Mommies Paradise

And regarding the 13 year old girl who shot her abusive father in the face, it seems that after actually taking a look at the situation this child was living in the district attorney has decided to try the child as a juvenile.

This child was absolutely abandoned and abused by every single person who’s responsibility it was to protect her. Based on the squalor that these kids were forced to live in as well as the fact that the little girl told a neighbor at some point within the last year about the abuse, I am having a hard time believing this:

But he and his wife saw the girl and her brother when the children visited their grandparents. “They would say they were fine,” Kim Booth said. “They never gave any inclination something was going on.”

The couple said they were unaware of any sexual abuse.

“If the family was aware anything like this was going on, we would have done something,” Kim Booth said. “This terrible tragedy happened because nobody did anything.” (bold mine)

You got that last thing right, lady.

I can’t explain why I am so focused on this particular story. Maybe because no person should ever have to live like this. And especially no child should ever have to start out life like this.

And as much as we would like to think that this is a rare occurrence, it isn’t. Children live like this more than we would like to know. In situations that we do not hear about because these children can not free themselves and no one will help them.

It is infuriating and heartbreaking all at the same time.

Julia Dahl has a piece up at Salon born of a recent victory by Rep. Bobby Rush, D-Ill. who more than six years ago introduced a bill which will provide 3 million dollars to the National Institutes of Health to “expand and intensify research and related activities with respect to postpartum depression and postpartum psychosis.”

The great news is that the Melanie Blocker-Stokes Postpartum Depression Research and Care Act has indeed received funding to be granted in 2008. The bad news is that nothing good seems to come without a price.

But there was a catch. In order to get enough support for the bill, Rush had to add language encouraging the NIH to study the mental health effects of abortion.

Ah. Yes, of course. Because postpartum depression and the after effects of an abortion have everything to do with each other.

What the huh? Maybe I’m dense but I really do not see enough of a connection for the two to be combined into a funding bill.

I’ve had both. The two are not the same. I am very clear on that.

And I could go on and on but Dahl sums it up pretty well.

Studying the psychological effects of abortion isn’t objectionable. Abortion and its aftermath are women’s health issues, after all, and it’s hard to argue against more knowledge. But there is something distinctly offensive about anti-choice politicians thwarting efforts to expand the study and treatment of a debilitating, frighteningly common disease (which led the namesake of Rush’s bill to commit suicide less than five months after giving birth) so as to equate it with the possible consequences of a procedure they already believe is immoral and should be illegal.

Right.

NOTE: I know this is late. I meant to put this up last week but it was put on the burner while I decided if I liked the new WordPress interface. I still haven’t decided.

I am just going to go up on this one and say, wow.

BUENA VISTA, Pennsylvania (AP) — A 13-year-old girl used a shotgun to fatally shoot her father in the head early Monday in a home overrun with animals and filth, police said.

The girl told investigators she used a 12-gauge shotgun to shoot 34-year-old Matthew Booth in the face while he was in bed, according to a police affidavit.

[…]Matthew Booth’s neighbor Suzanne Gruber told the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette that the girl had told her she had killed her father because she “just couldn’t take it any more.” Gruber said the girl also told her she had been abused.

The child was living in squalor with her older brother and her father. She told neighbors and her estranged mother about sexual abuse. Ultimately, the child was the one who felt compelled to do something about it. I can only ask where all of the adults were in her life? I don’t have more to go on except that the mother did not have custody of her children. No one wants to imagine that this woman who was obviously aware of the already abusive situation, just left her children at the hands of this man but… did she?

My heart absolutely goes out to this little girl who is now being charged as an adult and is being held without bail.

So I say, good on you little girl, who saved yourself when no one else would. It is a real pile of shit that everyone who should have helped you failed you instead. Hopefully, you will be granted some justice this time around.

CNN ran a story today shedding light on the some 40,000 widows in India who have been shunned by society and are forced to loiter and beg for simple scraps to sustain their lives. Simply because their husbands have died. These widow’s own families have ostracized them and society as a whole sees them as bad luck.

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Er. It has been a long time since my last post. Hopefully, I am back in swing on this thing.

What with one thing and another, the changing of life’s gears, my constant feeling of being completely overwhelmed by a shift in the force, and the bouts of absolute hysteria regarding the irony of this and this, I have simply not been in the mood to write.

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On Saturday we ran in our designated pace groups for the first time. I really had a great time. Even though we were huffing some near the end, we did really well. We did come in five minutes faster than we were supposed to and that made our coach grimace. Next week we will have to slow it down a bit and maybe we won’t be huffing so much at the end.

Leading the group was easy since we were a small group (four women) that day. It was easy to communicate and everyone could hear me. An interesting thing happened though. Each of these ladies told me that I was a great pace group leader. I can not tell you how fantastic it felt to have people tell me that I did a good job.

It seems odd that positive reinforcement would be so shocking to anyone. I started wondering why it is so shocking to me. This prompted me to think about times in my life when someone made a point to tell me I had done something really well. The times that most readily come to mind are all when I was employed and/or acting. Kudos from strangers essentially or employers.
But now I am a mom and a house-(soon-to-be-ex-)wife and no kudos really ever come that way. I can’t imagine that I totally suck as a parent, or else wouldn’t social services be at my door? I’m just sayin’.

If you are a parent, when was the last time anyone told you that were doing anything really well?

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What am I running for, you ask? Well, I am training to run in a the AIDS Half Marathon in September.

We are raising money to help support AIDS Project Los Angeles. APLA provides much needed services to women, children and men living with HIV/AIDS in Los Angeles.

Want to sponsor me? Click here!

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And here we are. Politely going our separate ways. Where will you go? How will you get there? How long will we be able to stay here? What will we do now? Rise.

And so it begins. The bureaucracy of our end. Fill out the papers. What do you have? What do we have? What do I have? A child.

Yesterday was our third day of group training for the AIDS Half Marathon. We ran three miles and we were timed for our pace groups.

I ran a 13 minute mile and was elected leader for my pace group! Yay. Usually the person with the running watch gets the post, but none of us had a watch so then it goes to the one with the loudest mouth. Hi. Now I have to get a watch.

The 13 minute group is made up of all women so that is kind of nice right now. The run was sort of grueling and my stomach muscles felt like they were going to explode afterward but I felt great overall.

Want to sponsor me? Proceeds from my sponsorship go towards helping AIDS Project Los Angeles provide care for Women, Children and Men suffering with HIV/AIDS in Los Angeles County.

To help out just click here!

Have a great weekend!

There are moments as a parent that are small and seemingly insignificant and yet which probably shape who our children become. There are other moments that make all of the fatigue, frustration, anger and every other shitty feeling go away - for at least that moment. Sometimes these moments are one and the same.

That baby has a caretaker who, during the school year, comes in one day a week for a few hours to spend time with him while I get some stuff done. He calls her Pumpkin. He calls her partner ‘Nother Pumpkin. They are lesbians. They love him. He loves them.

That Baby: Mommy?
Me: Yes?
TB: Do Pumpkins hug?
Me: Yes, they do.
TB: Do they kiss them? (He is still grasping language)
Me: Each other?
TB: (Nods)
Me: Yes, they do. Did you see them kiss and hug today?
TB: Yes. Mommy, does Pumpkin love ‘Nother Pumpkin?
Me: Yes, she does.
TB: Oh. Can you play, mommy?

And that was it. Nothing more to add from either of us. And that will be how he views The Pumpkins. As two people who love each other. Nothing more, nothing less.

At that moment I realized that these are the small events that set the stage for how our children will view the world. These are the small moments when we choose to condemn or support, love or to hate. These are the moments when we communicate to our children who we are and what we believe. These are the moments that seem so small and yet really contribute in determining the path our children will walk.

The big lessons are important. Eat With Utensils. Don’t Dribble Your OJ. Yes, We Need to Wear Pants Today. Speak Using Words. Look At My Face When We Talk to Each Other. Clean Up After Yourself. These are basic, daily rules that make it easier to function in society.

But the lessons that pass in the blink of an eye are the tiny flecks of paint that build upon each other to create the mural of who our children grow up to Be.

So, after signing with a manager for That Baby over a year and a half ago, I finally heard from her yesterday for an audition to be held that afternoon. After my initial shock, I immediately remembered that just the other day I had decided to dissolve our contract with this woman and that I would take on his management responsibilities. Apparently, she read my mind. I confirmed that he would be at the audition.

This experience was very different from the first time I took him out to meet with an agent. He is older now and more socialized. The experience of meeting with new adults is not as shocking or new. He speaks very well and can follow directions, both of which are important skills, just generally.

Strangely enough the idea of going to an audition, be it mine or my son’s, gave me that giddy feeling that maybe, just maybe this would be the one. Those weird endorphines that gave me such a rush, back in the day, were coming back. It scared me, made me sad and also made me happy at the same time.

I gathered my senses and tried to redirect my mind to that of a stage mom with a slight leg up on the competition in as far as what this business demands. We must always know that it is a business and nothing personal. I immediately tried to distance myself from the personal. And remind myself that this is his audition.

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