Just Ask Betsy

All right ya'll, I have got some serious problems. I have tried and tried to dig into my brain for something insightful, something witty, something to really piss off my cyber stalkers, but my brain has said "blppt." It does not want to cooperate. It has taken a vacation. I really hope my brain comes back soon, I'd hate to go into my interview with the feds next week and answer every question with "duh."

So, I am turning to you my 3 dedicated readers (ha ha). Ask me your questions, fire away, anything that you want to know about me, military man, the bug, or my future as a dump truck driver. I am an open book, okay, an open book with parameters, no identifying info will be shared, you get the idea. So...where are the questions? I'm waiting...

Brain Dead

This is the third time today I have tried to sit down and write a witty, satirical, thought provoking, post guaranteed to irritate my cyber stalking "friends" but to be quite honest, I am brain dead. I attended two weddings yesterday and after 9 hours (yes, you heard me...9 hours) of socializing, I am B-r-a-i-n D-e-a-d!!!! Today I have literally sat in front of the t.v. reading SMUT and playing ballerina pirates with the bug. I hope I have something more interesting to say tomorrow. Hopefully my brain will kick in, after all, I have to go to work tomorrow. Gotta get ready for the Feds in two weeks. See ya soon!!!

Safe Haven Babies

All right folks, I am sure that I am about to stir up a hornet's nest with this post. Remember, this is one social worker's perspective...


Several weeks ago we had a baby placed in our custody through the safe haven law. The mother walked into the emergency room, handed the baby over, and left, no questions asked. The hospital contacted our agency and the baby was immediately taken into custody. Upon discharge from the hospital the baby was placed in their adoptive home.



There are a lot of people out there that do not agree with the safe haven law. This law was first enacted in 1999 as a result of rise in abandoned babies, some found alive, others dead. The babies were found in dumpsters, plastic garbage bags, in wooded areas. The question became why are these mother's abandoning their babies. What circumstances are placing these mothers in a position where they feel that their only resort is to abandon and/or kill their new babies? The response, the safe haven law. This law allows mothers' to safely leave their babies in a location deemed a safe haven location, without the fear of prosecution. The program works!!!



The first safe haven case that I had was close to 8 years ago. My case did not go as smoothly as it looks. The mother went into the hospital with the baby and the hospital proceeded to get her identifying information. This put a whole new spin on how the case was handled and it clearly gave me some perspective into the mind of a desperate mother. When I learned that I had identifying information on the birth mother, by law, I had to contact her. The moment I told her who I was, she began sobbing uncontrollably on the phone. "I thought this was going to be anonymous" she stated, "you don't understand, my mother will throw me out if she finds out I had a biracial child. I have no where to go, no family, the father does not want to have anything to do with this baby. He told me to have an abortion. If he finds out that I had the baby, he will beat me. I finally got away from him. I just want my child to have a good life. I know that he will now have a chance." This was truly a desperate mother and the safe haven program gave her a safe place to leave her baby.


Approximately one year later I was invited to attend an adoption event sponsored by a pro-life group. I began discussing the safe haven law and how I felt it was a great program. Several women became very defensive and literally blasted me for my opinion stating that the safe haven law not only encourages teenage girls to have unprotected sex, but it also sends a message that it is all right to not seek prenatal care when you are pregnant. One woman argued that mothers' may need counseling, medical care, or mental health treatment and they cannot receive help because they gave their baby up. The program was simply encouraging women that it is okay to dump their babies!!!

Okay...clearly, these group of women were missing the point of the program. The program was designed to target those mothers who for whatever reason hid their pregnancy and would have otherwise left their newborns in a dumpster or garbage bags. THAT is what the program was designed for. Not to encourage girls to have unprotected sex, not to send the message to individuals that it is all right to not seek prenatal care. Furthermore, the mother has 30 days to come back for her child. We have had several cases where the mother has come back two or three days later. Our agency has provided her with counseling and supportive services to help her get back on her feet and raise her child.

There are other groups out there that do not agree with this law, to many to discuss. The thing is, I think individuals have gotten so wrapped up in the semantics of the law, they forgot why it was enacted in the first place. If this law was not around and programs were not available, ask yourself what do you think would happen to those babies whose mothers' are in desperate situations? I'll tell you what would happen...

Several months ago, a story broke out in the news that a mother gave her baby away for adoption and later changed her mind. She could not recall the adoption worker's name or the agency she contacted. The mother, frantic to find her child, contacted the media in an all out search for her baby. Two weeks later, the media broke the news that the mother, desperate, overwhelmed, and not knowing what to do, wrapped it in a garbage bag and threw it in the trash. The baby was never found.

So, do you still think that the program is a bad idea? I truly believe the program does what it was designed to do, protect newborns who would have otherwise been killed or abandoned in unsafe environments. But like I said, this is simply my perspective.

