The Cliff Notes on Jessie Slaughter
Here we are swooshing along on the techno highway, with things trending up and down so fast the computer cows in the PC pastures turn into blurry chips. Until something like Jessie Slaughter (not her real name) comes along. Jessie Slaughter is an eleven-year-old with a web-cam, a foul mouth and an attitude. In one video we see Jessie provocatively dressed in a zebra top with a peek-a-boo bra ranting about her “haters” and how people are jealous because she is “perfect” and continues the expletive filled video, at one point threatening her “haters with, “I’ll pop a glock in your mouth, and make a brain slushie.” WTH?
It all started on a Tweenster celebrity website called “Sticky Drama” supposedly written and viewed by the Tween set. It was there that little Jessie got into some sticky drama of her own and that’s when the cyber-bullying began. At some point Jessie posted a video to YouTube and called out her haters and that’s when the trolls multiplied like gremlins. Someone found and posted Jessie’s real name, address, sent pizzas to her home, there were prank phone calls, death threats and finally her parents got involved.
And while the drum beat of cyber threats, of predators and bullying gets beaten so loud and often we sometimes tune it out, Jessie Slaughter reminds me of why parents need to monitor their child’s use of the Internet. I mean really we’ve all seen those bozos on the Dateline “To Catch A Predator” series.
- Aunt B
Sleepaway Camp and the Single Mom Pt. 2
“I had so much fun Mom, I wish I could come every week!”
Even though it’s been a week the Tweenlet seems taller. She is talking a mile a minute to me, to her Nana, breaking mid sentence only to joke with a passing camp counselor, or with a new friend.
“Can I have a hug?”
She leaned into me, and laid her head on my chest. She glanced around to see if anyone was looking when I kissed the top of her head. It smelled like sweat and sunshine. This week away from her was hard. I rushed home from work to an empty house. I worried if she was making friends, I wondered if she missed me.
“I missed you for just a minute,” she held her index finger and thumb a smidgen apart while looking at me from the corner of her eye. “On the first night, but after that—nope!
Yeah. Right.
For an entire week the Tweenlet was unplugged. No Nintendo, Wii, computers, cell phones, or television.
For an entire week the Tweenlet was responsible. I wasn’t there to remind her to wash her face, clean her ears, put on her deodorant or pick up her things. I was truly amazed that EVERYTHING that went to camp came back home.
For an entire week the Tweenlet had to deal. I wasn’t there to kill the spiders or to make things okay.
For an entire week the Tweenlet had to make her own choices. About food (which we disagree about quite a bit) her activities and what she decided to wear. Independence from the mom is a good thing. I need to let her make choices, good ones and bad ones and let her enjoy the benefits and the consequences of those choices.
Lessons learned on both parts
“I wish I could go every week!”
I’ve already signed her up for two more weeks. I’ll tell her soon.
- Aunt B
Sleepaway Camp and the Single Mom
“You’re gonna love it!”
We’re talking about sleepaway camp and the Tween isn’t totally convinced. I start singing camp songs and she looks up and raises an eyebrow. We are in our usual spots for the morning, I’m behind the stove cooking breakfast and she’s sitting at the counter with her nose in book.
“There’s campfire every night and you’ll sing songs and one night you’ll sleep in the meadows and—.” She cut me off.
“Are there boys there?”
“No boys,” I replied while I slid a fried egg around the pan and flipped it over.
“No computers, no TV, no iPods, no cell phones, no Nintendo DS players, just sunshine, fresh air and goofy camp fun.”
Sleepaway camp will provide the Tween with some much needed time away from me. She’ll develop her self-confidence and independence, and make friends outside of her community. She’ll do things that may seem a little bit scary, without me there. Mostly though, she’ll experience silliness at levels unknown to the outside world. From the pranks and campfire talent shows to the kum-bah-yah moments, camp is one long gigglefest and what kid doesn’t need a dose of that?
Can I really afford it? No. I can’t. But I can’t afford not to give her this experience either. What I found is that quite a few camps offer full or partial scholarships. You can use this website (http://www.summercamp.org/guidance/pamphlet.html) to help you determine if your child is ready for summer camp and which camp would be the best fit. I would also encourage you check out your local YMCA and Parks and Recreation departments as most offer a camping experience at affordable rates.
