What I Do

Ella asked me if she could join me at work the other week. I wished she could. I wanted to tell her about the time I took her to the public aid office when she was a baby. My client had an emergency and the daycare was closed. I remember changing her diaper on the concrete floor of the office because it seemed like a more sanitary option then the bathroom. You do what you have to do when you are waiting for FIVE hours. How's that for professional courtesy? I'm not sure how I would even describe what I do. My job isn't the kind of fun office environment that coordinates kickball leagues. There are no cubicles plastered with pictures of home, stress balls and inspirational quotes. My work is done in bug infested basements, smelling of mold, poblano peppers and burnt tortillas. I try my best to disconnect myself from the comforts of my home, my marriage and my kids. I come to work (on my good days) devoid of a personal story. I see lives tangled up in legal woes, medical complexities, loneliness, fear, language barriers and exhaustion. Every day I see people doing things that don't seem humanly possible. They are tired but they keep going. To say my clients are an inspiration sounds trite. They screw up, they fall down just like we all do. To say that I "help people" sounds dumb too. I'm not really into that whole Polly-anna social worker thing. I did that in my twenties. I provide a platform for thought and discussion. I try to bridge the gap between rural Mexico and Chicago. It can be tough for a whole host of reasons. At the risk of sounding like a four year old...it's not fair. But despite the difficulties I love what I do. I love getting lost in the Spanish language and getting elotes from the guy on the corner. I'm so interested in how people's lives evolve and what hand we have in our own evolution. Unfortunately girls, my job won't be hosting any family picnics any time soon. But know that your Mommy loves what she does.