I was born in the mid-70s, grew up in the 80s. We all thought we'd be astronauts. We all thought we'd be able to go to space whenever we wanted some day.
I was up yesterday when the space shuttle landed. It was hot. I couldn't sleep. I wanted to watch it.
It was sad. For me, probably for a lot of people.
In Jacob's school they are focusing on planets and stars this month. He draws me solar systems. A circle for the sun and eight loops with little planets on each on one side of the paper. On the other side, he draws me a circle for the sun and nine loops with little planets on each. "This side has old-fashioned science", he tells me. "So you don't get confused because I know in the olden days they thought there were nine planets, so that's probably what you learned".
Research methods change. The way we go about things changes. Science changes.
Not actual science, of course, that never changes. But our knowledge and scope and understanding of it. And that's okay. It keeps us going. Learning. Wondering. Guessing. Thinking eggs are good for us or terrible. That sort of thing.
My child was born in the mid-00s and will grow up in the 10s. He will probably not grow up thinking he'll be an astronaut some day. Won't think he'll be able to go to space whenever he wants some day.
7.22.2011
7.18.2011
When you get big you'll understand...
why I keep "takin' pikchurs of yer feet". And the nape of your neck, and the curl of your eyelashes.
why I don't want you in my bed but I don't kick you out either.
why sometimes I cry when we are having a fun time.
why I can't stop staring.
why I put your hands in my mouth.
why we can't touch our tongues together.
why we go to bed when it gets dark and we get up when it gets light.
why I like to read you the same books my mom and dad read me when I was little.
why we make chains out of strips of colored paper.
why all I want for my birthday is a big huge giant most enormous really good great hug.
why I count the hairs on your head.
why we bend the rules sometimes.
why boys and girls have different parts. And where babies come from.
why I have to go to work to get the monies.
why you have to sit in the back seat where it's safe.
why I still hold you like a baby.
why I need you to go to sleep so I can go to sleep too.
why sometimes it has to rain.
why we eat vegetables before we eat anything else.
why you can't play out front by yourself.
why good people can do bad things. And the other way around.
why sometimes we don't share.
why my little brother is bigger than me.
why I'm still Mimi's baby even though I'm bigger than her.
why you'll be my baby even when you're not a baby.
why I kiss you a bazillion times before bed.
why I thank you for today.
why some people live far far away.
why your cat never came home.
why I do.
why we both need a time out every now and then.
why you can look, but not touch.
why there are some things that I just don't have an answer for.
why me and daddy made you.
why big people don't take naps.
why some books don't have pictures.
why I don't let you watch the news "like a man does".
why we have to be gentle with other people's feelings and bodies.
why candy apples aren't healthy even though there is an apple in there.
why some people don't speak English.
why I never tell you to stop asking why.
(originally posted 8/31/09)
why I don't want you in my bed but I don't kick you out either.
why sometimes I cry when we are having a fun time.
why I can't stop staring.
why I put your hands in my mouth.
why we can't touch our tongues together.
why we go to bed when it gets dark and we get up when it gets light.
why I like to read you the same books my mom and dad read me when I was little.
why we make chains out of strips of colored paper.
why all I want for my birthday is a big huge giant most enormous really good great hug.
why I count the hairs on your head.
why we bend the rules sometimes.
why boys and girls have different parts. And where babies come from.
why I have to go to work to get the monies.
why you have to sit in the back seat where it's safe.
why I still hold you like a baby.
why I need you to go to sleep so I can go to sleep too.
why sometimes it has to rain.
why we eat vegetables before we eat anything else.
why you can't play out front by yourself.
why good people can do bad things. And the other way around.
why sometimes we don't share.
why my little brother is bigger than me.
why I'm still Mimi's baby even though I'm bigger than her.
why you'll be my baby even when you're not a baby.
why I kiss you a bazillion times before bed.
why I thank you for today.
why some people live far far away.
why your cat never came home.
why I do.
why we both need a time out every now and then.
why you can look, but not touch.
why there are some things that I just don't have an answer for.
why me and daddy made you.
why big people don't take naps.
why some books don't have pictures.
why I don't let you watch the news "like a man does".
why we have to be gentle with other people's feelings and bodies.
why candy apples aren't healthy even though there is an apple in there.
why some people don't speak English.
why I never tell you to stop asking why.
