand, Belles and her roommate at the time, Sallie Dashiell, agreed to take her into their home by turning their condo into a licensed small family facility.

Belles and Dashiell cared for four girls at their condo before opening another group home in Santa Ana for six quadriplegic boys. After another organization took over the Santa Ana home, Belles bought her current home in 1989.

Supporting the underdog has become a way of life for Belles. Even when it came to picking dogs for the family, she went to the pound and said, “Give me the ones that are going to die today.”

But Belles hates being thought of as a courageous “Mother Theresa” type who took in handicapped children as a charitable deed.

Rather, she sees it this way. Some people write for newspapers, other people pick up the trash. “This is just what I do,” she said.

Others, however, say Belles is blessed with a rare ability to nurture the type of children whom everyone else has given up on.

“There’s not many people in this world who can do what she does,” said Carol Butterfield, the mother of one of Belles’ staff members who has known Belles for more than a decade. “You really have to be a special person to do this.”

To help expose her children to the outside world, Belles plans daily activities for them, and encourages them to get to their destinations by county bus.

Just in the past few weeks, Belles has arranged trips to the circus, the local swimming pool, the Anaheim Museum, the horse races and even the water waste management district.

The boys recently headed to a Fountain Valley bowling alley, where Belles propped herself against a wall to get a good view as her boys took turns rolling a 12-pound ball down a slick wooden lane.

Wearing oversized kneepads, Chris used both hands to heave his ball while standing on his knees. Jose pushed his ball from his electric wheelchair, grinning proudly as it slowly swerved toward the center of the lane and knocked down all 10 pins.

“I like being part of this family because we do a lot of activities,” Chris said. “We never just sit around.”

Aware of Her Role

Somewhat shy and reserved, Belles is not the type of parent who constantly hugs and kisses her children in public. But she is keenly aware of her role as a guardian, advocate and surrogate mother.

Whle watching Barry take his karate class with a group of able-bodied kids, Belles stood behind a Japanese screen, peering through the spaces dividing the plastic screens.

When the instructor asked students in the class to find a partner, Belles fidgeted nervously.

“One of the stressful things for parents is when it’s time for their kids to pick a partner,” Belles said, looking relieved when Barry is finally paired up.

To pay for food, activities and other expenses, Belles receives about $17,500 a month from the state--nearly all of which she pays to her full-time staffers and for the family’s basic living expenses.

Belles is licensed to have six children, not including Chris and Robert, for whom she is a legal guardian. Although her home is already bustling with children, Belles is planning to add an eighth child.

If she had to choose between taking in a child with severe disabilities or a more physically and mentally able child, Belles said she would definitely pick the more needy youth because she enjoys the challenge.

But when asked if she wants kids of her own, Belles immediately shakes her head.

“Oh no,” she said. “I’ve never wanted that. I’ll just take everybody else’s kids--the ones they don’t want.”