I've been absent the last couple of days, and even more absent on AIM (Which, amusingly, makes people angry with me.), but I'm here now, so you can stop crying. (Yep..I know it's not just dirt in your eye.)

I feel like telling a story. No, not a good one...sheesh, I told you...I save those for my other journal.

I'm at work (of course) and today we had a four year old come in about a half hour early, (This is the same four year old that is spoken about in an earlier post...you know, the one about child eating disorders? Well..that's what it is Refresh yourself.) and when his mother came in, I was sitting there trying to get a nail I had just broken off my poor finger, because it was still stuck by a scrap of skin. (Guys just don't understand. Broken nails hurt, especally if you break them down past the skin...which is what I did, then they bleed, which was what it was doing when I was oh-so not attentive enough.)

She gave me that look, you know "hands on the hips, why don't you dance and sing because oh JOY of joys my son has arrived to grace your childcare with his light and laughter and ooshy gooshie snoogems, kiss him and hug him and love him so much" look. I know this, not because I'm looking at her, because it's drilling little holes into the top of my poor little head.

Now, it's not that I don't love them, it's just at this point and time in my story, I had a broken nail that was bleeding all over the place, and it hurt, so I didn't greet her with great enthusiasam. (Pity...snicker) So, I'm sitting there preforming major surgery on my finger, (Thumb, left hand, for those that care.) and she's pretty much giving me the all mighty 'don't forget you're just my babysitter' look.

Now, this is the conversation that followed her entry into our humble childcare. I've, for your viewing pleasure, translated from 'client speak' or 'Jamie-eese' into plain english. You're welcome.

"Where's Robin?" (Means: I don't want to leave my child with HER, she didn't even kiss my feet when I walked in. Jamie isn't good enough.)

Tug...tug...OW..."I don't know, in the other room?" (Means: Do I look like the babysitters babysitter?)


"Well...have they had lunch yet?" (Means: I slept until 11:45 which gave me exactly enough time to get dressed and come here. My child hasn't eaten, because I don't know what an apple is, and becides...you always feed them.)

"Nope."

"Well...um..we had a rabid dog." (Means: I can't admit I didn't feed my child, so let me change the subject to something unsuspected so Jamie, who we all know is easily confused, is sidetracked.)

Of course, this point in the play, I had to quit messing with my poor abused nail and pay some sort of attention. (This paints me in such a bad light, I swear I'm not this unprofessional all the time. Just..my nail...) She relayed the story, which...in essense boils down to calling animal control, and went outside to put her kid on the table for lunch. All the while, her child is sniffling and crying because he knows right after lunch is nap time, and naps hurt.

Anyway, shortly after she leaves, Robin asked me to look at the kid, because it looked like someone smacked him in the side of the head. I go outside and he's got this lovely horseshoe type mark, bright red, right by his right eye. (Jakie says it looks like someone smacked him with the claw side of a hammer, and it does.)

So now, since the state demands we track and report these things, or else WE get fines and jail time if it comes out someone at home was abusing the child. (I understand keeping track and reporting, however, if I'm unaware of things going on at home, or if I've just recieved a child and had them one day, I don't appriciate being fined or jailed because they were abused and I didn't know about it.)

Now, I don't want to say anyone was hitting him, or hurt him. (cough) When I asked him about it, he said moms boyfriend did it. (Note: Just so you know, I never take the word of a child. Why? Because children, especally those under seven, or wanting something when someone said no, twist, lie and forget details, and basicly are a DA's worst nightmare. I also can't stand parents who take the word of their three year old as gospel, and never ask an adult about it. That's stupid. Sorry, I know you parents want to think what you're kids saying is true...but kids don't get the whole story.) Now, I won't say he DID do it, but I also won't say it's not a posibility. Especally since he's done it to mommy before, and the kid watched. (Sick, no? She went back to him too...basicly that teaches the child it's ok to hit, because boyfriend hits mommy when she didn't do what he wanted, so it MUST be ok to hit when I don't get what I want. And he does too, all the time. )

I don't know, I just see more disfunction and stupidity (seriously, otherwise I wouldn't use that word) in parents with children today then I've ever seen. Out of probably 1,000 children we've seen come and go, only five of those children came from two-parent families, and only two of those five, lived with both biological parents.

I've seen only two single mothers, who were responsible to their children. I've never seen a single father who was responsible at all.

I've seen children so afraid of their step parents that they would jar themselves in doorframes and hide under furnature to keep from having to go home with them. I've seen children beat babydolls on walls and with other toys telling them they're bad, and how they should just die. I've seen children play 'I'm daddy, you're mommy, you hit me'. I've seen children with parents that are such big hypocondriacts that their kids, by age three, had been on every known child antibiotic, even though the child was never sick.

I've seen parents leave their children 18 hours every day, for days on end, and then bitch because they can't bring them over on their days off. I've seen parents care more about the party their going to, then the fact that it's 30 outside and we brought them with no pants on. I've seen them bring them late, get them late, tell them that they love one better then them, I've seen them act angry when they had to pick up all their kids, insted of just one or two because one of the other daddies didn't come get them and they didn't want them, you name it...I've seen it. Every day, every family, every child.

But these parents get assistance, they get out of their childcare bill, they don't ever get investigated by the state, they raise children who are more messed up by two, then any 30 year old out there.

But in the end, it's always the providers fault.

And people wonder why America is so fucked up.