Nutty Maggots

Originally posted December 2009

This is Nutcracker week for us. In the whirl of costumes, make-up and lost shoes I am reminded of Nutcrackers past. 

Ase and Zaney struggled with responsibility in their early teens- I know, shocker. With dress rehearsals everyday,  I assigned jobs to everyone so the house could run efficiently while we ran out of it. The boys were to take out the trash when it was full, without being asked. Being a firm beleiver in natural consequences, I left them to it. Not nagging was difficult when the kitchen can took on the form of a Slurpee. So, I cinched the sack closed to help make it obvious. Can't add any more to a closed sack.

The volcano of trash sat patiently waiting. 

Opening night was upon us. Tensions were high and I sent Zaney up for a shower. Ase, GirlyK and I sat in the workroom discussing the plans. A whole wall of the workroom is a window that looks out onto our back yard. As we relaxed and planned, my eye wondered to a little white wormy thing wriggling on the floor. I bent down to see what it was.

GirlyK cautioned, “Mom, don’t squish it! It is a caterpillar.” 

It wasn't a cute little white caterpillar. It was a maggot!

I showed it to Ase, 14 at the time, the little wiggling life between my fingers, “It IS a maggot.”

He looked at me blinking.

I clarified, “The pupa of a FLY!”

Reality dawned upon his intelligent face. The three of us looked at the floor; a migration of maggots sparsly covered the floor.

Ase ran for the vacuum.

I picked up what I could.

GirlyK, 8, began her scientific examinations.

Zaney, 13, was finally in the shower. 

I suggested, "Ase, you might want to take the garbage out now."

He picked it up, carried it to the back door and reached his hand to open it only to find a herd of them wanting freedom.

He cried,” EEEEWWWWWW!”

GirlyK squealed with delight.

I vacuumed for the next 20 minutes. Under the couch and in nooks and crannies. GirlyK was so helpful to point out a new "family" to be set free. Ase controlled his stomach as he washed out the trash can. Zaney still in the shower discovering who knows what. 

I looked at Ase, “Do you think it is a good idea to take the trash out on a regular basis?”

He sheepishly smiled.

 Zany finally came down, very, very clean. As Ase and GirlyK brought him up to speed, he looked at me dumbfounded. The story didn't make any sense. A few moments later I found a straggler. Gingerly held between my fingers I showed him.

"This! is a maggot. It is the beginnings of a fly. That's why it is gross" 

Zaney cocked his head to one side. Shrugged his shoulders and said, “Oh, those? I have been picking them up all day.”

Burr In My Saddle

BoyA graduates highschool on Thursday. This beautiful boy still dances and loves the art form. He has gained strength through out of town intensives, a fantastic girlfriend and Ryan Gosling. Fashion is still a passion. One prom he insisted Girlfriend match her dress to his awesome tie. The male dancers at the studio has blossomed to more than 10 including The Counting Mutant.

The burr still digs, but daily fighting against ignorance have made BoyA and BoyZ resilliant and respectful of everyone.  

Originally posted on Monday, November 29, 2010

A burr.  Digging and twisting for a long while.  It became unbearable on Halloween. Nerdy Apple Bottom, posted about her 5 year old son who wanted to dress as Daphne from Scooby Doo.  She met with ridicule from other mommies.  Their concern was her son's sexuality

The Counting Mutant read it.  BoyA and BoyZ read it.  

I was not alone, another Mommy battled for her son's right. It had nothing to do with who he would fall in love with as an adult.  

My boys dance. Ballet, Jazz, Modern, Tap and Hip Hop. AND THEY LIKE GIRLS!

I have battled those Moms in the market line.  Counting Mutant watched eyebrows rise with a flourish of testosterone from other men as he talks about what sport the boys are in.

That burr.  It gnaws at the flesh of my heart.  BoyA in his freshman year of high school, he stoically endured brutal bullying all year.  Once going so far as to offer a transsexual prostitute for him to figure out what he liked.

I only heard a fraction of it.  

Thanksgiving holiday, BoyA in his Sophomore year and BoyZ in his Freshman year, we caught up on Glee.  After watching, we talked and slivers of truth appeared.

I asked BoyA, "To this day, with BoyZ on campus and everything cool now, do you still feel that dread of being bullied?"

BoyA, always fashion forward, pondered and said, "Yes. I don't think it will ever go away."

"I changed the way I dressed. This is one of the main reasons I am not teased anymore.  I blend in now."  He paused, "If I thought I could, I would take the fashion class at school.  I just want to learn all about it.  It would be the end of me though.  I would never live it down."  His eyes dropped.

The burr sinks its spines deeper and my blood begins to flow.  

I see a shimmer in his eye, "Do you know how many girls I would get to know?!"  I watch as he calculated dating opportunities. "Oh well, maybe in college."

I groan.

As parents, we are supposed to give our kids roots and wings.  To encourage their sense of self while empowering them to become what they were created to be.  Exploring interests and developing talents to their fullest.

How it is in a world of civil liberties, opportunity and equality, boys and men are judged so harshly and condemned to a stereotype?  A girl can be a tom-boy, climb trees, shoot deer, play baseball, wear pants, hate dresses, shun pink and never once is her sexuality brought into question.  No one wonders if her gender identity is confused.  No one wonders about her sexuality. She is an active girl!  She has great potential.  She can do anything. 

Boys on the other hand, if they dance, like fashion, wear pink, are not interested in sports, are gentle and non-confrontational, they are labeled as gay.

Interrogations start: Maybe the parents aren't infusing them with enough testosterone, like we should have an IV on hand and give them a dose of it in their sleep.  

Boys can't dance.  

Boys can't design fashion. 

Boys have to be tough.  

Boys have to confront.  

Boys have to challenge each other to the pain in order to prove their manhood. 

It makes me sick.  I hate the double standard. That stupid burr. All I can do but be a safe place for them to come home to.