Thursday 5 July 2012

Ding Dong the Dingo’s Dead.


Great News.

Front page of the Local News Paper.

LOCAL SOCIAL WORKER IN DEATH PLUNGE

An un-named Social Worker has died by falling from the top floor of St Nick’s house. I didn’t dare believe it could be the dingo. But then the Police came round and questioned me. They’re questioning all her ‘Clients’.

Then I got a phone call from E. She says that she’ll need to find another worker to ‘complete the assessment’ but that she think’s J will be back home before School starts.

It’s a miracle. Ok I’m probably going to hell for saying that but it is.

Tuesday 3 July 2012

Gloves Off


No more playing nice. This is war.

The Dingo is recommending a termination of my parental rights. She says I lack insight into my son.

This woman who seems to have no understanding of normal human emotion says that I lack insight. I’ll show her insight.

Wednesday 30 May 2012

And So it begins.


This is not going to be easy. Not that I thought it would be. But the Dingo is so hard to read. I can’t tell if I’m doing the right thing or not. She keeps saying not to to take her expression seriously but I’ve spent my whole life judging a person’s mood by their face. Its a hard habit to break.

I can’t read her expression and she wont give me a straight answer about anything. I’m second guessing every maternal instinct. I’ve given up on doing the right thing. I’ll settle for doing whatever the Dingo likes but I can’t work out what that is.

Fortunately she’s not doing it alone. She’s working with E. She seems nice. And she’ll tell me what she wants to see. And she’s straight with me. I have been to easy on J. He could do a lot more for himself in his own room. I’ve fallen into the habit of doing some things for him because it’s quicker and easier than bugging him into doing it for himself. But he’s 11 years old. He can certainly make his own bed and put his own clothes in the hamper.

Wednesday 16 May 2012

Phone Tag part 2


She never did call me back. Eventually I caught her at her desk. And she was able to tell me immediately, and slightly smugly if I’m any judge, when the next contact was set for. Friday. So only 10 days after the last contact. No apology for the gap and when I asked about the long silence.

“Oh I was waiting to see how proactive you would be.”

Words failed me.

“Proactive?” I said.

“I was waiting for you to show an interest in your son.” She said.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think straight when I’m in shock.” I said.

“In Shock?” She said and she sounded genuinely surprised.
“I’ve found things very difficult since the hearing.” I said.

“You sound very tense.” She said. It sounded like a criticism.

“I’m not surprised. Talking to you makes me feel tense.” I said.

“Why on earth would I make you feel tense.” She sounded like she was about to accuse me of being silly so I told her there was someone at the door and I would have to go. It took every ounce of self control not to scream down the phone: “YOU TOOK MY BABY YOU TART. HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL?

I don’t think she understands human emotion. Maybe she really is a dingo in human form.

Phone Tag


8 Days.

I’m supposed to have contact with my son twice a week. It’s been 8 days since the last contact and I haven’t heard from the Dingo. I’ve been phoning her every half hour since 9am and leaving messages and no reply. She’s not in the office, or she’s in the office but she’s in a meeting, or she’s in the office but not at her desk.

Why does she get to play by a different set of rules. You can bet that if I tried ignoring the rules set out by the Panel I’d get into trouble but she can do what she likes.

Saturday 5 May 2012

Can’t believe what I’m hearing.


So we’re back to feeling like I turned over two pages at once. I went into the Children’s Panel a mother and came out alone. They took my son.

I genuinely never expected the panel to agree with the Dingo. The report was so badly written, so half arsed, the woman can’t even spell for God’s sake, that I was sure they would see through it.

Anyone who see’s me with J can see that I love him and he loves me. To take eccentric urination as proof of abuse and neglect when there is literally nothing else there seems like madness.

But now he’s gone and my life is empty and bare and my only hope is to comply with the Dingo. She’s going to assess my parenting skills. Somehow I have to prove to her that I’m worthy to be a mother to my own son. I have to prove her wrong. She doesn’t strike me as a woman who likes being proved wrong.

Thursday 3 May 2012

Turned over 2 pages part 2


When the Dingo arrived I was actually glad to see her. Can you believe that? Course I didn’t know her true nature back then. J had been excluded and she was coming along to see if I needed help with him. It never occurred to me to ask which team she was with. I didn't even know there were separate teams. I thought a social worker was a social worker. J had special needs and this woman was coming to help.

That’s her thing. Like a real Dingo she looks harmless.

She doesn’t even look like a Dingo. More like a Pig. She has a round face with tiny piggy eyes, over-sized ears and dark blond hair. Her body looks like an apple resting on a couple of lolly sticks with her round stupid head on top and no apparent neck. She dresses like a student. A broke student and she has terrible teeth. I’m sure she smokes, though I’ve never smelled it on her, that’s the only reason I can think of for her terrible teeth.

She came into my home and she told me she was there to help and God help me I believed her. And I told her everything. All the trouble I had with J. What it was like when he wasn’t sleeping. How hard it was to get him to school every day. How I resented being on my own with him. How he’d driven off most possible baby sitters and I never got any time to myself. Oh God - time to myself. Be careful what you wish for.

I told her everything and I asked her what I was doing wrong and how we should deal with the urination thing and the fighting and she smiled and gave me a few platitudes.

The next thing I heard from her was also the next time I had that two pages turned at once feeling. It was the report to the children's panel. In it she used every single thing I told her as a weapon against me. Every single weakness that I admitted and asked for help with was in there as an accusation and worded as if she had somehow discovered it by brilliant detective work.

In once respect the report was a work of genius. The way she managed to suggest something without actually saying it. She cast the shadow of abuse without ever mentioning it by name. Because she couldn’t mention it. Because she new I’d had J up to the hospital to be checked over while looking for a cause for the urination. But she let the suggestion sneak into the report between the words.

In every other respect the report was laughable. The woman can’t spell. She has no grasp of punctuation or grammar. She even had J’s diagnosis down wrong.