Well, I figure a few details are in order. I won't give names or any real identifiers... but I will tell you basically why I was in such a ...... quandry for the first part of this week.

*sighs deeply*

Well, I was reqruited, via the benificience of my Mother. For those of you not aware of it, there is such a thing as Respite Care. It's babysitting for Foster parents when they need a break or have somewhere they need to be but can't take the children. In order to do Respite Care, one has to pass a criminal background check and be certified in CPR training.

Well, There are some people who can handle doing Respite Care. I have discovered that I am not one of them. I'm sure if I were asked to care for the girls alone, I could have done that. The girls were wonderful, no trouble, and endearing. The oldest boy was good too. He had his moments, as everyone does, but he is the kind of child who responds after being told twice. He might fuss or be upset, but he will do what he is told.

But, the two other boys... Fuck me runnin... this was so damned hard. And they fed off each other. It was ludicris, irritating and degrading. Really fried me.

For those of you who, like a friend of mine intimated, think that it's laughable that a grown woman was "beaten" by a couple kids... As a Respite Care worker, I am not allowed to touch the children in any aggressive manner. I can give them a brief hug, or hold them if they're crying and need comfort. I can push a child into his/her room for a "time out". But I am not allowed to slap a hand. I am not allowed to spank. I am not allowed to touch or make contact in any aggressive manner, for any reason. Not for discipline, not for intimidation... nothing.

Some of you, I'm sure, are of the no-physical-discipline set. *shrugs* If so, then more power to ya, if you can make it work, great. I am not of that set. I believe in corporal punishment. I believe that if child's actions warrent it, spanking is definately called for. I believe that if you tell a child five times not to touch the burning stick and they still reach for it, I am perfectly within my rights to slap their hand away.

As a Respite Care person, I am not allowed to do so.

With some children, telling them to go to their room, or taking away the gameboy, or some other privilage... for some, that works. For these little kids, tho, that doesn't work.

At all.

I would tell you more at this time, but I'm totally wiped. I'm going to grab a combat nap and come back to this later. I won't post until I'm done with it, tho. So there.

Peace unto thy hearts...

The Fatal Tiger

Alright, I'm back now. *chuckles*

Let me tell you roughly, the parts that really had me hurtin with Monday and Tuesday. *rolls her eyes* Some of you may think me a whimp to be affected so strongly by this shit, if that's the way you feel, then you do it. *sighs* I just don't have the "stuff" to do Respite Care.

So, I was dealing primarily with "Daniel" (and no, that's not his real name) who is six years old. He weighs in at about 50 lbs or so Maybe 60 on a good day. This is a very brief overview of some of the shit he pulled. And keep in mind that I'm not supposed to touch him much at all. I may have gone "too" far with the contact I had with him.

Refused to mind -- gave me "the finger" -- Told "Dennis" (one of the other kids) to "Kiss my fuckin ass" -- Threw fits, stomping, yelling and screaming, demanding that he get his way. -- Often stated/yelled "No" "you can't make me" "you're not my mother" "get your hands off me" "don't touch me" I don't have to" "I want my mother" -- Threw sand at "Julie" as she was coming home from work. -- refused to remain in the house (he'd been grounded to the house by the Foster parents before they left) -- Refused to remain in his room -- behaved with a snotty attitude, beligerance, recalcitrance and petulance (or maybe that should be pestilance?)

Let's see... He got kicked out of summer school for being unresponsive, using foul language, having an unwillingnes to capitulate and disrupting the class.

Somehow, between the busstop (a block from the house) and the house he lost the note from his teacher explaining what he had been doing. He was quiet and managable for a total of 45 minutes out of the three hours he was home Tuesday afternoon. (he was sent to a different Respite Care facility as per my request)

He began acting out again... yelling, whining and swearing, specifically using "shit" and "ass". I told him to go to his room and he refused for the umpteen-millionth time in 22 hours. I persued him, followed him out into the yard and everything. He tried to run away again, but I grabed him by the shoulders, scooped him up with my left arm around his waist and carried him back into the house.

He wriggled and fought me every fucking step of the way, grabbing the door frames as we walked past, kicking at me, hitting at me. I took him to his room and deposited him on the bed, telling him to stay there. He did. For about 10 minutes, if that.

He then started that damned peaking game. Then, he came out of his room and backflipped over the couch, taunting me. THEN he started the "catch me if you can" game.

Fuckin six year old kid. Me, two months shy of 30 years old. Taunted by a child. A child 1/6th my size. A child who needed his ass beat so damned badly it's pathetic.

Oh, but then comes the good part. We finally stopped the "catch me if you can" game by my forcing his hand. I just shoved the chair out of the way and walked toward him. He ran into his room, slamming the door. I sat on the back of the couch, four feet from his door, waiting. He opened the door to peak at me. I promptly stood and closed the door.

