Screaming Banshee Moms, UNITE!

Compass Study (Photo credit: Calsidyrose)

When I first became a mother, I read every book and consumed as much information as I could from the myriad of resources out there. I love me some Google!  The problem with Google is, you can find out ANY information out there but you have to know what you are looking for. It is the virtual compass. A compass does not tell you where to go it just gives you the direction you are heading. If you don't know where you want to go, a compass can not get you there. There are as many different parenting theories out there as there are parents. Trying to find my style was not as easy as I thought it would be. It still isn't. I feel like I go back and forth from doing what I know is right and resorting back to the screaming banshee that I find comes natural.

The "Screaming Banshee Mom", is only heard when she is yelling at the highest of decibels. 

She must repeat herself at least 5 times. 

She needs massive amounts of coffee in order to keep her moving. 

She will partially complete about 12 tasks a day, never fully completing any. 

She yells about her child's messy room, when the rest of her house is just as messy. 

Horrible life threatening accidents are constantly running a loop in her brain and she stresses about everything safety related when it comes to her children. 

She has no patience and will continually tell those around her that she has no patience for this/that/you/them. 

She slams things, doors, windows, pots, pans, glasses, utensils. 

She is constantly in need of a deep breath. 

NO one listens to her and everyone talks to her. 

Everyone needs her to do something; usually menial tasks, like putting something away, taking something out, wiping something/someone, cleaning something/someone, etc. 

Animals gravitate to her and want her attention also. 

She is a powerful adversary when it comes to those she protects but powerless when it comes to her own needs. 

She wistfully thinks of times when she was young, single and firm. 

Firmness alludes her and she is pissed. This pissed off feeling never goes away, especially when she sees young, single and firm people in her midst. 

She will bite your head off if you criticize her parenting skills. If you are her spouse, and you criticize, she will follow the biting of the head with a foot up your ass. 

She needs a break. Even in the middle of the night when she gets up to pee, her brain starts and does not stop. Always looking for ways to manage her time more efficiently. 

She murmurs to herself and answers her own questions, since no one will talk to her. 

When she screws up, she is infuriated that someone else didn't screw up. 

She yells at her children to "Stop Yelling!" 

She cries for her children to stop crying. 

She whines that her children whine. 

NOW, stop judging.

I used to judge these moms. Before I had children I thought "I will NEVER do that." Then I had children and I did that! 

We are not perfect moms. There is no such thing. Because even if you do everything right and you are consistent, kind, loving and patient - when they reach their twenties and see a therapist - your kids will still find a way to blame you for something.  Why not make it worth that therapist's while?

Don't get me wrong. I do not advocate for being a "Screaming Banshee Mom." 

Do I find it a problem that "Screaming Banshee Mom" comes to me so naturally? YES. 

Do I fight it on a daily/hourly basis? HELL YES. 

Does the "Screaming Banshee Mom" rear her ugly head every now and again? Most definitely! 

But, I figure it's not so bad because if my kids are going to therapy in their twenties anyway, at least, I am giving them something to complain about. None of this mamby-pamby "I didn't feel valued as a child" bullshit.  Lets go for the full force "My mother was a crazy screaming lunatic who talked to herself and was always putting her foot up my dad's ass!" THAT's therapy worthy. Let's give them something to talk about. Who's with me?

Screaming Banshee Mom's UNITE!

Parodies in Real Life

The Roman Catholic Church is being almost a parody of itself lately.  I mean how much more Python-esque can it get?  We have the ongoing Philadelphia Priest abuse trial. Right now it is on it’s 6th week.  Six weeks of damning testimony against Monsignor Lynn and against the Archdiocese in general. These “holy” men who admittedly shuffled around known pedophiles to parish after parish.   They protected these monsters until the statute of limitations ran out and then let them go.  Now they are living where ever they want.  Like across the street from playgrounds.  We also have another priest on trial, Fr. Brennan, who has ADMITTED to allowing a 14 year old boy watch porn on his computer, drink alcohol and then sleep in his bed with him.  This is what Brennan called    "borderline inappropriate" Borderline?  Really?  So when this child who is now a 30 yr old man says that Fr. Brennan did even more than what he admitted to, who are you going to believe?  Well, I for one believe the victim.  

Then we have the Vatican’s own, Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF) formerly know as Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Universal Inquisition (yes THAT Inquisition) writing a scathing report on one of their own.  NO one expects the INQUISITION!   In case you need to brush up on your history here the best take on the Inquisition. (The genius that is Mel Brooks)The CDF came down hard on those crazy do-gooder nuns.  They appointed a Bishop (who has a penis) to oversee these crazy “radical feminists.” Yes, these mostly older nuns who have long since stripped off their habits and taken their own names back. They are no longer forced into classrooms with 40 kids.  These new fangled crazy sisters work with the fringe of society, the poorest of the poor, the mentally ill, the old, the sick, the hungry, the teenage single mothers, the homeless and the dying . The Bishops deal with power these women deal with the powerless.  They do not tow the line of the Bishops and their political interests.  These nuns do not stand up and yell about contraception, abortion, school vouchers and fighting the Statute of Limitations for child victims of sexual abuse. They are too busy doing the work that.... well, Jesus did.  Helping those who need it the most.  They agreed with the Obama administration in passing the Health Care bill.  No matter where you stand on the issue, these nuns are caring for the very people whom the bill will help, the poorest of the poor.  So naturally the nuns would be for it.  But when this happened, the Bishops got very angry at these uppity nuns, who would not back them and their Republican agenda.  They were also angry that the nuns were making decisions on their own and not consulting them.  So what did they do...... issued the Inquisition! (No one expects the CDF!) The crazy radical nuns have 5 yrs to get in line, report to the good Bishop in charge of them, and do what they are told.  If not they can find another religion. Did the Vatican feel this strongly about it’s pedophile priests? Ummm NO,  they just tried to cover it up as much as possible.   I think it would have been much better if the Vatican issued the Inquisition on the nuns of over 35 years ago when they were beating the crap out of my generation and past generations.  They were the crazy ones!  Not all, but quite a few of them were vicious mean people.  