What's Your Secret? Mine Is A Daisy Chain

Okay...I figured since I tagged my friend Eli the other day with the whole random meme thing, it was only fair that I followed suit when she posted "What's Your Secret?" on her blog. The question is "What is the thing you realized not as many people know about you as you would expect?" Considering the my life pretty much is an open book, this little secret usually comes as a surprise and shock to everyone who finds out.

Here is what people do know about me:

I have two masters degrees and considering pursuing a PhD
My favorite place to shop is Ann Taylor Loft
I LOVE high heels (4" at least); I even wore heels throughout my pregnancy.
I am a member of the Junior League
I live in a historical home in the historical district
I drive an SUV (the station wagon of our Generation)
My child will be attending private school in the fall
I am described as a "society" mom

Here is my secret:

I have a Tattoo.

I began desiring a tattoo my senior year in college and my then cubish boyfriend (I'll talk about him another time) was the first person who did not tell me I was crazy for wanting one. Approximately 13 years ago, my friend H accompanied me to the tattoo parlor. My tattoo is of a daisy chain (Eli will understand the significance) placed in a very discreet area. My own mother doesn't even know that I have it. And as far as I am concerned...it is going to stay that way.

So, my question to you is...What's your secret?

The Ice Bag Is Back

Okay...so my day slightly improved today, but I am still frustrated and pissed off after a case debriefing today and I was held responsible for the laziness of another worker. More on that another time. Right now I need funny, I need laughter, I need a drink (but it is a work night, so I won't be doing that.)

So as you recall in a previous post I mentioned that Military Man had sprained his ankle and was putting ice on it every night, which in turn meant that the bug needed ice for her "injuries." Military Man's ankle healed and he began his rigorous training for an upcoming marathon.

Several days ago, his ankle started swelling again and he finally broke down after several nights of excruciating pain and nagging from me and went to the doc in the box. As it turns out, Military Man did not have a sprained ankle, he fractured it!!! Due to the nature of the fracture, the doctor prescribed Lortab (Oooo, good stuff or...so I've been told) and anti-inflammatory. Plus he has also been ordered a rigorous round of physical therapy. Thank God my brother-in-law, cool uncle C.B. (not to be confused with my new blogging friend C.B.) who is currently an unemployed physical therapist (but not for long, he just got a sweet offer in our next of the woods making $96,000 a year...I am definitely in the wrong field) is coming down for the next couple of days and has agreed to provide physical therapy services FOR FREE!!! In the meantime, C.B. has given Military Man a list of exercises to strengthen his ankle as well as the recommendation to ICE IT DAILY.

So, last night after a series of exercises, I assisted Military Man in getting the ice pack on his ankle and elevating it. Approximately 10 minutes later, the bug comes limping in the kitchen:

Mommy, I hurt my leg, I need some ice. Can you get you put some ice in a bag for me and wrap it around my leg with a towel.
Which leg did you hurt?

My right Mommy, and it hurts really, really bad.
Sure baby, go sit on the couch and I will bring you an ice bag in just a few minutes.

Thank you Mommy.

I watched the bug walk out of the kitchen, limping on the left leg.

I am sure tonight it will be the same thing. But I am prepared and the ice pack is ready for Military Man and the bug. After all, I don't want to be accused of child abuse and medical neglect! Oh wait...that's already happened!!!

Too Pissed Off To Blog

Today has been the day from HELL. From the moment I walked in the door and my phone started ringing it immediately went to the crapper!!! Then the emails started coming. By 2 pm today I was ready to quit and I phoned Trasheka and told her as much. I keep telling myself that it is going to get better, but who am I kidding...if Monday started out like this then it is ONLY going to get worse. I have had enough experience with this that I can now predict how my week is going to be. Ironically it was this time last year and the year before that, when everything went to crap and didn't get better until September. (I'll definitely talk about it some other time, right now I am too pissed off.) I've already been treated twice for a stomach ulcer. Maybe God is trying to send me a message "Don't work in the summer." I think I could go for that!!!

Being Pollyanna

Last night as I was exploring the blogging world, I landed upon 2 blogs written by individuals just entering the world of social work. (Because I continue to be cyber stalked by the axe grinders and because I really like what these social workers have to say, I will not be putting their links on my blog.) The social workers are well, how shall I put this, they are GREEN. And when I say green, I mean fresh out of graduate school, only been in the field for two months green. But I like green, green is refreshing and reading their posts reminds me of what I was like when I entered the world of child welfare close to 10 years ago. GREEN IS GOOD!!!!

Almost 10 years ago, I joined the world of child welfare. I approached my job with the attitude that anything is possible. I looked to find the good in the bad, ready to save all those whom I encountered, and believed that everyone if given the right opportunities would change their lives for the better. Pretty idealistic, now that I think back on it. My good friend that convinced me to apply and recruited hard for me looked at me with the eyes of someone who had been doing this job for a while and stated “give it a while…you’ll see things differently.”

6 months later my friend got a phone call one evening after work “What is wrong with these people.” I screamed “It’s like no matter what you do, how hard you work, or how much you bend over backwards to accommodate them, it is never enough and they end up calling your supervisor.” My friend started laughing and stated “I was wondering how long it would take before you snapped. You can’t be Pollyanna forever.”

