The Department of Human Services cares about me.
It cares in a diefied way, an omniscient way. It cares about my deeper being; my long-term character development. It wants me to be all I can be.
I know this because days like today, I feel confident that DHS knows me. It knows my soul. My flaws. DHS knows that I am an impatient person. That I am a type A, lets-get-things-done, according-to-plan person. It knows that I have raging Mama-bear tendencies when it comes to any child within detectable existence, much less those in my care, and that rage is bad. Rage and impatience and all of that.
DHS is like a swami, people. It knows.
That, I am certain, is why it goes to such loving, meticulous lengths to help me overcome these character flaws, by giving me such extreme and mandatory opportunities to practice patience. And changing of plans. Three times. Eight times. 16 times. To practice not becoming ballistic when seven different people make mistakes in one day and all of them adversely affect my babies. Rage is not a good thing. Not a good thing. Ooooommmmm. DHS has even given me a mantra!
After spending three hours waddling back and forth across every wing of a hospital while pushing a decrepit double-wide stroller with one trick wheel and simultaneously balancing a two-year old on my pregnant belly, after SIX HOURS of waiting rooms and car seats with three, and then four children and NO LUNCH for anyone, after over a dozen fruitless phone calls, I can say for sure.
DHS cares about me extra today.
How they managed to throw in the exploding diarrhea child and the vomiting baby I really don't know. But after today I feel confident they had it all covered. It's the omniscience.
Now it could possibly be the strained muscle from hauling a pack and play upstairs with a child on my back, but I don't think so. I think it's just growing pains, you know, from all the personal growth. I'm feeling it! Thanks DHS. I practiced patience all day. Keep it up! Keep it coming! Someday I'll learn. Ommmmmmmmm.
It cares in a diefied way, an omniscient way. It cares about my deeper being; my long-term character development. It wants me to be all I can be.
I know this because days like today, I feel confident that DHS knows me. It knows my soul. My flaws. DHS knows that I am an impatient person. That I am a type A, lets-get-things-done, according-to-plan person. It knows that I have raging Mama-bear tendencies when it comes to any child within detectable existence, much less those in my care, and that rage is bad. Rage and impatience and all of that.
DHS is like a swami, people. It knows.
That, I am certain, is why it goes to such loving, meticulous lengths to help me overcome these character flaws, by giving me such extreme and mandatory opportunities to practice patience. And changing of plans. Three times. Eight times. 16 times. To practice not becoming ballistic when seven different people make mistakes in one day and all of them adversely affect my babies. Rage is not a good thing. Not a good thing. Ooooommmmm. DHS has even given me a mantra!
After spending three hours waddling back and forth across every wing of a hospital while pushing a decrepit double-wide stroller with one trick wheel and simultaneously balancing a two-year old on my pregnant belly, after SIX HOURS of waiting rooms and car seats with three, and then four children and NO LUNCH for anyone, after over a dozen fruitless phone calls, I can say for sure.
DHS cares about me extra today.
How they managed to throw in the exploding diarrhea child and the vomiting baby I really don't know. But after today I feel confident they had it all covered. It's the omniscience.
Now it could possibly be the strained muscle from hauling a pack and play upstairs with a child on my back, but I don't think so. I think it's just growing pains, you know, from all the personal growth. I'm feeling it! Thanks DHS. I practiced patience all day. Keep it up! Keep it coming! Someday I'll learn. Ommmmmmmmm.
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