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Karin Mitchell's books on Goodreads
Between Families Between Families
reviews: 5
ratings: 8 (avg rating 4.75)

Monday, January 23, 2012

It finally snowed. Its been a pretty snow-free ski season thus far. Which honestly didn't bother me too much since I was working a lot and it would just mean more shoveling then. But now that I'm unemployed... snow's good. Its reminding me who I am. How good I feel rushing down a mountain. How confident. Strong. Smooth.
I skied 3 days in a row and 2 of them were with one of my favorite old riding friends.
I got up yesterday and shoveled, made coffee and was off. Right before I left, Magnus said "snow."
I took a few runs where ski patrol dropped ropes and I got fresh glorious deep turns. Skiing powder is the single best thing in the world.
Right before I dropped into my run, as the patroller dropped the rope, he said "Let 'er rip!"
"Thanks, I think I will."

Friday, January 20, 2012

The Return of Friday Quotes!

"Remember kids, every time you use "LOL," God sodomizes a chipmunk. Please, think about the chipmunks."

A little boy was wandering around the non-fiction section. I asked, “Can I help you?”

Little boy: “I need to write report on New Hampster and I can’t find anything!”


"Just thinking...If you were my paper work, I'd be doing you on my desk right now..."

"I only heard this in passing, but I'm pretty sure I heard Van der Sloot's friend say he hopes he only gets 10 years because he, "Don't think Joran killed her that bad." That may be the most amazing sentence I have ever heard on TV. He didn't kill her that bad, just enough so that she stopped living. He only killed her about 10 years worth, I don't get why her family is so pissed, I mean he could have killed her bad enough to serve 30 years, and he didn't, so..."



A 45 year old widow just approached me after my show and asked me to go to her hotel to play "poker."
"That was a window, Mikey. You were very drunk."


"I said, "hurry up midgets," talking to my kids. And then there was a whole family of midgets getting out of their car."


"Ben wanted to 'help' so he scrubbed the toilet with my mascara..And then painted his face with it."

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

I realized that I've kind of half assed my explanation of quitting my job with pretty much no idea what I'm doing. Sorry about that. Its just, I feel... umm.... hmmm

This is the kind of thing you can talk about and write about forever. The problems with doing child welfare, my job's hard, blah blah blah. And there's part of me that doesn't want to talk about it or share the details of what I assume you already know. Except maybe you don't. I mean, sure there's that glazed-over look and the obligatory comment of "I could never do your job," that is the response from EVERY person you ever meet at a party that says something child protection workers turn a blind eye to. That there are times when working with families is an impossibly difficult job.

My last week, I took a teenaged girl to the jail to facilitate a visit between she and her dad. Her feelings about the whole thing were impossibly complex. On the one hand, she understood why he was there and believed what he'd done was wrong and that he was where he should be. On the other, she missed her dad. Loves her dad. And is NOT the preferred child as far as her mother's concerned. So its a tremendous loss for her. Her dad was her ally. And her ally's in jail. Rightfully so, but still.

I tried to nurture her through it and support her. I told her what a good job she did. I held her and then let her go to the bathroom for her space.

Its an impossibly hard job though. There are times when the jailers look at you like you're the devil for wanting to bring someone to visit a molester. While at the same time, you just want to help someone see their dad. No matter how you slice it, that's a sad situation.

There's something valuable about spending your time this way. And something you just can't speak about.

There's no happy hour talk that involves bitching about that guy who you just know took your mug this morning.

To make a long story even longer, there's part of it that's inescapable. Its a hard job that's beyond hard. See also, holding a baby who has bruises on its forehead and ribs.

Add into the mix having had your own child.

Most parents ask y0u if you have children. Its a validity/litmus test. They feel like you can't understand what it is to be them if you're not a parent yourself. But the truth no one tells them is that you 'understood' better before you ever held a tiny person of your own. Before you ever gently got up over and over again to a hungry sweet face, all the while not minding. Not minding, because you waited and planned and were ready for this. Before all that, you thought you understood and it seemed so reasonable that someone would lose it in impossibly tough moments. But you thought that before you had all these HORMONES. Before you had a baby.

Once you do that, its a new kind of hard. You can't hold the babies the same way. Or think of 'understand' the same way. The truths you know are still true. That children are better with parents who are abusive than not if they are safe enough. If the parents are 'minimally adequate." But it doesn't stop all the nurturing instinct in you from leaking out onto these people's children.

You can't hug them better.

Add to that some really difficult clients.

Add to that lots of leadership changes.

Add to that the craziest asshole neighbors you ever met, and you've got a recipe for a burntout gal.

The neighbors have been a pretty significant factor. Taking pictures of me in the county car. Sending letters complaining to my employer. Clobbering each other at nights. He got arrested again. It was my husband who called this time. They're convinced it was me. Went after me for it. It all came down the first day or two my new boss started. That's just a little too far behind start from for my tastes. I turned in my notice instead.

So that's a lot of what happened. Like I said, I can talk this subject to death. And once the lid's off, the vomit-mouth is hard to shore up. So this is my best. I quit. It was the right thing. But its complicated too. You just have to trust that things will work out when you do the right thing. I have faith in that. We're smart. Rob and I will make it. And Magnus deserved his mom. So there it is.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Eggs and Whine

I've technically only been unemployed for two days so far. I've been a busy girl. And eating really good breakfasts. Mmm. I love breakfast!

If you put a bunch of pots in the fire at the same time, then something's bound to be edible come dinnertime, right?

See also, starting my own diapering service.
See also, that damn book I wrote that I did nothing with and might maybe sorta try to get published.
See also, 2-3 jobs I'm applying for.

Sure I might burn some stuff, but I just can't handle the idea of putting all my eggs in one basket either.

Speaking of eggs, I went out for cocktails with a few close friends after my last day of work and ended up back at my house eating eggs and drinking wine. (Which was a little sad b/c I just worked too many hours and too hard and didn't have any down time so ended up in that weird place with a few drinks where I started to let down and thought I might cry. No one wants to hang out with a crying drunk girl. There aren't enough black, eye gunk-streaked tissues in the world to make that good.)

Eggs and whine. Mmmm. Turns out they go together quite nicely. Technically, I'm not freaking out yet, so there's no need for a whining post. That might happen later.

P.S. Magnus tried playing the Hokey Pokey with the dog's water bowl. Left foot in, left foot out, you put your left foot in and shake it all about. Its just as fun as it sounds.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

I knew a couple in high school who claimed to still be virgins because they were only having anal sex. Every time I see a picture of her posted on FB, that's what I think of.

I think my child is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I stare and stare at him and I could kiss my own lips right off on that forehead of his. I also think he looks just like me. BUT, I do not look at myself in a mirror with an achy lovey heart and think how beautiful I am.

My neighbors shoveled a line in the snow dividing our two lawns yesterday. They're so fucking bizarre.

I quit my job. I'm getting my house in order. Literally and figuratively. And I even use literally correct in sentences. It should result in more writing. And skiing. And feeling more like myself again. Which is good because I kind of lost me in a deep pit of self-doubt. I'm climbing out now though. Which involves being very poor, and hopefully, very happy.