what a day

My job continues to challenge me. I've been working with a 14 year old girl who doesn't really have any friends. She is verbally abusive to her mother and grandmother. She has been sexually assaulted. She doesn't want to go to school. I've been working with a single mother in her 30's with 4 kids. She's bi-polor and depressed. She won't admit it. She won't take her meds consistently. What a history she has.

Or, how about today. I went to work with a single mother and her teenage daughter. The 17 year old daughter is pregnant. She's not too far along and is dealing with all day sickness or something. She can't keep any food down. The mom is obese. They are trying hard to make it in society, but they struggle. The mom loves holidays and is always trying to decorate or dress according to the upcoming holiday. So, today, I took some cookie dough and icing and candy to make a cookie cake. She took me in her kitchen to make the stuff. I opened a drawer to get a fork to stir up the ingredients. Roaches scattered all over the drawer. The butter was warm and melting because the fridge had been left open for who knows how long. When I opened the egg carton to get an egg out, there was onion skin and several egg shells in the carton...all looking like roaches had been in there. She had no dish towels, pot holders or paper towels, so I wadded up toilet paper to take the hot pan out of the stove. She left the kitchen for a minute, so while she wasn't looking, I quickly washed the utensils and my hands with her dish soap. Had to dry my hands with the toilet paper. Then after I did, I wondered why toilet paper was in the kitchen. At one point she went to the restroom, and I had to return some items to the kitchen. She left the bathroom door open. That was awkward for me to see that. This was all before her daughter came home from her GED classes. The daughter came home sick and not feeling well. She said she had thrown up several times at school. Poor girl. Well, she sat down in a chair to wait and rest. The mom was changing clothes. I went out to my car to move things around...I was getting ready to take them both to the ER. The mom had several absess teeth, and the daughter was tired of throwing up. Anyway. I walk back in the front door, and the daughter was leaning over and throwing up right in the floor. Didn't bother to try and get to the sink or a trash bag or whatever. Just threw up in the floor. So. I start to hyperventilate. I mean, my first thought was, "Well, glad they don't have carpet." My second thought was, "They can walk to the ER because I am going to vomit myself." I tried to swallow and regain my composure. I said, "Um, are you ok?" I said this standing from the doorway...still holding onto the doorknob. The mom then walks into the room and sees the vomit on the floor, steps over it, and tells her daughter to get her jacket on. I start to hyperventilate again...and think. I could outrun them easily. I could make it to my truck and drive off and they would never catch me. Part of me wished I had to vomit. I would have walked right over to the spot where the daughter threw up and add my own vile nasty. Then I would just look at them and wait for their reaction. Ok, so none of that happened. The mom says, "Well, now what are we going to clean that up on the floor with?" The daughter leaves the room and comes back with a t-shirt. My heart rate starts to rise. The daughter lays the shirt over the vomit. I didn't panic. I didn't get sick. My heart rate slows to almost normal. I make a mental note of what color the shirt is. Gray. After that, the daughter puts her coat on and we leave. Just like that.

I met a new client today. He is 5. He just moved to Oklahoma to live with his dad, whom he has never met, just a few months ago. The dad has mental issues, and I think the son does as well. So, the therapist I went with called the boy by a certain name when we arrived. After a few minutes, I couldn't remember what she had called him exactly. So, I asked the boy his name. He told me something different. That was odd. The grandma was all snuggled up on the couch with her blanket and her remote. She pulls out a joint. Looks like marijuana. I panicked and looked at the therapist thinking, "Holy moly! We've got a live one!" After the first few seconds of panic, I kind of got excited. I mean this might be my first chance to actually call the cops! But Grandma clarified that it was really just a cigarette. I was still looking for some excitement, so as she smoked, I kept inhaling deeply to try and see if it was really a cigarette or weed. Then I realized that wasn't really good. I wonder how much second-hand smoke I inhaled today? Crap. It really was just a cigarette. People will save the butts of their cigarettes. Unroll them and save all the tobacco. They repack it and roll it again in new paper. I am intrigued by the ingenuity of this procedure. I mean it really is remarkable. Very cost effective. I started to compliment the woman on her efforts for "going green." Everyone has to do their part.

While the therapist was talking with the grandma and father, I brought some pla-doh for the 5 year old. Another little girl was there. So, we played with pla-doh. The kids started to mix several colors, and I explained that we don't do that. We can't mix colors! We must pick up all pla-doh crumbs. But I don't think the kids understood. I went into the house with 10 different colors of pla-doh. I came out with 4. I'm not sure that went well. I don't know why the kids kept staring at me as I would pick up any pla-doh they weren't using and put it immediately back into a container. I am a pla-doh nazi. I even took the white pla-doh out of the little girl's hands. I mean, she wasn't actually using it right at that moment. I knew she was about to mix it with the purple. I was just trying to save the white. It did not want to be mixed with purple. Blue maybe. But not purple. The girl took it back out of the container and mixed it with the green. I pretended to eat about a dozen pla-doh white/green/orange/purple colored eggs. I was full by the time we left the house. Next time I will only take back the colors that they already mixed.

So. Another day is done. I did my best.

Just testing things out from my phone. Trying to see if I can really blog from my phone. What technology!

closing time

I've had lots to blog about. Trouble is I didn't have any motivation to make my fingers type. It's been a wild couple of weeks. Lots of snow and crazy weather. I've decided I don't really mind the snow. We had some quality family time while we were snowed in over the past weekend. Movies and popcorn. Card games. Staying up late. Sleeping in. Sledding with friends. Pretty fun stuff.

And the not so fun stuff. My father-in-law passed away. It's still hard to believe he is really gone. Like it's just weird to think about going to visit Sean's family, and he's not there. We all miss him very much. How does one deal with losing a parent? The person that created you. The person that gave you life. The person that taught you, trained you, raised you. Of course, Rusty is in heaven. That alone brings some comfort and peace. But it's really not enough. Because he's not here.

And the milestone stuff. Sean and I celebrated 6 years of marriage yesterday. We've made it to counting on two hands now. What a man. He loves me for me. He loves me and deals with all my junk. And he keeps on loving me. I wouldn't have chosen anyone else.