Let's not mince words, tonight, okay? It's been a long day.
Remember on Sunday when I thought I was getting better?
Well, I'm not. I am, however, going to the doctor tomorrow because the pressure in my sinuses must be near the breaking point and I'd prefer that they don't explode flesh and bone and neon yellow snot all over my computer screen or car windshield at an inopportune moment
(because there's an opportune moment for that to happen?). I have all of my hopes and dreams set on some miracle drugs coming my way tomrrow afternoon. And if not, I am determined to kill this infection the old fashioned way...with a martini.
But that's not really what this is about.
We
(and by "we," I mostly mean Uriah, but me, too, so "we") have been attempting to get some sort of child support from Abby's mom for a long time
(2 years, 8 months and 4 days.). She seems bound and determined to avoid doing that at all costs, which means that every couple of weeks, Uriah is forced to call DCFS and find out what they're doing to get some support from her. And it's come down to him having to actually
go to the office to see if someone...
anyone...can help him.
And if you've never had to deal with DCFS, let me tell you it's a little something like going to the DMV during your lunch hour, which also happens to be the majority of the DMV worker's lunch hour and also everyone else's lunch hour in the tri-county area, all of whom are converging upon the lone DMV worker who gets the late lunch break becuase she's the newest and gets the crap shifts. And she's pissed about it. And she let's you know that she's got a LeanCuisine waiting for her in back by working very, very slowly. Oh, and did I mention that you are at the end of the line? Yeah, that's pretty much what it's like to work with DCFS.
They feed Uriah the same scripted line everytime he calls and every time he goes into their offices,
"We'll send another request the the state that she lives in and we'll have to wait 30 days for a response and someone will call you when we hear something." And then when DCFS doesn't hear something from the other state and nobody calls us back
(shock and suprise) we have to call them again. And they send another request and we have to wait another 30 days
(lather, rinse, repeat for almost 3 years). And, if he asks to talk to the
(clearly overworked and under-staffed) lady in charge of inter-state collections, she's
always out of the office. Always. As in: Every. Damn. Time.
So, yes, this frustrates the hell out of me. But, still not the basis for my rant this evening; just a little preliminary background, if you will.
Uriah went to DCFS again today to see if someone,
anyone, had miracled some information for him
(long wait for a train don't come since we didn't get a phone call, but I guess we're nothing if not persistent.). And, you guessed it, the lady in charge of interstate collections was out of the office. So, while he was waiting for someone,
anyone, who could tell him when she'd be back in the office, he sat in the waiting room. And in the waiting room was a sign that someone had painstakingly printed off of the computer and laminated and put in a nice little easel on the front desk for God and everyone to read:
What is a Dad?
And it listed all of the things that make a "dad" - a good provider and a support system among other things. But the implication was clear: A "dad" makes his child support payments. A "dad" provides financially for his children. A "dad" supports his children any way he can. And, while I get that the majority of deadbeat parents are, in fact, dads,
what about the deadbeat moms out there? Why is it that DCFS felt the need to single out the deadbeat dads and not the deadbeat moms? What about the dads that fight tooth and nail to give their kids a stable and nurturing home? What about the dads who use every last penny that they have to get their kid out of an unstable environment so as to provide a better, more emotionally healthy life?
WHAT ABOUT THOSE DADS?
What about every single-parent dad out there just trying to get the job done and raise his kids right? Yes, I know that Uriah is not a single-parent. We are a team and we provide Abby with the financial and emotional stability of having a two-parent household. But because we are a double-income family should not imply that we are less importnat than, say, a single mother raising multiple children - or even just one child. Our case is just as important and should be alloted just as much time.
Really, though, I'm just sad tongiht. I'm sad that there are dads who don't care enough about their kids to take them to a baseball game or teach them how to build a model airplane and who avoid paying their childsupport at all costs. And I'm even more sad that there are
moms out there who avoid their financial responsibility with as much fervor as some of the dads do - women who grew and birthed children in and from their own bodies - who don't call their daughters; who don't send them Christmas presents or notes in the mail.
When I think about deadbeat parents, it makes me so angry I could scream.
But when I think about the
kids of those parents, it makes my heart heavy.
