Children of the Corn Part 2 - Spootie

Sometimes, the most frightening of the Subversives is the middle child - the only other holder of estrogen in our house. Spootie is 12 - but she reminds me frequently that she's almost 13 - and wanting to be 16 so she can drive. I mention to her that she is already driving - she is driving me nuts! Talk about hormonal imbalances as she approaches "the curse". I thought *I* was a case during pregnancy - you know, crying at Hallmark commercials and laughing hysterically at America's Funniest Home Videos, none of which really merit hysterical laughter.

1. Spootie actually is very artistic and, like many girls her age, LOVES animals. That is, she loves animals until she realizes how much care is involved. We have had in "her" care a few hamsters (all dead now), a guinea pig (dead), a fish (amazingly not dead), a couple of dogs (one dead, one relocated), and a foster-cat (I refused to have a permanent cat). The novelty wears off and then the poop scooping, cage cleaning, feeding, exercising and other such responsibilities leave her realm and enter mine.
2. She has a wonderful imagination and a rather "mature" sense of humor - she likes Monty Python. She can also sling some pretty nasty verbal barbs at Ookpik, her Sarcasm Mentor. (And I fervently deny ever having taught HIM how to be sarcastic.)
3. While she is an above-average student she doesn't like to study or do math. If she had a little more drive and a lot more energy to actually work on a project beyond the last minute, she'd be exceptional. Her favorite subjects seem to be Language Arts and Info Tech(computers)... but only if you don't let her count Recess and Lunch.
4. She is definitely a social butterfly and has proven ability in multi-tasking: she can do homework, talk on the phone, and MSN at least 3 different people all at the same time.
5. Spootie is pushing for the right to wear makeup already. I am constantly faced with her pleas to be allowed to wear eye liner or eye shadow. I think not. And this isn't about "play" makeup either like I begged for when I was a kid her age. This is the result of the marketing assault on our young daughters by the people who brought you Britney, Christina, and Beyonce. (But THAT is another rant for another day.)

So, that is Subversive #2... I am sure there will be more entries here about Spootie at a later date.
Later, the next installment: Children of the Corn Part 3 - Sk8rBoi

Children of the Corn Part 1 - Ookpik

You know that movie where the freaky blonde kids come out of the corn patch possessed by some dark unseen force and determined to murder all the grown ups? Well, my children, while neither zombified or with glow-in-the-dark eyeballs, are still sometimes just as frightening. I refer to them affectionately as my Subversives.

Let me introduce an old-souled individual who, at 17 going on 18, bewilders me with his behavior that fluctuates between mature and maniacal. We will call him Ookpik because if I reveal his true identity he will never forgive me and I sooooo want to be invited to his graduation and maybe even his wedding. He is, if a mother can brag, a pretty awesome kid.

1. He does well in school (well, compared to most people) and is very involved with different character-building organizations and activities. Although I think he's going to eventually drop a couple of them as school and the grades he has to get are starting to take their toll.
2. He doesn't do drugs (according to him, he doesn't need to because he already acts like his brain is fried).
3. He has decided, (so he vows to me) to not indulge in promiscuous sexual activity. In fact, I'm telling myself over and over again that there is NO sexual activity at all. Call it what you will, just don't call it DENIAL. Don't get me wrong - he's an attractive lad - apparently attractive to both genders. He's been hit on by both!
4. He's what is sometimes referred to as "metrosexual" [n. An urban male with a strong aesthetic sense who spends a great deal of time and money on his appearance and lifestyle.]. In his case, not so much time and money spent on his appearance and lifestyle but only because there isn't much of either. But he can cook, sew, do his own laundry, IRON!, polish shoes, tell a decent joke, converse intelligently with adults and geriatrics, relate well to small children who find him amusing and sympathetic... I guess he's something of a "Renaissance Teen"...

This is the child who shouldn't have been. I was unknowingly pregnant (long story) and trying to get a divorce from an abusive husband. I went horseback riding to clear my head and due to substandard care by the folks at the horse rental facility, I ended up with an improperly bridled psycho-steed and was thrown onto some rocks, sustaining a compound fracture to my right femur and feeling like that would be the end of my 26 years of existence. Obviously, it wasn't. I was found, taken to hospital, and subjected to about 20 X-rays (having answered the question "Are you pregnant?" with a definitive "No way."). Then I underwent 6 hours of surgery under general anesthetic to repair the broken femur. According to my brother who came to the emergency room, I looked pretty bad - bruises all over my arms and a puncture to my lower right abdomen from landing on the rocks. Anyway, after 6 wks in the hospital - all the while complaining that hospitals nauseated me because I felt, well, NAUSEOUS every morning (DUH) - I went to see my GP. Well, the rabbit died and turns out I was almost 20 wks pregnant. The GP suggested I abort the baby. She said that with everything that had happened, the baby had a 99% chance of suffering from some abnormality such as deafness, mental retardation, physical malformations... I thought about it and decided that if God had let this baby live and stay attached to the umbilicus, that I was NOT going to change that plan. Personal choice.

Well, he's fine. In fact, he's more than fine. He's been deemed "gifted" (although he denies it frequently) and we do not notice any major physical or mental problems (yet).

I eventually did get the divorce just over a year after Ookpik let out his first holler and the ex signed away his parental rights to the child (or so I thought - see RANT below) because he didn't want to pay the court-designated child maintenanc. So he decided he didn't want to have anything more to do with me or Ookpik. Ookpik and I changed our names back to my maiden name and never looked back.

Now, as for the parental rights bit, I have recently been informed by the Ministry of Vital Stats that in order for me to legally change Ookpik's name to the one he's used for the past 14 years since I married my permanent spouse - the only man who has functioned as and who he recognizes as DAD - I am obligated to get in touch with the ex and ask him to give me his consent! I explained to the paper pushing waiting-for-my-pension bureaucrat that the ex hasn't paid a dime in all these years, hasn't shown an interest in or seen Ookpik in more than 13 years and I could not understand WHY the insisted that I have to ask for his permission! I'm fighting to have them waive their requirement - especially since they've already processed the $140+ fee. But you all know what it's like to fight the Bureaucracy.

Later, the next installment: Children of the Corn Part 2 - Spootie

Fall - SOGGY EVERYTHING

... and cold to boot. The Lower Mainland can be so beautiful, but honestly the rain and the damp make for dismal days. I enjoy the Autumn season - the change of temperature, the beauty of the leaves in an array of color, the geese flying to warmer climes, the kids being back at school and not lounging around the house. I think I like Fall fashions best too. Crisp Fall days allow you to wear a really nice warm sweater without having to try and squeeze into a heavy coat that has too-tight armholes that prevent you from being able to brush your hair out of your face because you can't raise your arms.

Let the Madness Begin...

And so I scream... Currently, I scream silently because it bothers less people. And I don't like to bother people... not intentionally. I can be such a wimp. Some people SHOULD be bothered... other people ARE a bother... most people bother me.

Have you ever wanted to stand in a public square and just holler? Primally, gutterally, ear-piercingly, mind-numbingly, scream-'til-your-throat-hurts, eye-bugging, animal-frightening scream. I can't say that I've ever wanted to... only because I'm afraid I won't be able to stop unless I'm arrested, or tackled to the ground and put in a straightjacket, or my head explodes (and that's a real bummer of a side-effect). But, Lord knows, I HAVE indeed wanted to scream.

I would like to be one of those perpetually calm and serene people. Although I suspect most of them scream silently or at least into pillows when nobody is looking.

What is screaming? It's a release. It's a vent to keep the volcano from erupting and washing over everything with hot lava. It's Old Faithful for the emotionally hot-and-bothered. I may not always scream here, but if I do, I'll make sure you hear it... but only if you want to. (Wimp!)