Not always Smrt

Some days I shine with brilliance and other days I will blame a lack of caffeine. 

Take yesterday morning. One of my supervisors was not feeling well and with how it all played out I ended up working 6-10 a.m./7-11 p.m.  Had me a three hour nap in the afternoon. It was awesome. 

However my tale is one that took place at 5:45 a.m. I had only arrived at work and was getting the front set up with mats and blocking tills off when I heard the phone. 

I beetled off to the Customer Service (forever after known as CS) to answer the phone. There are two things you need to know about our phone system:

1) Before 7 a.m. it rings on ‘night’ system so any phone can answer the line calling in.

2) Our phones also pipe through music.

So half asleep I grab the phone and do my spiel only to hear: 

‘why wouldn’t you answer the phone?’

It was Santa calling me! Holy shit what did I do? Had I really been that bad? And why was he mad that I would not answer the phone?

In my defense I had not yet had my coffee.

As I stated stupidly at the phone I realized I was speaking to no one. Someone else has answered the phone and when I picked it up the Christmas carol continued playing. The actual line was ‘and you better be good tonight.’

Needless to say when I told K3 she died laughing. I was so befuddled. And in hindsight I guess I already know how naughty I am Santa does not need to call and tell me. 😁

A New God

When did it become about bowing to a god

forged in the fires of our greed

corrupt and consumed

with our need for bigger, better, more

than anyone else we know.

When did it become about making money

upon the backs of innocents

collateral damage, that 80% 

never should have happened

when the school exploded.

Children dead and mothers cry

unheard, ignored, left to bleat.

Ewes without lambs. 

Rams without ewes.

Money and pain, 

greed and need.

No, greed and want

consumerism is the new God

bow to this entity worshipped by all.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

November 24/17

Welcome to Hell

It hurts my heart.

An ice cold hand

reaching between my ribs

squeezing,

crushing,

bruising;

and with a taut snap

rips free

the abscessed soul

plagued with hell spawn.

Savage teeth bared

ripping and tearing

at phantom viscera

gorging on putrid flesh

steeped and soaked in sin.

Wracked with guilt

tortured with the profane

I crawl forward,

my hand reaching out

grasping for shattered glass

ready

to plunge it into my breast.

To end this streaming vile

spewing of sensationalized news.

Snarls and roars fill the arena

as demons prepare to roast

the humans who feed their hunger

on the here and now

with no thought to the future.

Pain paralyzes my body

I can go on no longer

I am lost to the hoards

to the vast crowds

who stream through the entrance to hell

complacent in their own corruption.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

November 23/17

My True Career

This is not truly a conversation with myself but a friend this morning. We were talking about my post from last evening and he was congratulating me on how I had handled the situation. That most would have shied away from touching on such a difficult subject with a prepubescent child.

I responded with:

There was no point in pulling any punches. With all that kids these days are seeing, hearing, watching and reading, how so much violence and pain is sensationalized and we become inured to it. I will not be party to making my child complacent. He needs to be horrified by violence, pained by the trials of the world that we are living in. (I added in a little more to clarify and paint a picture of what I meant)

It is my job to show him that the world is not always going to be kind but his kindness and his goodness will make a difference.

That is my job as his mom.

 

 

We will be ok (Better Than)

After our conversation regarding rape last evening T and me, we went on to have several more conversations. I was and am intrigued to discover, in hindsight, that due to our discussion about the aforementioned r talk, T now feels like he can ask me questions and I am not going to get angry about them.

He asked for the definition of bitch. A female dog, wolf, fox or otter. A difficult situation or person. If he really wanted to tick people off, ask them why they thought he was a female dog? Stymies them like crazy. (Someone had called him a bitch)

What about the f bomb mom? Is that also sex? Well, if you look up the definition that is the first one; having sexual intercourse with someone. So I tersely explained that it was more of a rough term. Than there is the situation aspect.

This morning he asked me about a**hole? What did that mean? So I said well, a mean or nasty person. But no mom, what does it really mean? Well your butt hole, also properly known as the anus. We also looked this one up.

Those of you who have been following T and me for awhile, know my frustration that T does not like to read. Well, he decided to take his Dog Man 3 book home to his dad’s with him to finish. Is looking forward to the new one coming out. Maybe I am being too optimistic in thinking that our conversation last night is having some effect here. Also that given his nature, I think deep down T is horrified that they used this word. Being cruel is abhorrent to his true self. So, he may be trying to educate himself on words and their meanings. (When you know the root meaning of words sometimes they can take the sting out of them when parsed that way)

We sat at the dinner table and talked while we ate. There was a lot of talking going on last night. And this morning. He is in awe of how fast I can type and the fact that I do not need to look at the keyboard. Ha, I was trying to show off to him and this is basically what I type: Txhyyyyyy llmgtw oooot yeah mom you so smrt. T asked where I had learned and how long it had taken. And how did I know where every letter was on the keyboard.

But the best conversation of all was our conversation about Mexico and Chichi (mom) and myself maybe retiring down there. Not likely at the moment but a woman can have dreams. I cannot even afford a two week holiday there lol, never mind move. But T was full of questions. How old had I been when Chichi moved? Had it been hard? And that was when I dropped the bomb on him that I might want to move there.