(originally posted 8/31/09)
7.08.2011
justice
Just about everything there is to be said has been said about the Florida mom and her little girl. It's sad. And unfair that she recieved so much attention when there are so many other children who are killed by their parents or die mysteriously every year we never hear of. Little CA gets to carry the cross for them all. Her tiny life stands for so many lives lost. I think the stats are something like 100 mothers kill their children in the US each year. Add fathers and other caregivers to the mix and the number skyrockets. How many have you heard of? Thought of? Mourned?
Did you know that most children who are severely abused or die at the hands of their parents are abused or killed over potty training issues? Potty training is rough stuff. Add caring for other children (potty training coincides with new babies in a lot of families. Fun times in parenting for sure) and housework and relationships and the job and and and and you have a lot on your plate. If you don't have support or stability in your life, things can go south real quick.
There's a case going on in Philadelphia right now that blows the Orlando one out of the water. You probably haven't heard about it. The child was 14 and had Cerebral Palsy and weighed all of 40 pounds and was stuck to her bed and had maggots in her bedsores and was living in filth and had social workers who never went to see her and a father who abandoned her and after the dust settled nine people were charged related to her murder. Nine. NINE.
The little girl was much less than adorable, save for a picture taken of her on one of her birthdays where she looked happy and gorgeous and full of life. That's the one you'll see in the paper. Normally she was bobble-headed and her body curled up in strange ways. Her mouth didn't shut and her hair wasn't combed. No one wants to see that. It makes us uncomfortable. So they don't put it on television because we would turn away. Turn the channel. And there aren't nationwide prayer vigils for the little girl who lived and died in horrifying ways. No one is tuned into the courtroom proceedings. It isn't even front page news here.
There is this thing Ghandi (I think it was Ghandi) said about if you have to eat meat, you should eat beef. Because one cow can feed many people and people can use just about every single part of a cow after it is killed. You certainly shouldn't eat shrimp because it takes a dozen or more to fill the belly of one man.
I'm not sure how that ties in.
I feel for the little girl who died in Orlando. I also feel for her mother. That's an unpopular stance to take. Compassion. Care. Understanding.
Normal people who are mentally well do not allow their children to die or go missing without reaching for help. Normal people who are mentally well do not fabricate people's lives. People who are damaged, traumatized, fearful, unbalanced, desperate, and alone do. Ruined people. Broken people.
Instead of asking what is wrong with the mother, we should ask "what happened to her that made her the way she is?". Something happened to her to make her the way she is.
Awful things happen to an awful lot of people to make them the way they are. We should all learn, and do our bests to be sure it doesn't happen to us. To our children. To the children in our family. The children who play with our children. The children in our communities. All children.
I didn't watch the trial. I didn't need to. The case has no bearing on my life. But cases like it do.
Cases that touch me personally. Children that touch me personally. Children that are scared of their parents and cling to me, a stranger, for dear life so that they may have just a few seconds of human touch that isn't hurtful, vengeful, hateful. Children that hold on to me tight and whisper in my ear that they hate their mommies and wish Jesus would come and take them away. Children that pray to a God for death every night. Pray to a God that never seems to listen. Never seems to save them.
Pray for those children.
Leave your porch light on for those children.
And for their children. Because chances are, they will grow up to be just like their parents. Sick. Angry. Abusive.
Apples don't fall far, no matter how beautiful the blossom, how sweet the fresh fruit.
Please let go of your anger towards a woman you don't know. Her life will be a punishment unto itself. Use that passion you may feel to love and protect yourself and your family.
Did you know that most children who are severely abused or die at the hands of their parents are abused or killed over potty training issues? Potty training is rough stuff. Add caring for other children (potty training coincides with new babies in a lot of families. Fun times in parenting for sure) and housework and relationships and the job and and and and you have a lot on your plate. If you don't have support or stability in your life, things can go south real quick.
***
There's a case going on in Philadelphia right now that blows the Orlando one out of the water. You probably haven't heard about it. The child was 14 and had Cerebral Palsy and weighed all of 40 pounds and was stuck to her bed and had maggots in her bedsores and was living in filth and had social workers who never went to see her and a father who abandoned her and after the dust settled nine people were charged related to her murder. Nine. NINE.
