Shattered

As a mom to a daughter, I'm constantly trying to drill into her head to be aware of the things going on around her and if she doesn't feel safe to let an adult know. Hell, even if she's with a group of her friends, briefly letting her out of my sight at the park or that pizza token game place makes me hyperventilate. I've seen way to many episodes of CSI/Criminal Minds/Law & Order not to be wary of places like that, but to be honest, I was thinking more of the future; the times as she gets older and there's even less adult supervision. I was thinking of those nuggets of wisdom my mom told me. 1) If you're home by yourself, don't answer the door or tell anyone that over the phone. Say moms unavailable instead of she's not here. 2) If someone tries to grab you scream, "Help me, this is not my mother/father. Call 911." If at all possible fight back; kick, scream, bite, scratch. (Once I got older) 3)If you set your drink down at a party & walk away, never drink out of it again; you never know if someone has put anything in it. 4) Have your keys ready whenever you're getting into your car or home. Try to remember to hold your keys so they can be used to defend yourself. Things like that. I know it's not foolproof, I tell her it's not foolproof, but it's as the say Knowledge is power and I want Beana to have the knowledge to take back her power if, God Forbid, something does come up. As a parent you try to move Heaven & Earth to keep your kids safe and just when you think you might be doing an all right job at it, you read something like this:

Four boys ranging from ages 9 to 14 took turns raping an 8-year-old girl behind a shed for more than 10 minutes. Phoenix police say it's the one of the most horrific cases they've seen. According to the Associated Press, the incident sparked further outrage after police said the victim's parents blamed her for the attack and shaming the family. As if the trauma of being raped and having to live with the scars isn't enough, her punk-ass father adds insult to injury, literally. "The father told the caseworker and an officer in her presence that he didn't want her back. He said, 'Take her, I don't want her,' “police Sgt. Andy Hill said. When the father was asked by local reporters what he thought should be done to the boys who raped her daughter, he answered plainly, "Nothing." Maricopa County Attorney's Office confirmed Wednesday, the 14-year-old boy, Steven Tuopeh, has been charged with two counts of sexual assault and kidnapping. The assailant appeared in court on July 23 and is currently being held without bond. The other boys who raped the little girl-ages 9, 10 and 13 were charged as juveniles with sexual assault. The 10 and 13-year-olds were also charged with kidnapping. Phoenix investigators said the boys coaxed her into an empty shed with bubblegum offerings on July 16. The boys held the girl down while they took turns raping her, police said. "She was brutally sexually assaulted for a period of about 10 to 15 minutes," Hill said. Officers responding to a call reporting a girl screaming hysterically found the girl partially undressed and the young punks running from the scene. "This is a deeply disturbing case that has gripped our community," Maricopa County Attorney Andrew Thomas said Thursday. "Our office will seek justice for the young victim in this heartrending situation." The victim and the pre-pubescent rapists are all refugees from the West African nation of Liberia. Hill believes the family's African culture is why the girl's father has disowned her. In some parts of the "Motherland," woman are faulted for rape and often believed to have enticed the pervert so much, he has to rape her. Ultimately, women who are raped are shunned by their families." It's a shame-based culture, so the crime is not as important as protecting the family name and the name of the community," said Tony Weedor, a Liberian refugee in Littleton, Colorado. "I just feel so sorry for this little girl. Some of these people will not care about the trauma she's going through - they're more concerned about the shame she brought on the family." The little girl, now in Child Protective Services, is going to have a particularly difficult time healing said Paul Penzone of Childhelp, a group who cares for young victims of crimes. "These four boys used what was a ploy to entice her to a place where they could take advantage of her almost like a pack of wolves," he said. "And what's so disturbing beyond the initial crime is the fact that a child needs to have somewhere to feel safe, and you would think that would be in a home with her own family," not in state custody, Penzone said. This poor girl is forever scarred by the sexual assault she suffered and now the trauma of being rejected by her family. Shame on all four of those boys and her father...they should all be bent over several times and plugged and then see how it feels to be “shamed.” Source