*chuckles quietly*

He was surprised at that, but then he did it again, as did I, only this time when I shut the door for him, he yelled at me, saying I couldn't do that. *laughs coldly, at herself* Then he started screaming about how he was going to break the door. "I fuckin swear" *rolls her eyes* Six years old and using that language. Fuck it all. *points out that that little bit was irony*

So, I go into the room. He dashes to his bed and grabs one of those funky wooden, accordian-style cup rack things. Ya know, with the diamond pattern when it's extended properly... ya hang it on the wall in your kitchen and you hang mugs by the handle... Regardless, he grabbed one of those and actually brandished it at me, as if he were going to swing it like a baseball bat, then he shifted his grip slightly when I got too close, as if he were going to stab me with it.

I took it away from him, prying his fingers from it, then holding it over my head. Thank God I was tall. Then he tried to run through the door, but I just reached out and closed it. Again, Thank God for a long stride and long arms.

So, then he started kicking at me and screaming about how I couldn't do that to him, how I had no right. *rolls her eyes* So, I grabbed him around the waist, the same way I'd carried him in there in the first place. I sat down on one of the beds and held him against me, his back against the left side of my chest, his butt on my thigh, his legs were kicking and straining to get away from me. His hands were thrashing, but he didn't try to punch me yet.

For aproximately 45 minutes, he screamed and screamed and screamed. He pinched my left forearm three times. Hard. Remarkably hard for a child of his small stature. I didn't scream. I didn't yell. I was calm and quiet. He kept thrashing and after every single sentance he screamed and yelled, I said, "No." quietly and calmly, just a matter-of-fact statement.

He screamed... "No, don't touch me." "Don't touch me." "Get away from me." Grandma" "Micki" (the grandmother's name has been changed as well) "Help me" Help" Stop it" Fuck you" and "Rape". That one was his favorite. *shakes her head* He screamed so hard and so long I thought he was gonna go hoarse.

He said he was going to spit on me. And then he did. I didn't react. *rolls her eyes, clenching her teeth* === Ya know... that's one of the absolute worst insults to me. Having someone spit on me is the epitome in degredation. *sighs* Oh well, right?===

Then he said, "I'll punch you. Right in the mouth." I said, simply, "No."

He was enraged. So completely enraged.

He finally asked if he was gonna be going with the person who was going to pick him up to take him to the other facility. *rolls her eyes* I said yes, and as soon as I did, he stopped struggling and screaming. Instantly.

Then, he laid back against me as if he were exhausted from his great struggle. *rolls her eyes* He fuckin knew how it worked. Ya scream yourself raw, then slump back and get comforted and loved. He's a ........ (censored)

*sighs quietly* Oh well. I know now that I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever ad nausium, do this again. No way in fuckin hell. No way.

And ya know what? To top off this wonderful week. *rolls her eyes* I have a kick ass cold which is litterally kickin my ass. I had to sit for my friend again today, when I was supposed to have the rest of the week off, and I have to go to the doc tomorrow. *shudders*

BUT, I'm going to the doc to get my arm and leg looked at and checked out. My right hip hurts like a bitch. My right ankle is sore and weak and my toes have gone numb again. All since the first part of this week.

I doubt anything will come of it, and I know that the shit with my injuries flaring up is only temporary, but I want it documented. My left arm is still sore where "Daniel" pinched it.

But, ya know what? I didn't only have to contend with "Daniel" There were four other children I was solely responsible for as well. And one of the other boys was as headstrong as "Daniel" was. Hell, it was "Dennis" that punched "Daniel" in the stomach. Hard. ON purpose. Of course, "Daniel" was the one who had stated "Kiss MY fuckin ass" *rolls her eyes*

But, atop all of that shit, which is more than enough to promote chastity and celibacy, I was getting my mail tonight, when someone I don't know, whom I've never before seen, walks up to me and says, "You're Duncan's ex-wife aren't you?"

I nodded, looking this chick over.

She stated that they (they being D and his -- insert explicative of choice here) were planning on moving back here.

I nodded and stated, "That's nice. I don't even know where they are."

She kindly told me they were in Florida.

*sighs*

That's one of the reasons I really liked being the Hunchback of Notre Long Beach. I didn't have to deal with anyone. I didn't have to come out of my little hovel and be assulted by children who were ants in comparison to me. I didn't have to deal with people I don't know coming up to me and reporting on my ex.

Here's a message to all of those who would like to give me updates on my ex-spouse.

HE IS MY EX! That means I don't want to know about him. I don't want to shake his hand, I don't want to be his friend, and I damn sure don't want reports on his daily activities or the activities of his ............ (insert explicative of choice here).

And, on that note, I'm going to close this. So there.

I feel much better for having expressed all of this. So thank you for listening to me complain and prattle on ceaselessly. I really appreciate the courtesy of friendship.

Peace unto thy hearts...

Ciao.

Bellisimo

The Fatal Tiger

PS

I went out to eat Chinese food tonight and got a fortune cookie. Inside said "treat", I had TWO fortunes. And they were the same. "Allow yourself time -- You will reach success." I figure the fact that I got two means that I should give myself a lot of time and that I will reach magnificent success. So, thank you for your support. You encourage me to be who I am. Thank you.