Day 1: Some Positive Shit

Fifteen days is a long fucking time. And I have hit a brick wall. So I reached out to my pally, Jason Maze. Maze says, "You have to end it on a positive. Like the news stations do". p.s. Easier said than done. 

The one positive I COULD think of though, was my work family. Those are the people who made me get out of my car each morning to join in on the office shenanigans. 

Those are the people who I got to vent to and didn't have to worry about breaking confidentiality to. 

Those are the people who would bend over backward when they saw me struggling, smack my face, remind me that it's okay to cry, but for chrissakes, get my shit together and put my game face on.

Those are the people who listened to me blurt out long phrases of cuss words and never once complained about "The Potty Mouth Girl". 

Those are the people who stood by me and backed me up when office politicians reared their ugly ass heads. 

Those are the people who made me belly laugh every goddamn day with inappropriate jokes. 

Those are the people who I hope will keep in contact because they should know I'm always down to go out for some drinks and talk some shit about dumbass parents. 

Those are the people who I hope will track me down if they're ever in the neighborhood. 

Those are the people who egged me on into making bad decisions, which technically, are now "good fucking memories". 

Those are the people who helped me grow as a person and a better Case Manager. 

Those are the people who I am going to miss forever and ever because we went through hell and back and have seen such horrible shit together that we are now bound for life due to secondary trauma.

So that's what I will take away. That's my positive. That's who I will think about and miss every goddamn day. 

 

 

Day 2: I Need a Luther Anger Translator

(This is a skit by the comedy duo of Key & Peele. Luther says what Obama wants to say deep down, but can't. Watch this: http://youtu.be/-qv7k2_lc0M)

People will say some shit. Especially to your face. And then I usually want to say some shit back...but you know..."professionalism" and all that. 

1. "I didn't know she was 14..." Bitch please. Then why the text saying "I know you're only 14, but I am in looooooove with you! Let's go to Kentucky and get marrrrrried".

2. "I didn't know my boyfriend sold and made meth in his home..." Really. Cause the Detective told me you sold that shit to him on St. Marys Avenue last week. Remember that?

3. "He only shoved me down the stairs once, so I'm giving him a second chance..." Well then tick tock stupid ass. p.s. Hope he only shoves your kids down the stairs "once". 

4. "The drug screen won't be positive for anything...except maybe Vicodin pills not prescribed to me...and pot...and I did a line at a party..." Is there anything it WON'T be positive for? Because you sound like a real party girl right now. Are you even going to REMEMBER taking this drug screen?

5. "I didn't know my babysitter was a convicted Child Molester..." The white van with no windows and "Free Candy" spray painted on the side didn't clue you in at all? Seriously? 

6. "Do you have children of your own?" Bitch I will cut you. 

7.  "My children have active imaginations and lie about me all of the time..." Girl you are lyin' on your kids right fucking NOW! 

8. "She ran into a wall..." Must have been a steal wall...oh and nice clear handprint on her cheek...did the wall have hands?

9. "I wanted to call in the report 2 months ago when she had bruises, but I thought the parents would change..." Well then what the fuck do you want me to do??? Seriously? Play boogey man and scare them? Get your shit together, Grandma. 

10. "How much of a bonus do you get paid for each kid you remove?" Lady, I pretty much pay the State to work at this fucking job. Ask me when we last had a raise. Or took advantage of the "Spot Bonus Program". (What the HELL do you have to do to get a goddamn SPOT BONUS?????) 

 

 

 

 

Day 3: Advice For Newbies a.k.a. Suckas

You are given a lot of power and a lot of responsibility on Day 1. Don't abuse it. And don't let the job make you jaded and disheartened and bitter...like I have clearly become. Try to keep your humor...the more sick and inappropriate, the better. And be sure to rip off those rose colored glasses first thing, because when you least expect it, someone else will...

I first started, the thought of going to Court scared the shit out of me. There is a Judge!! And a witness stand!! And bailiffs!! And I had never been in a Courtroom before (besides that whole minor consumption thing when I was 20...but that was just a cattle call bullshit room with 68 other people...Sorry Mom!)  So when I show up to my first hearing, it was with a client who was cracked out of her mind (crack IS whack) heading into her last hearing before we proceeded with Termination of Parental Rights of her four children. 

