DHS office

So I've been spending my days at the Redford DHS office, sometimes referred to as the "welfare office" by people outside of line of work. It's literally one of the most depressing places I've ever seen - located at the end of an essentially abandoned strip mall behind a weedy parking lot on the corner of Inkster and Plymouth. There's lots of pregnant teenagers (and some I hope are teenagers but don't possibly look old enough to be in high school), lots of obese people wearing club clothes, men and women with several children in tow - enough to be mistaken as a daycare, and plenty of dilapidated vehicles in the parking lot. Now I'm not putting these people down - not at all. I'm somebody who can see the humanity and life behind every individual and situation; otherwise, I'd never be able to do what I do. I just wanted to comment that I've done things in my life that have proven to be devastating for others - unplanned pregnancy, impulsive spending, drinking more than I should, burning bridges that need not be burned, job hopping, quitting jobs out of nothing more than frustration (etc). Fortunately, my circumstances in life have been such that there has been a safety net, or a stroke of luck, which has led me to where I am today. Had my circumstances been different, my choices may have led me directly to the Redford DHS office - and not as a trainee.

On a brighter note, Eli and Erich took Leyland to the vet's this evening for shots/heartworm testing (results are pending). To my horror, I discovered that he has not been getting heartworm medicine all summer and, with our house backing up to the mosquito infested woods, well...my fears are obvious. Erich came home frustrated that "Eli behaved worse than Leyland" at the vet's office (as if Leyland frequently misbehaves in public). I don't like making excuses for my kid's behavior, but he DID skip his nap at daycare tonight, and he fell asleep in the middle of Horton Hears a Who, which is highly unusual since he loves reading multiple books at night. I made Salmon En Croute and herbed mashed potatoes, both of which he rejected in the form of having a complete temper fit on the kitchen floor. Erich and I and totally divided about the eating issue. I'm of the camp that he can have a bowl of cereal or a sandwich if he doesn't like what I've cooked (what toddler enjoys salmon???). Erich would prefer he starve if he doesn't like what's being served, and went as far as announcing to our children that "Mama's a pushover" tonight at the dinner table out of frustration. It was amusing to me because he's usually the first to give in to any sort of tantrum. I'm realizing more and more what an excellent father he is. He's so patient with the kids (if it doesn't involve dinnertime), and includes Eli on whatever it is he's working on. The other day, I was on the phone with him and was getting frustrated with Eli because he was insisting on putting his HUGE plastic, ride-on giraffe on top of the couch. I was getting increasingly irritated with Eli, and engaging in a complete power struggle over the placement of the toy. Erich said: "You need to give him a place to put it and tell him that's the 'special spot' for his giraffe." Low and behold - it worked. Great social work intervention from Erich. Who would have thought?