Sometimes you have to just suck it up… and this was one of those times. Midnight snacking in the kitchen I swore a shadow moved under the radiator. Nahh…I poo-pooed it away. To cast out all doubt the mysterious shadow was boldly sashaying across the front of my fireplace a day later. Yup, it was a &*^#% mouse. Those of you who follow UHB know the water bug incident. If not, go check that out. Continue reading
Last night I had the pleasure of attending a film screening of #PIFVA (Philadelphia Independent Film & Video Association)members. The works presented were thought provoking, entertaining and challenged my conventional thinking on a subject I thought I knew so well. I am not a movie critic so I won’t blab on telling you about each one. Know that they were all awesome (especially the one with my talented cousin – ok, I’m biased!!) but I encourage you to check out PIFVA to see when the next one is or what they are about.
Anywwwhoooo – there was one film that made me think about how society has a knee-jerk reaction of instant images of a battered woman when hearing the term domestic violence. Campaigns are headed up by major corporations, the marketing team coins a catchy slogan….but what about the children? What about the child cowering in the closet watching his/her mother being punched in the face by their father? The siblings that cling to one another in fear when awoken from their sleep by the screams of their mother? What are they learning about love, conflict, communication, boundaries, esteem and relationships? Domestic Violence is ugly. The ripple effects impact many and the scars are deep for the adults and for the children. I think to my own childhood and the horrific things that I witnessed and wish that there was someone speaking for me as I look at the world from Under my Tattered Brim!
Unless you have been living under a rock, we have all seen the image of the Baltimore Mom Toya Grahm publically reprimanding (slapping the stoop-id out of) her son when she spots him in the riots following Freddy Grey’s death. What I saw was not “Angry Mom beats her son for participating in riot” I saw “Scared and Desperate Mom beats son out of fear that he’ll become the next victim of police brutality.” Some say she was right on time, others say she was out of line. Before you answer, consider the 16 year old young man who was being transported from Tennessee to Philadelphia when he escaped the ‘prison transport agency’. The very first thing that the first person the news reporter interviewed said was “Where is this boy’s mother that he would be a 16 year old in prison.”
were the increasingly loud whispers that (to my horror) were coming out of the mouth of my little angel…..in church. My almost 3 year old had seen enough, heard enough and was getting restless. Can’t say that I blame him and I really don’t expect his undivided attention to last for so long, but there were certain rules to Sunday Service that he and I had come to understand. Tapping my leg and ignoring my wide-eyed-lifted-eyebrow-teeth-bared-tight-lipped stare…was a violation of our agreement.
He could quietly color in his Sunday Book, draw on his tablet, reconfigure his Power Rangers…. shoot he could build a house if he was quite. For his quietness (even though I didn’t believe in food in the sanctuary, I would reward him with an occasional fruit snack or two. Continue reading