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  • Stop Public Shaming Our Kids

    Stop Public Shaming Our Kids

    Behavior Management and Public Shaming.

    I am the father of a teenager. The #1 rule I’ve learned is to not embarrass my teenager in front of their peers.

    I get it. I respect that.

    Here’s my question. Why do we hang “behavior charts” in public for everyone to see?

    Why, when a student is having a hard time, does everyone have to know?

    Why does everyone have to be reminded that Billy is struggling, or made a mistake, every time they look at the chart?

    Why do we do it?

    Why do teachers embarrass their students when they mess up?

    How is a kid supposed to feel safe in a classroom where every time they make a mistake, they get embarrassed in front of their peers?

  • I Gave Up Being A Mother To Indulge Myself

    I Gave Up Being A Mother To Indulge Myself

    I’m about to hit a “perfect parent”‘s nerve here, but to be quite frank, I’m way past the point of caring.

    I do not give a fuck. No fucks given whatsoever.

    If you’re a mum, you’re probably on a mum’s advice page on Facebook, right? 

    I am, too.  

    I asked a fair question and I was practically mauled by a pack of dogs for it.

    I bet you’re dying to know what it was that I asked, so here it is…

    “My ex-partner has a full time job, he earns £30k plus, he has plenty of disposable income and pays nothing for our child. Am I wrong in stopping contact?”

    Apparently, I was; I was a bitch apparently and God only knows what else.

    So, after a lot of thinking, do you know what I did?

    I decided I couldn’t be bothered to be a mother anymore; yeah, I put myself before my kids. 

    What do they matter anyway? They’re just an inconvenience.

    So, I woke up this morning as usual; I’d usually give my children some breakfast and some juice before school, but today I decided to give it a miss – I scoffed mine down, though. 

    I didn’t bother buying toothpaste when I went shopping either, so they’ll have to skip brushing their teeth aswell – I bought myself some, though. 

    So, then, I made sure the kids were dressed in filthy clothes, ready for school – mine were clean, though.

    It was raining today, but I sent my eldest to school on his own, with no coat. He’ll have to stay indoors and play on his own – coats aren’t cheap, especially mine.

    I went to work as soon as he left. I left my youngest at home, though – I’m not wasting £50 a day on childcare.

    Who has that kind of money to spend?!

    I then had a call from the school to ask why my eldest child wasn’t attending his educational school trip – truth is, I spent his trip money on cigarettes.

    I got home from work and they were both sat in the cold and dark – I spent the electricity and gas money on a night out.

    They started to complain they were hungry again – tough, I’m getting a takeaway when they go to bed. 

    They can skip having a bath and go straight to bed, they can surivive without a wash. 

    It’s Saturday tomorrow, the kids are off and I think we’ll just stay in because I’m skint – I went a bit mad on buying myself new clothes last week.

    Actually, I’ve got a bit of cash spare, I’ll fuck off out for the weekend instead and won’t bother making the effort.

    Of course, I would never do this to my children. 

    Who in their right fucking mind would do this to their child? 

    A man would, that’s who (and apparently some women do aswell).

    If a woman behaved this way, she would have her children taken away and placed in to care – no questions asked.

    So, tell me this – why is it okay for a man not to provide for his children and still think he’s entitled to a relationship with his child?

    There are exceptions, of course – there always are. But, if you work and have money to spend on yourself, you can spend it on your child.

    No fucking excuses.

    Stop defending a man for being a man, it’s WRONG.

    Credit @theunicorninblack

  • Some Children Are Just Born Feral

    Some Children Are Just Born Feral

    Some children are just born feral.

    Parents can potty train and sleep train and teach manners until their brains are about to explode, but there are some children who, for some reason God only knows, can’t be tamed.

    They are the kids who pull their diapers off and paint the house with their own poop.

    They are the kids who eat dead bugs off the floor and shove TNT snap-n-pops into their ear canals. They are the kids who meet your emergency room deductible by February.

    They are the kids who are responsible for your forehead wrinkles and every, single gray hair. They play too close to the water, run through the hallways with forks, and somehow (like really, HOW?) climb the fireplace mantle.

    Like I said, some children are just born feral.

    So, what should parents do with these tiny little wildebeests?

    Society certainly has opinions. Experts have their theories. Authors have their books. Pharmacies have their pharms.

    Little old ladies are going to stop and shake their heads and their long-wrinkled fingers, because they think they know.

    But, parents, listen to me right now because I’m going to save you some serious heartache and stress:

    NOTHING 👏 IS 👏 GONNA 👏 TAME 👏 A 👏 FERAL 👏 BORN 👏 CHILD.