The little girl was much less than adorable, save for a picture taken of her on one of her birthdays where she looked happy and gorgeous and full of life. That's the one you'll see in the paper. Normally she was bobble-headed and her body curled up in strange ways. Her mouth didn't shut and her hair wasn't combed. No one wants to see that. It makes us uncomfortable. So they don't put it on television because we would turn away. Turn the channel. And there aren't nationwide prayer vigils for the little girl who lived and died in horrifying ways. No one is tuned into the courtroom proceedings. It isn't even front page news here.
***
There is this thing Ghandi (I think it was Ghandi) said about if you have to eat meat, you should eat beef. Because one cow can feed many people and people can use just about every single part of a cow after it is killed. You certainly shouldn't eat shrimp because it takes a dozen or more to fill the belly of one man.
I'm not sure how that ties in.
***
I feel for the little girl who died in Orlando. I also feel for her mother. That's an unpopular stance to take. Compassion. Care. Understanding.
Normal people who are mentally well do not allow their children to die or go missing without reaching for help. Normal people who are mentally well do not fabricate people's lives. People who are damaged, traumatized, fearful, unbalanced, desperate, and alone do. Ruined people. Broken people.
Instead of asking what is wrong with the mother, we should ask "what happened to her that made her the way she is?". Something happened to her to make her the way she is.
Awful things happen to an awful lot of people to make them the way they are. We should all learn, and do our bests to be sure it doesn't happen to us. To our children. To the children in our family. The children who play with our children. The children in our communities. All children.
***
I didn't watch the trial. I didn't need to. The case has no bearing on my life. But cases like it do.
Cases that touch me personally. Children that touch me personally. Children that are scared of their parents and cling to me, a stranger, for dear life so that they may have just a few seconds of human touch that isn't hurtful, vengeful, hateful. Children that hold on to me tight and whisper in my ear that they hate their mommies and wish Jesus would come and take them away. Children that pray to a God for death every night. Pray to a God that never seems to listen. Never seems to save them.
Pray for those children.
Leave your porch light on for those children.
And for their children. Because chances are, they will grow up to be just like their parents. Sick. Angry. Abusive.
Apples don't fall far, no matter how beautiful the blossom, how sweet the fresh fruit.
***
Please let go of your anger towards a woman you don't know. Her life will be a punishment unto itself. Use that passion you may feel to love and protect yourself and your family.
7.01.2011
dogshow
I don't know if it is through parenthood or through nature, but I tend to get all Mama Bear up in some places sometimes. I try to keep it to a low growl. Claws in. I try to put some time between the event and my reaction because I know I
I know this because I've been hearing it my whole life. Almost 35 years of "that one sure does have a mouth on her, doesn't she?" flying at and around me. I get it.
Growing up with Mostly Boys, I needed a mouth on me. It's a defense mechanism. Or something.
There's this thing I tell Jake. This thing about the difference between Tattling and Telling.
You tattle to get someone in trouble.
You tell to get someone out of trouble.
I feel like I've been telling a lot lately.
It's hard to tell. Hard on the psyche. The moral compass spins quick. Especially when telling can cost someone their pride. Their job. Their license.
It's hard even when you are a professional Teller and you've had lots of practice.
There can be a lot of telling at my job, and while that has been (thankfully) down these past few months, it seems that telling in my life is up.
There was the thing with the doctor, in March. That's over. We're sticking with the practice and barring emergency, we'll only see our regular physician.
Then there was this thing that happened at a playground near the house a few months ago. I witnessed a mother verbally abusing her children (calling them bitches and fucking morons, etc.) and overheard her speaking about some of the issues that she was having with her oldest daughter and how she dealt with these issues. She said she has been "beating the shit out of her a few times a day" and nothing is getting better and she doesn't know what else to do. She went on to say about how her daughter went from top honors in the first half of the year to getting a conduct disorder report and being barred from the class trip at the end of the year. She said she doesn't have time for this because she's trying to get her new boyfriend to propose. She said she had a meeting with the principal and was going to bring a knife, just in case the principal gave her a problem.
Red flags. All of it.
This is usually just the sort of stuff that gets to me. You hear someone speak like that, you see them abusing their kid, and you can't do a lick about it because you have no idea who they are. "Walmart moms", I like to call them. You see a lot of stuff you can't do jack about at Walmart.