Then there is a Catholic school teacher who was having problems with infertility.  She was fired from her job, by the Monsignor, who called her a “grave, immoral sinner,” because she went through Invitro Fertilization Treatment.  This is a big no-no in the Catholic Church.  You can not create life in any other way but in the missionary position, in the dark, partially clothed and with a feeling of self loathing.  Oh and if you CAN get pregnant that way, don’t EVER prevent getting pregnant by using any form of contraception.   "Every Sperm is Sacred"  

So have I provided enough parody of the craziness?  Here is one more and it makes the most sense.  Dogma .  

Small Disclaimer:   I grew up with a sincere appreciation of Monty Python, Mel Brooks and the like.  It was completely my father’s fault.  He would let me stay up late just to watch certain Python clips or Brook’s movies.  SO if you don’t like my sense of humor, just remember to  “Always look on the bright side of life!” 

Get Away!

Ahhhh.  The Hub and I got away for a long weekend without the kids to celebrate our anniversary.  It was so needed. Not just for us but for the kids too.  We reconvened a much happier group.  The boys and our dog spent the weekend with my parents.  Nana and PopPop.  Nana and PopPop are rock stars.  They are the end-all and be-all of grandparents.  They are fun and take the boys everywhere they want to go.  They adore our children and our children adore them right back.  Nana and PopPop took the kids to the the local Wetlands Institute http://wetlandsinstitute.org/  where the boys got to pet flounder, skate, and horseshoe crabs. They also got to see an octopus get a crab out of a 2 liter soda bottle.  Very cool stuff.  They went to the beach and played in the sand and dug holes and chased the waves.  They ate good they slept good and had a wonderful time.  The dog even seemed happier.  She followed my father everywhere he went.  

The Hub and I went about 5 miles away from them to Cape May, NJ. We could fully relax and laughed a lot.  We laughed at the bed and breakfast we stayed in.  It was a little beat up and the coffee was horrible.  We also think that our inn keeper was pulling tubes on a daily basis.  We went to a bar and drank.  I can’t tell you the last time I sat at a bar and drank with my husband.  I think it was so long ago, you could still smoke at a bar.  We trash talked about people. We walked around the town and ate really good food.  We talked about how neither of us could imagine NOT having kids.  We revisited the possibility of adopting another.  Raising kids seems to give such a sense of love, a capacity of love that I never knew existed.   We sat on the beach bundled up in jackets and we laughed a lot.  

I have to say, I really, really like the man that I married 11 years ago. I think that he is probably one of the best human beings I know.  He is kind, funny and caring.  He is so smart and has accomplished so much in his life.  We talked about whether or not 11 years ago, we could have pictured where we are now, with 2 beautiful kids, a dog and a cat (the same cat my husband found in 1993!) I think that I pictured something like that when we got married. But before I met him, I could not in my wildest dreams, have pictured the wonderful life we have now.  I would have never thought that I would be this happy and in such a great place with such a great husband.  I was not a happy person for a long time.  I hid who I was and what I felt so that I would not feel vulnerable. I put myself in circumstances that made me miserable.  When I decided I was worth it, and started making changes, The Hub came along and renewed my faith in love.  I felt comfortable enough to be my authentic self with him.  He made me feel safe.  He still does.  

So if you have the opportunity, get away with the one that you love.  Remember why you fell in love.  Stop the normal rush and crazy of every day and take a day or two or three just to be together and laugh and joke and feel at ease.  There is nothing better.  We feel renewed and refreshed.  By the time we had to leave we missed the kids and were ready to see them.  I am not too sure the kids were ready to leave Nana and PopPop, but they seemed genuinely happy when we were all back together.   

I know this post is kind of sappy. But I did just get to spend three days and nights with one of my best friends who still turns me on and makes me laugh.  Three days without interruption, without distraction and with each other.  I am one lucky lady!  

P.S. Thank you Nana and PopPop!

Control - Who Needs It? - I DO!

I have control issues.  I tend to control everything.  This is not good for me because it tends to frighten people away and I like people.  I like having friends.  I also like my family and don’t want them to roll their eyes when they see me coming with my calendar and list.  I need to work on that among other things like refusing to be wrong.  I hate being wrong and maybe being in control helps me not be wrong.  Who knows?  I would love for one of my readers to be a psychoanalyst and give me some answers.  

Easter weekend was a busy one.  On Good Friday The Hub had off.  The group, Catholics 4 Change, were having a prayer service/demonstration for the survivors of sexual abuse by priests outside the Cathedral Basilica of St.s  Peter and Paul in Philadelphia.   The original plan was for all of us to go downtown, drop me off for the prayer service then go to Ben Franklin’s house so First Born can do some extra research on his ‘Biography of Benjamin Franklin’ project.   On Thursday Little One woke up crying with a sore throat and a fever.  Scratch the Friday plan, and I go by myself and Hub stays home with the kids.  (this was a discussion and decided the best thing to do...mostly by me) 

The prayer service/demonstration was moving beyond words.  The survivors who were there and spoke are the strongest people I know.  They want nothing but to have their voices heard and believed and for the lying from the Church to stop.  That is ALL they are after.  Standing outside in the bright sunshine, with that group of survivors and supporters, I felt closer to Heaven than I have felt in most churches.  