Being Pollyanna, that was me. I saw everything through rose colored glasses. I not only wanted to be my clients’ caseworker, I wanted them to feel that they had someone they could trust and count on. I gave my families my pager number if there was an emergency so they could call me. Some of my families even had my cell phone number. (Stupid now that I look back on it, but like I said, I was fricking Pollyanna, I saw only the good in individuals.) What I did not take into account was that many of my families did not understand boundaries and that paging someone 911 seven times on a Sunday afternoon to tell me they needed a voucher for clothing was not appropriate. Or seeing me walk into church on a Sunday morning, locating the church’s phone number and calling the church to leave a message to ask when they were going to get their next visit was not appropriate. There was also the parent that found my phone number in the phone book and called me at 9 pm one evening while in a manic state and the teenage mother who repeatedly ran away every time she came close to achieving her goals. My families wore me down fast and I had to learn the hard way that clear boundaries must be set.

I also had to learn the hard way that sometimes it does not matter how many opportunities you provide your families with, you cannot force an individual to change their pattern of behavior, especially if they are not ready to change. This was the hardest lesson to learn. From an individual who only saw the good in people and their potential change, it was a hard to accept that although that person may truly be a good person, life and circumstances have put them in a situation that they cannot easily or be ready to get away from. I also had to acknowledge that although that individual may truly want to change the fear of the unknown outside of their norm is so overwhelming that they choose to stay in their chaotic life because it is safe and familiar.

I truly believe that these life lessons are gained from the experience. My co-workers often ask me “If you knew then what you know now, would you have taken this job.” And my response is always “Yes…without a doubt.” I have had to learn some hard lessons as a result of this job, but I truly believe that people do have the potential to change their lives for the better. But they have to want it. And I also know that at least with the children I work with, I have had a positive impact on their lives. And for that, I keep coming back.

Saturday At The Office

Our agency has a federal review coming up next month, which means everyone in the office is scrambling to make sure that their records are in tip top shape (ie all filing completed, narrative current to the date, etc.) I have been informed that 7 of my cases of been pulled (I don't know which 7, and won't find out until their arrival.) The office was opened today for those who wanted to come in. Me, being the workaholic that I am, decided to come in to pull my records, review the case narrative and history and make sure that my filing was up to date.

Approximately 5 years ago, I began carrying a specialized adoption caseload. Although I enjoyed reunification cases, I never got to see the outcome because inevitably, the case would end up being transferred to another worker, and I would be assigned a more high profile case. So, when the opportunity came for me to start carrying an adoption caseload, I jumped on it. The majority of my cases are foster parent adoptions. I like FPA's because children have permanency faster and are not lingering in care waiting for an adoptive resource to be found. I also like FPA's because the children have usually developed a strong attachment and connection to the foster parent by the time I receive the case. I like seeing the outcomes and I have a bulletin board with pictures of all the children and their new families who have achieved permanency through adoption.

Today, as I was going through some old files, I found a picture of a 13 year old boy who was one of my first adoption cases. When I got this case, I was told that this child had been both mentally and physically abused and was then abandoned by his parents. At the permanency hearing, the parents voluntarily gave up their rights to him because the agency had not "fixed" him. When I met him for the first time he was intelligent, well mannered, and extremely polite. This can't be the same child that I had read about in his parents' letters I remember thinking. It was clear that he was very attached to his foster parents. As we were talking I asked him what his hopes and dreams were. He looked at me and stated "I want to be able to wake up in the morning and have parents greet me with a hug and kiss. I want to go to bed at night and know that my parents are going to be there for me if I need them. I want to belong and feel like I have a family. I want to be adopted."

Approximately 9 months later his adoption was finalized. (It would have been finalized a lot sooner if the attorney was more timely filing the paperwork in Probate Court. Sorry, side track.) His adoptive parents threw him a big celebration adoption party and every year since, have thrown him an anniversary party on his adoption. This year he graduated from high school with honors and will be entering college in the fall.

For me it is frustrating to see children who desperately want to be adopted lingering in the system and even more frustrating when our adoption consultants are outsourced to other programs preventing them from focusing on the job of finding appropriate adoptive resources for our children. Occasionally I am asked to speak at adoption fairs and adoption awareness events. I always share this story of my 13 year old boy when I speak. I think because it speaks so clearly that adoption can work and happy endings can come true.

I Got Tagged!!!

This came courtesy of my friend Drama Mama, who I am beginning to think has some sort of vendetta against me. I originally had a thought provoking commentary on my initial days as a social worker. But since Drama Mama clearly would rather read a boring question/answer session than a gut wrenching, thought provoking, post which will be guaranteed to piss off my cyber stalkers, I will do as she has requested. (By the way, Drama Mama has the Plague so I guess I should do this to make her feel better.

