Land o'Lessa

You hear it all the time – hell, I’ve said it more then once myself – when stories like Rihanna and Chris Brown hit the newstands, or any other situations of abuse… especially when the victim returns to their abuser as Rihanna has recently gone back to Brown. We’d never do that, never allow it to happen to us, we can’t believe she went back, etc. Thing is, that’s a very slippery slope that leads to Victim Blaming – if only she’d done this or that, it wouldn’t have happened, and that my friends is a line of pure bullshit.

First, we don’t know the whole story, we only know what’s been reported. I saw the picture that was being posted, and know that there are investigations currently going on, but the facts are that Brown has not been charged as of yet, and even in this is innocent until proven guilty. Do I think he did it? Absolutely. And I hope they can prove it. So why did she go back to him?

There’s a lot of reasons that a woman would go back to an abuser. My mom works in the local shelter here in town, and has written a post worth reading that includes a list of some of those reasons. While the financial reasons and some of the others do not fit Rihanna’s profile, perhaps there are others. She’s a singer, a star, but that does not mean she doesn’t have self esteem issues, or other factors that went into her returning.

It takes an average of SEVEN TIMES before a victim will leave their abuser – that means some leave the first time, others take many more times hen the 7 to decide they’ve had enough. All we can do now is hope that Rihanna is safe, and that her support system is firmly in place so that this doesn’t happen again.

What does that mean to us as parents of teenagers? It means that we need to use this situation to open up conversations with our teens about the dangers of both physical and psychological abuse. Talk to your kids about the code of conduct you expect them to live by, and open the lines of communication so that they feel comfortable coming to you if something does happen. Alert them to the signs, so that they can be aware of the signals in their own relationships, as well as that of their friends. But as I preach over and over again – just talk to them.

My husband suffered a childhood of horrendous abuse, and was living proof that as broken as he often felt, the cycle of violence could be destroyed and stopped within him. It didn’t make our life easy, but it certainly made us aware, and we’ve raised our kids to be aware of the signs and to have the strength to stand up to an abuser. We’ve given them the tools – and pray that they never need them. Most of all, the kids know they can come talk to me about ANYTHING.

So use this, use the situation with Rihanna and Chris Brown not to condemn the story we only currently know pieces of, and not to blame the victim – but instead to teach our kids the signs, to be sure they’re aware, and to make sure the lines of communication are open. We may never know the full story of what happened between them, but we CAN make sure we have a say in the stories our children will write with their relationships.

If your worried about your teen, here are some signs of abuse in a dating relationship, as well as some statistics. Educate yourself, so that you can educate your kids.

Wow. Lookit me ignoring you guys. I totally suck. It’s like I have 18 blogs to keep up on, and I’ve been letting them all slide! No more of that! Here, let his cute picture of my kid make up for it!

See? Don’t you feel better now? Of course, now you can make all the jokes about dogs farting and all of that. I’m a giver, what can I say?

So, that beat up old jeep of mine? Well, my son was a doll and bought it for me, so that he could have a car of his very own. Amazingly enough, this allowed me to turn right around, borrow a little bit more money and get myself a better running version of the car I just unloaded on my son. Oh come on – he’s gonna tear it up anyway! Stop looking at me like that!

Anyway – i’m now the proud owner of a 93 Jeep GRAND Cherokee. Yes, it’s two years OLDER then the other one, but was literally driven around by a little old preacher man for 30 years, and he took much better care of it then we did mine. And it has heat. And auto windows. And auto locks. AND CUP HOLDERS. I’ve spent 10 years carefully balancing my large diet cokes against the e-brake! I now have CUP HOLDERS!

And it’s red. Just like my other one. See?

Isn’t she PRETTY? Course, on the way to swim practice, the kids asked if Papa had been in the car because “it smells like little old man!” so now it smells like “Vanillaroma!” thanks to the scenty tree hanging from the review mirror -a mirror which I totally have to learn to use again since mine fell off in the old one 3 years ago..

But all that pales compared to the the best feature – because OMG.CUP HOLDERS PEOPLE!

Ahem.

I have one teenager who’s THIS close to getting his license, and another that’s already nagging for her learner’s permit, despite the fact I made her brother wait longer than his friends before getting his. So clearly, driving is a regular topic of conversation around these parts. And it’s terrifying. I mean, I’ve ridden in the passenger seat with my son behind the wheel for the past year, and it’s TERRIFYING. I’m a little bit of a control freak (stop laughing) and it’s hard for me to give that tendency up and make sure the Boy is relaxed and paying attention and doing what he needs to do: learning.

But we’ve survived so far – in a beat up old 95 jeep, that he was sweet enough to buy from me yesterday so that I could get a 93 jeep that’s in much better condition to haul his siblings around. Yes, I sold my son the crappy car that he’ll tear up anyway, to get myself a better one. Sue me. Point is, he’s ready and raring to go – the minute the roads are clear, he’s road test and independent driving bound…

Heaven help us all.

Or maybe, just Ford. Have you heard about MyKey? It’s a pretty nifty little device that Ford’s about to launch in the newest 2010 Ford Focus and other models. What it does is allow the parent to set some limits on their teen driver. It warns them when they’re low on fuel, when they’ve forgotten their seatbelt. It also can be programed to have a “top speed” that your teen can drive, with warning chimes at certain levels. It can even limit the volume of the radio.