After the service I went to my car and called The Hubs.  When I call, he is in his car just leaving JimmyJohn’s Hotdogs. Through the phone, I hear our Little One in the back seat saying “Daddy, I tired, I gonna take nappys and if you see any choo choo’s, you wake me up. OK?”   This sent me reeling.  When I asked what they were doing, the Hubs says, “OH, we just got some lunch and now we are going to go to Ben Franklin’s House.”  I see red.  I was emotionally drained from the service.  I. Lose. My. Shit.  

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?  OUR SON IS SICK!  HE NEEDS A NAP! WE DECIDED NOT TO TAKE THEM DOWNTOWN TODAY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”  ( I said more, don’t want to kill you with the F bombs) 

Silence. Hubs says “OK, ok, fine, we will not go downtown. When is First Born’s project due?”   I say that I am not sure, a week or two, and he starts asking, “Well, when is it, one or two weeks?  Will we have another day to go down there?”  I inform my husband that I can not pull this information out of my ass at this present moment and that I have now decided to go to my parent’s house for lunch.  He says “OK I gotta go.”  GOOD!  

I took deep breaths and then spent a nice lunch with my parents.  I went to my grandmother’s house, hung out with her, made her dinner and cleaned up.  I finally got home about 7:30pm.  A 9 hour day without children..... Wow, I needed that.  

When I pulled into the driveway, Hub jokingly runs out the door waving his arms like a maniac, thanking me for coming home. This instantly makes me smile and ooze love for him. (there are certain things that he does to make me laugh that get me.... and he knows this!) The kids are in bed, Little One is asleep.  First Born is drifting off.   He shows me the kids bikes and how they went to the bike shop to get 4 new hand grips and a new tire for Little One’s bike that used to be First Born’s.  They had a blast. The Hub was telling me about how everyone was in love with Little One in the bike shop.  Little One is very animated, speaks well and although he is going to be 4 he is still wearing size 2T clothes.  He is a little pip-squeak with huge blue eyes and a messy mop of hair.  You can’t help but fall in love with this kid.  The Hub did not get Little One to nap, but he fell asleep easily enough at 7pm.  I decided that I need to let the control go and we go to bed.  

Fresh start, new day, Saturday before Easter.  I need to chill and let go of some control.  The Hub, hates more than anything to have nothing to do.  He dislikes being around the house.  We settle on the local Children’s Museum.  We decide to take First Born’s best friend J with us.  J lives across the street.  He is a riot and a lot of fun to have around.  J and First Born would live in the same house if they could.  Whenever they are both home, they are together.  It is endearing and I love that kid.  He makes me laugh and is so kind to our Little One too.

All are having a blast at the museum and The Hub and I confer that we want to get something to eat, like a late lunch/early dinner.  I am psyched that we are both on the same page.  The Children’s Museum is on the waterfront with some decent waterfront restaurants that I am looking forward to trying out.   At one point in the Museum, it is about 2:30pm we split up, me with Little One and Hub with the big kids.  About 20 minutes goes by and I am assuming that we are going to wrap things up pretty soon and head to a restaurant.  I go to look for the Hub and find him and the two boys sitting in the Museum cafeteria.  First Born is eating a hotdog and J is eating a piece of pizza.  I am trying to restrain myself and I say to Hub, “I thought we were going to go out to eat?”  He says, defiantly “We are.”   This is interrupted by Little One who wants pizza a a juice too.  Grrrrrrrrrr.  I am thinking to myself.  ‘OK, self you have a couple of options.  You could do what you always do and take over the situation, control the rest of the day and everything that goes on from here on out.  OR you could try to remain calm and let your husband, who is a grown ass man, handle the day, just relax and go along for the ride.’  (this is my inner-monologue font, incase you are wondering)  Against my better judgement and more along the lines of trying to rise above my control issues, I choose the latter.  

We stay at the museum and let the kids leave when they are ready. Translation: we stay too long until meltdowns occur.  We then take a walk along the waterfront (with no set plan, just a walk... with 3 boys... near water.... and old diesel trains. God help me! ) At 5pm everyone is hungry again so we go to the restaurant.  The Hub is feeling pretty proud of himself now as I was “wrong” in my assumption that no one would want to eat.  Can you see my eyes rolling?  

During dinner as it is getting later, I quietly remind my husband that we still have to buy, hard boil, color and (after the kids are in bed) hide eggs.  He looks at me, shocked and says, “You don’t have any eggs ready?”  This man has seen me and what I have done for the last 3 days and none of it involved hard-boiling a dozen eggs.    Calmly I said “No”  Then, again trying to remain calm and not taking over, I say, “Maybe we can just hide the plastic eggs that we have and not worry about dying real ones.”  His eyes did all the talking for him.  His look was a combination of astonishment, shock and disappointment.  So that was not happening.  

Leave dinner at about 6:30...mad dash to the Giant...take J home...Hub gets the kids washed, teeth brushed, in jammies and back down stairs while I hard boil eggs and prepare the coffee cups of egg dye... dye the eggs...put the boys to bed. Done by 8pm.  Whew!  Then the Hubs informs me that my Easter Bunny duties were a failure.  Meaning I did not get enough candy.  See, they each get a basket of candy and get to hunt for eggs (real dyed ones) at my parent’s house in addition to our house.  So the amount of candy is already too much and we have not even started.  Hubs says he is going BACK to the Giant to get more stuff.  At this point I am beat.  I decided to go to bed.  HE can do the baskets. HE can hide the eggs.  Since I was not in control of this day, I refuse to rush around anymore, like a lunatic, trying to get everything done that -had I been in control- would have gotten done 4 hours before.  When the Hub gets home, he looks at me in bed and says, “C’mon, we’ve got work to do!” Oh, he had no idea how close he came to being seriously hurt.   After all is said and done, it looked wonderful.  He did a great job and the kids were thrilled.  The rest of our Easter day goes off without a hitch. (Since we spent it at my parent’s house and they are in control of everything.)  

