…responsible for the oversight of our children – the same people who, ladies and gentleman, who are allowed to make arbitrary decisions affecting our rights as parents; the same people who make the determination of what is best for our children, based on a fifteen-minute conversation with those kids and hearing “evidence” slanted towards one side.
Yes, these are our state workers – employees, if you will, since we do pay their wages via our taxes…but I digress.
Let me point out a few inconsistencies and potential nanny-state policies and, of course, some unethical instances and possible legal violations:
My son was removed from our home because he was violent and out of control; he called me several hours later and asked me to pick him up, so he could go to work the next day. I refused.
The next afternoon, I was informed that my son had suffered injury at the hands of my husband and that he (my son) was being taken into protective custody. The report I received four days later stated that my son was “fearful” and that my home was “dangerous”.
Why would a fearful kid, who thought our home was dangerous, want to return home? He only works about four hours a day, so for the other twenty hours he’d likely be right here. ‘Tis a puzzle.
So on Friday afternoon, and Saturday, as per a recent blog post, I tried to call anyone I could think of to find out where my son had been taken. Their excuse? It was a weekend. And just think – I was trying to find about the well-being and whereabouts of a 16-year-old; what if my child was only six? And besides, there were several hours on Friday, or even Monday morning, when someone could have either (a) answered the phone, or (b) returned my calls.
The state was so concerned about the conditions of my home and the welfare of our younger son that they didn’t actually do a home visit until Wednesday. Yes, that’s right, Wednesday. And they were thirty minutes late getting here, too. And, I suppose it’s standard, but they checked my refrigerator for food – I graciously showed them the pantry too, and offered to open the freezer in the garage; they declined.
They asked for a “tour” – I was heartily surprised they didn’t flush the toilet or turn on faucets; you know, just to make sure we had plumbing and all. Since, after all, we do live in a rather affluent suburb, in a $300K house – never know what evils might be lurking….
They talked to my younger son; he’s no dummy – he asked why his brother was in “protective” custody when WE were the ones in danger from him? I don’t believe the investigator gave him a very satisfactory answer – she seemed a bit at a loss as to how to communicate with an intelligent 5th grader. Could it be ‘cause she has no children? Or maybe just no personality. Hard to say.
This entire experience has been insulting and degrading, to say the least. The entire “investigation” was made on (1) a snap judgment by a DJO who had zero familiarity with my son or his prior record; and (2) the lies of a kid who is experienced in lying, has been caught doing so by authorities, and who was currently on probation himself.
Fast forward to today: I called the shelter where he’s staying and was told I was not on “the list” – they are not “allowed” to give me, his mother, any information. I was also told I must have supervised visitation, although I haven’t been accused of anything and that declaration is nowhere to be found on any paperwork I possess. Furthermore, his probation office is not on “the list” either; apparently, the state failed to inform the shelter that he is ON probation. How’s that for misinformation?
And the caseworker? Oh, her office is closed for Good Friday. Now, before you get all inflamed about this, I will say that it’s a private agency contracted by the state; yes, there is a fine line between that separation of church and state.
So, I got a 10-minute in-and-out “visit” with my son when he was brought here Tuesday to pick up his things; I have not heard from his caseworker in three days, and now it’s a weekend. A holiday weekend. Supposedly there is a visit scheduled for next Tuesday, but I have no time, no location – I thought that was what a schedule entailed. Guess I was wrong.
I did come across, in all the crap they gave me, a complaint form. How handy. Surely the phone lines will be burning up, come Monday morning. Probably contacting my attorney was an excellent move. Someone has got to put the brakes on these folks and their godlike aspirations. Someone.
And no, I do not hold my son blameless; far from it. He’s been lying, manipulating, and conniving for many, many years. This time he’s gone way past the line; maybe he’ll realize it. I’m not holding out much hope.