Here it goes:

1. What is your occupation? Burned Out Social Worker, with aspirations of dump truck driving.
2. What color are your socks right now? I live in the south, we don't wear socks or shoes for that matter.
3. What are you listening to right now? R.E.M
4. What was the last thing that you ate? Kosmic pizza from Mellow Mushroom...mmm, good.
5. Can you drive a stick shift? The last time I tried was in 1987, gave my father whiplash, so what do you think?
6. Last person you spoke to on the phone? A kid who recently graduated from my high school alma mater who was trying to sell me a set of steak knives.
7. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Not at this moment (Ha, Ha)
8. How old are you today? Now that is none of your business.
9. What is your favorite sport(s) to watch? Hockey, I know crazy, I live in the south where it snows only once every 20 years, pretty wild.
10. Have you ever dyed your hair? A girl never reveals her beauty secrets
11. Favorite food? Oooo, hard one, I would have to say Paula Dean's Ooey Gooey Bars.
12. The last movie you watched? Sex and the City
13. Favorite day of the week? Friday because it means that I don't have to look at my office for two whole days, wait, scratch that, I have to go into the office tomorrow, DAMN.
14. How do you vent anger? Bang a lots of cabinet doors and then give myself a self-time out.
15. What was your favorite toy as a child? Barbie and Strawberry Shortcake.
16. What is your favorite season? Spring
17. Hugs or Kisses? Both
18. Cherries or Blueberries? Blueberries definitely, but I do like Trasheka's chocolate cherry cake.
19. Do you want your friends to blog you back? Sure, except the axe grinding cyber stalkers. Go away you people, don't you have anything better to do with your time?
20. Who is the most likely to respond? Trasheka and Drama Mama (Drama Mama better since she put me up to this.)
21. Who is least likely to respond? The axe grinding cyber stalkers, oh wait, who am I kidding, I am sure they will find something negative in what I am saying and send me hate mail.
22. Living arrangements? 3000 Square foot historical home built by my great, great grandfather.
23. When was the last time you cried? Oooh, does crying at the movies count?
24. What is in the bottom of your closet? Rubber maid bins with wedding presents from 6 years ago that have never been used.
25. Who is the friend you've had the longest that you are tagging? My College Roommate Eli, by the way...tag!
26. What did you do last night? Spent quality time with the bug and Military Man
27. Favorite smells? Right now my Shea butter lotion and sun screen, they remind me of the beach!!!
28. What inspires you? Individuals who are positive, friendly, and look for the good in others.
29. What are you most afraid of? Snakes
30. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? The cheesier the better.
31. Favorite dog breed? Standard Street Mutt

TAG: Eli at The Albemarle Sound. The girl is my other inspiration, she is all about going green!!!

The Good Ones Always Get Promoted...Yeah Right?!?!?!

It is a well known fact around our agency that those individuals who how shall I put this…okay, um…well they SUCK, as a worker, inevitably, are the individuals who end up getting promoted to a higher, better paying job usually at the State Level. While the good ones remain on the county level doing the dirty work. And before you start getting any ideas, I like the dirty work, okay, sometimes like the dirty work. But the point is this…those that get promoted become the idiot, oops; I mean privileged big dogs who make policy decisions for the peons like me and the programs that we contract with.


Yesterday Military Man came home frustrated and pissed off with the world. Military Man is the Director of a non-profit organization that provides needed services to many of our families and children. (And no, this is not how we met.) Every year his organization is audited by the State Big Dogs to make sure that their program is running in accordance to State Policy. Yesterday was the BIG AUDIT.

Military Man pulled out the reports their organization completes quarterly for the Big Dog State Auditor to review. Shortly after the auditor’s arrival, Military Man gets called into the conference room. The conversation went something like this:

Yes, Mr. M. I am reviewing your reports and I do not see where you completed the annual report.
That is because we complete the reports quarterly rather than annually. As you can see we have supplied you with the original quarterly reports.

Yes, I see the quarterly reports, but I am looking for the annual report, have you completed the annual report?
No, we have not completed an annual report because we complete quarterly reports. This is a check and balance system for our organization and ensures that we are operating in accordance to your policy.

Mr. M you are aware that you in not in compliance with State Policy which clearly states that an annual report must be completed on your organization.
Yes I am aware of what policy states, but I am also aware that policy states that the organization has the right to complete reports more than once a year and will supply those reports in lieu of the annual report.

Mr. M, do not quote policy to me, I originally came from this county and I am well aware of what the policy states because I wrote the policy. Now I am going to ask you again, did you or did you not complete the annual report.

No, we did not complete an annual report because in accordance to YOUR policy, that YOU wrote, under Section III-A, subsection b: if the organization completes reports more than once a year, than those reports will be submitted in lieu of an annual report. No annual report is required.

Mr. M please be aware that because you are unable to provide the annual report that your organization will be fined and is now at risk of losing your contract.
So let me get this straight, you are going to terminate our contract because we were proactive and chose to complete reports on our organization 4 times a year rather than just once a year?

You are missing the point, Mr. M.
“Then please tell me what it is the point, because I am completely confused as to how we are not in compliance with State Policy.”

