I Wonder . . . Wednesday: Protective Orders

There's a lot I could say about this issue, but I'm in a bit of a mood today and just wanted to get the point across.

I wonder . . . when judges will finally STOP a lawyer or spouse from continuing the abuse in court rooms by allowing them to righteously and unabashedly and repeatedly declare while pointing accusing fingers at the victim and scoffing:

• "It's not like I broke her arm or something."
• "Yes I said I'd kill her, but what I really meant was how much I loved her."
• "Maybe if he beat her to death, then I could understand." 
• "Protective orders are only for violence.  There's no violence here.  I mean where were the hospital records of broken bones and bruised faces?!"
• "It was just a technical violation."
• "So he threw her down the stairs.  It's not like she split her head open and died."
• "Just because he abused the mother, doesn't mean the kids were harmed."
• "This is just another way for her to try to alienate the father and prevent visitation."

Domestic abuse comes in many forms.  Physical violence is only one side of a multi-faceted increasing problem in our society.  Very often the psychological and sexual abuses are more deeply damaging and destructive because they cannot be seen on the face or worn like a cast.  Society will not acknowledge the abuse because it is "hidden" and the victims continue to be abused until finally, all the threats made above become reality, and the victim dies.

Recommended Reading:

• Why Does He Do That 
• Splitting
• Don't Call it Love

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Opening Locked Doors

I spent the last two days driving up to Virginia and back to deal with court nonsense (that's another story).  It was just me and my Dad (no kids), so we did "grown up driving", pretty much flying up the highway at break-neck speed.  I have learned to simply not look at the speedometer when my Dad is driving.  I just think of it as "time travel", and am happy when we have arrived at our destination safely. 

Along the way, we did stop a few times at gas stations to fill up, get some snacks and take potty breaks.  The last stop we made on our way back to NC was at a little, local filling station.  There was a line for the bathrooms.  We stood there for a few minutes.  Waiting.  The woman next in line for the ladies' bathroom explained to my Dad, "I don't think there's anyone in there.  It's just locked." 

My Dad looked at her a little quizzically, then jiggled the handle.  Sure enough, it was locked.  He knocked, and no one answered.  The guy behind the counter shouted out to him, "It's locked!  Someone locked it!"  Ahh . . . so it wasn't a broken bathroom.  Someone had just gotten the idea to be funny, and lock the door, then close it.  (Who does that?!) 

"I've been trying to unlock it for hours!"  The man behind the counter continued.

And then, like a secret super hero, my Mommy Instincts kicked in. 

I looked at the doorknob.  I looked at the little indented slat in the doorknob.  I stuck my thumbnail in the slat and turned the knob.  Voila!  Door open.

The man behind the counter came running over beaming a huge smile.  "What?!  You got it?!  How did you do that?!  I've been working at this for hours!  I broke a credit card in the slot!  I tried using the metal bar!  I was getting ready to call a lock smith!  Thank you!  Thank you!"

I just looked at him and said with a shrug, "I have three small children.  I know how to open locked doors," and smiled. 

"Can I get a free drink?"

"Sure!" he said.  "Help yourself."

See.  Sometimes, Mommy Instincts pay off.

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Can you guess?

More on this to follow . . . I know! You are waiting with bated breath.

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Is it ever too early to be proud of your child's values?

I love the fact that my son chooses his friends based on their kindness and intelligence.

I don't think I've ever heard him say "So-and-so is so popular!"  or "So-and-so is the coolest kid in the shcool, I want to be friends with her."

When just before Christmas Renton announced that he had a "girlfriend", I was intrigued. 

"Oh yah?  What's she like?"  I asked.  (Secretly terrified that this part of Renton's life had already begun.)

His face lit up and he said, "She is SOOOOO smart!  She is so nice.  She helps other kids in class.  She's really polite.  She likes me and she's nice to me."  He paused.  "And she's REALLY pretty!"

When I met his "girlfriend" at the Christmas Program a few weeks later, I had to agree.  She is an adorable little girl.  And she was very nice and obviously the other kids in the class liked her, too. 

This weekend, he has excitedly planned his first playdate all on his own.  With a little boy in his class who is equally "smart" and "kind" and "polite".  Renton tells me how they both like to read the same books and are "good at computers". 

Am I possibly proud that my son is what some would classify as "geeky"?  ABSOLUTELY 100%!  But what I am more proud of is the fact that HE is proud of that.  Because the more he sees these traits (GOOD traits) as necessary and important and "cool", the more he expresses this outloud, and continues to make and maintain friendships everywhere he goes, then the more other kids around him will start valuing these traits as well.  And if this world needs more of anything, it's more people who are "smart" and "kind" and "polite".

And so each time I think about Renton and his little friend, I think about the order in which he listed the adjectives describing her.  "Smart", "Nice", "Helpful", "Kind", "Beautiful".  If those are the qualifications by which he chooses his friends (and hopefully will always choose his girlfriends) then I know he is on the right path to good places in his life. 

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Swing! Batter! Batter! Batter!