As the Tween ate her fried egg and toast, I sang reveille. “That’s what they play to wake you up in the morning!”
“Oh boy,” she turned the page of her book.
To be continued after the Tween returns from camp.
- Aunt B
“If Only I Had Teeth Down There!”
Call it provocative, call it medieval, whatever you call it aside from self-defense classes, self-imposed curfews and bodyguards it has to be one of the most progressive devices created to help prevent the rape of women. Invented by South African doctor Dr. Sonnet Ehlers after treating a rape victim who said, “If only I had teeth down there,” the female condom dubbed “Rapex” is being readied for distribution after 20 years of research.
“According to Dr. Ehlers “As soon as the man puts his penis in the woman’s vagina the condom catches it. The “teeth” of the condom then penetrates his skin and causes severe pain. The man will have to go to a hospital to have the condom removed,” she said. It will also collect the rapist’s DNA.”
30,000 of these condoms are being distributed in South African in various cities where the World Cup games are being played. South Africa has one of highest incidences of rape in the world.
While some think it increases a woman’s feeling of vulnerability, one could argue that women walk in the world and shape their lives around knowing their vulnerabilities. Others argue that the device is medieval, “Yes, my device may be a medieval,” Dr. Ehlers says, “but it’s for a medieval deed that has been around for decades,” she said. “I believe something’s got to be done … and this will make some men rethink before they assault a woman.”
While I don’t believe one thing will prevent rape, I do believe in having an arsenal from which to choose. What do you think?
Someone hand me my mace, my brass knuckles and my Rapex condom. It’s eleven at night and we need a loaf of bread!
- Aunt B
Related article: Coach tells football team to “Rape”
Sex or violence? Which would you rather your child see?
Do you shield your child’s eyes whenever folks get all kissy on the screen? Do you do the same when someone pulls out a gun? Which freaks you out more?
When you see sexual images on the screen do you think of the over sexualization of women? Or do you worry about body images and self-esteem and what affect this might have on your son or daughter? Do you wonder how young minds are shaped by barrage of gunfire, flesh eating zombies and decapitations? What’s too much?
As a parent, part of our job is to act as a filter for our children. We want what’s appropriate for them, and it seems that we constantly have to figure out where those lines are, and know how our children perceive sex and violence.
While sex is explainable, people fall in love, they kiss, and affection is a sign of love. Here in America (and elsewhere I hear) sex sells everything, and I find the word “inappropriate” coming out of my mouth a lot.
I stumble when I try to explain violence. Yes, it’s okay to be angry. No, it’s not okay to kill someone just because you’re angry. And how do I explain gratuitous violence that’s just good for a laugh or video games that give points for killing people?
Why do we struggle with “Brokeback Mountain” and celebrate “Saw IV?” Why are we obsessed with what pop tart of the week is or isn’t wearing underwear and barely blink when our children gun each other down in the street.
Which freaks you out more when it comes to what your child is exposed to, sex or violence?
Chime in.
- Aunt B
Parenting Moment #168 — Must I attend EVERY soccer game?
Weekends used to mean yard sales, pajamas until noon, Food Network, lazy days, spontaneous days. I am the proud mom of a little jock-ette and now weekends mean sports. The AYSO monster gobbles them, track swallows them whole leaving this single mom with very little to get the essentials done. I’m the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker. I’m the mom, still in business attire, dragging her lawn chair down the field.
Now don’t get me wrong, while I was never athletic, I’m very happy my daughter is involved in sports. She loves the camaraderie, the competition and I love that she is having fun and getting exercise. She spent a weekend at her Dad’s house. I thought, mmm… slow morning, a little writing, some tea, I can skip this one… right? Ring!!!
“Hello?”
“B—are you coming to the game or what? The Tween-let is really upset that you’re not here.” Her Dad is whispering into the phone.
“Uhm—I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Well can you come? The game is about to start and she’s starting to cry.”
Geez!
