I have friends... Yes, I do!
I have friends and most of them have many, many children. More than your typical 1.2 that the government says most of us have. Just between you and me, I have never seen a .2 child. Maybe a .2 adult, but never a .2 child.
Anyway, our little family of four is the odd man out at most events. We are the small family. They typical family. The ones that no longer tote diaper bags or crayons everywhere we go. We have never been mistaken as grandparents to our off-spring.
I love big families. I truly do. I always thought that we would have a big family. But, apparently, that wasn't the plan.
We considered adopting, for a second. We had foster kiddies, for a moment. Now, we have young adults. Life is good.
But this post isn't about how many babies we have. Nope. It's about what happens when Big Brother steps in and tells you that you aren't a good parent and removes your children from your house.
Sends a chill down your spine doesn't it?
This recently happened to a dear friend of mine. I won't go into details, because, well, duh! there's an investigation going on here. But I will say that this is the largest travesty of justice I have ever seen.
These folks do not abuse their children.
The children have been separated and placed in homes that are not their own. Their parents are beside themselves. The rest of us just sit by and pray. It's all we can do.
Having worked in the system, I warned my friends about social workers. They lie. They do. I was warned about it when we became foster parents. I watched a social worker lie, IN COURT, to the judge. I have witnessed them lying to biological parents, foster parents, doctors, and lawyers. It's astounding.
So, let me just ask this little question; where are the government regulators for social workers and their cohorts?
And what gives these social workers the right to abuse others? Have you ever been on the receiving end of a social worker visit when they were looking for someone or something? I have and it scared me silly and he wasn't even here about me or my children.
He was, in fact, here looking for a family member who had listed our address as her home.
Mr. Bad Ass social worker showed up at my front door, early in the morning, and began pounding on my front door. Seriously pounding. Because I was in the shower, I wasn't lightening fast opening the front door. So he pounded more. Jerk.
When I did open the door, in my fuzzy pink bathrobe, he looked me up and down, sneered at me, and called me by the family members name.
"I'm not Alice," I said.
He then proceeded to show me his ID and demand to know where Alice was. I got a little sick feeling when I realized that Satan himself was standing at my front door.
I explained to him that Alice didn't live at my house and that I was a relative of hers. He scribbled notes, demanded to know exactly who I was, and where Alice was. He asked who else lived in my house and once he learned I had children he kept peering around my. I can only assume he was looking for Boy and Girl (neither of which were home).
My heart was pounding and I was pretty sure that there was a puddle of sweat growing around my feet. I hadn't done anything wrong and yet this social worker made me feel like a two bit criminal who abuses small children and animals.
I answered his questions honestly, took his card, I prayed I would never, ever see him again.
And they wonder why so few people become foster parents.
Social workers and family services are out there to watch and "protect". I just want to know whose watching them and protecting us!