The Man's cousin, I'll call her Kiki, is staying with us while she's visiting Canada. Kiki's mother and Man's father are brother and sister, so that makes Man and Kiki first cousins.
In 1949, Kiki's mother, I'll call her Jiki, had a daughter out of wedlock. She gave the daughter up for adoption. In the mid-1980s, this daughter, let's call her Liki, found Jiki in Australia. Liki's adoptive father started a service in the 80s to help adopted children locate their birth parents. I guess that's how Liki found her birth mother.
At that time, Jiki communicated with Liki for about two years by mail. There was a phone call. But Jiki finally told Liki she didn't want to communicate any more. However, Jiki kept Liki's correspondence and filed them away. She was a geneologist after all.
Jiki passed away two years ago. Her daughters from her marriage, Siki and Kiki came to Canada to reconnect with their mother's family. Kiki is now on her third visit to us. The last two times Kiki visited, she wanted to look Liki up. But she never had the time or the required information to locate her, what with so many relatives to visit and all. This time, Kiki made a point of getting the needed info to find Liki. Tonight, Kiki found her.
Liki is Kiki's half sister. Because Liki is also Jiki's daughter, that makes her Man's first cousin as well. That means, the Boy has another second cousin. I'm just an outsider watching all this.
Liki is 56, divorced and lives in Ottawa. She has two children in their twenties who are attending university in Guelph. Kiki and Liki are talking about meeting each other, either in Ottawa or in TO. It will probably happen this week or next. Certainly before Kiki returns to Australia.
They have never met, yet came from the same mother. Are they really such strangers? Will they feel an instant bond? What parallels exist in their lives that were genetically determined?
This is all very exciting and heart-warming, watching new family ties form. Liki had sought out her birth mother 20 years ago when she was in a difficult phase of life. Kiki and Siki reconnected with their mother's family after she passed away. The continuation of that process now is the search for their half sister, Liki. Life, loss, death and rebirth. Loss and death make us want to forge new ties to reaffirm life.
Can't wait to see how their lives are reshaped.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Night Duty
The Boy just turned 15. He often acts 8. For his birthday weekend, he had two sleepovers, back to back. That means two nights of going to bed late. He ate junk food and drank Coke most of the time. Without being a party-pooper, what can a mother do?
On Monday, he refused the healthy meatball and vegetable soup I made for dinner. Instead, he ate Goldfish, chips and had more Coke. I am trying to treat him like a 15 year old. I warned him against such a diet. He scoffed at me, turned tail, and ensconced himself in the basement all evening to watch TV.
He is living in the basement for two weeks because we have a guest in the house who is using his bedroom. He doesn't mind giving up his bedroom because he loves sleeping in the basement anyway. That's where all his sleepovers take place. That's where the TV is.
So despite all my protests against his late nights and poor diet, and me trying not to lay down the heavy hand of the disciplinarian, I let him be, now that he's 15.
Last night, I had my regular insomnia night (happens at least once a week). At 2:30 a.m., I heard the bathroom vent in the basement come alive. When this vent is on, you can feel it vibrate throughout the house. Imagine it coming on suddenly in the middle of the night. That's why I heard it on the second floor, in my bedroom, with the door closed, beside the snoring Man.
I came down to the basement to investigate. The basement was filled with the stench of diarrhea. The Boy was not in bed. I called out to Boy in the bathroom. No answer. I went right up to the bathroom door where the stench got worse and called out in a loud day voice. No answer. He must be in the bathroom, I reasoned. Concerned, I tapped on the door and jiggled the door handle. Boy screamed and hollered in fear, as if I was the Boogeyman coming to get him. He confirmed he was sick but didn't need my help. Thank god for that, I said to myself, and went upstairs.
A few minutes later, he called to see where I was. I told him I was sitting in the living room upstairs. A few minutes after that, I heard flushing and running tap water, then he came upstairs. I fixed him with some water, juice, Tylenol for his sore throat, and he went back to bed. As I sat there, I think, He's sick because of lack of sleep and junk food. I have to stick to the law. He cannot have sleepovers back to back. I will have to figure out a way to curb his junk food intake and still have him be in control. Just then, he called out to me again. It was now 3:30 a.m.
Mom?
What is it? I shouted down to him in the middle of the night with two people sound asleep upstairs.
Can you come here?
I went to the top of the basement stairs holding my nose. Why? I called out.
Can you sit with me?
The poor boy, I thought. He's sick and he wants comfort. But god, I don't want to sit in that stench. He brought this on himself. I'm tired. I'm not going to sit with him, damn it.
No, I said, I'm not coming down, because I can't breath down there. How's that for being a devoted mother. But I'll stay up here till you fall asleep.
Oh, he said, disappointed.
I refrained from lecturing him, from saying, you brought this on yourself. Instead, I said, I'll check on you before I go back to bed.
Later, at 4:00 a.m., when the stench went away, I did check on him. He seemed okay. Yes, that was me at 4:00 a.m. in the basement bathroom disinfecting the toilet bowl, scrubbing the rim and wiping clean the seat so that in the morning, the Boy wouldn't freak out about the brown streaks all over the bowl and refuse to pee in it. Then I went to bed, feeling resentful.
On Monday, he refused the healthy meatball and vegetable soup I made for dinner. Instead, he ate Goldfish, chips and had more Coke. I am trying to treat him like a 15 year old. I warned him against such a diet. He scoffed at me, turned tail, and ensconced himself in the basement all evening to watch TV.
He is living in the basement for two weeks because we have a guest in the house who is using his bedroom. He doesn't mind giving up his bedroom because he loves sleeping in the basement anyway. That's where all his sleepovers take place. That's where the TV is.
