If only because Alison Janey is awesome. And Maya Rudolf is awesome.

Co-parenting after violence is possible in sometimes.

If the abuse was situational rather than intimate. (Explanations of the difference are in the article)

The thing about my case is that it was intimate with all the classic characteristics. There was the honeymooning or periods of time where he made meaningless gestures of change to win me back or keep me without doing any of the actual work to change. Then there was the crazy-making

Is Timothy Geithner Obama’s Michael Brown?

You all remember Brownie right? The guy who let New Orleans drown while he twiddled his thumbs.

So I gotta wonder, if the whole reason we can’t void AIG bonus money is because the bonuses were written into their employment contracts, then why is it ok to screw union workers who also have employment contracts (and aren’t directly responsible for world wide recession) .

I scored 369 out of 400 on this little “How progressive are you” quiz.

I think that makes me a bleeding heart, pinko commie.

How about you comrades?

has a guest post up at Change.org about the depressing realities of our current economic state.

(Thanks to the awesome Redstar/Leigh for letting me guest post)

I have a feeling that these kinds of conversations are just going to get more frequent as the Kid firmly roots himself in teenage angst.

Kid is in a funk today cause I’ve talked to both his social studies and science teachers about his missing work. Kid is grouchy that this is interrupting his manga reading. When I told him he needed to “do something, anything, for either of these classes” he informed me that he has a book he can read for social studies.He slumped off into another room and returned 15 minutes later.

Kid: I read the first chapter.

Me (I say nothing)

Kid: And even a little bit of the second chapter

Me (Still not relenting)

Kid: Oh come on. So far all this book talks about is a guy trying to bury his dead grandfather’s ashes!

Me: Just wait. If you think this is boring, next year I am making you read the dead Russians.

But probably only one way works for your particular kid.

Things that don’t work for the Kid are:

bribery (mostly, if it’s an immediate reward like “I’ll let you have the TV if you sweep the living room”, it works. But offering him money for good grades does not).

punishment: grounding doesn’t work. It just makes him miserable. And me miserable.

threats to punish: See above

What has worked so far is letting the Kid see how his responsibilities are a part of the whole. He’s very good about doing the dishes after dinner (aside from some problems understanding that his level of clean and mine are very different). He also knows that he has the choice to either do the dishes or do the cooking. Anytime he wants to plan and prepare a meal, I will gladly clean the kitchen afterward.

He gets that meal planning is a huge part of my day, and that it is a huge chunk of work for anyone who has a family.

So since the Kid is really good at understanding how his behavior impacts the lives of others, I thought I might use that to get him to finish his homework in a more timely fashion.

Me: Kid, you have to go to college and get a good job, which means you have to get a scholarship because there is no way I can pay for it. Which means that the next 4 years are super important and your grades have to be better. And it’s totally unfair, but you have to go to college and get a good job cause there will never be any money for me to retire if you don’t. It sucks, it’s totally unfair, but you are going to have to take care of your mom when she’s old.

Kid: That’s cool, but you have to promise to live with me and keep cooking me awesome dinners when you’re old.

Me: Oh Kid, I think there will come a time when living with your mom is the last thing you want to do.

Kid: Then I’ll find you a really nice retirement home.

Me: With a kitchen so I can still cook for you sometimes.

Kid: Yes.

We’ll see if fear of his mother living on canned cat food works to get his grades up.

Today my darling monkey child is 14!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How the hell that happened, I dunno. I’ve been telling him he’s not allowed to get any older for years now. But he just laughs at me. His feet are now a men’s size 10. He’s as tall as me. He wears grown up pants and argues with me about how long his hair should be.

But inside he is still every bit that super sweet, kind-hearted monkey child, even if I get a lot of angsty teenage attitude when I ask him to do the dishes.

I tried to leave the Kid’s dad half a dozen times before it finally worked. 6 times in 3 years. The rest of this is going to be triggering, sorry folks.

I’ve had lots of people since then treat me like I am somehow better than all the other women who get stuck in domestic violence situations. I’m not any stronger or smarter, I was just more lucky. Period.