Then comes Monday.  The Hub has been working at Citizens Bank Park (Phillies Ball Park for you non-locals) for his company.  -----Side Note: He has been working ri-goddamn-diculos hours on this project for well over 4 months. Minimum of 10 hour days but mostly 12-14 hour days.  It has taken it’s toll on him.  His work is physically and mentally demanding. He is eating horribly, not sleeping enough, stressed, and OCDing more than usual. -------- We are huge Philadelphia sports fans.  So when one of the electrical contractors on his job, had offered him tickets to the opening day Phillies game, (Monday after Easter) we were excited.  

But nothing is simple when it comes to Hub’s work.  He informs me that we need to be at the Ballpark by 10am so that he can get his work pass.  (this means he is working during the game, uuhhggg)  Then we need to meet the electrical contractor at the their  tailgating spot in the parking lot so we can get the tickets for me and the boys.  The game starts at 1:30.  We get into the park about an hour and a half early.  The seats are awesome.  The Hub has to run around the ballpark and work but said that since we got there so early we would probably leave by the 5th inning.  Long story short (TOO LATE!) We don’t get out of there until about an hour after the game is over..... rush-hour, exiting the city with 40,000 other pissed off Phillies fans.  (we lost) Uhhgggg 

I am trying this whole time to be calm, go along for the ride, search for the positive.  But after the weekend of crazy, I am not holding together very well.  All this being said, our children are exhausted, hungry, and did I say exhausted?  The HOUR and half ride to get out of there was brutal.  That was met with a 6:30pm major hunger for boys who usually eat dinner at 5:30.  I demand we stop at the first place we see, which is a place called Nifty Fifties.  A diner like place with a 50’s style theme and 50’s style calories to match.  After the boys bellies are filled, we had another HOUR ride home.  Half way home, I started to crack up.... laughing uncontrollably.  The Hub looks at me and says “UH OH!” I am obviously not stable.  

When we get home, I look at the clock and realize we were out of the house and fairly active for 12 hours straight.  I then inform The Hub that from now on, he may come up with the family activity idea but we will carry out the details of said activity according to MY detailed plans, because none of us can handle another weekend like this one.  Control issues be damned, I am good at it.  He is not.  Oh and was I wrong for letting him take control? YES. Will I be wrong again?  NO!  

I Believe the Victims

While writing this blog entry - and I have been writing it for over a week now - I have been struggling.   I don’t like beating a dead horse and as readers of my blog, you know my struggle with the Catholic Church. I don’t like to make people uncomfortable. But, more than that, I hate seeing people in pain.  The Church sex abuse trial has started in Philadelphia and I have been in contact with survivors of sexual abuse by clergy.  Their stories are unbearable.  These survivors have lived through the most damaging and heart-wrenchingly, disturbing experiences imaginable.  All by priests whom they and their families loved and looked up to. These same priests continued to harm countless numbers of children. Even after they were caught by their superiors, who sent them for “treatment” and then assigned them to another unsuspecting parish.  The survivors are extremely strong individuals.  One man was abused when he was only 10 years old.  I think of the 10 year olds I know and shudder.  His abuse was not “alleged”  his abuse was documented and admitted to, by the priest/perpetrator. The Church decided to listen the victim only after the threat of going public.  That seems to be the only thing that makes the Church do anything; Money and Fear of Scandal.   A man who is now 35 struggles daily, sometimes hourly.  A wife of a survivor said that she and her husband go to support group meetings and sit in a roomful of survivors who will never tell anyone, except for in the safety of that group, about what happened to them.  They don’t want revenge or retribution.  They want to heal, move on and make sure no other child suffers the way they did. They all want one thing, to be believed.  

The trial of Monsignor Lynn and Fr. Brennan started on Monday, March 26th.  Days before this trial, the former “Father” Avery, pleaded guilty to raping a 10 year old in the sacristy and conspiring with Msgr. Lynn to hide his crimes.  This did not happen in the 60s, or the 70s, or the 80s, it happened in 1999.  It happened in a parish that Avery was moved to, by Lynn, after 17 years of previous accusations by victims.  Having read Grand Jury reports, this is the status quo when Msgr Lynn was approached by a scared and defeated victim.  There were so many that approached him NOT looking for money but only that the perpetrator would not hurt other children.  Some victims, after being so horribly violated by the Church, trying to maintain their faith, turned to Msgr Lynn to make it right.  Not with money or settlements or public humiliation, but just to make sure another innocent child was not victimized by those monsters.  He did nothing, or at the most, he did the very minimum.  He only did what was necessary to avoid scandal.   He is not alone in this.  There were many others above and below him that knew and did nothing, Cardinal Bevilaqua being one, Cardinal Rigalli being another. Both documented, some in their own writing, of the knowledge they had of the pedophile priests. The infamous list that was made up, by Msgr. Lynn of the 35 active priests who ADMITTED to sexually abusing children also noted, next to each name, whether the accuser could still sue!   Avoiding scandal is the common theme in the trial.  They did not care about the victims, they only cared about the scandal it would cause to the Church.  

I know it seems that I have a real bone to pick with the Church.  I know some readers will see these posts about their beloved Church and be angry, insist that I am stirring the pot and agitating the faithful.  Please know, that although I am angry at our Church and the way it has mishandled the perpetrators and victims, I am also hopeful that this will bring about major changes.  Changes that will allow many to come back into the fold of the Church community.  I am happy to see that 5 priests came forward to testify for the prosecution.  I am hopeful more good priests will be strong enough to stand up and say “No More!” I still have faith in that.  