So despite all my protests against his late nights and poor diet, and me trying not to lay down the heavy hand of the disciplinarian, I let him be, now that he's 15.
Last night, I had my regular insomnia night (happens at least once a week). At 2:30 a.m., I heard the bathroom vent in the basement come alive. When this vent is on, you can feel it vibrate throughout the house. Imagine it coming on suddenly in the middle of the night. That's why I heard it on the second floor, in my bedroom, with the door closed, beside the snoring Man.
I came down to the basement to investigate. The basement was filled with the stench of diarrhea. The Boy was not in bed. I called out to Boy in the bathroom. No answer. I went right up to the bathroom door where the stench got worse and called out in a loud day voice. No answer. He must be in the bathroom, I reasoned. Concerned, I tapped on the door and jiggled the door handle. Boy screamed and hollered in fear, as if I was the Boogeyman coming to get him. He confirmed he was sick but didn't need my help. Thank god for that, I said to myself, and went upstairs.
A few minutes later, he called to see where I was. I told him I was sitting in the living room upstairs. A few minutes after that, I heard flushing and running tap water, then he came upstairs. I fixed him with some water, juice, Tylenol for his sore throat, and he went back to bed. As I sat there, I think, He's sick because of lack of sleep and junk food. I have to stick to the law. He cannot have sleepovers back to back. I will have to figure out a way to curb his junk food intake and still have him be in control. Just then, he called out to me again. It was now 3:30 a.m.
Mom?
What is it? I shouted down to him in the middle of the night with two people sound asleep upstairs.
Can you come here?
I went to the top of the basement stairs holding my nose. Why? I called out.
Can you sit with me?
The poor boy, I thought. He's sick and he wants comfort. But god, I don't want to sit in that stench. He brought this on himself. I'm tired. I'm not going to sit with him, damn it.
No, I said, I'm not coming down, because I can't breath down there. How's that for being a devoted mother. But I'll stay up here till you fall asleep.
Oh, he said, disappointed.
I refrained from lecturing him, from saying, you brought this on yourself. Instead, I said, I'll check on you before I go back to bed.
Later, at 4:00 a.m., when the stench went away, I did check on him. He seemed okay. Yes, that was me at 4:00 a.m. in the basement bathroom disinfecting the toilet bowl, scrubbing the rim and wiping clean the seat so that in the morning, the Boy wouldn't freak out about the brown streaks all over the bowl and refuse to pee in it. Then I went to bed, feeling resentful.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
The First Time
The first time I didn't have to go to school when September came was in 1982. I had dropped out of university and started a full-time job. It felt odd, being neither nor.
That summer, we had students in the office. By the end of August, they had all left, getting ready to start a new school year in their respective universities. I stayed in the office to assume what was my adult life, without school. I felt relieved I was spared the tedious grind of school, an area I had never done well in. But I didn't quite fit as a new working adult either. I eventually got used to working. But for many years, whenever September came, I looked to start something new.
All these years later, now with my own teenage son, I still look at September as a time of restart. Funny that. That the restart should be in the Fall rather than the Spring.
This year, I was hoping to start a new job. And yes, I was thinking I would go back to school! I did start a new job, for two weeks. It didn't work out. It was the first time in my life where I have been in an abusive environment. People talk about it, I could never quite relate. But now, I have first-hand experience. I don't want to talk about this experience right now, but it is forever etched in my life as The Horror.
But the return to school! My goodness, there are many exciting programs at the graduate level I can take, in different formats. My current interest is the University of Athabasca, where I can do a Master of Arts – Integrated Studies online. Once I do the two core courses, I can go into a stream of my choice. That is, I can take cluster courses in Adult Education (where I have a keen interest); Community Studies; Cultural Studies; Distance Educational Studies; Work, Organization and Leadership; Global Change; or Information Studies. I would be interested in any of these streams.
And what does one do with an MA in such areas? Who knows. For me, the MA is a vanity degree. I just want one. I am willing to earn it.
This is a graduate program, so the cost is high. About $12,000 for the program. So I need to nail that job to fund this. What's first about this? It's the first time I have ever wanted to go to school and feel I will enjoy the learning! What's with that?
That summer, we had students in the office. By the end of August, they had all left, getting ready to start a new school year in their respective universities. I stayed in the office to assume what was my adult life, without school. I felt relieved I was spared the tedious grind of school, an area I had never done well in. But I didn't quite fit as a new working adult either. I eventually got used to working. But for many years, whenever September came, I looked to start something new.
All these years later, now with my own teenage son, I still look at September as a time of restart. Funny that. That the restart should be in the Fall rather than the Spring.
This year, I was hoping to start a new job. And yes, I was thinking I would go back to school! I did start a new job, for two weeks. It didn't work out. It was the first time in my life where I have been in an abusive environment. People talk about it, I could never quite relate. But now, I have first-hand experience. I don't want to talk about this experience right now, but it is forever etched in my life as The Horror.
But the return to school! My goodness, there are many exciting programs at the graduate level I can take, in different formats. My current interest is the University of Athabasca, where I can do a Master of Arts – Integrated Studies online. Once I do the two core courses, I can go into a stream of my choice. That is, I can take cluster courses in Adult Education (where I have a keen interest); Community Studies; Cultural Studies; Distance Educational Studies; Work, Organization and Leadership; Global Change; or Information Studies. I would be interested in any of these streams.
And what does one do with an MA in such areas? Who knows. For me, the MA is a vanity degree. I just want one. I am willing to earn it.
This is a graduate program, so the cost is high. About $12,000 for the program. So I need to nail that job to fund this. What's first about this? It's the first time I have ever wanted to go to school and feel I will enjoy the learning! What's with that?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
