No Proofreads. No Edits.

There are few things you don’t want to cut corners on. Like I know you have to go to the bathroom, but are you really about to pull off an exit and shit in that 7-eleven? Your ass deserves better. Pucker up and wait until the next QT or Chick-fil-a. Even if you’re boycotting Chick-fil-a these days, you can still relieve yourself to the wordless chorus of 2000’s Christian instrumentals in the background without indulging in their debatably homophobic chicken.

Department of Family and Child Services came today- scheduled, protocol. We were told it would be routine and that we did not have to do anything to prepare. So all we did is deep clean and move all ties to the second amendment out of the house for this lovely season. More than happy to do so but if you want to break in at this time than please do so the old fashion way and make this a fair felony.

Despite the efforts of sanctifying the house, the scheduled 10 am arrival time gave 4 kids way too much buffer time between wake up and 10 am to clutter up the joint. I swear if a tornado hit our house it would be cleaner after than it ever was before.

The government arrived at 10:01 (power move), unarmed, and stepped into our voluntary chaos.

I had great hopes of showering and throwing on a polo. Contemplated rocking khakis too. Need to convince the governement that despite us being late on our taxes every year that we are actually good citizens and that law firm I help run does ok.

Instead, I ran out time. This morning, I met with the contractor at 9 am in the July, Georgia heat to discuss the “oh so important” impervious space that our rennovation was eating up. Essentially I stood in the blazing hot sun to have contractors decide things for me because (1) what do I know? and (2) for today, what do I care?

So simple math: 285 lb man x 45 min x 95 degrees = Y (which is sweat output). Now to reverse the formula Y x .5 time = Length of Cool Down Time. That’s right, if I am outside for 45 minutes I am lucky to stop the drip in under 20. I had no shot at the 10 am deadline.

So in walks the suit (she was a lovely lady in jeans but let’s pretend a little). I am sitting there sweating through my 3XL shirt, rocking crocs. Again, the closest I am getting to Uncle Phil, ever, is that we are both lawyers and overweight. There was not an ounce of me that showed, “I am taking this seriously.”

But I was. We were. Sitting there in the chaos of our own making we were taking it super seriously. Serious to us was being normal. Trying to give our two new additions a sense of normal where we do not perform or put on for others. We love undconditionally, outwardly, as we are. If the governement can’t see that, than fuck em… and by that I mean I’ll lawyer up and continue this blog from a completely different attitude.

The meeting was short. To divide it up: 5 minutes of pleasantries, 10 minutes of discussion, 10 minutes of walking around, and a “no I dont need anything else.” We were left with a detailed safety plan that essentially reads, “Don’t break these kids. Call us if they break you.”

The meeting went as well as we could have ever hoped. She left saying that she could see the love this family has and that these kids are in the perfect place. Honestly, I wanted more. It felt like she was cutting corners, taking the easy bathroom on 85N instead of weighing her options and digging in for the best.

She was convinced. I wanted her to raid my closet and stop and frisk my 8 year old son. I wanted to be hooked up to the polygraph detector or for her to ask me my max squat weight (535 lb, thanks for being curious). Give me something to show that we are good enough and you give a shit.

The truth is. This DFCS employee does give a shit. She gives so many shits that she eats shit every day for kids, for parents, for the paycheck. I think she walked in to our house and saw a big ass man in crocs, a lovely blonde woman who resided on the floor playing blocks, and two black kids who held onto us like we were all they have.

Jesus tells Martha to stop cleaning and to come in here. To be a part of greatness by being with not only Jesus but the community. I think DFCS walked in and saw community. She walked in and saw two white parents loving 4 kids. However, what she was really seeing was six people being loved by a community so deeply that the kids themselves cannot avoid this love. I don’t have two new children, my community has 2 new children. God fills my cup, but He let’s my neighbors, my friends, my community hold my cup when my hands are full.

In short, I wanted it all to hang out so the governement would deem me worthy of being their dad. I now realize, however, that the governement is just here to make sure they are safe. Being “deemed worthy” is solely up to the the kids themselves.