Last night was insane. Renton had a t-ball game at 5:30. That's a normal time . . . for a two parent household. It's a sucky time for a working mother of three kids who are all at different schools and daycares. So I wasn't that stressed out when I left work yesterday at 5 and knew we'd be a "little late." Of course, picking up Emily took a bit longer than expected (once we got out to the car and all clicked in, Emily realized she'd left her stuffed animals back in her cubby), then Micky decided to have a knock down drag out (KDDO) with me over:
1) going up the stairs one step too far in front of him
2) not letting him give me my shoes before I put them on (requiring that I take them off again, hand them to him, let him hand them back to me one at a time, and then put them back on)
3) going out the front door with him rather than letting him close it with me still in the babysitter's house (which experience had already told me usually resulting in his making a mad dash straight out into the street in the time it took me to open the door again)
4)getting in his carseat . . . period.

Let me remind you that yesterday was 101 degrees with the humidity factor and I REALLY hate hot weather to begin with. The KDDO resulted in me getting my hair pulled, shirt ripped, face slapped, glasses torn off my face and thrown on the floor, and me drenched in sweat still wearing work clothes.

But! Haha! I won! (Yes I celebrate small victories over two year olds.) Micky was strapped in - that was the point. By the time I readjusted my clothes, put my hair back in a pony tail, found my glasses lodged under the front seat and got behind the wheel, Micky was blissfully singing "Mamma Mia" in the back seat as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. Renton and Emily were sagely silent with their knowing looks - waiting for the tell-tale, long and slow breath I would exhale to let everyone know I was back, I was breathing, and things would be ok.

So, now it was 5:45. Renton's game was (so I thought at the time) across town - we should be able to make it in 15 minutes and there would still be 45 minutes of the game remaining. We set off. 15 minutes later we pulled into the empty parking lot of the Middle School. Hmm . . . this was not looking good. I glanced back at Renton and saw his eyes welling up. Crap! This was one of those moments where you just feel like you failed the good Mommy test. How hard is it to get a kid to a game on time? How hard is it to get a kid to a game?

I pulled out my iPhone and started looking around desperately for some piece of information that would contain the game location - because obviously THIS was not it! It's like looking for that one receipt when you really need to return something - you KNOW you have it somewhere - but where the H@## is it? No luck on the emails. I start posting facebook inquiries. I wait. Five minutes go by. Nothing. 10 minutes. Nothing. I start scouring my emails again. I finally remember I can check the website (Duh! This is one of the reasons I hate hot weather - my brain swells and stops working efficiently.)

There it is - Belmont Ridge Middle School. Of course! Because that was only 2 minutes from Micky's babysitter and clear BACK across town! Now it's 6:15 pm - we should be able to make it there by 6:30 with 15 minutes left to play. I glance back at Renton sitting there patiently in his uniform and baseball cap. "Renton, we can make it with 15 minutes left. It's up to you. Do you still want to go or do you want to head home?" He starts crying. Wow. I'm awesome.

Alright, we head for the game. But once again, when we pull in, the parking lot is suspiciously empty of cars and the field is completely bare. "What?!?!" Renton yells from the back seat! "Mommy! Really! The next time I have a game can you check the location BEFORE we start driving?!" "Yes, Renton" I admit sheepishly. "That's actually a great idea. I'll be sure to do that."

But waaaaay off in the distance over several hills and across other soccer fields I spy a second baseball field - is it possible THIS is where his game is? "All right kids. Let's go give that field a try." So out we pile from the car. Micky insists on using his stroller, Emily carrying her 6 stuffed animals, Renton dragging his aluminum bat across the asphalt half dejectedly, but wearing a smile on his face when I glance over at him. "All right guys, let's run a bit and see if we can make it over there before the game ends." "Let's go!" They all yell in unison. Though in all honesty, I don't think we actually moved any faster.

Five minutes later we'd made it across the field and it looked like Renton's team was at bat - success! (That's the best part anyway - if Renton could get one hit in then I could possibly redeem myself.) He ran into the dugout and put on his batting helmet. I was walking over to the bleachers with Emily and Micky when the coach came over and said, "Hey - are you with the Knights?" "Yep" I answered "Sorry we're so late." "Actually, this is the wrong team then." What??? And that's when I looked a little more closely at the little kids. Granted, no one had looked familiar to me as we were walking up, but then again, my brain was shot so I figured that was just a side-effect. But when I looked at the shirts and baseball caps on the little kids (which by the way were the EXACT color as Renton's) I noticed the log was different. MUDDOGS or SANDFLEAS (or something like that) NOT Knights. Ugh.

Renton walked over to me, looked up at me with his big brown eyes, then slid down my leg to the grass and quietly started crying again. I joined him on the grass and gave him a big hug. "Darn it Renton - this has not been a good day for baseball, has it?"

"No, Mommy it hasn't."

And that's when the sky burst with thunder and lightening flashed. You've got to be kidding me. Really? Sure enough the sky was filling with black clouds. The second time the lightening flashed everyone started running. We did, too. "Come on guys! Back to the car! Let's run!" And I tried to make it sound fun. So we all jumped up and headed back across the hills and fields toward the car with the black clouds not far behind us. Just as we made it to the car, the sky opened up and the rain fell out. Now we were seaty and wet and hot and tired. Micky got in his seat without a fight though, and I had a facebook message waiting for me telling me the game had been called in the first inning due to lightening. Of course it had. I looked back at everyone neatly in their carseats, waiting, and I smiled. We all erupted into laughter.

"Mommy?" Emily said.

"Yes, Emily?"

"You're the best Mommy ever!"

"I agree, Mommy!" Renton cheered. "But next time, can you check the address first?"

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