The fact that many Church faithful turn a blind eye and don’t want to hear about the horrible things these monsters did to children and how these monsters were protected, is frustrating but understandable.  To believe these things about the people they hold in such high regard is, for some, quite impossible.  These victims are real, they are not only people that were abused in the distant past, each decade there are more victims. There are children being abused by priests right now.  Victims of childhood sexual abuse can take anywhere from 10 - 30 years to have the strength to admit they were abused.  The statistics go up for victims of clergy, teachers or pillars of the community.  So it may take them 20 - 40 years to report they were abused.  By this time the statue of limitations has run out and there is no chance for justice.  The other problem is, in that time, the amount of victims that have suffered is insurmountable.  The statistics also say that 88% of those abused will say nothing.... ever.  They remain silent and hidden under their shame.  Often they hide it with addictions.  Sometimes their brains protect them by developing mental disorders and disease.  Some take their own lives not knowing how to face it.  I guess my mission with these Church posts is to say that we are all damaged and hurt by these cases of the raping and sexual abuse of children.  Whether they be by priests or coaches or relatives.  We must believe the victims.  We must stand up for them, no matter how difficult or painful or uncomfortable.  The generation of keeping quite and pretending it does not happen has to give way to the generation of instant information and social networking.  This Church hierarchy can not remain so secretive and shrouded in mystery for much longer. 

The light of the truth has to shine bright on the hypocrisy.  The fact remains that the leaders of the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, for AT LEAST, the last 50 years have known of the predator priests in their midst.   They made the decision and concerted effort to protect their “brother priests” and ignore the cries of children.  Maybe it has to do with not having children of their own?  Maybe they hold children with the same disdain that they hold women?  Maybe they have no backbone to stand up for the innocent against the hierarchy? Any excuse is unacceptable.  Maybe we should hold these men accountable for their actions and start questioning EVERYTHING that they “teach” as moral?  How can a man who turned a blind eye to the depravity and pedophilia of his “brother priest”  tell me that I have sinned by missing Mass, let alone provide absolution to that sin?

Bait and Switch.... and Bait

“Wow, look at your ass!”

First thought was, what did I sit in?  Then I thought of the last time my hub said this.  Almost 9 years ago, when I was pregnant with our First Born.  After his comment, I looked in the mirror and said,  “WHOA!  What the hell?  Why didn’t you tell me it got this big?”  He responded, “I thought you knew.” 

So It was 7am on a Saturday and I was standing at the counter fixing my 3rd cup of coffee.  I turned to look him in the eye, and said “What about my ass?”  and.... now wait.... ladies, friends and fellow moms, please don’t think that my husband is the complete asshole he is about to sound like.  It is his own form of entertainment to have me completely lose my shit.  He says all these things with an adorable smile on his face and then waits for the storm.  I have learned to not cater to it and just role my eyes and laugh with him.  But this was not that kind of morning. 

“What about my ass?”   I said, in an - aren’t you starting a little friggin early today - tone.  He says, “NO, it looks hot. I mean it’s back.”  I respond, “What do you mean it’s back?” He said, “Your ass, pow, like the original bill of sale, when we first met.”  I had to put my eyes back in my head and restrain myself from getting the kitchen knife that was within my reach and carving out his tongue. My blood was seriously boiling and I said, “ORIGINAL BILL OF SALE?, Are you fucking kidding me?  You just said that?”  He was laughing now as he had achieved his mission and continued further with , “Yea, it was like bait, switch, bait.  We are back to bait, pretty nice.”  I was trying so hard to just laugh this off and see that he was trying to be funny with his backhanded complement. But I couldn’t. I mean he said ‘BILL OF SALE!... Bait switch bait!’  He thinks because he listens to Howard Stern, he is actually on the show! I had just had sex with him the night before too! I wanted to take it back!  

As I am typing this I have almost squashed this story about 5 times.  I so don’t want people thinking he is this big of a dick.  He really is a great guy.  You have to understand where we grew up.  The more you hammer someone, the more you verbally put them down and make fun of them, especially in a crowd,  it shows how much more you love them.  I am not saying it is healthy, but sometimes we revert back to it, because it is so much fun.  No, it really is fun and hysterical especially when we are with friends. Just not for me that morning.  

I had no response that would work without the kids catching wind of it.  I had already dropped the f-bomb and they were somewhat within earshot. I did not want to do further damage... to them.  He watched me turn about 3 different colors of red then I regained composure. Because I have been eating better and working out (not consistently, but getting there) I know that I am looking a little better. I am definitely feeling better about the way my clothes are fitting and not having to put on Spanx to walk out the door.  In what way could I use this to my advantage and make him eat his words?   

I smiled and sweetly said, “Thank you dear, I did not know you noticed.”  Then stared wistfully in the air (I actually forced myself to think of Johnny Depp, just to complete the effect)  He looked at me and slowly stopped laughing.  His eyes got wider as he watched me. Sheepishly he says, “Uh, so, uh, who are you trying to bait?”  

Ah, Touche! Mission Accomplished.

Proud, No..... Well rested, YES!

It was one of the best ideas I had ever had.  First Born was invited to his classroom friend’s birthday party at the local moonbounce/lazer tag/indoor playland germ factory.  Wait, don’t get me wrong, these places are genius and I have also used them for a couple of my sons’ birthday parties.  I mean what is better than having a party, where you don’t have to clean up before, during and after the party.  All you have to do is show up, bring the cake and watch them go nuts for 2 hours!  The kids love it and you are a guest at your own party.  I don’t knock it and I think these places are great. With that being said, when it is not YOUR kid’s birthday, they suck. I know, total double standard, but I gotta be honest.  