My heart shatters knowing this is the world we live in. Where the innocence of an 8 year old child could be brutally taken from her. Where male children ages 9-14 years old use bubblegum to lure, kidnap & sexually assault another child. Where the child's own parents blame her, turn on her, and abandon her all while giving support to those what violated their baby. I know in African culture brutality against women and girls goes largely unpunished, it's not seen as a crime but as an act the victim brought upon themselves. Knowing that doesn't take away wanting to see those responsible punished - severely. Crimes against children should come with the harshest penalty imaginable, but in this case the offenders are children. What do you do? Punish them like the crime deserves or consider they're children ingrained with the mentality that rape isn't a big deal? I don't have any answers; all I know is that each night I'm thankful that she's made it through another day in a world that can be so horrible.

Twitterpated Pt. 2 - Alternately Tittled: OH F*CK!

Beana's Granny brought her a girl bunny (name to be determined) who shares a house with her cousin's boy bunny. Can you see where this is heading? So she takes me outside to meet her bunny and we get to see porn produced by Animal Planet. Fortunately the show didn't last long (which kind of made me feel bad for girl bunny), introductions were made and we were able to play.

Once back inside my mother-in-laws house, Beana pulled me off to the side. "Were the rabbits having.....you know.....s-e-x? Resisting the urge to punch myself in the throat laugh, I told her the bunnies were having sex. After glancing around to make sure no one was close enough to hear she tells me "I thought the girl was always on top." In one of my better "Mom" moments, I blink a couple of times, snort, & begin to giggle uncontrollably. I explained that when animals have sex the boy is on top. I could see other questions forming, but her dad came into the room and her mouth slammed shut like a bear trap. Bullet dodged!!

Apparently my reprieve was only temporary. The following week we were driving home and Beana asks me if the boy is always on top when people do it. With a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel I mentally scrolled through the answers coming to mind discarding the ones that would lead to even more embarrassingly heart stopping questions (real talk: I want to be able to answer all her sex questions in an open manner because I want her to always feel comfortable coming to me BUT knowing my luck I could just see this turning into a Kuma Satrua for Your 9 year old lesson) before finally settling on, "most of the time but not always would you like to go rent movies & get pizza for dinner?" Thankfully Netflix & Hulu haven't completely demolished the existence of neighbor hood video stores and I was able to distract her with deciding what to get. As we walked into the video store, Beana asks, "Will boys like me more if my boobies are as big as yours?" Since I'm so totally on top of this mothering thing I honestly answered, "Ooooo look High School Musical III, Zac Efron, singing & dancing." Her tween eyes glazed over, question forgotten. I realize that while I might have won this battle, the war will most definitely kick my ass well before it's over.

Twitterpated

Birds do it, bees do it and there was that unfortunately timed romp between 2 dogs at a friend’s house. Yes, it's Springtime and a young man's fancy turns to love. A little boy in Beana's class has a crush on her. There have been phone calls, tokens of his affection, requests to be her boyfriend and even a kiss on the cheek. Anytime I've seen this little boy at their school, he's always nice and polite and on the outside I'm cool as a cucumber; sharing Motherly advice like: "You're too young to have a boyfriend." or "You don't only have to play with only Casanova, you can play with all your friends."* However on the inside........... I wish I could hide behind the slides on the playground until Cass shows up, and scare him enough that he'll think twice about putting his lips on my kid's face again but not enough that he'll spend the rest of his days wearing a diaper. Thankfully (I think) increased school security prevents Beana from getting tagged with the moniker of "Girl whose mother is batshit crazy." My mom finds this quite amusing; remembering when she was going through this with me. She laughs mightily when I tell her it's not the same thing because it's happening to me. TOOOOOOOOO. MEEEEEEEE. Okay yeah, so that's a wee bit over dramatic, but that's just how I roll.

