Neighbors - you can't live with them and you can't make them move. A three part series in why I wish we could move to the middle of nowhere so I didn't have to nagivate difficult social interactions with other adults. Part 3

You had to know this post was coming right? I mean I can't write about neighbors without including The Other Family (hereafter known as TOF). 

If you haven't figured it out, TOF is the family from last fall. If you don't know what I'm talking about you can go back a few posts to what I wrote in October. There hasn't been much writing in between so it shouldn't be difficult to find.

Kiel asked to play with The Other Boy (TOB) over the weekend. I hadn't really prepared myself for that yet. I should have, because it was obviously going to happen. After ignoring his first request, I finally told Kiel it wasn't a good time right now. 

TOB is going to want to come over, especially with the new basketball hoop set up.  He likes sports and he likes to be involved with other kids. He's a nice kid and if it weren't for my fear of how his parents are going to act, I would have no hesitation about him playing here. 

To update you, there has been no communication with the other family outside of some "good mornings" from The Other Dad (TOD) when he's at the bus stop at least he finally has the balls to be there. I've initiated a couple light conversations with The Other Mom (TOM) the few times I've seen her at the bus stop, usually about their new dog. She responds, possibly because other people are around. The interaction is always short and awkward.

There are still times we pass in our cars and she pointedly looks away from us. 

While I understand in part, it mostly feels very strange to me. And very, very sad.

This is a woman who multiple times told me our friendship was "the no judgement zone." And had a conversation with me about how she doesn't allow grudges in her house. Someone I was very open with about Noah and what we were going through.

I still miss the friendship, although I've moved past missing her in particular. As time passes and I can see things somewhat less emotionally, I can see her and the relationship I had with her, with more honesty. It was never destined to go far. It was, what it was, because of our boys friendship. In many ways a friendship of convenience I suppose.

As far as Kiel and TOB, they have both moved well past The Incident as far as I can see. They want to play with each other. Kiel is no longer having nightmares about TOM, and hasn't spoken of her in a couple months. He actually told me shortly after Christmas that it was ok to see her now, and "she is in a better place." (I had to laugh at that one. I hope he's right though.)

As for Kiel playing with TOB at their house I have very mixed feelings. Obviously, I don't think he would ever be invited by TOM or TOD. I have no concerns about his safety there though. TOM and TOD are good parents. Even though the professionals have "given me permission" to place some responsibility on them for leaving the boys unsupervised for so long, I don't. And I say that in full honesty.

What I am worried about is how they would treat Kiel and how they would react to just about anything he did. It just wouldn't be right to put Kiel in a situation where he would likely be judged for every action. He would know. 

Again, I don't really think that's going to be something I have to worry about.  Although, as I write this, even though I doubt the parents would ever invite him, what if TOB does, in that way that kids do. 

I refuse to have a conversation with Kiel that includes telling him he specifically can't go to their house. We already have the conversation about where the limits are that he can play in the neighborhood, and that he can't go in anyone's house, even his school friends houses, unless he asks my permission first. I hope that will be enough. I fear it won't though, since the boys used to run in and out of each of our houses freely.

I won't lie and say that I don't have the urge to fight "like with like" because of how they have acted, but I won't let myself go there.  I might want to put a bag of flaming dog shit on their front porch, but I would never do that! I might secretly flip them the bird when I drive past their house, but I never do it visibly. I might want to scream to everyone that TOM is a crazy fucking bitch and to be careful, but I won't. If they don't want the boys playing together I guess they will need to figure out how to ensure that happens.

I do think we need to have a conversation about it. And I would like a chance to say a few things to TOM. I would REALLY like a chance to do that. I'd like to tell her how disappointed I am in her. And how childish she has been acting. And make sure she understands that what the boys did wasn't as upsetting as how the adults acted after, and that any damage that may have been done to either Kiel or TOB was done after and because of their reaction.

OK, I'm still mad. I admit it. Perhaps I'm not quite as mature as I would like to be. Working through this in writing as I do is making it pretty clear its all still quite raw for me. It's good to know that though isn't it? I'm clearly a work in progress.

My other concern with this mess, and that is neighbor related, is that I have no idea what TOF has said to anyone in the neighborhood. I know they lied to me about telling the school, since they told me two days after they were in meeting with the principal that they hadn't said anything. I have no reason to believe that they wouldn't tell others, or that they wouldn't twist it for their benefit. Not knowing if or what they may have said to others hangs over me. I wonder how long it will cloud every interaction I have with people I know TOM has had contact with, which is a hell of a lot, since she knows freaking everyone.

