Habby Birfday to Me!
Wednesday, 23 April 2008
Monday, 21 April 2008
"COMMERCE CITY, Colo. -- A couple fighting about which gang their 4-year-old toddler should join caused a public disturbance that resulted in the father's arrest, Commerce City police said Thursday.
"His girlfriend told police that they had been arguing about the upbringing of their son and which gang he should belong to. The teen mother, who is black, is a member of the Crips. Manzanares is Hispanic and belongs to the Westside Ballers gang, the woman said."
Here's the full article:
Naturally, reading this piece really distressed me. I mean, I haven't even thought about DK's gang affiliations yet. And she just turned seven! I'll never get her into a good gang now. While other parents were perusing glossy pamphlets from the Bloods, the Latin Kings and MS-13 and assiduously considering their choices, I was wasting my time agonising over education and enrichment.
And of course, this brings up other questions, such as: Will having my child tattooed with the gang's symbol assist her at the interview or should I wait until she gets in to avoid the possibility of costly laser surgery?; Does she need her own AK-47 or can she borrow one to begin with? and finally, Is it acceptable for gang members to carry ten stuffed dragons everywhere they go? If not, we might have a problem.
Then again, perhaps it's best not to worry. DK is a homeschooler and thus not adept at the mindless conformity that street gangs and schools tend to require for real success. She may well be doomed to a lifetime of independent free thinking.
Ponyboy of the homeschool gang
Sunday, 20 April 2008
DK has, in fact, happily spent the last day and a half of my illness in a state of neglected bliss. She has gallivanted about the house in her nightie with un-brushed hair and a Wii remote strapped permanently to her wrist and subsisted a little too cheerfully on pizza, spring rolls and garlic bread. Occasionally she ponces into the bedroom where I lie groaning and says things like "Can I change the console nickname?" "Sure!"; "I think I'll start a new game of Harry Potter" "Okay"; "My Sims have coffee beans!" "Great!". Since I finally surrendered and took to my bed yesterday afternoon, she also appears to be creating an outrageous mess wherever she goes, safe in the knowledge that, in my weakened state, I am unlikely to do more than groan at her in mild annoyance.
Having been at home and relatively isolated for a week, I have somehow lost touch with the busy, happy, positive person that is me at the end of my 34th year and am starting to feel like the sullen, bitter loner that I might have been, had I walked other roads in life. I may soon start to throw things at children who pass by the house and am thinking that it could almost be time to adopt 13 un-de-sexed cats.
I need to keep reminding myself that this flu has rendered me emotionally vulnerable and is opening the door to a sense of grey hopelessness that doesn't fit with my view of my world when I am in a state of health. I don't think that this is the best time to re-assess my relationships or my place in the world, though the undermining thoughts keep creeping in. It's quite shocking to think how little it might take to begin a process of resentful unravelling were I less aware.
I love photos, but I'm not going to let go of my pseudo-anonymity lightly. I include for your edification, however, an artist's rendering of a woman performing sinus irrigation (from the Sinu-Cleanse box).
I looked pretty much exactly the same about an hour ago, except that I actually have sinusitis and rhinitis, so I have dark shadows under my dark shadows, violently red eyes and nose and during irrigation, was retching because I accidentally squirted saline down my throat...several times. Oh, and my Alice band is pink with the words, "Bite me" embroidered on it in violet. But yeah, other than that, pretty much exactly the same.