My biggest struggle is how I make my "You don't have to have a man to be happy" mantra age appropriate for a 9 year old. Let's face it, I'm as anti-fairy tale as it gets. The bullshit idea of Prince Charming having to come and save the day, while the damsel in distress wanders around waiting oblivious to the danger, makes me stabby. Up until recently Beana's always been an independent little sprite that would rather get dirty playing baseball, football or basketball; sitting daintily on the sidelines was not an option. Now that she's been afflicted with the twitterpatted curse all she talks about is Casanova this, & Casanova said that. Daily, I fight the urge to place my hands on the side of my head, and pull out handfuls of hair while screaming expletives at the top of my lungs. I would be totally bald by now if my mom hadn't step in with Solomon like wisdom and told me, "If Beana sees you freaking out now, she'll never come to you when there's really something to worry about. Just stay calm." So I swallow all my parenting angst and hope she doesn't realize the tick I've developed on the left side of my face is totally her fault.


* When I first typed this I had put fiends, which in the grand scheme of things is an accurate description when talking about gaggles of 8 and 9 year olds.

Week from Hell

This has been one of the worst weeks of my life (I'm still working on the post about it). For Beana's sake I'm trying to remain positive and not wallow in a mixture of self-pity and failure. To keep perspective I like to visit fmylife. An entire blog of shitty days and while some of them don't ring quite true: Today, I was playing with my pet hamster and I decided to put it down my pants for fun. It started running around and I actually got aroused. My mom then proceeded to walk into my room to see me with an erection and my pet hamster poke his head out of the hole in my boxers. FML I still pee my pants laughing.

Here are a few recent ones:


Today, I was going to have sex with my Hispanic boyfriend. I wanted to turn him on, so I asked my friend how to say "fuck me" in Spanish. She claimed it was "pollo frito". I then proceeded to have sex, constantly screaming pollo frito for an hour. I later realized I was screaming "fried chicken." FML


Today, while teaching my kindergarten class, I had a feeling I was starting my period again. A boy in the class asked me what a period was. Stressing over my own, I briefly told him it's a woman's time of the month when they have mood swings. He was asking about the dot at the end of a sentence. FML


Today, I came home to find a sock I previously used to whack off on my bed with googly eyes and a mouth drawn on it with a note that read "because you can't find a real girl I made your current one prettier, Love Mom." FML

So as I pick up pieces, I have to stop and find the funny. The funny helps me be there for Beana. Hopefully she sees that I'm still able to laugh and understands that it's okay for her to laugh, also. That it's okay for her to find joy even though there are sad things going on.

Motivated by my favorite blog, Oh Hell Nawl, I've decided to write my own letter to Mother Nature.

Dear Momma Nay,

I appreciate the concentration it must take to make flowers bloom, make the wind blow, and the seasons change. I'm sure it must be quite the challenge trying to please everyone, but isn't that your job? See despite the fact my calendar says it's Spring and the forecast for this weekend is a high of 70 degrees both days, it's supposed to snow Monday. I don't know if you know this or not but it's Spring Break and I'm taking some vacation time to enjoy not having to get up at the ass crack of dawn to get Beana ready for school. So what I really need from you is for you to get your ass in gear, make it and keep it Spring. If you would just do that, I'd be willing to forget about the Hurricane Force Winds we had last fall (although I would like to remind you that I don't in a Hurricane zone), and the worst ice storm in the History of my state you sent in January.

Sincerely,

Married

Titles

Everybody has them. You start out as child/student, then on to adult and end as the deceased; currently one of my titles is Receptionist. I never really planned to take on the title of wife & mom. As I've said before I was raised by my mom & grandmother and neither of them placed a high importance on having to have a man in their lives. Grandma was widowed at a fairly young age and my mom's never been married. Anyway, the husband and kid thing wasn't part of my future goals. Plus, after a harrowing summer babysitting a younger relative (I wish someone had warned me in advance that my cousin had matted with Satan) and unlimited free birth control called working in a retail store shoe department, I swore I would never have any children. What I did have were career goals and even though I was a pretty good student, I didn't make a great college student. So despite our best efforts, time moves forward and here I am; married for 11 yrs and a mom to an 8, almost 9 year old.