I also wonder how long it is going to take before I trust letting another family into our lives like that.

Update to part 1: the conversation with the driveway sharing neighbor did not go well. I was calm and kind and conciliatory, and she was judgy and bitchy. She did everything but come out and say that Noah is only like he is because of us. Apparently we aren't strict enough and her boys see that and don't think it is fair. At least she stopped herself from telling me I should beat him, as she has done before. It's such a warm fuzzy feeling to know that someone thinks they can parent your child better than you can. 

When I tried to explain what he is dealing with brain wise she said then he shouldn't be allowed outside. I guess he shouldn't be allowed in his bedroom either because they hear him there when he is upset. Apprently it's okay for her boys to verbally threaten him, and call him faggot, but any response from him is never acceptable. Oh yes, I know I'm bitter right now.

You can be proud of me though. I didn't bring up the drums, or her multiple daily screaming/screeching fits at her kids and husband, even once.

I sure wish it was possible to actually grow thicker skin, because I clearly need it.


 

The stories I get to listen to at baseball

I sat at Kiel's baseball game the other night listening to the conversations of the other moms around me. Rich had just arrived and dropped a mini bomb about Noah's behavior at his psych appointment that day and that the pdoc was asking again if we had found someone else to see. Because of that my stomach was in a bit of a knot, and I wasn't feeling all that social, so I just sat back and listened.

The conversations took the usual turn to gossip and criticism. I zoned out for a while until I heard one of the women (a teacher) start telling stories about the kids in her class and how she wishes she could take some of them home with her because the parents are so awful. Then she talked about the families that are homeless and two of the moms audibly gasped with surprise. Homeless? Here? In Bucks county?

She started talking about a mom with five kids that lives in a two bedroom house. The kids have subsidized (free) lunch and they complain that they don't get enough food. This teacher has the only girl of the five kids. She said the family couldn't afford to send her on a field trip.

Then the other moms all gasp and say how horrible that is. How could they not pay the $50 for the bus. It's not like it was that much.

So then she starts talking again about how the girl always seems hungry, and she said that her older brothers, who she shares a room with, eat all the food in the house so her mom doesn't buy snack food. And that she doesn't sleep well at night because her brothers sneak out of the house at night and wake her up when they come home.

Again, more gasping and sighing, and horror that the mother allows this. That she doesn't buy them more food. That she isn't home enough to parent her children.

Now, I don't know a damn thing about this family, and perhaps this mom is truly the worst mom ever. But all I could think was what the fuck ladies, is it possible this mom is doing the absolute best she can with what she has? Perhaps we (in which I mean those moms) should get off our fancy camp chairs, tie back our bleached and highlighted blond hair, and consider how we can help these families as we walk to our SUV's and our Escalades and our Beemers.

I kept my mouth shut for once. It's been bothering me since though. No wonder I don't feel comfortable with these sports moms.



 

Facebook, vaginas, and asshattery

 I was an early adopter of Twitter. I jumped on the Facebook band wagon a bit later. Over time I stopped using Twitter regularly and found I preferred Facebook.

I think there was a learning curve as I figured out Facebook.  Instead of my blog friends I was interacting with real life friends and family. I had to decide what I wanted to stay private; I took a couple years before I linked it with my blog. And I made a few comments over the years that I regretted later. 

So now I have a few guidelines I follow:

• I don't criticize people on their own posts, even when I disagree. Even if I have to practically sit on my hands so I don't.
• If someone comments on my post though, I reserve the right to respond.
• If you say something on my wall, or comment on my post, and it includes asshattery I reserve the right to remove it. I control my wall. I control my blog. Kind of like how I control my body.

So imagine the fun I had this morning when this post that I wrote last night:

I missed a portion of the debate. Did anyone ask why the men think they should have the power to control my vagina?

elicited this comment from an old school friend this morning:

How exactly does birth control control your vagina? Are your opinions not inflicting control over others as well? Is there really a difference on what your are complaining about? Are you not in judgement of other women who feel that they should not have to purchase other women's birth control and pay for their abortions??? What exactly is so wrong with valuing life at all stages??

I admit to being a little taken aback considering that really wasn't what I was asking in the question. So I responded.

Oh XXXX, there are just so many ways I can answer this! I'm not sure where to start! You are actually assuming a lot in my statement, but that’s OK. I have no problem responding to your assumptions.