But the little girl was wearing her school uniform and her mother called her by her real name a bunch of times so I called the school and spoke with the guidance counselor. The guidance counselor, despite having been a guidance counselor for decades, shared that she had never reported an incident of child abuse. Scary. She demanded my credentials (which I understand) and told me they suspected some issues with this family. Blah, blah, blah... Long story short she didn't have the tits to call this in so she wanted to give me the family information and make the call. NO WAY. I should NOT have this family's information. So we role-played calling children's services a few times and then she said she would make the call. She never followed up with me but I'm glad I contacted her.
I'm also glad that we got a rejection letter from this school during the nightmarish Kindergarten Application Process. While I should think that no reports of neglect or abuse from a Guidance Counselor is the mark of a great pool of families who have children attending this school, my experience/cynicism says something else.
Most recently I observed a staff person repeatedly (like, every day repeatedly) speaking to some children in a way children ought not to be spoken to at Jake's pre-K/daycare/summer camp place. While I'm sure she spoke this way out of frustration and stress and fatigue, I don't think it's okay. The staff:kids ratio was way off, and there were little ones of all ages (1-5) all jammed in one room together. The kids go there if they are dropped off earlier than the curriculum programs start. That makes for a mess, no matter who you are. Cranky parents who are rushing around and dumping off cranky kids early in the morning is no fun for anyone. People who aren't good at mornings like to ruin other people's mornings. Even if it's their children and the people who take care of their children. Morning mayhem is contagious. I understand that. I fight that inner fight every morning.
This woman is a care giver with the little ones all day. Ones who are one. Years old. One-year-olds can't generally communicate if they are being spoken harshly to, but they will suffer from it. Their tiny brains get washed with stress hormones all day and their tiny cortexes can't grow and wrinkle and fold very well if they are under stress. Cortisol inhibits upper-brain development. Then we get a bunch of kids growing up in their lower-brain and that's tantamount to raising a pack of wild dogs. I don't want to see these kids grow up to be big dogs. No one wants that. (fact: yelling at your kids all day will turn them into dogs. science!!)
I went to the higher ups at the place. Told them I was coming there as a parent, but if I was there on a professional site visit- they know what I do, I used to work with this center a few years ago- I would have to report what I saw. I told them I wasn't going to report what I saw, but if I walked in on a caregiver treating my child that way I would raise hell.
I explained that many parents speak to their children the way the woman spoke to these children. Some of these kids need a break from the chaos, they need the time spent away from home. And if another parent saw her speaking that way, and they speak that way, they probably wouldn't raise it as an issue because it would be "normal" to them.
I explained that my child, though never spoken to by this woman- not even in a positive light- was upset by her tone and her way of speaking. I don't like it when my kid is upset or uncomfortable at school. I will do everything in my power to be sure that my kid isn't upset or uncomfortable at school.
I explained that I understand that funding is low and pressure is high and resources are down and demands are up, but something had to be done.
And while no one in the "back office" will look me in the face anymore, things are better. There are more staff people handling the early drop-offs. There is music and singing and dancing and crafts in the morning room. It seems that they gave the one lady a few days off, or at least let her come in late.
Sigh.
I don't want to be That Mom. Or That Lady. That Person. I really don't. But sometimes it's hard not to speak up, especially when it is children who are at the heart of things.
Speaking of dogs, I really wish that someone would put pictures of burned and battered children in a commercial with a back drop of Sarah McLaughlin like the SPCA does with animals. Maybe then people would see what is really going on and then we'd rally around the issue and children would have equal rights and respectability as kitties and puppies.
What's that saying? If you hit an adult it's assault. If you hit an animal it's abuse. If you hit a child it's for their own good? Yeah. That one.
It's easy to feel bad for abused animals because they are so cute and cuddly and easy to turn away from abused children because they are often dirty little spaz bastards who no one can stand. But it isn't their fault. You'd be an asshole too if you were treated like shit at home.
have a mouth on me.
I know this because I've been hearing it my whole life. Almost 35 years of "that one sure does have a mouth on her, doesn't she?" flying at and around me. I get it.
Growing up with Mostly Boys, I needed a mouth on me. It's a defense mechanism. Or something.
There's this thing I tell Jake. This thing about the difference between Tattling and Telling.
