Don’t Fuck With Someone Who has had Poop Thrown at Them (A survival guide for children)

Today was a shitty day (pun intended). Quite honestly it is the roughest day I have had in quite awhile. I am a patient and tolerant person, but this is ridiculous!

I work with mentally ill children. “Oh it takes such a special person to do that!” “There’s a special place in Heaven for you!” “You are so selfless!” Yeah. Fuck that. I’m a sadistic psychopath myself. What other explanation can you give the fact that I went to graduate school to make blue collar wage and get the shit kicked out of me. Have you ever heard the saying: “Sometimes it’s hard to tell if you are staring into the void or if the void is staring at you?” Yeah. It’s like that. Anyway, one of the sweet little darlings that I choose to spend my days with has labeled me as Public Enemy No. 1. After all, I live by rules. Not one time today, not two times today, but THREE times today, he and I went on a walk to a timeout room with him kicking the holy hell out of my shins the whole way. Actually, kicking the holy hell out of my shin. I don’t know what my left shin ever did to him, but a baseball bat would have done less damage. After our third tiptoe through the tulips, I was beyond done. So, what more could my little buddy do to add sunshine to my life? Well, he could take the largest shit I have ever seen come out of a single human being right inside of the time out room, that’s what he could do! As I stared at the turd that stuck to the small observation window, sliding it’s way down the glass, I decided that there is not enough booze in the world to erase a memory like that. Once my shift was over, I literally ran to my car to avoid any further encounters with beatings and/or fecal matter. (*** See footnote***)

Here is a countdown of how the rest of my day went:

10- The number of web sites I trolled in hopes of finding a new job

9- 10% of the number of edits I’ve had to make to this post because I cannot spell and get drunk at the same time

8- The number of dollars it cost me to buy three slushies and chocolate bars

7- The number of seconds it took me to regret that decision

6- The number of people I share a single toilet with

5- The number of years taken off of my life because The Shortest One fell off of the bunk bed and cut her head open

4- The length of the video that I took of Mini Me Extreme while she was high on gas from the dentist’s office

3- The number of completely different dinners I had to make to accommodate everyone’s strict dietary preferences

2- The number of times I went back and forth to the elementary school for various reasons

1- Raging tantrum complete with storming off, door slamming, and incessant wailing (probably NOT my finest moment)

c4ee6a45afcf1ea362c4af2da5738a64

Literally

Tomorrow has GOT to be better than this. I’m going to bed.

*** Please be aware that my telling of this story is less about sharing factual protocol and procedure, and more about entertaining others with my pain. My employer goes to great lengths to make sure that our staff (myself included) is certified and re-certified to handle emotionally escalated people. Physical holds and timeout rooms are last resorts, after a multiple-disciplinary team has conferred and reviewed individual incidents. I hold no ill-will toward this particular young man, in fact, I think I’m relatively well put together after the type of day we shared.***

Today’s Zero to Hero challenge was to write the post you had in mind when you started your blog. While I had not yet experienced this day, these are the kinds of tales I was hoping to share.