Allow me to Introduce Myself

crossposted here.

(Is anyone else singing the song by Digital Underground?)

I am thenutfantastic on Twitter and of the blog Welcome to the Nut House. I chose the name ‘nuthouse’ because at times, with anywhere from 3-6 dogs, a kid and myself, that’s what it feels like.

I am a single mom. I have been a single mom since my son, who is now 11, was 4 months old. Technically I was a single mom since he was born since my now ex-husband didn’t do much to help nor did he take much of an interest in our son. When my kid was 2 months old I made the decision to seek a divorce and when he was 4 months old we moved in with my parents (where we stayed for 7 very long years).

My son also has the distinct pleasure of being biracial: he’s half Filipino, half Caucasian. You wouldn’t know he’s got a white mama by looking at him and often other kids and adults have been surprised when they see me instead. He’s got a tan all year round as well as the beautifully thick dark brown Asian hair. We’ve had a time of it in the public school system because a lot of kids have never seen a Filipino so have not been sure where to place my boy in terms of labels and categories. He wears his hair long, doesn’t care if people use the female pronouns when referring to him and overall doesn’t much care for sports.

When my son was 2, I decided to go back to school. I worked part-time and attended VCU full-time, graduating in December 2005 with a bachelor’s in Interdisciplinary Studies (aka Women’s Studies) and a minor in English. Currently I am in my 3rd year of a 4 year masters of social work program at VCU.

See? Still nuts!

My son attends the IB Program at Lucille Brown Middle School and I am so proud of the hard work he put into studying in order to pass the admissions test. He’s got a lot more hard work ahead of him but both of us are up to the challenge as we’re both tired of him being bored in school, which lands him in trouble.

Perhaps we’re a family of over achievers? Or we’re just nuts?

In my spare time we open our home to foster pit bulls (ish) through a group called Ring Dog Rescue. Currently we have a 7 and 12 week old puppy and 3 adults ranging in age from 2-5 years. Two of the oldest dogs are mine; found wandering the streets and alleys of Church Hill.

I also keep busy by being a hospital advocate through the RHART Program with the YWCA. There are many people, mostly women, who voluntarily sign up for 12 hour shifts 2 or 3 times a month. We are on-call during that 12 hours and can be called into the ER of MCV or any Bon Secours hospital to sit with a woman who has been a victim of domestic violence or sexual assault. Essentially, we volunteer to see women on their worst day in order to help them process the traumatic event or comfort them.

Have no fear, I’ll be writing solely about what it’s like to be a feminist single mom in all capacities e.g. dating, sex, kids getting on your nerves, blending families, staying single by choice, etc., ‘cause let’s be honest, it’s hard. Most of the time I love it; however, there are plenty of times when I don’t. There are a lot of times when I am fully aware just how my single life could be so much easier without the attached-at-the-hip baggage.

For example, when the kid has the flu and I’m the only one around to take care of him. Or when he gets suspended and there isn’t anyone else but me to deal with his needing care during the day, punishment and/or enforcement. Or the times he gets sick and has to be picked up from school, which means I have to take time off work. Or the intense pressure on you to work work work because there is no one else to pay the bills.

All this hard work pays off, though, when I see him finally get it, that ‘aha’ moment most parents look for and hope to see in their kids. The moment your kid proves to you they’ve been listening all along, just not directly. Maybe I’ll share some of those stories. I may even share some of the not so pretty stories when I realize I’ve become way too much of a grizzly and need to back off. It happens a lot while being the only real parent out of a possible 2 parent tag team.

What a taste of things to come, yeah? If you have any questions, comments or would like me to talk about something specific, lemme know! I’m a wide open kinda gal and do not embarrass easily.
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Something to Get off my Chest

Weeks ago I read the series from The Sexist on groping. They talked about why men grope, women's reactions to being groped and so on. They did a thorough job covering a topic where men seem to think they have indeterminable rights to a woman's body, that our bodies are without boundaries, seen or unseen.

I have been dating a guy-type ( J*) for almost a year now. J* likes to pretend the world is a happy place and nothing bad happens. He also has a daughter who is going to be 10 very soon. I've often mentioned he should talk to her about the birds and the bees, but most importantly, enforce the notion that her body belongs to her and no one else.

As J* and I started getting serious, and my conscious self began to comprehend I could one day be partially responsible for his daughter's well-being, all the times I have been touched by strange boys/men began to resurface. Call it PTSD or whatever diagnosis you want, realizing her life experiences with the opposite have a 50/50 chance of being similar to mine brought on a sense of urgency.

Because J* is male and hasn't had the pleasure of experiencing intense vulnerability with a dose of feeling out of control over his own body, he doesn't understand why I push him to talk to his daughter about her body. I could do it, and I've offered, yet ultimately it would mean so much more coming from him as he represents the gender who might very well become the offender.

So I started sharing stories of my experiences with him.