Clearly, Mr. M you fail to see that you are not in compliance with State Policy. You will be hearing from my Manager regarding this matter.


Today Military Man received the following message from the Big Dog State Auditor:

Mr. M, please be advised that upon a complete review of your records and reports, you were found to be in complete compliance with State Policy and your contract will be renewed for the 2009 fiscal year. Also, as stated under Section III-A; subsection b: if the organization completes reports more than once a year, than those reports will be submitted in lieu of the annual report. No annual report is required. Therefore, no annual report will be required as your organization has completed quarterly reports in lieu of the annual report.

Top Ten Things I Try To Avoid...Because of My Job!!!

Believe it or not, my job does have a direct impact on my personal life. So...without further ado:

1. Wal Mart Super Centers (you never know who or what you are going to run into there.)


2. Local and National News (unless it is about the Polygamist...I'm all about the polygamist.)


3. NBC's "To Catch A Predator." (No explanation needed there.)


4. Made for T.V. Movies (Why watch a movie about child abuse, domestic violence, and drug abuse when I live it 5 days a week.)


5. The Telephone (I've talked to people all day...do you really think I want to talk to you at night?)


6. Deciding what to eat for dinner (I've made decisions all day long...do you really think I want to decide what to cook?)


7. Dry Clean Only Clothing (Do I really need to explain that one?)


8. The Newspaper (Why read it when I will hear about it when I get into the office, whether it is directly about our agency or not.)


9. My Older Sister (A story for another post)

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST...

10. The Bar at the Annual Marine Corps Birthday Ball (Definitely a story for another post.)

It's Called A Filter...Get One!!!

The Bug, my younger sister Bitsy, and I are all in a wedding next month. This past weekend was the Bachelorette party at the Beach. Due to work, my sister Bitsy and I did not arrive at the beach until after 11 pm. We stayed up drinking, eating M&M’s, talking, and laughing until 5 am with the bride and the rest of the bridesmaids.

At 8 am on Saturday morning, my cell phone rang. Who in the blip, blip, blip is calling me at 8 am in the blippin’ morning, I thought.

“Hello” I whispered into the phone (you have to remember, I was not only tired, but suffering a slight hangover as well.

“Hey Betsy!!!” It was Racquel, the wife of one of Military Man’s fraternity brothers. She is loud, talks ninety miles to nothin’, slightly obnoxious, and somehow is under the misguided notion that I am her new best friend. “Listen, I know it is early, but I figured ya’ll would already be up. I bought ya’ll a dozen Blazin' Amazin' Doughnuts so ya'll need to remind Wayne to get them for you. Wayne is real forgetful and will probably leave them at home if ya'll don’t remind him to give them to you.”

“Racquel,” I whispered, “I’m not going to Mississippi with RJ (Military Man’s alter ego) today. You need to call him.”

“AEOOOOHHH, why not!!!”

“I’m down in Panama City.”

“Weeelll, what cha' doin’ down there?”

“I’m at a bachelorette party.”

“AEOOOOHHH, did you go out drinking and dancing all night?!?!?!”

“No.”

“You didn’t, you didn’t go drinking and dancing all night? Well, what' d ya’ll do all night?!?!?!”

“We stayed up until 5 am talking.”

“That’s all ya’ll did? Just talked?!?!?!?”

“No, we drank too, Racquel, can we have this conversation some other time?”

“AEOOOOHHH, guess you’re hung over huh? Do ya want to let me go so you can go back to sleep?!?!?!?”

“yes…that would be nice.”

“OKAY!!! Ya’ll have fun!!! Listen…don’t forget to call RJ and remind him about the doughnuts!!!!


Approximately an hour and a half later, still wide awake, hung over, and pissed off because I was woken up after only 3 hours of sleep the following message was left on Military Man’s cell phone….

“Please make sure you pick up the F#$%ing, D#$%, doughnuts, that Racquel had the nerve to call me at F$%&ing 8 in the F&*$ing, D&*% morning to tell me to remind Wayne to give to you. And by the way, you might want to tell Wayne that he needs to invest in a F$%*ing filter for his D$%* wife, because CLEARLY she doesn't have one.”

Father's Day Reflections

It's a little known fact, Military Man never wanted children....

But you have to understand, he didn't have the greatest childhood.....

But the first time I saw him interact with our friends' daughter, I knew differently....

And then one day he stated "I can't wait to start a family with you."

He would do anything for our little girl. They have their special Sunday outings to the park and the ice cream parlor, they watch America's Funniest Home Videos at night, and most importantly, he loves to take her shopping.

No one would believe that Military Man never wanted children.

But I knew differently...and if you asked Military Man, he wouldn't have his life any other way.

What Do You Think?

Yesterday I wrote how my 4 year old daughter, who has a tendency to be a bit of a drama queen at times, started complaining about her leg hurting AFTER, her daddy (aka Military Man) had fallen and sprained his ankle. When she sees her daddy putting ice on his ankle, she asked for ice as well or more like makes a production out of needing ice for her leg.

