Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #104: Everyone’s a Predator

The huz and I ran some errands yesterday with our son. Our son is almost two years old. At one of the stores we were at, some guy took a real interest in our son. He got real close to him, and asked us his name, if he’s talking, what kinds of things he likes, etc. I wedged myself between him and my son because I immediately disliked him and his questions.

Later, when we were driving to another errand, I asked my husband what he thought of that freak in the store who talked to our son. My husband could tell what I thought of him from the way I had asked him the question, and he said “He’s probably harmless”. I said “Why? Because you want him to be?” He said “No, because I know the statistics. Most people are not out to harm our son.”

That statement gave me pause for thought. In my mind, most people are out to harm my son. The world is one big predator waiting for me to drop my guard so they can hurt him in some way. It is one of the many reasons I am constantly on guard when I am alone with my son. My husband, however, was raised in an idyllic place with a lovely childhood where he was safe all the time, and no one hurt him. His parents never even hit him because they don’t justify the use of violence with children. I imagine that if I grew up in such a safe world where no one ever fucked me, I might also have the luxury of thinking that the freak in the store was interested in my child because of some innocent reason. Instead, I grew up in an unsafe home and am consequently all too aware of the pedophilic tendencies of people in the general society.

My husband grew up in a safe home, and I did not. My husband’s body was always his own, and no one ever used it against his will, or took advantage of him in disgusting unscrupulous ways. My body was not my own with a babysitter, a brother, and a father.

My husband thinks no one is a predator, and I know that everyone is. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #99: The Inability to Take My Son to the Park

Last night I called my sister in law to see if she wanted to get together today. I figured we could go to the park and bring our kids, and this way my son could do the thing he loves most in the world which is running around outside. I left a message on her answering machine, and she never called me back.

I tried so hard today to get the courage up to take my son to the park by myself. Or shit, even to our own backyard. And I couldn’t do either. I resorted to playing shitty games with him inside on this beautiful day. He was bored and I was bored.

I got depressed by the end of the day, hating myself for the kind of mother I am to him. I have wanted a baby my whole life, and now that I have one, I am fucking it all up. I called my mom tonight and told her how shitty I am at this. She said “I don’t know one mother who doesn’t feel guilty about something.” That’s probably true, but it didn’t make me feel better.

I don’t mean to ‘should’ all over myself, but really, I should be able to take my kid to the park or my own backyard. In my head though, there is always someone waiting there for some unsuspecting idiot (me) to have her guard down and then he will use that opportunity to take my kid or hurt me or hurt us or whatever. So I always chicken out of going outside without another adult present.

In my life so far, I have learned that when other adults are not present, people use my body against my will. This happened with my babysitter when I was less than five. This happened with my brother when I was eight. And it happened with my dad when I was 15. Now I’m scared of being alone and not having another adult present who is on my side. Now that I have seen evil, I know for sure it exists. And I have no compulsion to see it again.

Not being able to take my kid outside on beautiful days. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #98: M.A.S.H.
June 9, 2009, 12:22 pm
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I was in a meeting yesterday where a Vietnam vet said “40 years ago today I was sitting in a M.A.S.H. unit, and it’s affecting me today.” Everyone at the table, including me, was awed.

I thought about it for a while. Can you imagine if I said “30 years ago, a babysitter fucked my brother and I, and it’s affecting me today.” Immediately would be an air of suspicion, an air of ‘is she telling the truth’? Somehow, the idea that people can blow each other to shreds in a war is acceptable and believable, but the idea that adults fuck kids and it traumatizes them, this somehow is too much for people to bear.

I guess maybe it’s too hard for people to be conscious of the shitty things people do to children. I mean, we live in a culture that thinks it’s okay to hit kids. We rationalize that it’s for their own good, and the Bible says it’s okay. The Bible. Yeah. That is where I am going to base my life decisions. A book that was written by a bunch of men a couple thousand years ago. The Bible says a lot of shit, like that it’s okay to own slaves, but no one likes that part so we ignore it.

My point is, in a culture that idolizes war and violence, but ignores child sexual abuse, it’s okay for a Vietnam vet to say “Fucked up shit happened to me and I am fucked up by it”, but a survivor can’t go public in the same way because we are instantly met with suspicion, so we are silenced from speaking about what happened to us. It’s one of the many reasons I have to go by ‘Butterfly’ and not my real name.

This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. If you’re willing to do it, or willing to live in a society that does it, the very least you can do is bear witness to those of us who lived it.



Reason #93: George Strait

Among all of my mishegas is this song “Run” by George Strait. It’s such a pretty song, and when it first came out I listened to it a lot. However, it seemed like every time I listened to it, I lost someone. Now, it usually turned out that each person I lost wasn’t really so good for me anyway, but still I got to be afraid of the song. When the huz and I started dating, I got real scared of the song and forbade the song in my near proximity.

