Ode to a Pool (Adoption Journal #21)

So, we had what was to be our last home licensing appointment this Friday. The inspection was going well for the most part. We graciously answered the same questions we had been asked several times before. We answered questions, we previously had answered on applications (to the point of hand cramps), as if they were brand new to us. Our licensing worker checked our home and found it, as it should be. She had no comments or things we needed to change. At this point Mandy and I are feeling pretty good. Our social worker tells us that all she needs to do at this point is look at the apartment complex grounds. So, we lead her down the stairs toward the center of the apartment complex and the complex offices. About 150 yards from our door (down the stairs, down the sidewalk across the parking lot) there is a little creek about two-feet wide and four inches deep. This water caused our tour to pause. Our social worker pulled out her camera and took pictures of this mighty Mississippi-like waterway. I though perhaps she was waiting for Huck and Jim to float by on a makeshift raft. None of that happened, so a picture was all she got.
About twenty yards past the creek is the community pool. So, we bravely forded the creek and headed for the pool. A six-foot high fence surrounds the pool with locked gates as four different points. The gates all require key-entry and are spring loaded to keep them from staying open. Yet, there was a problem. During office hours, the door to the office building is unlocked. This worried our social worker, who once again bravely pulled out her trusty camera. She was worried that our child (most likely 6-18mos) would undo the deadbolt in our apartment (which is always locked when we are home), walk down the stairs, down the sidewalk, across the parking lot, open the office door, walk down the hallway, open the back door and fall into the pool. The creek, evidently, wasn’t a concern to our social worker after she saw the great danger of the pool.

Before I go any further, I should make clear that I understand the dangers that water poses to children. I am not making light of this very real danger and reality for many parents and caregivers. I also appreciate the need for county social workers to address potential dangers and safety issues. This is a tragic and real issues that licensing workers should look at and should be concerned about.

That being said, sometimes there is often a CYA mentality when social workers look to grant a license. For instance, the pool is four times as far from our apartment as the street. The pool requires our infant to go through two heavy doors and past four apartment buildings, whereas the street requires nothing of that. Since our social worker wasn’t ready to place a child in such a "risky situation", she did not grant our license Friday. She has told us that she will discuss the situation with her supervisor and ask that the supervisor make a decision on whether or not we should be granted a license. Hopefully we have some resolution on this by next week.
It disappoints me that our social worker refused to grant our license. She had the power and authority to grant our license; however, because her first thought is to insulate herself from legal recrimination and not to promote the placement of a child with a qualified family, she did not grant our license. This is frustrating, but we are hopeful that when our social worker and her supervisor meet next week that we will have our license and be ready to move forward on placement.
To address my frustration I wrote a poem about the pool that Mandy and I have never used in six plus years and something that we have absolutely zero control over. I’ll let you know what turns out next week.


My freakin' pool

Whether the weather is hot, warm or cool
I have never swam in my freakin’ pool
Kids walk by after leaving school
Yet they don’t swim in my freakin’ pool
I have lived here for six seasons of Yule
Still I have yet to swim in my freakin’ pool
So this denial of my home is oh so cruel
And it is all because of my freakin’ pool