Spin Me I Pulsate.

The other day I followed a link to a blog where the author was talking about her reactions to a neighbour calling the police due to her child's cries. I'm not going to list the link here because,

1-she received a lot of negative comments from it and
2-it's only relevant as the trigger for my thoughts.

It all ended well, with the policeman even calling his wife for some colic tips (how cool is that!) but the Mom was pretty upset, and I would imagine embarrassed that someone, likely a man or woman she would see on a daily basis, thought she was hurting her child.

Then a few days later, I'm coming home, and see a little boy, maybe 3 or 4, standing alone at the bus stop near the local low rentals, where the driver obviously told him to run along home. He walked, ran, walked, and generally didn't look like her belonged at first. Then he bolted into the interior of the complex, where most of the kids would usually be.

I stood staring at the little boy for awhile, thinking "I should call someone" It didn't seem right, there was something odd about the little guy running around alone. But the other half of me thought "his mother is right there, somewhere, or his father is, and they can see him"

But it weirded me out.

And I got to thinking-how many cases of child abuse aren't reported because we're afraid of offending someone, afraid to offend, afraid that someone will think we're bad people for wondering, for playing it safe, for saying "just in case"?

I feel for the woman who was upset on her weblog, I really do. I would be mortified if I received a visit, and frankly, considering the volume some nights, I'm surprised we never had. But I don't know if I would necessarily be offended. I think (and it's just theory, since it hasn't happened to me) that after I was over the initial shock of it all, I would be glad that someone took the time to say "just in case". Because really, what's the harm if nothing is wrong?

Her reaction made me think of how I would react, and if I would call in a situation that demanded it a little more than that little boy did. We're all so quick to turn away and not get involved, and we're applauded for that. But maybe instead of knowing exactly how many pounds Nicole Richie weighs, we should be busybodies a bit more when it comes to children.

I'd just hate to think that I could have saved a life, and yet I didn't.

Labels: babies, child abuse, neglect, parenting, takes a village

Posted by thordora at 12:53 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

and aunts and sisters and cousins and grandma's...

First off, let me admit that I have an addiction-and it's to Mommy Crack, AKA A Baby Story. It's a problem, I know, but it's one of the few ways I "bond" with being a woman. It affirms for me the sense that all around the world, other women are doing what I did for the first time a little over 3 years ago. It reminds me that I do belong to "Club Mom". And somedays I like that.

This morning, in an effort to stymie the Curious George obsession (timeshifting and a smart three year old do NOT a happy mom make) I put "Bringing Home Baby" on as I clean, since she likes to watch the babies, and reads after she gets bored.

I've always liked the idea of a show really showing how "bad" it can get the first little while home. But it saddens me that we need it-that we no longer have other women in our lives to help us, to prepare us for that female only rite of passage-labour and delivery. We don't have women to pass along breastfeeding knowledge, or how to soothe a baby, or the best way to burp. We have books, babycenter and TLC. Part of me is always screaming, "What have I lost, what have WE lost?"

I was so supremely lost when I had Vivian. But I read and read until I felt comfortable, because that's what I do. I study situations, I make logical decisions based on the knowledge given me. It's usually a good way to work.

But I didn't have anyone to show me how to LOVE her, how to BE her mother. I had no role models, no women around me to really emulate. I had me, and the four walls of my house. It was terrible.

And of course the shows on TLC are most certainly NOT representative of every woman. I never see me there, I rarely see single women, don't recall any lesbian couples delivering. Just usually a nice middle to upper class couple delivering their perfect baby. No real problems (unless you consider most episodes ending in C-Sections a problem). Sometimes I wanted a mother with PPD who couldn't get the baby to latch to come on. Or on BHB, a mother going nuts because her inlaws decide they MUST go visit relatives 2 hours away 2 weeks after giving birth, while in the throes of PPD. Or showing at any time a new mom, scared, isolated and alone. Showing reality, or the reality that I have experienced, would be welcome.

I wish that somehow would could begin to replicate the "village raising a child" that once was. And in some small part, the internet has been that for me. I've made some friends, and received oodles of support over the past year that has really helped me feel less alone. But I wish that village was here with me, instead of on the TV or internet. Sometimes, you just want someone to make you a cup of tea.

So to my village, here's my cup raised, a steaming hot cup of Earl Grey, thanking you. I realized this morning that my village exists, even if it's not here with me.

Labels: moms, parenting, PPD, takes a village, thanks

Posted by thordora at 11:56 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken: