Before We Wreck It All to Hell

"You're an idiot!"

That's Beatrice. She's the big sister both in age and in size. Especially in size. 

"Stop it!"

That's Bryce. She's the little sister. She's about a foot and a half shorter than Beatrice. They're only two years apart, but when they stand side by side, you'd think it was a much greater age difference.

It's then that Bryce lunges at Beatrice and hits her on the arm. Or on the back. Or on the leg. Or on the head.

Multiple things are happening here at once; the physics of sibling actions and reactions. One moment they're playing cooperatively and all friendly like, which thankfully is most of the moments to date, but then the next moment they're antagonizing each other, going at each other's throats. The oldest can goad her younger sister to spark confrontation and then the youngest is much more physical in her response. 

Strike and retaliation and counter-strike. Again, not unusual for siblings. With positive discipline and  Kidpower in play, we approach as follows:

• First we sportscast: "It looks like you have trouble solving your problem and you need help."
• Then we encourage them to set clear boundaries without painful retaliation: "Beatrice, you were experimenting with your power but were being unsafe with your words. And Bryce, good job setting your boundary, but make sure to use your trash can and just throw those words away without hitting back."
• Then we encourage them to play something else: "It looks like you both aren't playing the same game so maybe you should both do something different."
• Then lastly: "Can you check in with each other please?"

That last part helps them expand their empathy by ensuring each other are okay both physically and emotionally. 

"Are you okay, Beatrice?"

"Yes. Are you okay, Bryce?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

I know what you're thinking: That's nice, but sometimes you gotta be firmer than that. That's where I still gravitate sometimes; it's tough to rise above canceling out a negative with an even stronger negative.

But even I've come a long way from my childhood and I know how it works. I see how it works. The Mama sees how it works and helps to teach us all. And yet, we do have to be firmer sometimes when the girls are way out of bounds. We get mad and yell. We're human. It happens.

When it happens in the confines of home we can learn and grow from it and use our trash cans and throw all that crap away.

Except when it comes from outside the home and that crap is online. When it arises from simply being different and being made fun of, or for making a mistake that you end up paying for over and over and over again.

When "you're an idiot" becomes a painful brand inflicted continuously by legions of cyberbullies and haters. And it's even worse when you're a woman. I read a recent rare interview via The Guardian with Monica Lewinsky, the woman who had an affair with then President Bill Clinton back in the late 1990's. Of course I'm not condoning the what happened between them, and when I imagine it being one of my daughters, I'm sure one of my first thoughts would be you're an idiot.

But then we'd be there for her to help her work through it all and to help her heal and move on. That's no easy trick today considering how much abuse individuals much less iconic than Monica have to put up with online. From the fallout and abuse she still receives today, from both men and women, she's now a respected and perceptive anti-bullying advocate. In fact, she helps out many different organizations including Bystander Revolution, a site that offers video advice on what to do if you’re afraid to go to school, or if you’re a victim of cyberbullying.

The writer of the above article pointed out something that as a parent of girls cuts me to the core:

"I noticed something similar during my two years interviewing publicly shamed people. When a man is shamed, it’s usually, 'I’m going to get you fired.' When a woman is shamed it’s, 'I’m going to rape you and get you fired.'"

I'm going to rape you and get you fired. Jesus H. Christ. It's not enough just to bully the individual, because when it's a woman, you're going to throw in a violent crime to raise the hater power stakes. 

When it comes to our children and teens, this is where we must start educating on what cyberbullying is and the harm it causes to all of us. Kidpower, the global nonprofit leader in personal safety and violence prevention education, has some great tips on how to do just that including asking kids who are actively using technology for communication what they already know about cyberbullying. They usually have a lot of information and strong ideas. Ask if this has ever happened to them or anyone they know. Make sure that the young people in your life know that:

• Cyber-bullying means using computers, mobile phones, or other technology to hurt, scare, or embarrass other people. Cyber-bullying gets people in serious trouble at school and also with the law. In a growing number of places, certain forms of cyber-bullying are illegal.
• Being mean is being mean, no matter how you do it. Don’t ask if it’s funny. Ask if it will make someone unhappy.
• Even if you think someone was mean to you, being mean back is not a safe way to handle the problem. Instead, get help from an adult you trust.
• Have the courage to speak up if you notice anyone cyber-bullying. Say that this is wrong and that you are not going to keep it a secret.
• Use privacy settings, but never post anything in social medial or send anything out electronically that you don’t want the world to see.
• If you get an upsetting message or see something that is attacking you: Do not reply. Do not delete. Save the message, get a screen shot, print it if you can and get help from an adult you trust. If one adult does not help you, keep asking until you get the help you need.

Again from the above article: Lewinsky has advice for bystanders, too: “Don’t bully the bully. It doesn’t move the conversation forward. I see bullying as similar to cutting. People who cut are trying to localise their pain. I think with bullying, people are suffering for myriad reasons and are projecting it. Instead of cutting themselves, they’re cutting someone else.”

That's positive and quite progressive, something I'd struggle with being the father of a victim of so much visceral hate. Just as I wrote earlier this year about hateful online trolling and the site called Yik Yak, Kidpower also offers up another eight important skills on how to face bullying with confidence.

Skill #2, which is all about "leaving in a powerful, positive way," recommends that the best self-defense tactic is called "target denial." In other words, "don’t be there." Or as I like to call it -- change the channel, kids. Turn the channel and don't give "them" any more power than they already have. I do it all the time, especially online. This doesn't mean I wouldn't face an oppressor and stand up for myself, and there are many options and flavors of defensive responses including physical self-defense if ever needed.

That's really tough advice to give, I know. I'm still conflicted because I'll defend our girls no matter what -- both the Mama and I will -- and we want them to do the same for themselves. And in the same breath of me saying "turn the channel" I sometimes want to say "smack them back."

But instead of a world where victims and haters refer to each other as idiots, regardless of how much we want to believe otherwise about the latter, we should do a lot more checking in with one another before we wreck it all to hell. Because if we're not playing the same game, then for goodness sake do something else. 

Like read a book. Adopt a pet. Plant a garden. Go for a walk. Don't be an idiot. 

Please support Team Kidpower in The Human Race!

Support Team Kidpower at The Human Race

Many of you know the Mama (my wife) is a certified instructor for Kidpower Teenpower Fullpower International, known as Kidpower for short, and I'm a big supporter of the organization as well.

Kidpower is a global nonprofit leader in personal safety and violence prevention education. Instead of using fear to teach about violence prevention, the Kidpower Method makes it fun to learn to be safe, building habits that can increase the safety of young people and adults alike and that can last a lifetime.

Our family is now part of team Kidpower in this year's Human Race Walkathon & Fun Run, raising funds to help make our community a stronger, safer, more vibrant place to be.

The Human Race has been helping nonprofits fundraise together for over 35 years, giving an opportunity for Santa Cruz County nonprofits, individuals and groups to fundraise for local programs. 

The 2016 Human Race takes place on Saturday, May 7, 2016. Registration starts at 8 a.m. The run begins at 9:00 a.m., and the walk immediately after. Online giving goes through May 7, 2016.    

My Kidpower team goal is only $500 and I hope you will help me reach it (which you can do below).

Let's all rise up and create healthy realities for our families and communities!

You can also find recent Kid Power articles below and my interview with Irene van der Zande, Executive Director and Founder of Kidpower:

• #2 Reach West Radio - Empowering Every Person’s Well-Being
• Let's All Rise Up And Create Healthy Realities
• The Calm Down Power of Dragon School Rules
• The Haters of Happy Should Never Be Second Best
• A Jukebox of Our Sweeter Past

The Part When Freedom Rings

“Alternating currents force a show of hands
Rational responses force a change of plans
Anything can happen…”

—Neil Peart (now an American Citizen, by the way)

The girls listened as we explained why we celebrate the 4th of July.

"Do you know what country we live in?" I asked.

"Santa Cruz," Beatrice answered.

"No, that's the city we live in. The country we live in is --"

"California!"

Not surprising coming from young kids who experience the literal "now" and frame their responses accordingly. Even with the traveling we've done to date, the answer a few weeks ago would've been New York.

We went on to give then a very brief, high-level overview of the United States of America, sans the Revolutionary War for now, but including the fact that it's 239 years old and July 4 is its birthday.

"Is that as old as the world?"

"No, the world is billions of years old."

"Wow," Bea said, not really getting the span of geological time. Bryce had already moved on to something else.

Beatrice will start 1st grade this year and soon will begin the standardized learning of American history and beyond. Thankfully they're both still too young to fully experience the institutionalized crazy American politics has become (and actually always has been), but they are old enough to have experienced community generosity here at home and elsewhere. They've met many decent Americans from diverse backgrounds who are personally responsible citizens. No matter how viscerally frayed, thankfully the fringe on either end doesn't affect the B-hive.

At least, not yet. For the Mama and I, we revel in the fact that we live in a country where we can still "turn the channel" from detrimental viewpoints and content (in our opinion). And we can freely share our own beliefs in live and virtual forums where others can nod in agreement, responsibly disagree, or turn the channel as well. This and voting can be important catalysts for change, although economists argue that our individual votes don't really make a difference, so why do we vote, but individually the aggregate can make for very powerful and inspiring motivation.

We also pride ourselves in staying informed as much as possible, reading reputable "in the middle and a little to the left" mostly objective media outlets and listening to and/or watching the like (for me, that's NPR, hands down), and not simply overreacting when misinformation floods the social channels as it so often does (and I've gotten swept away in more than once).

Being an informed citizen free to agree or disagree, and/or participate or not in the divisive social and political rhetoric, but always participating in the betterment of society through responsible personal leadership, family, community and country and of course inspired action -- that's the part we want to live everyday.

The part when freedom rings and the independence and individuality empowers the rights of others who feel the same. The part we'll continue to celebrate and instill in our girls while negating hate, prejudice and oppression. The part when we acknowledge equality, regardless of sexual preference.

And then there's the reality that, while they may not be able be able to be whatever they want when they grow up, we do still live in a country where opportunity aspires to these ends and there's resiliency in that American economic magic.

Heck, there still may be gold in them thar hills...

Back on the Bull Like They Own the Beast

"Are those the good people?"

I don't even remember what Beatrice and I were watching, but it was age-appropriate and her question was a good one.

"Yes, they are."

"Why are they doing that to the other people?"

I opened my mouth and hesitated. Because they're the bad guys, I thought. But was that really the right answer? The bad guys actually included some girls, too. Plus, the word bad is so subjectively loaded that, even for a six-year-old, I would end up simply over-simplifying it and stereotyping it. 

For example, the world is much more complicated than that: Was it bad that if I had no other affinity or closeness with other family or friends, homeless and starving, and only a terrorist faction comforted me, providing food, a safe haven and security while systematically convincing me, a young girl, that those people over there were the real bad ones? And then shortly thereafter shooting those people right on the street, or even in their own homes? Or strapping wired explosives to my body to blow myself up in the local bazaar, or the neighborhood church, or an abortion clinic, or whatever. 

Well, was it bad? It's not good or right, but bad?

But I said it anyway, because she is only six. "Because they're the bad guys, and the good ones are stopping them."

"Stopping them why?"

From doing bad things. "From hurting the good people. Most people are good in this world, Beatrice. But there are some people who just want to take things from others and hurt them because they're really unhappy or angry or believe they're doing the right thing, and will do whatever they have to do to get what they want."

Wait, what? I didn't expect this impromptu and dichotomous sociological questioning in that moment watching a children's show, although I shouldn't have been surprised either, since Beatrice's awareness and insight have been expanding dramatically. 

I quickly added, "Sometimes good people do bad things when they're angry or sad or believe in something that's not quite right, and then sometimes are very sorry about it."

Silence. Then, "Oh, okay." And we were back to watching the show.

Not sure where all my babbling went with her. Of course we've had and continue to have the stranger-danger talks with both girls, and it's not okay to bully or be bullied talks, and the stay where I can see you talks, and the who can be in the bathroom with you talks, and the who can help you get dressed talks, and the how do you dial 9-1-1 talks, and the what is your address and phone number talks, and what to do if you get separated from us talks. All of the above and more.

However, the world is becoming more peaceful, believe it or not. Unfortunately media messiahs prey on our fears daily, skewing our world views. I've read multiple accounts the past few years of parents today remembering yesterday when they were children and ran around outside, without parental supervision, and walked, rode bikes or took city transit to school and back again. My sister and I did. Now many of us no longer let our children do the same, especially if we don't have to.

I'm not suggesting there aren't bullies, bad guys and girls out there still, because there are. Even with tethers intact, the Mama and I are teaching our girls to be bold yet aware, to protect themselves but not live in fear, to keep getting back on the bull like they own the beast, horns held tightly in hands.

The Continuous Mothering of Daddy Goat Gruff

“We go out in the world and take our chances,
Fate is just the weight of circumstances,
That's the way that lady luck dances --
Roll the bones…”

--Neil Peart

The traffic delay fired up our grumpy. No detour signs, the CHP officer out of his car but not directing traffic, the stoplight still running on its own timer -- only Caltrans and PG&E trucks blocking the highway straight ahead, forcing us to turn left and take the long way back around to get to Highway 152.

That little delay and detour tacked on another 45 minutes to the drive to my sisters to celebrate Father's Day. By the time we hit Casa de Fruta, it was pee-pee time for me and Bea. But we soon discovered that their power was out (connection then made to the nearby highway detour, Caltrans and PG&E trucks), so the only bathrooms open were portable ones with a 20+ minute wait in line.

We had parked on the other side by the playground and were worried about leaving our car with all our stuff inside, so the Mama stayed with Bryce near the car and I took Bea to wait in the bathroom line.

But then Bryce had to go, so Amy brought her over to me and then went back to drive the car over.

And the three of us waited, and waited, and waited...the girls playing in the white filler rocks that lined the children's railroad that wasn't running because of the power outage. They started filling my shorts pockets with the rocks.

"Stop it girls!" They didn't.

The Mama was nowhere to be seen. Finally, I called her.

"Where are you?!?"

"I'm in the car waiting. I peed in the bushes over here."

"What?!?"

"What do you mean what?"

"You peed in the bushes? Please bring the car over here now so you can help me with the girls."

"Um...okay. You need help taking them to the bathroom?"

I heard the sardonic edge in response to my terseness.

"Just come over here, please."

It wasn't until later on the road when I realized what I was really saying was:

"Please come over here and mother."

Not a proud moment in Daddyland.

Back to the earlier moment -- the girls strayed farther and farther from me the closer we got to our turn in the porta-potties.

"Girls, no, come back here. Stay with Daddy. Come. Back. Here. Now!"

No, no, no. Stop, stop, stop. No, no, no. Now, now, now. All the responsible and patient parenting out the frickin' window and I transformed into Daddy Goat Gruff.

Amy finally showed up and then we both "gruffly" helped the girls in the potties. Then back in the car we went.

"Please come over here and mother." Sigh.

Parenting is a team sport, I know, and I do participate fully, but will admit I lean more on the Mama than I should, especially at times when I'm stressed and am not mindful of the fleeting moment needing patience. I default to a delusional anti-pragmatic Daddy Goat Gruff who wants to cut to the chase, any chase, with a usually misunderstood and misplaced meanness. Not easy to do with little ones; not easy to do with older ones. Maybe I do it to compensate for a lifetime of being a "nice guy," wanting to be liked, and finally realizing I needed to like myself.

Plus, there's mostly unconditional love of a good woman, from my Mom to my sister to the Mama, the continuous mothering of Daddy Goat Gruff. Estrogen has always been my kryptonitic salvation.

Amen.

I was never a tough guy and never will be. My voice may carry a masculine boom, but I'm really just a loving B-hive keeper cowboy who rolls the bones while battling the weight of circumstances. I only hope that our girls take a little of my gruff perseverance to heart, to give them a little edge, to like themselves and be themselves, along with a lot of the Mama's true pragmatic vision and real-time practice.

I am B-hive, hear me bleat. 

Happy Father's Day, Girls.

God bless the Mama

It's the reactions to and reflections of the Mama that move me the most.

Although the B-hive's trust and love of the Mama are conditional -- meaning that  without the Mama's trust and love they most likely wouldn't grow and mature into unconditional adults -- the bonds of mother and child can and should be impervious to mistrust and hate.

This isn't always the case, but with us it is. Of course it also doesn't mean there aren't times when the Mama is tired and frustrated and needs a break. We must all pay respects to our cellular screams and shouts, there's no getting around that, Mama or Daddy alike. Responsible parenting is an 24/7 overtime job, but the intangible benefits of making the world a better place one moment at a time are exceeded only by experiencing the moments themselves.

When watching our girls interact with the Mama, and her with them, I feel like a Daddy anthropologist in the field taking notes on how to be a better parent. Hey, I do okay, and if I was with them all as much as she is with them, then I'm sure I'd do even better, which is why again I'm fascinated watching our family participate in life.

There's a level of patience inherent in the Mama (and mothers everywhere) that takes a lot more energy for me to measure and match. The adage of soothing the savage beast couldn't be truer when one of the girls is melting down before bed for example (or both at the same time; when one catches fire usually the other bursts into flame as well). Within minutes the raging fires are out, almost as if the Mama love is kind of an elephant tranquilizer extinguisher when necessary. (And it is, because I've experienced it myself.)

When people tell us, "Just wait until your girls are older" -- we think, "We are waiting because we're here with them today, not pretending it's tomorrow."

Our own mothers and sisters as well as mothers before them and since have had a resilience and adaptability to daily circumstance in nearly infinite settings, unrivaled domain expertise of which most others can only dream about.

God bless the Mama. Happy Mother's Day! I love you!

Learning to parent the perfect game

If everything came with a warning, would we lose our playful edge?

Don't tell that to Bryce. She'd nod aggressively and take off toddling right in the brambles of mystery and intrigue. She's all over the place, squawking and talking and climbing and falling.

All. Over. The. Place. Toddle, toddle, toddle, crash.

Even Bea, the elder who is usually is more tentative, has recently been feeling her independent oats, screeching off down the sidewalk in a catch-me-you-can cackle while we scream for her to stop, or wanting her gate down on her bed so she can get right up and scare the crap out of me, which will happen a lot more once she moves to the big-girl bed.

Bryce just turned one and Beatrice is about to turn three and start preschool, but unabashed exploration and play is such a huge part of their day.

I listened to a fascinating story recently from one of my favorite internet radio shows, Radiolab. The episode is titled Games and psychology professor Alison Gopnik explains the profound tension between play and rules. Somewhere between the ages of 3-6, once toddlers become children and start school, the free-wheeling liberalism of play becomes transformed into self-management by societal rules. Dr. Gopnik is also a big sports fan and says the perfect game in life is baseball, with its rules and structure disrupted by bursts of chaotic, free play.

Maybe. And maybe my girls will play the perfect game someday, but fast-forwarding is not my forte thankfully, because otherwise I'd be doing battle with two teenage girls, or attending college graduation, or walking them down the aisle, or holding my grandchildren, and God knows I'm not looking forward to that anytime soon.

Wait, who am I kidding? Of course I'm looking forward to every minute of chaotic, free play clashing with rules and warnings, living in the moment and learning to parent the perfect game.

Play ball.

Help give a voice to those who never found their own.

It's funny.

Then it's not.

"Studies show that if you're a lady, most men want to kill you." (from the SNL video)

The monster at the end of our house tried to kill my mother when I was 12.

More than once.

I remember one night in particular, the monster step-father calling her all sorts of names, and then:

"I will shoot you right now, you f$#%^ b%##^!"

"Just shoot me then. Get it over with."

I imagined I heard the trigger click -- I was completely paralyzed; I had no voice.

Then there was silence. Then crying.

Thank God he didn't do it, but we're pretty sure he succeeded with his previous wife and had tried with the one before that.

