the other night i was getting the duke tucked in when he asked me about spanking...
this was in reference to a passage he heard from a book on tape...the character mentioned spanking...
so we talked about it...why the lord of the ring and i think it is not the way to discipline in this family...how others feel differently...
then i mentioned that when i was his age, we would get permission slips sent home for our parents to sign to allow the principal of our school to spank us for disobedience at school...(let me just say, what a totally creepy and fucked up concept!)
to which the duke gets a very confused look on his face and asks
"you had parents?"
um, WHAT?!?
"of course...everybody has parents"
"who are your parents?"
again, WHAT?!?
"the bag lady in paris and pops...you know that"
"they were your parents?...like they took care of you?"
at this point i'm beginning to wonder
a) when he started huffing gas
b) maybe homeschooling has sheltered him a little too much
"well, yes"
"but i don't understand, did you all live together?"
"for awhile, yeah...but it just worked out better for the bag lady in paris and pops to live separately"
then the duke mutters
"i don't see how it could have ever worked out in the first place"
indeed...
it's funny, because this is not the first time someone has expressed surprise at the concept of me having actual parents...
i had this friend, weirdrichkid...we were having a discussion and somehow or another the subject of my parents came up...right in the middle of me talking he pipes up with
"wait...it's just so weird to think of you as having parents...i just think of you as, you know, you...that you just are, and that there isn't really anyone responsible for you...like you just hatched"
what do you say to that?...you say nothing because weirdrichkid is paying for you to go to midwifery school at the end of summer and you don't have the check yet...in fact you don't get the check until the last possible moment that includes a detour to denver...as is colorado!... and that you do not notice until it's too late has your estranged husband's last name on it and not yours...
but, i digress...
i suppose it's my, hmm, well...what is it about me that leads people to assume i was the pack of wolves who raised me?...who knows...
but, just for kicks, let's review the facts...my mom tells me my real mother is a bag lady in paris...my dad says he found me and dug me up out of the sand on the beach...one sister got my mom's last name and the other sister got my dad's last name and my last name is made up...
maybe i was hatched, adopted, cloned?...yeah...that's it!...like dolly the sheep!...who needs parents when you've got a petrie dish and a little time?...
who knows?...and frankly, who cares?...if the bag lady in paris and pops want to claim me then so be it...regardless, i am just me...(well, and honestly, as i get older, i am becoming more like the both of them too)...just me...in all the glamour and glory that being me brings...
wow, it's a wonder i don't drink more...
anyhow, what all this really tells me is that i gotta quit talking to the duke, especially when i'm tired...the kid is whacked and stirs up the whacked-ness in me..."you have parents?"...cheeky little bugger, isn't he?...
oh, and just to let you know...i haven't seen or spoken to weirdrichkid for over five years now...not since the duke was a toddler and we lived in san francisco...he showed up one night out of the blue...and ate us out of house and home even though we were dead broke and living on a bag of rice and a few veggies until we got paid...
and used up most of the toilet paper he was in the bathroom so much...
oh, and didn't tell us that he thought he might have contracted tuberculosis right before he came to stay with us...
glamour and glory, i tell ya...
x.
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