Possibly Overly Self-Centered Ramblings (at least I'm honest...right?)

ABC, or at least the Boston/Manchester ABC affiliates, pulled a bait and switch with today's Oprah broadcast. The guide told me that today was the blooper show. Promos have run all week for it, in fact. Instead, what I saw was the first few minutes of the show the guide claimed played yesterday, about a little boy whose father and step mother were unbelievable monsters who kept him chained and locked in a bathroom closet. I don't know that I would knowingly have watched that episode - thinking it was on yesterday, I sure didn't. But it caught me off guard and I started to watch. I think I shouldn't have.

There are certain news stories, or stories on Oprah, or what have you, that stick with me. Most of them are about little boys. I'd say it's a result of my being the mother of a little boy, which I think is part of it, but this actually started long before I had him. It probably started when my second grade teacher described, in detail, what had happened to Adam Walsh (which I think I've mentioned here before). Or maybe it started because I had two little brothers, of whom I was, and am, fiercely protective.

There was the case maybe a month or so ago, wherein a mother and her boyfriend beat and kicked a three year old to death for wetting his pants. I don't remember how I stumbled across that one, but it quite literally made me physically ill to think of it, particularly since I'm also in the process of potty training a three year old, and while I realize how frustrating it is to do this, I cannot, cannot, cannot imagine ever hurting him for wetting his pants. He gets so upset when he does it that I can't imagine making that worse.

I think what really killed me with this Oprah was when they played the police recordings of this kid, at six years old, describing what had happened to him. Sure, it would've been horrifying regardless, but hearing that little voice describe it was physically painful.

Those ubiquitous "they" always say that when you become a mother, you suddenly cannot hear these kinds of stories without relating them to your own child/children. I guess that's true. But since this is a lifelong thing with me, there is this part of me that feels like it's my higher self or intuition telling me I should DO something about it- help in some way. But...what? That's what I need to figure out.