    So, cover your electric outlets with plastic plugs and anchor your furniture to the floor. Hide your batteries on the highest shelf and lower that crib mattress a little more.

    Hide your pets, put your forks and knives in a secret drawer (Then maybe move them once a week, just to be safe.)

    Because you aren’t going to tame that feral child. Best you can hope for is to simply survive them.

    And if some Know-It-All wants to tell you otherwise, you go find them a drunk and hungry hyena. Shove it into some Doc McStuffins pull-ups and drop it off at that Know-It-All’s house. Tell them it likes to eat broccoli and really needs a bath.

    Then go back in 24 hours and see how confident Mr. Know-It-All still feels about parenting your feral born child.

    Now it’s true that parents of feral children are tired.

    Our hair is all frazzled and our houses falling apart brick by brick. We have long since given up on trying to impress the world with our awesome, awesome parenting skills.

    We are okay with the fact that our child is wild. We are okay with the mess and the noise.

    Believe it or not, we even RELISH IT.

    (A little bit.)

    Because only a feral child can teach you to see the world through an unfiltered lens. Only a feral child can see a world of adventure in 1/8-acre flat, grassy lawn. Only a wild, unadulterated spirit knows the joy of streaking through the house after a bath, screaming like a banshee and feeling the wind on their buck-naked skin.

    It’s a little crazy, but let’s be honest: it’s pretty freaking fun.

    Some children are just born feral. It’s true.

    The sooner we accept that, the better off we will be. And just a thought, but maybe…just maybe…

    We have a little bit to learn from these wild at heart, freedom-filled, life-relishing little humans.

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/MKBackstrom

  • Children Lined Up In Comas With Parents Waiting For Them To Die

    Children Lined Up In Comas With Parents Waiting For Them To Die

    This is known as one of medicine’s most incredible moments. In 1922, at the University of Toronto, scientists went to a hospital ward with children who were comatose and dying from diabetic keto-acidosis.

    Imagine a room full of parents sitting at the bedside waiting for the inevitable death of their child. The scientists went from bed to bed and injected the children with the new purified extract – insulin.

    As they began to inject the last comatose child, the first child injected began to awaken. One by one, all of the children awoke from their diabetic comas. A room of death and gloom, became a place of joy and hope. All thanks to Dr. Banting and Dr. Best!

  • Imagine fighting to escape the arms of the one person who is supposed to protect you

    Imagine fighting to escape the arms of the one person who is supposed to protect you

    Imagine fighting to escape the arms of the
    one person who is supposed to protect you. The one person you trust more than anyone in the world, holds you down in order to allow someone else to hurt you. That person’s short list of excuses include:
    .
    They won’t remember
    I think they look cute
    MY baby, MY choice
    I can do whatever I want to MY kid
    .
    Children are human beings deserving of basic human rights. Hold down an adult & mutilate their body, you will be arrested. Hold down a defenseless child & mutilate their body, you will be praised by society.
    .
    Love your children, don’t hurt them. No infant in the history of humanhood as ever asked for metal rods to be shoved through parts of their body to make someone else happy. It isn’t cute, its an abuse of power. And don’t come here with your “it was done to me & I’m fine,” “I didn’t hold my baby down,” or “my baby didn’t cry.”
    .
    In what other abusive scenario would these excuses work? Beatings? It was done to me & I’m fine. Neglect? I didn’t hold my baby down. Starvation? My baby didn’t even cry. Abuse is abuse!

  • I Lost My Child Today, People Came To Weep And Cry

    I Lost My Child Today, People Came To Weep And Cry

    I lost my child today.
    People came to weep and cry, as I just sat and stared, dry eyed. They struggled to find words to say, to try and make the pain go away, I walked the floor in disbelief, I lost my child today.

    I lost my child last month.
    Most of the people went away, some still call and some still stay. I wait to wake up from this dream. This can’t be real. I want to scream. Yet everything is locked inside, God, help me, I want to die. I lost my child last month.

    I lost my child last year.
    Now people who had come, have gone. I sit and struggle all day long. To bear the pain so deep inside. And now my friends just question, Why? Why does this mother not move on? Just sits and sings the same old song. Good heavens, it has been so long. I lost my child last year.

    Time has not moved on for me.
    The numbness it has disappeared.
    My eyes have now cried many tears.

    I see the look upon your face,
    “She must move on and leave this place.”

    Yet I am trapped right here in time.
    The song’s the same, as is the rhyme.
    I lost my child… Today.