So First Born is invited to his friend’s party.  It is from 1pm to 3pm on a Saturday in January.  Normally I would go with him and stay to help out the parents in charge or just hang out with the other parents.  However, I did not know anyone at this party. I met the mom and dad at a back-to-school night but that was it.  I brought my son in and when I asked if I could stay and be of any help, they basically said, no and just to be back at 3pm for the pick-up.  Sounded good to me.  I grabbed my son, and had to hold his face in my hands so he would listen to me.

Me: “OK, here is the deal, is it ok if Mommy leaves and comes to get you when the party is over?”

First Born: (Looking at me like I have tusks) “Uh, yea!”

Me: “Pay attention, eyes here, you never leave this play area, you stay with the party, and if you have to go to the bathroom, you tell Mrs. New Friend and you go with a buddy. Look at my eyes, are you listening?”

First Born: “Yep, stay here, pee with a friend, tell Mrs. New Friend. Mooommmmm I am 8 years old!” 

Me: “OK I know, and you are a good boy. Now - eyes here! - Remember to say please and thank you and if there is an emergency,  what is my cell number?”

First Born: Rolling eyes “610-555-5555”

Me: “Very good, - hey, eyes HERE- are you sure you are ok with me leaving?” 

First Born: “MOMMMMM, all the kids are already playing, you can go!  Love you!” all this is said as he is running off.

OK, I double check with Mrs. New Friend and I head out to my minivan.  I start the car and start going over in my head all the things I can do with this new found 2 hours.  I have laundry that needs to be folded, our bathroom needs a good once over, the cat box needs to be cleaned, our yard needs to be cleaned of dog poop,  bed sheets need to be changed, etc. etc.  

As I am doing this I am yawning.  The Little One has been hijacking our bed at night on a regular basis and since it was extremely windy the night before, both Little One and First Born were scared and joined us in bed.  We live in a new construction type house and we also live on the area’s windiest hill, so when there is 50mph gusts, the whole house shakes.  I probably slept a total of 3 hours that night.

Then it hit me.  Hubs is not expecting me home.  I could just stay here.  I could get some sleep.  Oh, I was giddy!  I turned the car off, locked the doors and climbed into the back seat of the minivan.  It was very sunny so the car would remain warm.  The back of the van has tinted windows, so I was not easily seen.  I moved the various games, books, and jackets off the seat, used a sweatshirt as a pillow and covered myself with my coat.  I set the alarm on my cell phone for 15 minutes before I had to walk back in to get First Born.  I think I was asleep within 3 seconds.  I woke up on my own about one hour later, arm hanging off the seat, head lolling to the side with drool coming out of my mouth.  If someone looked into the car, they probably would have thought I was a dead body.  Luckily no one did, or if they did I did not know. I readjusted myself and fell back to sleep for the next 45 minutes, I even hit the snooze on the alarm.  

This may seem a bit ridiculous to most.  I mean I was 15 minutes away from my house that is fully equipped with my bed.  But this was the most peaceful uninterrupted sleep I have had in a long time.  There was no one calling me, no one climbing in next to me, no one yelling for me from another room, no one groping me, no phone calls to answer, no computer to look at, no door to answer; It was wonderful.   I did have some second thoughts about people seeing me and wondering if I lived in my car.  If you look in my car, it kind of looks as though someone could sustain themselves for at least a week, with the half eaten boxes of Animal Crackers, bags of Goldfish, and various half full bottles of water.  Not to mention the practical wardrobe of clothes.  But I must admit, at that moment I really did not care.  I was so excited that I was getting a nap that it just didn’t cross my mind for more than a minute.  

Immediately upon returning home I send my First Born into the shower to kill all the germs from the germ infestation.  My husband asked, with sympathy in his eyes, “So how bad was it?’  I hesitated.  I am not proud to say that it crossed my mind to lie and use this as some sort of leverage, since he got to stay home with our Little One while he napped and I had to go to the party.  I KNOW!  I am not proud.  BUT to my defense, I did tell him that I slept.  He looked at me and said “What?  You slept?  Where?”   I told him about my 2 hours in the car like I just cheated on him.  I did, I felt guilty.... for about 10 minutes.  He just looked at me and said “O.... Kay....” with a perplexed look on his face.  

See I know there are some out there who are right with me on this one.  I know for a fact that some of you have slept in your car, or in an office, or in a bathroom stall, and that you are all mothers.  We really don’t sleep like normal people.  As a mother, it starts off with late night feedings, infant rockings, diaper changes, that turn into late night, bad dream soothers, vomit fests, wet bed cleans, cough calmings, thunderstorm reassurances, fever checks, concussion interviews. Not to mention our own late night problems, like night sweats, getting up to pee because these damn kids ruined our bladder, sex since the kids need to be SOUND asleep before I can feel comfortable having sex and generally staying up late because it is the only time we have to ourselves.  For instance it is currently 11:47 pm. I should be sleeping, but I enjoy doing this, damn-it and I can’t concentrate on things I like doing when my children are awake. 

For my fellow mothers out there you know what I am talking about.  You understand what it means to get unexpected alone sleep.  Which is completely different than night time sleep.  We are still on the clock at night.  Mothering does not end when you close your eyes and turn off the light.  But when you are curled up in the back seat of your car and your husband is taking care of one and the other is being supervised only 100 feet away, well, you can sleep like a baby.    