As you all know, I went away with the huz this last week. I Tivo’d the country music special about George Strait. Sure enough, Taylor Swift sang that song, my beloved but fearful song. She did a lovely job, and I love the song just as much now as I did then.

I am of course terrified that I am going to lose someone now. I did the unthinkable, listen to a song that has scary things happen when I hear it. And this is why you shouldn’t fuck kids, because I believe that a song has scary properties attached to it just by virtue of me listening to it. I suppose it’s ridiculous. I even feel ridiculous typing it out. But the more I think about it, why is it any more ridiculous than anything else? It’s ridiculous for a babysitter to come into our home and molest two little children, so why is being afraid of a song any more ridiculous than that? Now that I know for sure that such things happen to kids, I am afraid of songs.



Reason #72: Passover
April 9, 2009, 11:41 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , ,

For us Jews, the holiday of Passover has begun. Passover is about the fact that in ancient times, The Pharaoh freed the Jewish slaves.

My mom sent me this e-mail yesterday: “Have a good Passover. May we all find freedom from our own bondage. Love Mom.”

My mom has been my ally in the aftermath of surviving child sexual abuse. When she wrote that e-mail to me, she knew exactly the bondage I am in.

If that babysitter fucked me when I was five, then I have been in this bondage of fear and panic for 30 years. Maybe this Passover, I will be freed from my bondage the way my ancestors were freed from theirs all those years ago.

My mom’s message was so poignant that I am going to wish it on all of you survivors reading my blog. May we all find freedom from our bondage.



Reason #58: Getting up before you are ready
March 19, 2009, 10:10 am
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Last night, the huz and I were so tired. You know that kind of tired, when you are soooo looking forward to bed because you just can’t wait to sleep. The kind of tired where sleep sounds more inviting than sex (which for us is every night, but that’s another post).

This morning I woke up at 5AM because I had to pee. The huz gets up every day at 5AM to work out. I go pee, he goes to work out, and I am left with a decision about going back into the dark room. The baby sleeps in our room with us (that’s another post too) so we try to keep it dark in there. We notice that he sleeps longer/better if it is dark, like most humans do. I try to go back in the room, but I am immediately panicked about the darkness.

I turn on a light. A small light. The baby stirs. I shut the light off. I start breathing funny. Those of you with kids know good and well that you NEVER wake them. Their sleep is like the holy grail of time – it is sacred.

So now I am standing in the dark room unsure what to do. I lay in bed, all kinds of horrible scenarios running through my panicked mind. I tell myself “I am safe, the husband is downstairs, no one could have gotten into the bedroom in the three seconds that it took for him to walk downstairs and I came out of the bathroom. It’s okay.” But I don’t believe myself, and I continue to be afraid.

I turn the tv on, but mute it. The flickering light might wake the baby. I am taking a chance here and I know it. I let the light bathe me in relief from my fear for a second before I turn it off to face my fear again. I try to fight it. I keep my happy thoughts nearby. My fearful ones keep returning and I keep battling them in a bid for sleep.

I lose the fight, get up, and go on the computer. And here I am. I would rather be sleeping than typing in some shit about why you shouldn’t fuck kids, and this is precisely why you shouldn’t fuck kids. I have been sleeping/waking like this for 30 years.

That babysitter fucked me 30 years ago when I was five years old. I wonder how her sleep is.



Reason 51: Underwear Mishegaas

For those of you non-Jews out there, mishegaas is a yiddish word that means ‘craziness’, and that is what I am experiencing. Underwear craziness. Seriously.

The only two colors left in my drawer this morning when I went to pick my underwear were blue and black.  Now, I didn’t want to pick blue because it could mean bad things and I didn’t want to pick black because it could mean bad things.  I wear black on the outside all the time, but this black would be close to my vagina and I don’t want black or blue close to my vagina. But I only had the two pairs.  What to do, what to do.  The thing is, I wore the red ones on the day I needed extra luck because red wards off evil (Jewish superstition), and I wore purple on the day I was looking towards healing, and I wore the pink ones figuring it’s in the same family as red so it’s okay too.

But today, you see, I was left with just the blue and the black pair.  Now, blue I figure would mean ill health.  No reasonable reason why that would be, but then none of this shit is reasonable.  Fucking kids isn’t reasonable either yet people do it.  I wore the black pair today figuring I always wear black on the outside, maybe it would fool whatever powers that be into thinking that it is really just part of my outside outfit.

Here’s the best part.  I asked G-d to bless the underwear before I put them on.  If G-d blesses the black underwear, then it is okay to wear them.  G-d can certainly wash away any color weirdness that might accidentally result in my unintentionally wearing a color that attracts evil.

Seriously, this is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  I mean, come on, underwear color mishegaas.  I literally pray for my fucking underwear.  That’s fucked up right there.  I am reasonably certain that had that babysitter not entered our lives and shown me that bad things can happen to good people, I would not continually be trying to ward off surprise badness that might come via my color choices for underwear.




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