Today I received the following comment from Anonymous in Biddeford, Maine (location courtesy of Statcounter.com):

What did you do to that poor defenseless child? What a mean mommy. You should be rushing her to the doctor for those unexplained injuries. Not doing so is called medical neglect. Besides what do you have to worry about? Your friends at the office will cover your butt.

Clearly Anonymous did not read first part of the post that stated that Military Man had fallen and hurt his ankle or that The Bug alternates which leg is hurting. What do you think of Anonymous' comment? Do you think I am a mean mommy who is refusing to seek medical treatment for a child who is a daddy's girl and wants to be just like him? She does get the ice when she asked for it by the way.

Oh and for the record...NOTHING is wrong with her leg, if there was, don't you think the daycare would have reported ?

Quick...Someone Call A Doctor

Several days ago, Military Man tripped and fell in the backyard, twisting his angle. Our next door neighbor, who happened to witness the fall, thought Military Man was having a heart attack and jumped the fence to begin CPR while calling 911 on his cell phone. Fortunately, it was not a heart attack but a simple twisted angle and 911 was not needed.

Every since the fall, Military Man has been icing his ankle at night to keep the swelling down. Despite my persistence that he needs to go visit the local doc in a box. Three nights ago, The Bug, observing the "extra" attention that Military Man was receiving, began complaining about her ankle hurting. She is now limping around demanding that ice be put on her leg, and by the way she alternates which leg is injured.

The Bug is a Drama Queen (she probably needs to go hang out at the drama family at the Pond House). Here is what I have heard:

"Mommy, carry me...I can't walk, my leg hurts."
"Owwww, I can't walk, my leg really hurts, bring my breakfast/dinner to me."
"oh, ow, ow, ow, (intermittent fake crying) I need some ice, my leg hurts really, really bad.
"No mommy, I can't brush my teeth tonight, my leg is broken and I can't walk."
"Mommy, I really think that strawberry ice cream would make my leg feel all better."
"Mommy, ow, don't touch, it really hurts, I need some ice and a towel. Then I want to lay down."
"Mommy, make sure you wrap my leg really, really, really tight with the towel okay, owwww, oh mommy it hurts really really bad, I really think you need to call the doctor."

Right now The Bug is downstairs, wearing NOTHING but a pink tutu, pink fuzzy crown, pink fairy wings with an ice bag wrapped around her leg with a towel. I just heard her say OW! again. Quick...someone call a doctor...I really think I need to be committed.

Everybody's Got A Story

I debated on whether or not to post this based on my last experience posting something directly related to my job. But the more I thought about it I figured “What the hell, people are going to believe what they want to believe.” And thanks to comment moderation, if you don’t like what I am about to say, and I don’t like your comment, I can reject you.

Child Welfare Social Work is a double edged sword. You are condemned for taking children into custody without just cause and condemned when the community feels you haven’t done enough to protect children. When individuals find out my choice of careers, they always have something to say, sometimes good, sometimes bad, but most of the time, it’s bad. So usually when people asked what I do for a living, I simply state...I work for the state. It just makes it easier.

Last month as I was walking into the daycare to pick up The Bug, an older woman, whom I had seen there quite often, stopped me and stated “I didn’t realize you worked in Child Welfare!” Ahhh, #&*$, I thought, here we go again. I asked her how she found out I worked in child welfare. She stated “You’re wearing your badge.” I had been in court all day and had forgotten to take it off when I got out of court. (Right then and there I started kicking myself.)

I mentally prepared myself for what she was about to say and what my response would be. The woman began sharing her story and experience with the agency. She talked about how her daughter went down the wrong path and became involved with drugs. She had not heard from her daughter in several years so she was surprised when she received a call from a caseworker stating that the agency had just removed her grandchild during a drug raid and the mother had identified her as her closest relative. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and stated “I didn’t even know that I had a grandchild.” She went on to share how the agency attempted to assist her daughter get help with treatment and the countless numbers of times they set her up for inpatient treatment, and she would not show up on the day she was scheduled to start. She stated that the last she heard, her daughter was on the streets, still using drugs. Then, out of nowhere, she came forward and gave me a hug. She stated “I never had a chance to thank my caseworker, so I want to thank you. Thanks to your agency, I have my grandchild. I did not have the money to file for custody, so your agency helped me to get the money. I have now been granted full custody of my grandchild and she never came into care.” I was silent. I honestly did not know what to say. I am so programmed to defending my job and career choice, I was speechless. “You and your agency do good work” she stated “don’t let what other’s think discourage you from the work that you are doing. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have my grandchild."

As I drove home, I contemplated what had happened. I found it ironic that this woman would share her story with me, about a week after my post that brought hate mail, death threats, and individuals telling me I would burn in hell for the job that I do. Everybody has a story, sometimes good, sometimes bad, and sometimes when you need it the most, the right person comes along and out of the blue shares a story to remind you why you choose this career in the first place.