I need to add a different title. I know that my current job won't be around much longer; it's going to move to another place and I'll have to figure out what it is I really want to do next. The catch is, I don't know what that is anymore. However, I do know that if I want to make use of my passions, I will have to go back to college. I'm ready for that; I'm ready to be a college student again. It's the steps needed to get there that's fuzzy. Since becoming a wife/mother, I've stopped making myself a priority. Recently, I was called a martyr due to the fact that I almost automatically put everyone's needs before my own. It's not like I do it I can have someone pat me on the head and tell me what a nice girl I am; It's just I don't know how to give to myself anymore. Relearning to carve some me-time out will be interesting. Re-adjusting my vision of what titles I see for myself will be thought provoking. I just want to enjoy/love going to work. Hell, I'll just be happy to know what that is.

In a former life, I used to be Al Bundy

During my youth I used to work in the shoe department of a well-known chain department store. Everyone (yes everyone, no I'm not being overly dramatic. EVERYONE) that knew me could not believe I worked in shoes, near feet. "Married" they would say, "you hate feet. The thought of feet makes you break out into a cold sweat. Ack the horror!" I would smile and say, "OMG, INO!" (well maybe be not, this was before text messaging ruined the English Language). Actually for the most part, people don't mind putting their own shoes on. I would usually help with baby shoes. I love little chubby baby feet. They go great with celery & blue cheese dressing. I also didn't mind helping out my elderly customers because that's how I would want someone to treat my Grandmother. Incidentally, I did have a Grampa like gentleman once tell me he had a really big penis. Can I just make note that although I was sitting on one of those shoe stools at crotch level, I DID NOT LOOK.

Straightens by halo & flicks dust off my shoulder.

Anyhoooo, there was a rite of passage for newbies. Her name was "Jane"*. Everyone that worked in the store knew who she was. Jane would walk through one of the many entrances and the phone chain would begin. The Jr. Dept. would call Misses & Mens. Mens would call Accessories & Shoes; Misses would call Childrens and Lingerie. Shoes would call the Home Dept. and they would call Customer Service. This scenario would play out many different ways depending on which door she walked into. I started sometime in the Fall and managed to survive my first Black Friday, Christmas and the day after, the dreaded day of returns, before I had the pleasure of meeting and waiting on Jane. It was slow; I was working with two long timers "Sarah" & "Ted" when the phone rang. Sarah answered the phone, swore and made a phone call. I noticed Sarah & Ted huddled near the stockroom door, but didn't think anything about it as I finished waiting on the only person in the department. It was then I heard her; she was screaming at her grandkids to hurry up and get to the Shoe Department. With fear clogging my throat, I looked around for my coworkers; the people that had trained me and helped me get through Christmas by coming to my rescue whenever I needed help. They had disappeared like they were in a David Copperfield act; I was left to fend for myself.

Jane had ass length long black hair and never ever ever used her "indoor voice". She had come to get her 3 grandkids shoes for Christmas. I probably spent 1 1/2 hours waiting on Jane and the grandkids, bringing out at least 25 pairs of shoes. As we were finishing up she's yelling at the kids to sit down, be quite, shut up. The ironic thing was the kids weren't really doing anything bad and I told her that. Unfortunately for me the conversation went something like this:

Jane: I'm so very sorry these kids are being bad.
Me: No apologies necessary; they're fine.
J: I really do apologize for this, I know you're not used to this kind of behavior.
M: Really, they're fine.
J: I know little black kids never misbehave when they're in a store......
M: (chuckling) I bet my mom would disagree. I've heard quite a few stories about my behavior.
J: ..... no, I doubt that. I know that little black kids know there's not much money so they're always on their best behavior so they can get anything at all.
M: ::blink::

After checking Jane and the gang out, I found Sarah & Ted hiding in the very back of the stockroom. We all had a good laugh about how those BASTARDS, lovely people threw me to the crazy ass wolves. Later, Sarah asked me why I wasn't angry or offended. I explained that sometimes the ignorance is so pathetic that anger is not your first reaction. It was something more like amazement that she thought she was complementing me**. Plus, I was now officially part of the team and I couldn't wait to INFLICT share Jane with the next new person hired (which I did).

I had other run ins with Jane (including one at a grocery stores years after I left the shoe department), but I'll save those for another day.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent (and by innocent I mean me. The bitch is PSYCHO).

** Don't get it twisted, if she had ever crossed the line, I would have schooled her, real quick.