I still had my rose colored glasses on at this point and so I thought I could "change" her and say something so profound to her, that she would immediately put down the crack pipe, check into rehab, and after thirty days, I would be able to reunite her with her four children running from my car up to her new house she bought with the white picket fence and everybody embracing into a giant group hug with her looking over at me with tears streaming down her face while mouthing, "Thank you". 

Absofuckinglutely not. No sir. In fact, this lady was hell bent on snatching those rose colored glasses off of my face as fast as she could...And all it took was her telling me how she went to the dentist and had her upper four teeth removed as to "service the gentlemen" better. Wait...what?!?! What the fuck did she just say? 

And that's exactly when the Judge called us into the Courtroom. I don't remember what happened in there, what was said, what the fuck I said...ANYTHING. Just that this lady had her teeth removed in order to get money for crack. 

We ended up Terminating this lady's Parental Rights on her four children (and the three children she had after that), but I will always have a soft spot for this lady who took it upon herself to let me know that this shit is real life. Not a Judging Amy or Law and Order (clink clink) episode. And that sometimes the disease of drug abuse is stronger than anything else in the whole wide world. And that I apparently black out if you say some fucked up shit like that. 

R.I.P. Lady & Rose Colored Glasses

 

Day 4: Court Etiquette

1. Don't show up with an attitude. Because guess what!?! The Sheriffs Department is right downstairs and those boys can hustle up to the second floor like nobody's business. So go ahead and get in my face. It's fun to see. 

2. Repeat after me..."Yes, Your Honor". It's not "dude", "brah", "Mr. Judge" or something equally stupid. These are people who went beyond the 8th grade. Respect that shit, k?

3. Please do not say the phrase "See what had happen was..." There is a court reporter in the room. You are now forever immortalized as the jackass who began a sentence with "See what had happen was". 

4. When the Judge asks you if you have any corrections or additions to my Preliminary Inquiry Report (that I had to bang out in one fucking day), do not take this opportunity to be Ms. Polly Spell Checker. That's not the question. Did I get your kids' birthdays right? Do you even know your kids' birthdays? 

5. Don't be a dick. Because after eight years, I have perfected the subtle art of being able to strategically roll my eyes and express my distaste of your evil lies  and ways with body language. When I drop my pen and cough, that means "Your Honor, this motherfucker is a bullshit fuckhead". 

6. Dress like you're going to church. Not da club. Nobody wants to see dem titties in Court. Put dem away. 

7. If you have an attorney, by all means bring that person. But for all that is holy, do not LIE about it. Court doesn't wait for pretend people. 

8. After Court, there is a little piece of paper that will be mailed to you with "Court Orders". These are not "suggestions". These are things you need to DO to get your shit together. Read them. Learn them. Live Them. 

9. We are all for a "family support system" and your extended family is welcome to come with you, however this is not the time for a family reunion with matching t-shirts. And if Uncle Gary has a slight drinking problem and a bad case of Terets, be sure to leave Uncle Gary at home. 

10. Fight for your children. That. Is. Why. You're. Here. And that is the only thing you need to think about. 

 

Day 5: Worker Safety

I just laughed my ass off typing that. Because there really is no "worker safety". We graduate from "training" with a State issued black binder that is supposed to "protect us" and be available to use for "self defense". K. 

We are not allowed to "carry", have any sort of self defense mace spray or Chinese stars or are even allowed to "fight back". Which is why I frequently utilized our boys in blue as needed. (And who wouldn't want to see some men in uniform every now and then). 

There have only been a handful of times when I had realized that I may have put myself into a potentially life threatening situation. The kind where you're standing in someone's home and all of the sudden the conversation goes south, everyone is screaming, you get called a "bitch ass motherfucker" and you're checking out viable exits to run to.  

The kind where all of the sudden you realize the other person in the room is clearly wasted out of his right mind on meth and ran out of fucks to give two minutes ago. 

The kind where shit starts to get heated between a mother a daughter so you physically put yourself between the two and slowly back out of the house and then shove the daughter in the car and speed away. 

And then there is the other kind...where you fear for the OTHER person's safety...because they did some shit that just took your anger level to Defcon 1. 