According to the NY Times, Richard D. Ginsburg, co-author of “Whose Game Is It Anyway: A Guide to Helping Your Child Get the Most From Sports.” Dr. Ginsburg answers the question, “Should I go to all of my children’s games?” He replies:
This is a fascinating question because times are so different now. Our parents came to the games when they could. If they had a commitment, it wasn’t a big deal to miss the game. Now, many parents feel they are not good parents if they miss any of their children’s games. So what do our kids want?
Because I’m the top spot, I wonder if I really need to go to all of the games? Can I do a drop off, run the errands I need to run and come back? I wonder how other single parents do this? Do you drop everything? Or do you attend to your needs first?
- Aunt B
Father’s Day Recap — 2010
“More strawberries please.”
My Dad instructs the young woman behind the counter. She piles more fresh strawberries on. “How about some pineapple?”
“Sure thing.” She spoons chopped pineapple into the container, pressing it into swirled yogurt.
At this precise moment everything with my Dad is easy. It’s about sweet treats and people watching, as we journey through this designated day of appreciation.
The day before Father’s Day I call him and say, “You know I don’t need a day to tell me to tell you how much I appreciate you.”
“I know,” he says, “That’s right.”
Things haven’t always been so loving and appreciative. He is a complicated man, and a complicated relationship we have, as I have with both my parents, and I’m sure I’m not alone. As a single mother I find it much easier to write about Mother’s Day. My own momma issues carefully pressed and tucked away. My daddy issues are harder to fit into the luggage that goes into the overhead bin.
Forgiving my father has been an ongoing process. My Dad raised my brother and I after our Mom left “to be happy.” He worked two or three jobs for as long as I could remember, carted my friends around to roller skating, concerts and Friday night movies. He also did some things that I carried deep shame over. At one time in my life his sins seemed unforgiveable, and I let years pass without contact, and while I regret the lost time, I now know that I needed that break in our relationship to work toward the compassion and grace required to forgive him.
“Happy Father’s Day! I’m in pigs heaven!”
My Dad is crowing into the phone. “My daughter took me to breakfast and bought me shoes,” he pauses, “Then we had ice cream!” He is laughing and smiling. My uncle is on the other end.
We sit easy this Father’s Day, in a different silence, enjoying our sweet treat and people watching. While forgiveness, grace and compassion are working overtime, pressing our past back into the past, folding and creasing our lives together. My baggage might not fit in the overhead compartment but we’re constantly working it out.
– Aunt B
How to Enjoy Father’s Day – Father’s Day Instructions
It’s time for the annual BBQ, the clumsily wrapped package of boxers or briefs, the golf clubs, the new wallet or the latest gadget. These things are planned or bought with the anticipation of your joy over the gizmo or BBQ, and in turn you’ll know that you’re loved and appreciated.
Whether or not you enjoy all this attention and sentiment really depends on the type of Dad you are. Which Dad are you:
Keep those cards and letters coming! —You were the golden child, petted and praised by your own parents. The attention feels right because, well you’re in total agreement that your deserve it. Your caveat, don’t become critical of the gifts or the effort.
The one they forgot at the park—There were multiple kids in your family and maybe you were the quiet one. Or perhaps your personality was one that didn’t seek the limelight. You don’t on Father’s Day either and find the hoopla a bit uncomfortable. You might even rant about manufactured holidays; commercialization and you might even throw in something about the “system.” Relax and soak in the love.
The rebel – If you did anything right growing up, it was a miracle. Or so you were told. You can’t believe you’re someone’s parent now and find it even harder to believe the attention on Father’s Day. For what? You ask. Because the hot water comes on and the lights and phone work too? While your personality might have been a challenge to those around you, your own family gets your quirks, your different way of doing things, so let them appreciate you.
So on Father’s Day remember:
Be open to the love and appreciation that is coming your way. No matter how clumsily wrapped it is. While one child might’ve saved their allowance to buy a fancy card and the other draws a stick figure with a heart on notebook paper, they both love you.
Know the weight of your words and actions. Know how important you are in your children’s lives. They are watching, learning, and loving you all at once.
Remember they are your children. Not your spouse or your parents. They will not deem you golden, nor will they forget you at the park or label you a rebel.
Now go get ready for that BBQ you grill master you!
- Aunt B