You tattle to get someone in trouble.
You tell to get someone out of trouble.
I feel like I've been telling a lot lately.
It's hard to tell. Hard on the psyche. The moral compass spins quick. Especially when telling can cost someone their pride. Their job. Their license.
It's hard even when you are a professional Teller and you've had lots of practice.
There can be a lot of telling at my job, and while that has been (thankfully) down these past few months, it seems that telling in my life is up.
There was the thing with the doctor, in March. That's over. We're sticking with the practice and barring emergency, we'll only see our regular physician.
Then there was this thing that happened at a playground near the house a few months ago. I witnessed a mother verbally abusing her children (calling them bitches and fucking morons, etc.) and overheard her speaking about some of the issues that she was having with her oldest daughter and how she dealt with these issues. She said she has been "beating the shit out of her a few times a day" and nothing is getting better and she doesn't know what else to do. She went on to say about how her daughter went from top honors in the first half of the year to getting a conduct disorder report and being barred from the class trip at the end of the year. She said she doesn't have time for this because she's trying to get her new boyfriend to propose. She said she had a meeting with the principal and was going to bring a knife, just in case the principal gave her a problem.
Red flags. All of it.
This is usually just the sort of stuff that gets to me. You hear someone speak like that, you see them abusing their kid, and you can't do a lick about it because you have no idea who they are. "Walmart moms", I like to call them. You see a lot of stuff you can't do jack about at Walmart.
But the little girl was wearing her school uniform and her mother called her by her real name a bunch of times so I called the school and spoke with the guidance counselor. The guidance counselor, despite having been a guidance counselor for decades, shared that she had never reported an incident of child abuse. Scary. She demanded my credentials (which I understand) and told me they suspected some issues with this family. Blah, blah, blah... Long story short she didn't have the tits to call this in so she wanted to give me the family information and make the call. NO WAY. I should NOT have this family's information. So we role-played calling children's services a few times and then she said she would make the call. She never followed up with me but I'm glad I contacted her.
I'm also glad that we got a rejection letter from this school during the nightmarish Kindergarten Application Process. While I should think that no reports of neglect or abuse from a Guidance Counselor is the mark of a great pool of families who have children attending this school, my experience/cynicism says something else.
***
This woman is a care giver with the little ones all day. Ones who are one. Years old. One-year-olds can't generally communicate if they are being spoken harshly to, but they will suffer from it. Their tiny brains get washed with stress hormones all day and their tiny cortexes can't grow and wrinkle and fold very well if they are under stress. Cortisol inhibits upper-brain development. Then we get a bunch of kids growing up in their lower-brain and that's tantamount to raising a pack of wild dogs. I don't want to see these kids grow up to be big dogs. No one wants that. (fact: yelling at your kids all day will turn them into dogs. science!!)
I went to the higher ups at the place. Told them I was coming there as a parent, but if I was there on a professional site visit- they know what I do, I used to work with this center a few years ago- I would have to report what I saw. I told them I wasn't going to report what I saw, but if I walked in on a caregiver treating my child that way I would raise hell.
I explained that many parents speak to their children the way the woman spoke to these children. Some of these kids need a break from the chaos, they need the time spent away from home. And if another parent saw her speaking that way, and they speak that way, they probably wouldn't raise it as an issue because it would be "normal" to them.
I explained that my child, though never spoken to by this woman- not even in a positive light- was upset by her tone and her way of speaking. I don't like it when my kid is upset or uncomfortable at school. I will do everything in my power to be sure that my kid isn't upset or uncomfortable at school.
I explained that I understand that funding is low and pressure is high and resources are down and demands are up, but something had to be done.
And while no one in the "back office" will look me in the face anymore, things are better. There are more staff people handling the early drop-offs. There is music and singing and dancing and crafts in the morning room. It seems that they gave the one lady a few days off, or at least let her come in late.
Sigh.
I don't want to be That Mom. Or That Lady. That Person. I really don't. But sometimes it's hard not to speak up, especially when it is children who are at the heart of things.
Speaking of dogs, I really wish that someone would put pictures of burned and battered children in a commercial with a back drop of Sarah McLaughlin like the SPCA does with animals. Maybe then people would see what is really going on and then we'd rally around the issue and children would have equal rights and respectability as kitties and puppies.