Quote from the field

Because my creative juices have simply not been flowing recently and I have nothing profound or important to share, I thought I would leave you this thought provoking, mind blowing quote that has left all of us in child welfare saying, "huh?"

"We don't set a president."

A Date With Military Man

Military Man and I rarely go on dates anymore, partly because we have a 4 year old and we usually enjoy family outings. Last night when I came home, Military Man was already out on his evening run. I got The Bug settled and went upstairs to change into my comfortable hanging around the house clothing. As I was coming downstairs, Military Man walked through the front door and stated "Babe, if you want to go to the movies dressed like that I am fine with it, but you may want to change." Movie? Did he just say movie?

One of the greatest things about Military Man is his amazing ability to surprise me. He will get a wild hair to take me to dinner or to a movie, make all the arrangements and then surprise me with it. Last night he surprised me with movie tickets to:




Sorry troops, I know I have been trying to round you up to go, but Military Man threw in the element of surprise and I had to jump at the opportunity for him to take me to a chick flick. Although he did let me know in advance that he could not promise that he would not fall asleep on me. (He has a tendency to do that when we go see a chick flick, no action, blood, or psychological drama to keep him awake.)


As we entered the theater, it became very clear that Military Man was going to be the ONLY man in the theater. I reassured him that every woman in the theater was secretly wishing their husband, boyfriend, or significant other was bringing them to see "Sex and the City." Military Man's response..."Everything comes with a price and I know that I will be getting some action later this evening" (more on that later.)

As the men began strangling in with their wives or girlfriends, Military Man would lean over and say "he's getting some action after the movie tonight." As the movie began, Military Man leaned back and assumed the "nap" position. But the nap never came, because Military Man was laughing throughout the movie. Yes, you heard me, Military Man was laughing and enjoying the movie.


At the end of the movie, Military Man looked at me and stated "I can't believe I am about to say this, but I really liked that movie. I must be getting in touch with my gay side." I assured Military Man that he is not getting in touch with his gay side, rather he is becoming Metrosexual. He enjoys good movies, taking hot, steaming bubble baths (don't tell him I told you), and he is even wearing a pink dress shirt these days.


Military Man talked about the movie all the way home. When we arrived home around midnight, we walked into the living room to find The Bug wide awake and the babysitter looking exhausted. She apologized profusely, unfortunately, The Bug was as she calls herself "wired out" and would not settle down and go to sleep, despite the babysitter's diligent efforts.


She finally crashed around 1 am. By the time I got to bed at 1:30, Military Man was asleep.

But Military Man did get some action...watching The Bug run around in circles in her bedroom, jump on the bed, run up and down the hallway, and do her interpretation of the Alvin and the Chipmunks Dance.

Trainings, Trainings, and more Trainings

Today as I got in the elevator I overheard a worker tell another worker "Did you get the email that they are going to be providing a training on stress management?" The other worker responded "Training on stress management? I'm stressed from all these mandatory trainings they are making us attend."

This is pretty much the sentiment of all child welfare staff. Somehow in our office, upper management is under the misguided notion that the more training that is provided, the better case managers we will become. As a result, our office is so overloaded with all day mandatory trainings that we spend more time in the office attending trainings and less time in field with our families. Then we are penalized because our paperwork is not completed by the end of the month, our contacts were not completed by the 20th of the month, and our case plans and assessments were not completed in a timely manner. If you think I am exaggerating then here is how I spent the month of May:

Week 1: Sexual harassment training
Week 2: Training on New Computer System.
Week 3: Workshop on obnoxious family preservation provider and services; Workshop on staff retention and increasing productivity
Week 4: Three day training on Concurrent planning

The month of June is not looking much better either:

June

Wednesday: 8:30 - 12:30 Training on assessment skills and case plans;1:30 - 2:30 Mandatory meeting on upcoming federal review; 2:30 - 4:30 Training from morning continued

Today: Training all afternoon how to appropriately spend state dollars and utilize free services.


Next week I am scheduled to attend another all day training. I'm telling you people, I am slap trained out. Dump truck driving is looking more and more promising every day.

I Work In A Looney Bin!!!

Seriously, our building houses a bunch of loons. There is the screamer that you can hear all the way down the hall, around the corner, and into my office (with my door shut.) There is also the supervisor that feels the need to "raise the roof" every time her unit has the highest % of contacts in the month. We have the individuals who have an unhealthy obsession with a particular football team (their office looks like a shrine to the college.) And we have the "sistuhs" (more on that in a later post.) We also have the hyper religious individuals who feel the need to prayerfully praise the Almighty every hour on the hour because we received rain, we didn't receive rain, no children were brought into care that day, 10 children were saved from the "forces of evil" (their words folks, not mine.) We have "Wayne" who is addicted to all things Nascar and has a shrine to Dale Earnhardt and last we have Marge.