    Words © Netta Wilson

  • We Haven’t Begun To Process How Traumatised We Were In 2020

    We Haven’t Begun To Process How Traumatised We Were In 2020

    MARCH ON

    You’re probably wondering how on earth we find ourselves in the the tail end of 2021, when we haven’t even begun to process how traumatised we were by 2020.
    You’re probably wondering what happened to the time in between.
    You’re probably feeling as though your life has stalled, paused, as though you’re playing catch up, re-learning how to walk, as it were.

    And the truth is, you probably are.

    The truth is, that we are in no way prepared for the onslaught of 2022, nor are we in anyway over 2020.
    But that’s ok.
    We are all the same.
    Confused, dazed, slightly untrusting, wary.
    Fatter, a touch more cynical and a whole lot more tired.

    But we are here.
    And just as Lady Time keeps marching on,
    so shall we.
    You don’t have to know the way.
    You just have to trust.
    March on and trust.

    Better things are coming.

    Donna Ashworth

    Art by Catrin Welz-Stein

  • The Kids Of 2020

    THE KIDS OF 2020

    If you find yourself changed by the events of this decade so far,
    imagine how it’s affected the kids.
    We have been alive for many years and been through a lot,
    you and I,
    and yet,
    this has hit us pretty hard and shaken our very core.
    Based on percentages,
    the kids now only really know and remember this ‘new normal’.
    The old days will be very much in the past to them,
    on the scale of their little lives.
    So, as they leave the safety of summer and head back into this ever-changing world.
    Remember, they are kids.
    Let them fidget,
    let them cry,
    let them come home and fuss over nothing,
    let them cuddle a little longer,
    let them into your bed if that’s where they find their peace.
    They are not with us for long.
    And this world is scary right now, so much change and so much risk and the talk of ‘going backwards’ an ever present threat.

    And as for the teenagers, try looking through their bolshy exteriors and see the inner child cowering inside.

    Let the kids do what they need to, they have been through a lot.

    Donna Ashworth

    Art by Lucy Campbell ‘Starry Bear’ Lucy Campbell

  • For People Who Work In Care

    For people who work in care, 🥰
    checking and changing pads is the norm.
    you know loads of old songs.
    your team of 2 can get over 20 adults in to bed within an hour or so making sure 100% care and dignity is given.
    you find yourself repeating things you say just to make a dementia patient feel safe.

    the word CQC sends panic through you even though you know everything will be fine.

    if you don’t come home exhausted and sweaty you know you haven’t worked the hardest that you can, after a long hard day.

    you hate it when your friends say “why are you so tired? you only wipe bums and make cups of tea all day” forgetting that care is 100x more than that.
    you know what everyone likes for breakfast and how they like their tea/coffee without even having to ask them and you also know their favourite place to sit, time to go to bed and favourite thing to watch or do.

    you struggle on a daily basis to try and get people to eat and drink fluids just so they stay alive.

    you can recite all the bowel types and a detailed explanation of what they look like without looking at the chart.

    there are hundreds of clothes and footwear but you know who they belong to.

    you’re there when they wake up and there when they go to sleep.
    you’re there on the good days and the bad.
    you’re also there when they need end of life care right up until their last breath, putting your own fears aside and talking to them or stroking their hair as they take their shallow breaths.

    you care for these people like they are your own, helping them, listening, reassuring, laughing, cuddling.

    you leave work looking like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards despite leaving the house in a respectable way hours earlier, but you know what?
    i’m a carer and I’m PROUD! 👩🏻‍⚕️

    I’m proud of all my team whom work so hard day in day out. During normal times and the toughest we have even seen due to COVID-19.

    We are NOT unskilled workers – we are hard working with individual talents , knowledge, we all have training in specific areas of the care sector so for those who say it’s easy come give me 12 hours of you time and I’ll show you just what it takes to be care worker!!

  • Do You Pick Him Up Every Time He Cries?

    “Do you pick him up every time he cries?”

    Yes. Why wouldn’t I?
    As long as I am physically able, I sure do.

    People are obsessed with over-complicating a child’s needs.

    The need to be held, hugged and loved is just as important as the need to be changed and fed, even more so.

    If you were upset and crying in a room with the ONE person who is supposed to take care of you and love you most in the world, and they just stood there ignoring you.. how would that make you feel?

    If you’ve been in that situation, you know.

    I don’t care if my kid is 2 or 10 or 35… I’m their mama, and I will always hold them if they need me to.

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/alyssa.sosnowski