What's that saying? If you hit an adult it's assault. If you hit an animal it's abuse. If you hit a child it's for their own good? Yeah. That one.
It's easy to feel bad for abused animals because they are so cute and cuddly and easy to turn away from abused children because they are often dirty little spaz bastards who no one can stand. But it isn't their fault. You'd be an asshole too if you were treated like shit at home.
happy new (fiscal) year!!
Sometimes I work in places that have co-ed bathrooms.
Very Euro. Boys and girls! Men and women! Not at all separate but totally equal!
Most of these places have a "ahem, anyone in here?" sort of manner about them, but not all. Which is fine. I have the same issues going in front of men as I do women. (Issue Numero Uno = what if I fart and someone recognizes my shoes or what if I fart and the person in the stall next to me comes out at the same time I do and sees me and tells everyone that I farted? Fart fart fart fart fart fart fart).
I think that men are generally less nasty with the bathroom habits than women. If you've never been in a women's room you have no idea how disgusting they are. Sometimes it looks like a crime scene. A stabby, stabby crime scene in some of those stalls. Like slaughterhouses where bowels get torn open with a dull knife and no one has been through with the bleach hose type of nasty. Co-ed bathrooms can cut down the filth by half. At least.
There's just one thing that really icks me out about men and women sharing stalls. And it's the same thing that icks me out about all men's room with stalls. One thing that makes me wish that there was a law that all men's and co-ed bathrooms have a row of urinals rather than stalls. That thing is this: when women go to the bathroom, there is no (or should be no) hand-to-genital contact without a protective barrier of toilet paper. When men go to the bathroom, there is much hand-to-genital contact with little to no protective barrier.
And if you are waiting on a stall that a man is using, there is only a few seconds of turnover between the time his hand is on his penis and the time your hand is on the lock.
His hand is all:
Penis
Zipper
Lock
Then he walks out and nods to you and you nod to him and your hand is all:
Lock
Zipper
Toilet paper dispenser.
So tiny microscopic pieces of his penis stay on your zipper all day long. And on the toilet paper dispenser. And if you don't wash under your fingernails and rings and watch you have penis under there for an indefinite amount of time.
And then you have to go sit in a meeting with these people and wonder who's penis is all over who's hands and pants and you can't concentrate on the agenda and you miss really important points and then you risk losing your job because you can't get those TPS reports out ASAP.
Very Euro. Boys and girls! Men and women! Not at all separate but totally equal!
Most of these places have a "ahem, anyone in here?" sort of manner about them, but not all. Which is fine. I have the same issues going in front of men as I do women. (Issue Numero Uno = what if I fart and someone recognizes my shoes or what if I fart and the person in the stall next to me comes out at the same time I do and sees me and tells everyone that I farted? Fart fart fart fart fart fart fart).
I think that men are generally less nasty with the bathroom habits than women. If you've never been in a women's room you have no idea how disgusting they are. Sometimes it looks like a crime scene. A stabby, stabby crime scene in some of those stalls. Like slaughterhouses where bowels get torn open with a dull knife and no one has been through with the bleach hose type of nasty. Co-ed bathrooms can cut down the filth by half. At least.
There's just one thing that really icks me out about men and women sharing stalls. And it's the same thing that icks me out about all men's room with stalls. One thing that makes me wish that there was a law that all men's and co-ed bathrooms have a row of urinals rather than stalls. That thing is this: when women go to the bathroom, there is no (or should be no) hand-to-genital contact without a protective barrier of toilet paper. When men go to the bathroom, there is much hand-to-genital contact with little to no protective barrier.
And if you are waiting on a stall that a man is using, there is only a few seconds of turnover between the time his hand is on his penis and the time your hand is on the lock.
His hand is all:
Penis
Zipper
Lock
Then he walks out and nods to you and you nod to him and your hand is all:
Lock
Zipper
Toilet paper dispenser.
So tiny microscopic pieces of his penis stay on your zipper all day long. And on the toilet paper dispenser. And if you don't wash under your fingernails and rings and watch you have penis under there for an indefinite amount of time.
And then you have to go sit in a meeting with these people and wonder who's penis is all over who's hands and pants and you can't concentrate on the agenda and you miss really important points and then you risk losing your job because you can't get those TPS reports out ASAP.
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