Marge is a member of our clerical staff and is loonier than most of the loons in the office. She is our comic relief when things at work get tough and you never know what to expect. She is also the first person who gets the latest gossip and makes sure everyone knows it, whether it is true or not. Marge is "special." She claims a disability under the ADA because she has a "hyper-sensitive" nose and perfume worn by others or perfumed lotions make her sick. I am not joking!!! She has a sign posted on her office door that says "Fragrance free zone." We don't have the heart to tell her that the perfume that she proudly talks about using comes from Bath and Body Works and is NOT fragrance free.

When Marge is not adjusting one of her many wigs or sipping her morning tea in her recliner from the china cup she purchased at a Garage Sale, she is entering data into the computer. But there is only one problem. Marge suffers from what can only be described as dumb blonde syndrome (even though she is gray!) Poor Marge, she gets confused so easily, and then blames her mistakes on others or says that she never got the information. But we forgive her, because like I said, she is our comic relief and we always look forward to what is going to come out of her mouth. Take today for example...Marge walks into a worker's office frantic and frustrated because the worker had not responded to her request. The conversation went something like this...

Marge: I called you and left you an email.

Worker: Do you mean you left me a voicemail?

Marge: No, I called you and left you an email.

Worker: So did you call me or did you get on the computer and send me an email?

Marge: No, I called you on the phone and left you an email!

Worker: I did not receive any emails don't you mean you left me a voice mail?

Marge: No, I called you on the phone and left you an email!

Worker: Okay Marge...did you pick up the phone and leave a message or did you type a message on the computer and send it to me?

Marge: NO, I told you, I called you on the phone and left you an email!!!

Worker: (Silence) Are you sure, because which ever you did, I didn't get it...What did you need?

Marge: Oh, I don't remember now. Isn't that funny!!!

So I guess the moral of this story is...

When you work with a bunch of loons, make sure when you call someone you don't leave them an email because your call will not be returned. Huh?

My Creative Juices Are Just Not Flowing

I have sat here, staring at the computer for the last 20 minutes trying to come up with something witty and creative and my creative juices are just not flowing. I think I even fell asleep for a few minutes. This past weekend has worn my butt out. And even though I was off today for a random state holiday, I did not get to rest. Here is how my day has gone:

9:30 am: Fitting for bridesmaid dress and bug's flower girl dress for July 12th wedding (arrived 30 minutes late thanks to the dumb*&$ dump truck driver who decided that the best place to park their dump truck this morning was right smack in front of my driveway.

11:00 am: Fittings completed, drive the bug to purchase ballet slippers for wedding and new pair of sandals for the summer.

11:30 am: Phone call from "the warden" (my mother) to inform me that I need to come over to her house and pick up mail that I still receive at their home. Inform her to toss mail in trash, she informs me that either I come over and go through the mail and determine what is trash and what isn't or she will hold it and then give it to me as my Christmas or birthday gift.

12:00 pm: Lunch with "the warden" and the bug. "The Warden" paid (BONUS)

1:30 pm: summer clothes shopping for the bug (yes, I know I am a getting started a little late, but I waited on the 50% off sales.)

2:00 pm: purchase 60" plastic swimming pool so the bug can have summer fun.

3:00 pm: sit outside in the f*&%ing blazing heat, sweating, while the bug plays in her new plastic pool.

4:00 pm: Inform the bug that she must get out of the pool now and take 30 minutes of quiet time so I can start dinner and finish cleaning the kitchen from this past weekend's party. The 4 year old naked monster takes over The Bug's body and pitches a screaming hissie fit for the next 20 minutes, ending with me giving myself a time out.

4:30 pm: Meatloaf in oven, dishwasher running, the bug has returned and is now quietly watching "Enchanted."

5:00 pm: The 4 year old naked monster once again takes over my child's body and informs me that it will be going outside to wait for Military Man to come home from work so he can take her outside to go swimming in the new plastic swimming pool. 10 minute tantrum follows when the 4 year old naked monster is told that she must first put clothing on before she can go outside.

5:30 pm: Military Man arrives home and informs me that he cannot take over parent duty until AFTER he comes back from his run. F%&*ing diet and upcoming Marathon.

6:15 pm: Military Man returns from run, hand bug over to him, while I prepare to get dinner on the table.

7:15 pm: Dinner complete, Military Man informs me that he is now going to take a shower and then he will take over parent duty.

7:45 pm: Parent duty is handed over to Military Man after the bug is starting to wind down for the evening and I have dealt with two fittings, the warden, clothes/shoe shopping, 5 temper tantrums, 3 time outs, 1 self time out, cooked dinner, cleaned the kitchen from the f&*%ing party this past weekend, sat in the blazing hot sun, and argued with a dump truck driver that had blocked my driveway and was refusing to move. Ending with Military Man asking me why I am cranky this evening.

So, I deeply and sincerely apologize for not being witty and creative this evening. Like I said, my butt is worn slap out and my creative juices just ain't flowing. See ya at the next post!

Too Tired To Blog

This was my brain last night hosting Military Man's fraternity reunion...

This is my brain today after two days of cleaning my house, preparing food, and then hosting Military Man's Fraternity Reunion...

Any Questions?