The Hump

I went to weigh in tonight in hopes of losing a few pounds and inching ever closer to the 50 lb. mark. I was shocked when I was told I'd lost 6.2 lbs. this week alone. I'm shocked. I'm stunned. I've lost 53.6 lbs. Fuck, how have I done it? I'm so happy right now.

Learning Curve

Thank you to everyone that still comes by to read me. I'm alive and kicking. This new schedule is taking a wee bit of adjustment on my part. The husband, well, he's rolling with it like a champ and picking up the slack when I'm too tired to cook dinner or throw the whites in the wash. Before this job I had a nice tidy little life where certain days I did laundry, a particular day I went grocery shopping, got a hair cut, pedicure and manicure, you get the idea. A nice little life with a nice little routine. I like a schedule, it works for me. Now? That shit is out the window! And of course, being the obsessive compulsive that I am, it's freakin' killing me. I feel so discombobulated lately, not knowing whether I'm coming or going. The nation's Monday is my Friday, talk about fucking you up on what day it actually is! Most days I'm doing good to have clean underwear, food for the dogs and get to work on time. So see, I have an excuse for my absence. I need to work blogging into my new schedule, this I realize. Hang with me, I'll get better.

Now about the new job......no matter how much I bitch and moan about my childhood, I didn't have anything remotely as horrible as my girls have had. All types of drugs, abuse, neglect are rampant and it shows in their demeanor and attitude. It has affected them in profound ways, teenagers who've lived adult lives. There is so much work to be done, but things I can't cure in the short months that I will know them. I can't undo years of abuse no matter how much I think I can. I can only teach them coping skills, behavioral modification skills and hope they use them and pray for the best. Our statistics prove we're fighting a losing battle. Our program is a whole other post for another day.

In one short month my girls have taught me a lot about myself. You won't hear my complain about my parents anymore. I had it damn good, I realize that now. So my mother wasn't the hugs and kisses type. So. What. She was hard on me because she cared and wanted me to succeed. I did, mission accomplished. She did the best she knew how. No one is perfect. I didn't pop out of the womb with a how to manual attached. Mom gets a pass on my upbringing. Her current attitude, well that's still up for debate.

I adore my coworkers. They are funny and fun and we all get along really well and have each other's back. We're the tightest knit shift from what I understand because we all work as a team and not looking to backstab and play blame games. My supervisor rocks! He's the best and really backs us up on any decisions we make. We sat down and had a long talk the other day, just the two of us, a kind of a get to know you better session. I know where he's coming from and he knows were I'm coming from. We ended up completing a lot of each other's sentences and that's totally cool. I like being on my same wave length as my supervisor. He's laid back enough not to get his boxers in a bunch about small things, a micro manager he is not. R gets two thumbs up in my book.

But......and you knew there was a but........But, I can't stand the woman who's just under my supervisor. When he's gone, she's in charge. She makes Atilla the Hun look like a people person. Seriously. Jeffrey Dahmer had better people skills than this woman. She comes in and yells at the kids, she demeans staff in front of the kids and generally is a miserable woman. She makes my face twitch. Now, I know I'm new and I know I'll need redirection on certain things that I'm doing wrong, hell, I welcome the feedback so I know what I need to improve upon, that's not my gripe. My gripe is there is zero positive feedback and I'm usually reprimanded in front of my girls. How am I to gain the kid's respect when C is dogging me in front of them? From what I understand she does it to everyone so I'm not being "picked" on. Fine. Great. She's an equal opportunity bitch, 10-4, gotcha. Everyone has talked to R about her and he'll talk to her and she'll tone it down a bit then start up again shortly after her reprimand. Most days I just listen to her assessment of me with a deer in the headlights look but I'm thinking, "Bitch, you are crazy and would you please turn it down a notch or ten?" I seriously can't believe some of the stuff she says. Currently, I just want my ass back in one piece at the end of my day. If I have both cheeks intact, I'm good. Shall I go into her writing skills? I'm no English major but I do speak proper English and I can hold my own with grammar and punctuation not to mention I'm a fairly decent speller and I always check and recheck anything I submit that could be subpoenaed. C? No so much. She's an idiot and one day a defense attorney will lay her out on the stand. I would like a ring side seat for that. Hell, I'll save seats for everyone on my shift AND make popcorn. I'm not bitter, really. Really, I'm not. Ok, I am. Is it that obvious? If you have suggestions on how to deal with her, I'm all ears. I've never ever dealt with someone like this, so I'm at a loss.

This just is an unbelievably demanding job and I'm soooooo out of my element on security issues. I may have said this before but let me repeat it, I'm sooooooooo not law enforcement. I know I can say with the utmost certainty, I'd make a horrible cop. Period. Victim advocate, yes. Police officer, no. Social worker, yes. Prison guard, no. Any questions? We have to cut all of the tops off of the pencils, you know where the little metal part holds the eraser on. Why you ask? Because the pencil can be taken apart and the metal used as a weapon. I never even thought of something so mundane as that. It's the little security things that get me, I'm just amazed.

I have so many stories to tell but I'm very, very reluctant to go into them here. I would love to go into detail but I'm not in the mood to get Dooced. I work with juveniles so everything is highly confidential, just give me some time to decide what I can and can't share.

Enough about work. I've been squeezing in a little bit of scrapbooking here and there. I miss my regular crops with my girlfriends because of work. I've done some pages lately that I'm really happy with. After many years, I think I've finally found my style. I'll try new things occasionally but I seem to gravitate to a certain look. I've got some pages scanned and ready to upload and share with ya'll and I'll put them up as soon as Blogger stops being a testy bitch. I tried several times last week and finally gave up. Two of my coworkers scrapbook so of course they have an open invitation to join us at crops. I swear this hobby is taking over the world.