The look on his sweet 9 year old face was one of hell no, uh huh you are not going anywhere mom. And thus the list of reasons why I cannot move to Mexico:

  1. It is a poor country
  2. It is too hot
  3. They have nothing new
  4. The cars are very old
  5. Why would I want to live in an area that meteorite are known to frequent.
  6. He could not go 10 months without seeing me

Counter arguments:

  1. The area that Chichi lives in has some of the richest homes that are only used 2 months out of the year, like Chichi and the beach, well that was their beach.
  2. You do not have to come and see me
  3. Of course they do. Chichi had a flat screen t.v. before we did. (That was due to money though T insisted and I pointed out that this was 2 years ago)
  4. He had to take into account that they were a coastal area and the sea salt did damage to the vehicles.
  5. Not since the last one 65,000,000 years ago
  6. There was skype and whatsapp

And he looked at me and said No mom, I could not go 10 months without seeing you in person every day. Now this might be a stretch because you have to remember that he does go 14 days out of the month without seeing me. Okay save for when he and his dad come shopping and I always get a hug and kiss. But still. My heart melted and I looked at my little boy. I love him so much.

He than farted. 🙂

 

 

Regret

Time passes

like the slow drop of a honey bead

slow touches and butterfly kisses

entrapped in the swirl of emotions

a web woven of silk

I bind myself in.

Golden sunsets and pastel dreams

everything a girl can dream

within reach for real

or a mirage made to steal?

Steal my breath, my lips

take prisoner my heart

cupped in careless hands

and whispered lies

and slowly

I begin to regret.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

November 23/17

Mortified

T is over tonight as his dad is working evenings and his S.O. is not available. Well lucky me I get him for an extra night during a week that is not mine. Of course I am going to scoop that one right up.

When T first arrived home there were two bags of garbage waiting for him to take down to the dumpster. We had a little bit of a hemming and hawing and arguing a tad, about how unfair it was and it was not his garbage. This ended with me reminding him that when he came back we needed to have a talk.

Oh no he insisted, we did not have to have a talk. That was all taken care of. He knew all about it. I raised an eyebrow at him and said yes, however we need to have a conversation. I am not mad but I need to explain some things to you. Off he went, looking dejected and worried, for I am sure he was expecting a lecture.

I required fortification for this conversation so I poured myself a cup of coffee and turned around to sit back down at the table. T had plunked himself into my chair so I ushered him out of it. Not happy. He wanders around in front of me, anything to forestall the dreaded lecture that T feels is coming. I look at him. He walks around the cat’s scratching post, pulling on the batting ball.

‘Buddy, do you know what rape is?’

Well now that I hooked you with suspense and you are all sitting with either your mouths hanging open or a crooked eyebrow thinking what the hell has gotten into this woman? allow me to fill you in. Monday I came out from getting ready for work to discover that T’s school had called me. Noticed I had a voice mail but was in a panic so did not listen. Had I, I would have realized it was from T’s teacher. Well, I am trying to figure out what the heck is going on. Thought if he was being a bully he had better run. Was hoping he wasn’t being bullied. Called and left a message at the school for T’s teacher to call me at work.

He did. And I discovered that T and a group of his friends had been playing tag. It was called ‘Rape’ tag. I still do not understand the full concept. It entailed playing tag but if you were it to make the other person it you had to ‘hump’ them. Needless to say my face was burning with mortification. I had no idea where this came from and well I may have stuttered a little I was so shocked. I agreed that not only should I have a conversation with T regarding this subject but also that he needed to see the guidance counsellor along with the boys that had been involved. They also saw the Principal I believe.

Let us fast forward to this afternoon. So T is staring at me and I ask him again. And he goes well it has to do with sex. That is it. That is all. Okay I in no way want the school to be explaining what rape is to T.  This is something that needs to be handled by parents. But I knew that the Ex (I know I confuse myself too) had talked to him because he knew the name of the boys involved and had disciplined T with the loss of Youtube. Which means that tonight T is stuck hanging out with me. Once he comes home from hanging out with the neighbor.

I explain that rape was not about sex. It was a violent and degrading act that happened to both women and men. That often time women (I needed to chose one or the other to explain female is just easier) are threatened with being killed if they do not comply, hit and beaten. That their clothing is torn off and it is an evil act. Do you think that I was too graphic? I want to get the point across to my son that rape is nothing to be blaise and flip about. But he is only 9 you are pointing at the screen, only 9. If he and his friends are able to use the word and run around knowing that it has to do with a sexual act, than he is old enough to learn what is right and what is wrong in regards to his behaviour towards women.

I also explained that a lot of times, especially by men, rape goes unreported. That the person lives with guilt and fear. And that if they do come forward and go to the police they are often treated as though it was their fault. That they had asked for this act to happen to them. He said ask for it? What do you mean mom? So I tried to explain and than I stopped and said, you know how during the summer mom wears a bikini at the beach, and shorts and tank tops? Do you think that because I am dressed like that that anyone should be allowed to touch me or try to have sex with me? And he said absolutely not.

I said, that is what it means to say someone was asking for it based on the way they were dressed. But it could also be how they act. How they are walking.  Even how they might have smiled at someone. T looked at me and went to sit on the couch. He stared at me and I stared back. I wanted to know if he understood now why everyone was making such a big deal about it. He did.

I again reiterated to him that no matter what a girl is wearing or how she looks, talks or behaves does not mean he has the right to touch her unless she gives him permission. And than I did something that may have either scarred him for life, or done some good, I told him that the basis of his behaviour towards girls (now) and women as he gets older should be as simple as this: Would he want someone to do this to his mother?

I am not saying my son is not going to ogle girls and smile at them. I would not expect him not to. It is human nature. If you say not, I say you are a liar. You should see me when a cute man walks by the counter at work, I will be leaning over it to watch him go out that door. However, I know that I am teaching him how to respect them more.