The kind where the father was the caregiver at the time when the baby was shaken so hard, their brain is oatmeal mush. AND HE CONTINUES TO DENY EVERYTHING. 

The kind where the child is relaying info about what her father does to her at night in her bedroom, under the covers, while the mother is at her second job. 

The kind where you see a child with two black eyes and bruises all over their body "because he wet the bed". 

Being "professional" in this job was hard. as. hell. And sometimes I failed miserably. Because I just didn't fully buy into the "look at the person, not the act"...because there are some MONSTERS out there. But I sure am glad I had my State issued black binder to keep me and others safe. 

 

Day 6: Adoption & Greedy Ass Foster Parents

When a child is removed from a home, the goal is always to remedy the situation and the parents have approximately one year to get their shit together and prove it to the Courts. When this doesn't happen, we look for other permanent options such as a Change of Custody or a Guardianship. If there are no other viable options, we head to Termination of Parental Rights essentially making that child a ward of the state. And there they sit. And wait. And wait. So here are some tips:

Do's and Don'ts of Adoption & Being a Foster Parent:

1. Don't be a greedy ass foster parent expecting children to come with money. And don't come to the table ready to negotiate. Children are not houses or cars or even items at a garage sale. 

2. Don't expect newborn babies. If your desire to be a parent is truly in the right place, you will parent children of ALL ages. Not just the snuggly ones. 

3. Just because your homestudy gets approved, don't think the next day *POOF* we will deliver a child. It doesn't work like that. Except at Hogwarts. They can do that shit. 

4. Don't fuck up a child's placement for your own selfish gains. It's just bad form. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be. 

5. Don't think it's okay to pick and choose from a sibling group. Take them all or don't take any. Don't be the asshole that rips away a child's last remaining family ties. 

6. Don't blame the children if shit doesn't work out. ESPECIALLY IN FRONT OF THEM. Go listen to "Man in the Mirror" by Michael Jackson and realize PREFERABLY BEFOREHAND that it takes work to parent these traumatized kids. 

7. If things aren't working out with one child of a sibling group and you tell us to come and get that one child, we will come and get them all. Not just the one. All. Of. Them. They are a sibling "group". Do ya get that? 

8. Do not call us years down the road and say that "this isn't working out like I thought" and expect us to willingly take them back. Because we'll take them back all right...and also take your ass to Court and make you go through the system yourself. We are not a Target return/refund checkout lane. 

9. If you and your partner DO decide to foster or adopt, please assure that BOTH of you are on board. Children are a lifetime commitment. Not a relationship fixer. Not a rescue puppy. Not a carnival goldfish. 

10. Do not call these children ANYTHING BUT "my children". Do not say "my adopted kid" or "that one is my biological one" or "these are just my foster kids". Because I will drag you around the Fort and say to people "this is my asshole dickbag acquaintance". 

Foster parenting is a hard ass job. I get it. And we are SEVERELY lacking in good foster homes. I'm sure I don't have to say *why* we are lacking good homes...especially if you read the last paragraph of Day 7's post. But I would encourage anyone who has been thinking about it, to apply. As soon as possible. Because we are REALLY scraping the bottom of the barrel with ours right now. 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 7: "I Don't Know How You Do Your Job"

If I had a nickel every time I heard this... Because, yes I've seen some shit. Shit you just cannot unsee or forget. Ever. But really, I have LOVED the job. 

I have loved the adrenaline rushes and playing cops and robbers and jumping fences with FWPD. 

I have loved walking into a broken family and helping them put their pieces back together. 

I have loved being able to help kids find their voices to tell their stupid parents to get their shit together. Kids don't give. a. fuck. They will say whatever pops into their minds. And they will tell you the God's honest truth about the shady shit their parents have done. 

I have loved *most of* my coworkers. They are my second family. We have had to trust each other with our lives in some situations which has instantly bonded us for life. Not to mention the select few who are (deep deep down) as inappropriate as I am. 
 
What I have NOT loved however is the complete lack of support from "management", the micro-managing, and the underground office politics that "better" the office while lacking complete common sense. That's what makes an already stressful job more stressful. That's what makes me sit in my car those extra five minutes every morning fighting the urge to drive far, far away. That's why I am leaving. That's why everyone leaves. Because you can only push a loyal person so fucking far.