No, we never had hard evidence, just enough circumstantial to piece it all together. We never did anything about it; we only got ourselves out of the situation to safety. (My mother is convinced he had tried to poison her as well at one point.)

I can't imagine now where my sister and I would've been if he had succeeded. The gradual verbal and sexual abuse we experienced was enough to know that any escalation would've been been darkness infinitum.

Again, we got out and had an ally that not many people have in this situation: the police department.

My mother was the dispatch supervisor at the time and my soon to be adoptive step-father was a police detective, and when we moved out of the monster's house, we had at least 10 officers there as our protective safety net.

Not everyone makes it out alive with law enforcement by their side. One of my dear friends, Kim Wells, shared Telling Amy's Story on her blog Friday. Kim is the Executive Director of the Corporate Alliance to End Partner Violence (CAEPV) and a champion of the fact that domestic violence is "everybody's business".

Telling Amy's Story follows the timeline of a domestic violence homicide that occurred in central Pennsylvania on November 8, 2001. Amy's parents, co-workers, law enforcement officers, and court personnel share their perspectives on what happened to Amy in the weeks, months, and years leading up to her death. (Facebook page is here.)

I can't wait to watch it. The documentary will be available on Public Broadcasting Stations beginning June 1, 2010.

I'm with Kim when she says, "I hope you will share and learn."

I know not many people read my blog and most are more comfortable with my loving daddy posts about Bea and Bryce and Mama and family.

But if one person is affected for the better and finds his or her voice to help stop the cycle of violence, then it's a win.

Help give a voice to those who never found their own.

The monster at the end of this book, this house, this block and that IP address...

One of Bea's favorite upstairs books is The Monster at the End of This Book: Starring Lovable, Furry Old Grover.

I say upstairs because it's one of many favorite books we read to her in her bedroom, and then there's a whole other set of favorites downstairs in the living room, Bea's play room, which is what the living room has become (hey, we're fully prepped for Bryce -- bring him/her on).

In the story, Grover begs and pleads with the reader to not read to the end of the book because there's a horrible monster there. In fact, he does everything he can to thwart the reader, including tying pages together and building brick walls, all in hopes of stopping us from reaching the monster.

Who is Grover himself.

Grover jokes nervously that he knew the monster wouldn't be scary, but we get the fact that we can be scared of our own shadow, the mysterious other self of the unknown that is known.

***

Bea woke up yesterday morning a couple of times crying and cold. Sometimes she loses her blanket somewhere in the night and hasn't figured out how to pull it back on herself. Plus, her teeth are still coming in and bothering her.

Usually Mama gets up to console her, to tuck her in again. Sometimes she has to pull Bea in the big bed that's on the other side of the room from her crib and lay with her for a bit. Mama's always a loving comfort that way.

But yesterday morning I gave Mama a break and brought the baby monitor downstairs. When Bea started crying I went up to console her. I bent over the front of the crib, rubbed her arms softly and told her how much I loved her. I told her it wasn't time to get up yet and to go back to sleep.

She held and stroked "fuzzy" (her blanket), sucked her thumb and went back to sleep.

***

Jarred Harrell lived down the street from Somer Thompson.

***

When I was 10 and my sister 8, there was a monster who lived with our mother at the end of the house.

He was mentally ill and abusive to us all.

We had no idea at first. It totaled almost three years too long, but we got out intact.

But not unscathed.

***

The growing incivility of our children to others and acts of bullying, cyber-bullying and Internet trolling are reprehensible.

***

Last night I waited patiently with hand on Mama's belly, longing to feel Bryce move. It's still a little early for me to be able to feel, but Mama can already feel the movement -- the flipping, the flopping, the kicking and the hiccups.

It was at 21 weeks when I first felt Beatrice, so we're getting close to that window with Bryce.

***

The monster at the end of this book, this house, this block and that IP address...is us.

The difference between the real monsters and Grover is us.

God empowers the difference, but it's still up to us.

Those of us with sound hearts and minds can intervene, prevent and protect. Those of us without, cannot, and must be protected against.

***

April is National Child Abuse Prevention Month.

***

Mama and I love you Beatrice and Bryce.