First, you are absolutely entitled to your opinion, but I am also entitled to mine. My opinion is not preventing you from using or not using birth control; nor is my opinion preventing you from having or not having an abortion. I wouldn’t even presume to ask you if you use, have used, had, or have had either one. Therefore, I do not see how your opinion should be able to control my personal decisions. But, in case you wanted to know, how lucky for me that I do not need birth control or will ever have to consider an abortion, because I am INFERTILE. I am so LUCKY!

(And I’m not going to even get into the “who I should be allowed to love” debate. But I think that also has some relevance here considering that 50% of the time that also involves someone with a vagina.)

Second, since it is virtually impossible to get pregnant without your vagina being involved in some way, controlling a woman's access to birth control does indeed (whether directly or indirectly) insinuate control over her vagina.

Third, yes, I think there is a difference in what I am “complaining” about. I believe that I should have control over my body. It sounds like you believe you, and others that think like you, should have that control. Maybe I’m not “smart” enough to have my own rational, well thought out beliefs and values? Since I don’t know better I guess the government needs to make those decisions for me?

Fourth, I am not judging the decisions a woman makes for herself. You do what you want with your body. (See above.)

I’m curious though if you know what it is like to walk in the shoes of women that do have to make hard decisions for themselves and their families, decisions that involve very personal choices about their own body? It’s easy to pigeon hole you into an upper-middle class white family with two gorgeous girls that are both academically and athletically talented. You live in an awfully nice bubble. I’m happy for you! And I mean that with complete sincerity!

But tell me, do you know what it is like to work for a Catholic hospital and have a man in human resources tell you that if you can’t get pregnant that god must not want you to have children? Or that fertility treatment is on the same level of need as elective plastic surgery? Or, that if you do pay for treatments yourself, and do get pregnant, the insurance won’t cover the prenatal care of that child until the second trimester? So really, you should just adopt. But if you adopt, you don’t get to take maternity leave, because, well you know, it’s not like you gave birth. Well, I do.

I paid for my own birth control before I ever knew that there was no need. Oh, the irony. Seriously though, I was lucky that I came from a good supportive family that helped me get an education so I could get a good job. A job where I could afford to pay for the oral contraceptives that the Catholic hospitals I worked at didn’t pay for. I didn’t work at those hospitals because they were Catholic, I worked there because it was what I went to school to do – to help people.

Should we even mention the hypocrisy of insurance that covers Viagra and other ED drugs for men, but won’t cover contraceptives for the women those men want to screw?

I wonder, have you walked in the shoes of a mother with a special needs child that has to fight for every freaking service their child gets just so they can live as close to a “normal” life as possible? Talk about valuing life! And what if that woman gets pregnant unintentionally? Should she be allowed to consider if she can take care of another child? What if that special needs child has a genetic disorder that subsequent children would likely have as well?

Have you walked in the shoes of a young mother with four children already and a husband that can’t find work that finds herself pregnant again and doesn’t know how she is going to take care of the kids she already has? Or maybe her husband is in the military and deployed overseas? We all know how wealthy those military families are.

Or have you been the mother pregnant with a child with a genetic disorder that will not allow the child to live more than hours after birth, and those hours will be full of excruciating pain.

What about the young teenager that finds herself pregnant because her uncle/father/brother/next door neighbor is raping her?

In those examples, I’m not going to tell those women what they should do. But I do believe they have a right to make their own decisions.

And last, you ask about valuing life at all stages? I’ll have that argument with you when you can tell me that the children that are living and breathing in this country right now are all being cared for.

Next weekend I am fortunate enough to be able to go spend the weekend with approximately 90 other women that have adopted or foster children with special needs. Women with children like my son, and women with children that are so far beyond damaged that Noah looks easy in comparison. These are women that have to fight every day to keep their children safe. Women that have to make really hard decisions, decisions like how do I keep this child in my house when he is hurting my other children and trying to kill me? Women taking care of children that have such severe mental illness/FASD/RAD/PTSD/autism/physical disabilities etc. etc. that there is no chance of normalcy for them or their child, ever. Women that are doing everything to get help for their child and the system is failing them. Over and over again. And these are the families that care and have adopted the children that birth parents did not want or could not keep.

What about all the kids that don’t have families and don’t have someone advocating for them.

Yes, when all of those children are getting the love and care and support they need, then come to me and ask me about valuing life at all stages. Because right now, I find it hard to believe that we truly value the lives that are already on this earth.

Then my mother decided to get involved. *big sigh* Debating politics with my mother never ends well. 


But, all ended well, because a friend of mine posted this on Facebook and my day is now complete!