I told him of the time I was about 11 or 12 years old and playing in this large area of dirt and trails (eventually condo's were built and the dirt was taken away). This area was only a few blocks from my house. On that particular day, me, my sister and our friend rode our bikes so we could travel faster and get the rush from going up and down the "hills". At some point we stopped and 3 boys joined us for whatever reason. We chatted, they bragged, then one of them got off his bike and walked around our group, grabbing my ass in the process. He and his friends chuckled, his friends high-fiving him when he returned to his original spot. What happened next I'm not sure, because all I remember is feeling very afraid. I got on my bike and hauled ass home, the boy who grabbed my ass hot on my tail. As my house came into view, I remember feeling relief when I saw my dad was outside. I rode into my driveway and the young pervert rode off to find his friends. To this day I wonder what would have happened if he caught up to me or if my dad hadn't been outside.

Unfortunately, my experiences with groping didn't stop there. Throughout my life beginning at that point I've been poked, prodded, picked on, touched, felt up and then some all because boys' (and eventually men) have believed they have that right to my body. It hasn't happened nearly as much these past handful of years, but it still happens.

Another story I shared with J* was when I was in the 7th grade. We were allowed to hang outside for 30min or so after lunch and since we are kids, many of us partook of this luxury. One of the boys who apparently had taken a liking to me, decided to graze my not-quite-formed breast as he walked passed. I believe it was when he threatened to do it again that I took off running, hiding behind trees and eventually near a group of teachers, hoping that would stop him. It did. I did not move from that spot until it was time to go back inside.

I've tried expressing in words the intense loss of control, and huge vulnerability, having a stranger or friend grope you presents. I think it's much more damaging to one's psyche when someone you know does it because you live in fear that it could happen again.

A few weeks ago, me, J* and the kids were leaving the roller skating rink. J* had my keys in his pocket and I kept asking for them as I wanted them in my hands before we got to the car. He couldn't understand my urgency which is understandable because I realized I was freaking out due to the vulnerability I felt for not having my keys in my hands ready to unlock the doors once I got to the car. Because for a woman, this hesitation could get her raped and even killed.

And then I realized I hate that I have to at-risk myself for a dude's inability to control urges to which I did not contribute.

Yet I still cannot seem to impress upon J* that girls grow up experiencing life in a completely different way because, very simply, we have vagina's. His daughter has a personality that makes her more susceptible to this type of thing happening as she is more introverted and keeps a lot to herself.

So I worry. And worry. And worry some more.

Then today I sat in on a MDT (Multiple Disciplinary Team) meeting where 6 cases were discussed, all of them girls who had been sexually molested or assaulted by their mothers' SO's, 5 of them under the age of 7.

So I worry. And worry. And worry some more.

Keep reading....

Justice Schmustice

One of the painful and frustrating things about interning where I do is the extreme ball drops that happen from time-to-time, and usually from the social worker. Take this case for example.

Imagine 4 kids being severely sexually abused by their uncle. The older kid tells his teacher, the school nurse but no one helps him or his siblings. Or so he thinks.

Come to find out, those mandated reporters had been calling but the complaints were going unheard despite the state law requiring a follow-up within 48hrs. Eventually a CPS worker did make it out to investigate but claimed the allegations were 'unfounded', meaning no evidence was found to support them (never mind that he didn't conduct a forensic interview or take into account he bore a strong resemblance to the uncle and dad).

And now, a year later, after the kids were finally removed and placed into foster care, yet still not given any trauma counseling, there is a 95% chance they will be returned home. There is talk and speculation about the kids possibly "making it up" because they are "mentally retarded", too.

It all just makes you want to SCREAM! sometimes.

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So it's been a while

I've been contemplating what to do with this space I have reserved for myself. Should I make it a knitting blog? Should I scrap it altogether?

Then I had an epiphany.

Why not make it a political mommy knitting blog? You'll get to see pictures of the projects I'm attempting and/or have finished, hear their stories, as well as experience the frustrations as I trudge along in my 2nd year (of 4) in grad school and try not to notice as Peanut enters into his tween years (complete with attitude).

Every so often I might vent about why birth control needs to be put in the water source.

So to get everyone up to date: Peanut informed me the other morning that one nostril was bigger than the other.

And I realized I didn't have any pictures of the only sweater I've knit myself in 4 years.


Expect to hear more from me. Hopefully a lot more. I have missed this space that has allowed me the kindness to vent my frustrations and work through a few things. Especially my ever-increasing grasp on our foster care system, state budgets and so much more.

Keep reading....

Consuming Kids?

I haven't watched the whole series yet, but I'm partial to marketing being heavily geared toward kids, they know it and it's only getting worse. Unlike what many in the comments have said, I don't think its the parents responsibility at all unless they choose to begin a call for real reform.

Consuming Kids: The Commercialization of Childhood

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