Kony 2012

Kony 2012

Sexual Abuse, Lies, Money and the Archdiocese of Philadelphia

When trying to figure out what to write about, it had crossed my mind to expand further on the Rush Limbaugh thing.  I just don’t want to give him my time or energy.  Other than him having a radio show and reaching thousands, he is just another opinion with an asshole.  He deserves no more or no less.  I don’t like him so I don’t listen to him.  The only person who should and can have a beef with him is Sandra Fluke.  He attacked her personally so that is that.  Let them hash it out.  I really have no say in it, other than my little blog.  

The Archdiocese of Philadelphia has me pissed off again.  But that is nothing new.  I was sincerely happy to hear that there were many Catholic schools who won their appeals to the Archdiocese and will remain open. (Msgr. Bonner being a family favorite! GO GREEN!)  It is wonderful news for these hard working families who’s fears and concerns for their children’s futures weighed in the balance for the past month.  It is good that their anxieties and worries ended in relief.  At least for now.  

The question that has many of us jaded and suspicious wondering is: Did the Archdiocese pull a fast one on us?  Was this a huge cash pulling cow?  I mean the Archdiocese has some hefty expenses coming up  The many political fights like lobbying for the Educational Improvement Tax Credit (EITC or school vouchers).  The continued lobbying AGAINST Statute of Limitation Reform for victims of childhood sexual abuse. (Don’t believe me?  You can read about it here http://www.philadelphiaweekly.com/news-and-opinion/cover-story/138884039.html )  The continued lobbying against CIVIL same sex marriage.   How this affects them or us as Catholics I will never know.  The lobbying for ANY company to deny birth control health care coverage for woman.  Again, this is for anyone, not just Catholics.  And let us not forget the 100s of thousands they are paying the four criminal defense lawyers for Msgr Lynn in the upcoming sex abuse trial.  

By-the-way, if any of you doubt the credibility of the claims against Msgr Lynn, Rev. Brennan, or Edward Avery, please read the 2010 Grand Jury Report. http://www.phila.gov/districtattorney/PDFs/clergyAbuse2-finalReport.pdf  It is disturbing to say the least.  Please be warned that it is not for the faint of heart or anyone who may have been groomed and abused as a child.  

       The fact that has now come forward that further corroborates the Grand Jury’s findings seems almost out of a Dan Brown novel and the plot thickens.  On January 30, 2012, Philadelphia Judge Sarmina declared that Cardinal Anthony Bevilaqua was competent and could be called to testify at the child sex-abuse and endangerment trial of Msgr Lynn.  The next day Cardinal Bevilacqua died.    Within 2 weeks of his death new evidence is produced by the Archdiocese.  A 1994 memo written by Bevilacqua ordered a list that identified 35 Archdiocese of Philadelphia priests suspected of sexually abusing children be shredded and destroyed.  On this list were Lynn’s fellow defendants names.  Lynn who prepared this evidence in 1994, continued to assign these pedophile priests into and out of unsuspecting parishes.   The affected average in the thousands. This memo stating that the list be shredded along with the list itself, was hidden in a secret lock box by Msgr. James Molloy, former assistant vicar for administration.  Molloy was troubled by the lack of action by Lynn and Bevilacqua and hid this evidence.

Molloy is documented as saying, "I couldn't be sure that I could trust my superiors to do the right thing." 

So, he said, he became diligent about documenting his actions. "I wanted my memos to be there if the archdiocese's decisions were eventually put on the judicial scales.  This way, anyone could come along in the future and say, this was right or this wrong. But they could never say it wasn't all written down."  

Molloy died in 2006 and this lock box was opened and the evidence discovered.  It took the Archdiocese six years to turn over this evidence.  And they did so only in an attempt to get the case against Lynn dropped, siting that Lynn was only doing what he was told to do by a man (Cardinal Bevilacqua)... who is now dead.  

  

       Incidentally an otherwise healthy 60 year old Molloy was found dead, sitting up in his bed when he was late for 5:15 Mass on March 7, 2006.  This was shortly after he was interviewed and testified for the first Grand Jury report on the Philadelphia Archdiocese.  Here is that despicable report. http://media.philly.com/documents/grand_jury_report.pdf Again, this is a difficult read.   

One thing that I have heard many say in the wake of all this is to the effect of, ‘victims are lining up to get paid.’  There is no truth in this.  There are a lot of victims coming forward but they are coming forward for justice, and to make sure that these monsters can not hurt more children, not for money.  If they seek any money, it is to cover the years of extensive therapy that were and are needed.  They are coming forward to shine a bright light on the predators and co-conspirators who ruined their lives and murdered their souls.  

It pains me that the hierarchy is so deceitful and secretive.  It seems so archaic and medieval!  When you look at how they have mishandled the sexual abuse crisis, even AFTER they were called out on the carpet in 2006 and promised to make changes.  They continue to lie, hide and protect child rapists.  I can not comprehend it.  I know there are good priests out there.  I know they are as disgusted by this as the rest of us are.  If they would just start standing together and fighting the hierarchy they would have so much support.  They can help Catholics take back their Church.  

All of this begs the question:  If they can not stand up and fight for basic decency, if they can not be honest and transparent when dealing with men who rape children, how can we trust them with all this money that was raised for the Catholic Schools?   How can we trust that the millions of dollars that the parishioners raised from their already bruised and battered wallets will actually go to the schools that they were raised for?  How can we trust that the fate of the Catholic schools in Philadelphia was as bad as they stated?  How can we trust anything they say?  

My Walking, Talking Hearts

My life, although fulfilling and enjoyable is not all that exciting right now.  We are watching ‘Thomas’ and Percy just slammed into the cars.  My Little One is lying next to me on the couch and seems a bit out of it.  He went to bed much later than usual last night so I am hoping that he takes a nap today.  Naps rule!  There was a time when my life was nothing but excitement and fear. 

The Little One is not a difficult child.  For the most part, he is a real joy; very easy going, mild mannered, calm and happy. Little One was a premie and spent 18 days in the NICU.  He was always a calm, tolerant, smiling child even there.  My heart broke every time I had to leave him in that isolette, in that loud, beeping, active, alarming room.  He was so tiny and so helpless.  We were emotionally drained and exhausted and he would great us with a smile.  The nurses nicknamed him “Smilin’ Sam.”  I think he was only 4 days old when he first smiled at us.   I called him my hero.  His strength and determination and joy were more than I could muster on most days.

He hated the tubes in his nose and at times would figure out a way to pull them out.  There was a time when I was there and watched as the nurses had to put the feeding tube back in his nose, down his throat and into his belly.  Then they had to reattach the cpap and put in another IV.  He was so tiny and the veins so small that they needed to put the IV into a vein in his scalp.  I was sitting there, in physical pain, emotionally drained, and quietly crying, trying not to make any noise.  I just wanted to hold him, but had to wait until they were done.  They asked me if I was ready to take his temperature and weigh his diaper, like I did every day.  I quietly and sadly just shook my head, no.  The nurse looked at me and said.  “C’mon, you can do it.”  So I stood up and fighting the tears and exhaustion, I held the thermometer under his tiny arm, with my other hand on his chest and belly.  I looked at my little guy who just looked so defeated after struggling with getting the tubes back in him and the leads stuck back on his silk-like skin.  He was wide awake and looked at me.  I said “Hey there Angel Face!” and he looked at me and cracked a smile.  I almost lost it, but did not want to ruin the moment.  I continued to talk to him, telling him about how much I loved him and that he would be home with his big brother, daddy and me real soon.  I told him that the monitors and tubes would all go away and it would be up to him to eat, breath, maintain his temperature, and his bilirubin.  I told him that that was a big job, so he had to be patient and the doctors would know when he was ready.  After I weighed his diaper and redressed him, I could hold him and try to feed him.  He was too small to latch on to me, so I gave him a bottle of my milk.  He tried so hard, then just fell asleep in my arms.  My little Angel Face.  

Those days went on forever.  Those 18 days seemed infinitely longer than the 9 weeks previous that I spent on hospitalized bed rest trying to keep him in my belly. The NICU is a surreal and alien place.  It is not a place I want to ever encounter again.  My NICU baby was so much better off than a lot of the beautiful babies in there.  My heart ached for all of them.  Seeing them every day then not seeing them, never asking if they went home or to a different unit or the unthinkable.  The parents and caregivers who we would see scrubbing in before going in, all looked like we did.  Nervous, tired, angry, perplexed, and sad, so deeply, deeply sad.  

NICU or not, words don’t express the feelings I have for my children.  Words are not adequate and they are almost insulting.  My boys are my life. Not in the sense that I don’t have my own life, but in the sense that I gave each of them part of me, which is life.  I sustained them in my body and they take that sustenance with them when they leave my body.  I still feel like that part of them is me. 

When my First Born was little and even now, he has always had an abundance of energy.  We never sat.  He needed constant entertainment.  I have two very different boys.  First Born son was a healthy baby.  But since he was our first born, we treated him like a fragile egg.  We worried over the silliest of things, constantly checking, monitoring, listening and evaluating.  My poor boy is such an independent natured child that, this is probably the reason that as an infant, he screamed every evening from 5pm to 11pm. It might have been his way of saying, “Will you back off!! I AM FINE! Just let me be a baby!”   Now he is an active, high energy, low attention span, artistic and athletic 8 year old.  He likes to play outside, morning, noon and night.  He will be in the driveway and backyard and go from basketball, to hockey, to riding his bike, to baseball, to soccer, to throwing a frisbee, to playing army in his fort, all in about the span of an hour.  He is a riot and a joy and all of the energy I used to have.  

My little premie is still a peanut.  He is 27 lbs. soaking wet and will be 4 years old in May.  He is healthy and happy and makes us laugh.  He adores his older brother and will do anything just to be near him.  He is calm, easygoing, and accommodating.  He likes to play games like Uno Moo and build his Thomas tracks.  He does not like taking chances or being daring.  He takes his time and likes to help cook.  He loves gadgets like his daddy’s iphone, ipod and laptop. He awakes in the middle of the night and ever so quietly climbs into our bed and snuggles in.  He hardly moves when he sleeps and is still so tiny that it is the most comfy feeling in the world.  This will have to stop someday, but I have not started to tackle that yet. Mostly because I don’t want to. He speaks very well and when he looks at you with those big blue eyes, unless your heart has shriveled up, you will say yes to anything he asks.  He has an amazing sense of humor and comedic timing for such a young boy and is such a love.  

Right now I am spending the most time with the Little One since he is not in school yet.  I am really enjoying it.  Don’t get me wrong there are days when I am ready to throw “Thomas the Tank Engine’ out the window and if I hear another Disney Movie theme song I will scream.  But for the most part, I am loving every minute of time with my Little One and he seems to be enjoying it too.  I don’t need excitement.  I don’t need fear or anxiety. I don’t need to be constantly busy or worried.  There are times when some may think me too laid back.  I don’t clean my house like it should be, I don’t (as I have said many times before) stay on top of the laundry.  I don’t run my kids around to different activities.  I am sure this will change and flux as life does, but for now I am perfectly content with snuggling up with my Little One and watching my animated First Born tell me about his day.   

It is such a cliche and a facebook post but,

“Being a mother is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”- Elizabeth Stone
It is so true.  We can’t prepare for it.  We can’t control it and we can’t even predict it.  It is this love that makes me think that I can do anything in the world.  My boys seem to be the proof of my existence and the proof of power that I possess.