Health wise I'm feeling better than I have in a years. My stomach issues have all but gone away. Poof! Gone! Like almost overnight. I'm curious what the stress of this new job is going to do. I guess we'll have to wait and see, so far so good, so I'm not complaining. The weight is still dropping off. I weight in tomorrow but to date I've lost 47.4 lbs. I can't wait to hit 50, there's just something significant about that number to me. I guess it's "the hump" for me. After 50, I'm on the down hill slide to another 50. This first 50 has been remarkably easy, lets hope the next 50 is as easy as the first. Several of my coworkers have noticed how healthy I eat at lunch. They don't realize I'm losing weight, they didn't know me "before". J told me today, "Can you please go eat somewhere else, you're making me feel guilty for having Oreos and a Coke for lunch." I offered her my apple to balanced her diet, she accepted. There is hope. No one can believe that I can get up at 4 am, get to work by 6:30 am and do it all without caffeine. My secret? Low sodium V-8. Love the stuff! I would have a herd of V-8 cows if there were such a beast. The stuff rocks my world. So while my coworkers guzzle their Red Bulls and Starbucks at morning briefing I happily sip my V-8. I'm sure they all think it's spiked with a wee bit 'o vodka, but I hate to disappoint, I no longer drink alcohol either. Dude, why would I want to waste calories on booze when I can use those points for CARBS!?! Duh!

So there ya have it, my life in a nutshell. Boring, huh? And to think you just wasted 5 mins. of your life you'll never get back. Pray the next post is days in coming, not weeks.

The Devil Wears Combat Boots

Many, and I do mean many, of my coworkers wear these, men and women alike. They want to protect their feet from getting stomped by a kid throwing a tantrum of the grande variety. Evidentially it happens during restraints but this priss can't bring herself to purchase something so damn ugly. I mean I'm ok with the black because I do wear a lot of black, but can I get something in a strappy sling back with a low heel? Hell make it a steel toed sling back. Hello? Manolo Blahnik, I see a new market for you.

I Choose Door #3, Pat

I know ya'll love a good story, even more so, a good "Kristin you idiot!" story. Hey, I love them too, I can laugh at myself, most days. I'm here to please and I'm sure this one won't disappoint.

Our kids are referred to our program by their juvenile court judge. Just so you know, no, the judges know very little about these kids and make decisions about treatment based on statements from court personnel and defense attorneys. Sometimes a placement with us isn't appropriate and the youth is exited from the program to which they must be sent back to the detention center. Here's where the fun begins.

I got the pleasure of transporting a female youth back to the detention center last week. This isn't in the normal scope of my duties, but we were short staffed, our transportation officer was out. As ya'll know, I'm a social worker by trade, not law enforcement. I was shocked to see this sweet faced 14 year old girl in leg shackles, belly chains and hand cuffs. When I got back from the detention center I found out why there were extra security precautions. The girl was nuts. I don't mean in the "oh, silly kids" nuts, I mean "she's cracked in the head" nuts. Oh, and she likes to run.

My only directives from my supervisor were, take her to the detention center, drop her off at intake, get our chains back and call me when you get there. Ok, no problem, I'm of decent intellect and can manage such a task. I knew where I was going, how hard could this be?

We boarded the youth, without incident, and drove to the detention center without one u-turn. So far, so good. I pulled up the sally port, pushed the intercom button and told the officer why I was there and that I had a transport for processing. I was buzzed through the gate and entered the sallyport only to find out that I was in the kitchen sallyport. I looked around to find milk crates, boxes of fruit and vegetables and a nice man unloading a Ben Keith truck looking at me very perplexed. So what did I do? I backed up (all the while announcing my departure with that horrendously loud back up buzzer and in a cavern at that) and pulled out back into the parking lot.

Around I went, to the next sallyport. I pushed the intercom, told the officer who I was with and that I had a transport. I was buzzed through and I went in, only to find I was in the laundry sallyport! A couple of guys in a uniform company truck look at me, I smile and wave and back up, again with the loud buzzing. About this time, I hear a muffled laugh from the back of the van. Great. It's the grand freaking tour of the detention center with a cracked kid, and she's laughing. At me.

We're off to find the wizard and sallyport #3. Third times the charm, right? Same schpeel, different intercom, correct sallyport this time. Yay! I now know where intake is, that's progress, right there! So I get her in, again without incident and ask the intake officer where I can use a phone. He points me to control. I call my supervisor and let him know from now on tell anyone new WHICH sallyport they need to use. Social worker types will assume one unless told otherwise, we're not law enforcement, ya know. The next morning it was brought up at the staff briefing that in the future, everyone needs to use the third sallyport. Thanks, nothing like a good dose of humilation to start off the day.

Back in detention, once I hung up with my supervisor I see one of the guys in control wave me over. They're laughing and joking around, I figured I'd go introduce myself. One of them asks me if I'm Kristin. "Uh, yeah." I say. "We thought so." another retorts. They inform me one of my ex co-workers works part time with them in control and he'd heard that I got hired on and to be on the look out for me and make sure to give me a hard time. They were the ones that buzzed me through to each sallyport, all the while, watching me on camera, laughing and letting me wander around when they could have told me it's around the building door #3. The third one said, "L, told us you were a prissy white chick with big hair. We knew it had to be you." My hair proceeds me, evidentially. I need a historical placard for my head, it seems. I whipped out a rubber band from my pocket and shot the tall one in the middle in the chest. He jumped and yelled, ouch. I ran like hell and told them, revenge is sweet, nice to meet them and watch the crazy girl I brought in. I love my new job.