First, you have to understand how difficult leaving is. The first time I broke up with him (long before the Kid was conceived) he took to sleep deprivation and rape to get his way. It was late, he had no car, there were no buses and the only other place he could stay was with his parents an hour away. Could he just stay and he’d leave first thing in the morning? Fine. And then the demands for sex started, not hard at first, just “Baby one more time, please” for hours and hours and hours. I would try to sleep and his hands would start creeping over me. Just before the sun came up I gave in, I laid there like a dead fish while pushed inside me. That didn’t stop him from getting off, but once he finished he was sooooooo hurt that I would do that to him. I “made him feel like a rapist”. I was all of 18 and didn’t know that what he did was rape. I took him back out of guilt and shame and god only knows what else.

Then there was the isolating. If he couldn’t get rid of my friends, he got them on his side. He made friends with my bosses and when I threw him out (for spending the money for groceries and diapers on drugs) it was my boss’ house that he stayed at. Imagine getting calls from your BOSS discussing how horrible you are to your boyfriend. Imagine having your boss calling to discuss your lack of enthusiasm in the bedroom for a guy who recently declared “I like fucking you better when it hurts you”. If I didn’t let him come home, I’d be both a single parent and out of a job.

It finally stuck when the asswipe got pissed off enough to send me flying across a room full of friends and family when I wouldn’t let him take the Kid to Hempfest (he had a problem with driving while high and I wasn’t going to let him put the Kid in the car). That was luck, pure and simple. Otherwise those friends and family members (and bosses) would never have believed the shit I had been through. Seeing that finally got some people on my side. They finally believed that I wasn’t just being a tight-ass because he smoked some pot or did a little crystal, but that he would hurt me if I got in his way about doing either.

After that, I got attacked in my parking lot. I had owned 4 cars up to this point, but he never let me get my license. I was trapped in a suburb with a one year old while he took the car(s) that my mom had helped me buy and disappeared for hours. On the day I had finally scheduled to go get my my driver’s license, he showed up out of nowhere. I was outside, watching the kid play while smoking a cigarette (I know- I don’t need grief for smoking) when I saw his car drive up. I grabbed the kid and swung him up on my hip. I don’t know how but he got me around the throat and the kid and I were being dragged to his car. I put the cigarette out on his neck. I remember, vividly, thinking “If I had my other hand free I could fight but I can’t put the baby down in parking lot”. I just knew that the minute I let go of the Kid a car would screech out of nowhere and run him over. Finally someone held out their arms and I let them take the Kid. And I fought. And I got free. And he tore out of the parking lot just as the police sirens started to blare. (Super sucky sidenote- the police did not arrest him when they caught him, and because he had the visible mark they could have arrested me). Afterwards I went and got my driver’s license and then a No Contact Order.

What followed was months of court appearances where he would harass me in the waiting room until I had to ask the guards to protect me. I got the judge to order drug tests and supervised visits if he wanted to see the the Kid. He got a new job as a water delivery guy and used to call me from his deliveries, sometimes as often as 30 times a day. Then there was the trying to climb in my bedroom window at night. There were more than 50 violations of the protection order, and he got probation on them. After almost a year of stalking and harassment, his mom called to tell me that he wanted to see the Kid. Somehow she knew about the Kid’s daycare, which she shouldn’t have known anything about. I panicked and within a week we were in a whole different state. For years I lived without putting anything in my name so that he couldn’t track me. It’s only been a few years since I lost the constant fear pit in my belly, though the last few months have brought it back.

I got lucky. I got a judge who wasn’t the best about domestic violence but hated drug addicts with a passion, so visits were supervised. I got a second judge for the long term protection order who heard about the parking lot incident and realized the big warning signs for abusers who are about to kill (choking and public acts of violence are two biggies) were there. I had friends in other states who could take us in. And I only had one kid, and he was too little to have a big connection with his dad. He didn’t even notice when he was gone. If the kid had been older, if there had been 2 or 3 kids, if the judges hadn’t seen my side, if I was black or had drug issues of my own or spoke without sounding educated and middle class, things could have been much worse.

I got lucky. The stars aligned so that I could get out. That’s all. Had the someone not been there to take the Kid out of my hands, I’d be dead. Had any number of things been different, I’d be dead. It took a lot longer than I would have liked to get out, and since I am back to dealing with him now, I wonder if anyone ever really gets out, but it was luck.

And to anyone who is stuck in that same situation right now, I already know you are strong, and I know you know that you will leave when you can. And I wish you the best of luck, really truly.