I got out of bed early today to get a few things done but now I am sitting in front of the computer blogging....Isn't that funny!?

Yesterday I helped a client pack up a bunch of stuff she has stored in a friends garage. She had a situation where she had to move out of a place real quick and everything has been just shoved in bags. I took over some boxes and we started sorting. I really like to sort...not sure why. But anyhoo....we worked for hours and barely made a dent. I think we will have to try to go again today or tomorrow because the weather is so nice but is going to get nasty. So, while we were packing it reminded me of a time I helped someone pack "quickly". I was 19 years old and I decided I was going to move out of my parents house. I found this apartment in Lorain in a not so great area - I guess it wasn't horrible but not great either. I was way too independent to ask my parent's opinion and by the time they knew about it I had already signed the lease. The day I picked up the keys to my new apartment I witnessed a pregnant woman, who lived downstairs, getting her daughter removed by Child Protective Services & the police. I still remember hearing her scream "Noooooooo" and crying horribly. Looking back that is probably the first time I really knew that could happen. I am sure I had heard about it but I NEVER knew anyone who had been involved with Child Protective Services. After I moved in I got to know her. She was a mess. She was in her early 30's and had been married but got divorced and lived alone with her daughter. Her little girl was probably 6 or 7. After being removed from her mother's custody she went to live with her Dad and his new wife. She would come and visit on the weekend and honestly the little girl spent most of her time at my apartment. Her mom was pregnant by some very young guy (21 year old) that she met at a bar. I used to take her to the store (she did not have a car) to get groceries with her food stamps or to do her other shopping. On Christmas day I went to my parent's home and when I came back to my apartment the woman was so drunk she could barely stand up. She was almost 9 months pregnant. I was so mad at her. I vividly remember her coming out of her apartment and falling into me. What was she thinking??? She said she was depressed because she didn't have her daughter on Christmas. I don't even remember the time line but sometime shortly after that she was getting evicted. I went to court with her. She had 3 days to get out. That night she went into labor. She called me and her exact words were "Rut Row". I drove her to the hospital and stayed in for the c-section deliverly. I so remember her asking if he was okay after he was born. She was worried. Looking back she probably had some drug issues that I was way to niave to notice. The baby was fine. She didn't have a name for him so I suggested Tyler. Funny, I never told Sherry this story and she has a son with the same name that was born the same month (different year though '92)....isn't that weird. I think I suggested Collin for his middle name. Since she was in the hospital during for a few days I had to go to her apartment and pack up her stuff. I don't even remember where I put the stuff. I think her friend had a truck and came to get it. I shoved anything that would fit into trash bags. The place was a mess - ya know, I think that was the first time I was in her apartment. She came home (to her friends house) with the baby. I think it was the second or third day she was home she brought that baby to me and had me keep him overnight while she went out partying. Again, What was she thinking???? Better yet, What was I thinking? What did I know about newborns? NOTHING. It may have been New Years....can't remember. I do know I was smart enough not to get too attached. So, I moved to Georgia. Really that is one of the smartest decisions I have made. I packed up and moved in with my Aunt Debbie, who let me stay with her for several months. The woman with the baby would call me from time to time. She begged me to come back to Ohio. She asked me to take her son. Can you believe I said no? She always told me he thought I was his mother....I held him first. I fed him first. I named him. He ended up being removed from her custody and I think he went to live with her daughter & her family. The woman moved to Florida, the last I heard.

As I was thinking about that yesterday - a story I hadn't really thought about for years. I realized I was doing the exact thing then that I am doing now....except I am a lot more mature and now I get paid for it. So, when I tell you this job was meant to be now you can see a little bit of why I think so.....