Changed

I have changed.  I am completely irrational when it comes to people hurting kids.  Like as worked up as my dad gets about democrats and socialism?  I get that worked up when people hurt and abuse children.  So worked up that I sometimes forget that often these are cases where someone has been accused of child abuse, that it still needs to be proven in court (which are two very different things).  Maybe even worse, because I feel justified in this anger.  And, I will admit, it's worse because the addition of Nico to our family has changed my opinion about what I can do.

I have always thought I could do anything that I decided I wanted to do.  Go to college on a soccer scholarship, although I only started playing soccer in 10th grade?  Check. Play in the W-League 5 years after finishing my college career?  Check.  Pass comps?  Check.  Run a marathon? Check.  Be a good teacher?  Check.   Coach soccer?  Check.  Seriously, if I decide I want to do something, it's done.  It's the main reason why I have no questions or doubts about my ability to finish this degree and not spend the rest of my life ABD.  Yes, it might take me a little longer, but once I have decided I want it, it's done. End of story.

But with Nico in the mix now?  I REALLY feel like I can do anything.  It's funny, because I am more tired now than I have ever been in my life.  I am more worn out.  I can't manage to stay on top of the dishes or the laundry or making sure that he has clean cloth diapers (and thus forcing us to resort to using disposables... yes I am a bad hippie... don't judge me.  And don't tell The Original Hippie).  Hell, I will even admit to the fact that Nico has gone to bed in a tshirt and a diaper for the last two nights because he doesnt have any clean sleepers (he has probably 20 sleepers... meaning that he has 20 sleepers that need to be washed).  But that is neither here nor there, because I feel like if we were in an accident and the car was upside down, that I could rip his car seat out of the back seat.  I feel like if we went off a bridge or somehow ended up in a pond that there would be no question about us making it out alive... I feel like if  we were in some sort of catastrophe, that he would be just fine... that bullets would bounce off of me, that I would be flame retardant, you name it.  It's exhilirating and mindblowing and breathtaking and overwhelming all at the same time. 

I think it's natural that when you hear about shocking news stories to think about what would happen if it were you?  How would you react?  As parents, how would you reacto to THIS?  Or THIS?  Or THIS?  Or THIS? 

So I came across a video last night on the baby center website about a nanny cam.  It was a news story about a couple who installed a nanny cam.  It made me so upset that I can't even go onto the web to find the video... I am starting to tear up thinking about it.  The parents started watching the video one night shortly after installing the camera and found that the nanny wasn't actually as attentive as she seemed.  Rather than going outside and reading books and playing and whatnot, which is what she said she did, she basically sat the baby (11 month old) in front of the TV all day.  Which would be egregious enough, I think.  So they called her and fired her on the spot. 

Well, they kept watching and came across footage of this nanny that is horrible... at one point she snatches and grabs this baby from the corner and drags him by one arm across the floor and drops him on the carpet.  She slings him around by his arms into the pack and play.  She throws a bouncy ball at this baby's face and knocks him over (several times).  At one point, he is just sitting there with the ball in front of him, touching it, looking at it and she grabs it from him and throws it at him.  When she goes to put socks on him and he starts to wriggle, she hits him- 11 times. 

The baby survived.  He is okay.  He may not even remember the incident that was caught on tape.

To me, the sadder thing is that here this baby is trying to figure out the world around him and he's afraid of the person who spends most of his day with. 

I am not ashamed to admit that if it were me, this woman wouldn't have been fired.  She would have gotten the same treatment, only with a baseball bat.  Or a golf club.  And I would have gladly gone to jail for it.  I'd do that time standing on my head, with no regrets.  How is treating a baby like that ever excusable?