Let's not mince words, tonight, okay? It's been a long day.
Remember on Sunday when I thought I was getting better?
Well, I'm not. I am, however, going to the doctor tomorrow because the pressure in my sinuses must be near the breaking point and I'd prefer that they don't explode flesh and bone and neon yellow snot all over my computer screen or car windshield at an inopportune moment (because there's an opportune moment for that to happen?). I have all of my hopes and dreams set on some miracle drugs coming my way tomrrow afternoon. And if not, I am determined to kill this infection the old fashioned way...with a martini.
But that's not really what this is about.
We (and by "we," I mostly mean Uriah, but me, too, so "we") have been attempting to get some sort of child support from Abby's mom for a long time (2 years, 8 months and 4 days.). She seems bound and determined to avoid doing that at all costs, which means that every couple of weeks, Uriah is forced to call DCFS and find out what they're doing to get some support from her. And it's come down to him having to actually go to the office to see if someone...anyone...can help him.
And if you've never had to deal with DCFS, let me tell you it's a little something like going to the DMV during your lunch hour, which also happens to be the majority of the DMV worker's lunch hour and also everyone else's lunch hour in the tri-county area, all of whom are converging upon the lone DMV worker who gets the late lunch break becuase she's the newest and gets the crap shifts. And she's pissed about it. And she let's you know that she's got a LeanCuisine waiting for her in back by working very, very slowly. Oh, and did I mention that you are at the end of the line? Yeah, that's pretty much what it's like to work with DCFS.
They feed Uriah the same scripted line everytime he calls and every time he goes into their offices, "We'll send another request the the state that she lives in and we'll have to wait 30 days for a response and someone will call you when we hear something." And then when DCFS doesn't hear something from the other state and nobody calls us back (shock and suprise) we have to call them again. And they send another request and we have to wait another 30 days (lather, rinse, repeat for almost 3 years). And, if he asks to talk to the (clearly overworked and under-staffed) lady in charge of inter-state collections, she's always out of the office. Always. As in: Every. Damn. Time.
So, yes, this frustrates the hell out of me. But, still not the basis for my rant this evening; just a little preliminary background, if you will.
Uriah went to DCFS again today to see if someone, anyone, had miracled some information for him (long wait for a train don't come since we didn't get a phone call, but I guess we're nothing if not persistent.). And, you guessed it, the lady in charge of interstate collections was out of the office. So, while he was waiting for someone, anyone, who could tell him when she'd be back in the office, he sat in the waiting room. And in the waiting room was a sign that someone had painstakingly printed off of the computer and laminated and put in a nice little easel on the front desk for God and everyone to read:
What is a Dad?
And it listed all of the things that make a "dad" - a good provider and a support system among other things. But the implication was clear: A "dad" makes his child support payments. A "dad" provides financially for his children. A "dad" supports his children any way he can. And, while I get that the majority of deadbeat parents are, in fact, dads, what about the deadbeat moms out there? Why is it that DCFS felt the need to single out the deadbeat dads and not the deadbeat moms? What about the dads that fight tooth and nail to give their kids a stable and nurturing home? What about the dads who use every last penny that they have to get their kid out of an unstable environment so as to provide a better, more emotionally healthy life?
WHAT ABOUT THOSE DADS?
What about every single-parent dad out there just trying to get the job done and raise his kids right? Yes, I know that Uriah is not a single-parent. We are a team and we provide Abby with the financial and emotional stability of having a two-parent household. But because we are a double-income family should not imply that we are less importnat than, say, a single mother raising multiple children - or even just one child. Our case is just as important and should be alloted just as much time.
Really, though, I'm just sad tongiht. I'm sad that there are dads who don't care enough about their kids to take them to a baseball game or teach them how to build a model airplane and who avoid paying their childsupport at all costs. And I'm even more sad that there are moms out there who avoid their financial responsibility with as much fervor as some of the dads do - women who grew and birthed children in and from their own bodies - who don't call their daughters; who don't send them Christmas presents or notes in the mail.
When I think about deadbeat parents, it makes me so angry I could scream.
But when I think about the kids of those parents, it makes my heart heavy.