Check it out:

If you have more questions, Ford will be having a question and answer forum Tuesday, Feb 24th, at noon EST. You can join in and ask your questions here: Talk to the Experts.

Would I actually use something like this with my kids? I’m not sure. I’m on the fence on it – but since I’m not in the position of getting him a brand new car anyway, I can postpone such a decision. Whether you choose to use MyKey for your kids or not, as with every subject here, I encourage you to TALK to your kids first. They won’t rail against the limitations as much if they know they’re there, why they are there, and understand where your coming from with the installation. Sure, they might not like it, and I expect that some smarty pants kid hacker will find a way around it sooner rather then later, but still. Talk to your kids.

Then tell them to turn that noise down, already! Srsly! Kids these days. They call THAT music? Why, back in my day…

When I was growing up, we had an elderly preacher live with us for 11 years. The story goes, Mama decided to pray for patience once, and God delivered by giving her an old man who’d try the patience of a saint. And he did, daily.

Grandpa S was, well, he was something. He was set in his ways, and ornery and determined, and annoying and amusing, smart and all things that older folks usually are. He would sit in his room for hours, typing on his VERY noisy old typewriter, writing devotions to submit to various publications he had been involved with since attending Seminary at Grace College waaaaaaaay back in the day. We’d dutifully proof read, and then make sure it got sent off to the right place, and back he’d go again to typetypetype on the keys.

While it wasn’t always the perfect arrangement, it did each me a tolerance for the elderly, even when they were driving me up the wall. He always had interesting stories, and as much as we swore it wouldn’t be so – we kinda missed him when he moved out. We even missed his tendency to wander out into the yard, pick dandelions, toss the yellow flower, wash the rest in the sink (And I use the term “wash” loosely. VERY loosely.) then throw them in a bowl with some Italian dressing and add it to his lunch or dinner.

I was reminded of those Dandelion Greens salads when a video came through my feed reader this morning, featuring Clara, a 93 year old grandmother, who’s grandson films her as she cooks meals she and her family used to get by in the depression. Potatoes, eggs, and other cheaper items stretched to feed a lot of people, in order to get by – valuable lessons to learn at any age, and especially now with folks recession obsessed. She tells stories as she cooks, and her grandson often focuses on her hands as she measures and stirs and hows us how to stretch our dollar – we see the slight tremble, the age spots, and remember that folks before us have survived worse – we can survive too.

So I encourage you to check out Great Depression Cooking with Clara! Who knows, you might find a recipe that you like – and that your kids will eat. We’ve done something similar to her grandson’s favorite ‘poorman’s meal’ for years at my house! Check it out:

And have the teenagers watch it too – they might learn something, even if it’s just a simple meal they can wow their future girlfriends/boyfriends with while cooking in a single pot while at college. Who doesn’t need to know something like that, right? Exactly.

Mama always said that she was a ‘baby that had a baby’ when she got pregnant with me a mere WEEK after her wedding to Papa. She and I still look like sisters (I’m the YOUNGER one, dammit!), and we often joke that we grew up together, because, well, we did. Ok – so SHE grew up, and the jury is still out on me, but close enough. And for the record, Mama was 20 when she had me, and I was still a ‘baby’ when I had The Boy at 22.

So tell me, what in the blue blazes of all things unholy is a TWELVE year old doing sleeping with a FIFTEEN year old in her parent’s house, and fathering a child at THIRTEEN?

I’m sure all of you have heard about Alfie by now, but in case you haven’t – it goes like this. That baby-faced boy who’s voice hasn’t even changed is the father of that baby. And it gets worse, as now two other boys (ages 14 and 16) have stepped up claim possible paternity of the 15 year old Chantelle’s baby Maisie. As bad as that is, it’s not what chaps my considerable behind about it all – no, what does that is this: Chantelle’s mother, apparently, told her to keep quiet about the other boys in order to ensure they got paid for the story.

Well then! That’s the way to exploit the kids! While the whole story is disturbing, it’s the actions of the parents in question that is really awful. What mother in their right mind allows their 15 year old to have multiple sleep overs in her room, let alone with multiple boys? And Alfie’s parents are probably summed up best in this quote by Alphie’s Dad:

“When I spoke to Alfie, he started crying,” said Patten. “He said it was the first time he’d had sex, that he didn’t know what he was doing and the complications that could come. I will talk to him again and it will be the birds and the bees talk. Some may say it’s too late, but he needs to understand so there is not another baby.”

The NEXT conversation will include the birds and the bees? Pardon me while I bang my head on my desk. Daddy’s no angel, either, as he’s got multiple kids from many different women, and apparently a 13 year old girl who gave birth a couple years ago as well. And don’t even get me started on his wearing a Halloween mask and putting a sign on his car with info where to call his publicist while he’s at the hospital visiting his new granddaughter! Father of the year material, right up there with Chantelle’s mother who’s money grubbing for the rights to the story.

You know, in my town? Chantelle would be in jail for statutory rape because of the age difference. The child, CHILD, was TWELVE!

TWELVE.
I’m speechless.
(mostly!)

I understand that kids have sex. I’ve preached safe sex to my kids (all still virgins, thank you very much!) since they showed the first hint of hormone hell. I understand that it’s not an easy topic to bring up, and it can be embarrassing for both the parents and the teens.

But answer me this – wouldn’t you rather talk about Condom Man and Lucy Lubricant, than explain to your 12 year old that his in the dark fumbling mean he’s now responsible for another life for the rest of his life?

Yeah. Me too.