Catching up with the kiddies

 Hello everyone, after a pretty uneventful holiday I'm back -- with some news.

I know my daughter is upset with me, but I officially accepted a position as associate professor of history and paranormal studies at Sims University.  I was only doing it on a trial basis before, but now I've fully joined the staff, with an office, an on-campus rental house, and several classes full of eager beavers.  I now have course syllabi, tests, the whole nine.  I've become the history teacher I hated.  How incredibly ironic -- that a girl who spent more time in the catacombs than in a classroom -- has now been entrusted to teach.  Haha.

Sylvia Cahill from the school paper even did a profile story on me.  Granted, I've never been interviewed by student journalists before, but I swear, the kiddie reporters were more thorough than the members of the tabloid press I'm so used to dealing with.  Instead of asking me fluff questions like what color eye shadow I like to wear and stuff about my brother's love life, they asked me real substantive questions about my background and experiences, which, of course, I love to talk about. 
"Wow," Sylvia exclaimed, "you really used to be a tomb raider."
"I guess you could say that," I replied.  "Except, I wasn't exactly a tomb raider as such."

On occasion my kids come to my rental house to visit, talk, or whatever.  The other day Sage dropped by and asked me for help with her history assignment.  Even though they're grown, yes, I still help my kids with homework.  Sage's teacher is another professor in my department, Dr. Garrison Fort.  The Dr. and I have been talking, and he, too, was an archaeologist at some point, although his research is mostly concentrated on ancient China while mine is in Egypt.
"You know, mom," Sage began while she opened her history book, "I'm thinking about changing my major."
I sighed.  "Again, Sage?"  Just last fall she changed from art to environmental science.  Now she wants to change again.   "To what this time?"
"Creative writing."
"Really?"  Sage had never expressed an actual interest in writing, although I knew she kept up her journal from when she was seeing Dr. Bill. 
"You know what I always told you guys, what my dad used to tell me.  Whatever makes you happy will make me happy."

My son, AJ, showed up about an hour later.  "How are you doing in school now?" I asked him over Sage's autumn salad.
"I'm passing."
"AJ, I want you to do more than pass.  Don't think I didn't see your SUAT test scores, you blew the cover off the damn thing.  I know you're smart."
"But mom --"
"You got a girl over here, don't you?"
"How'd you know?  Did Sage open her big mouth?  I swear, her tongue can't hold water."
"Sage didn't tell me," I lied -- sorta.  I read her diary. 
He began telling me about a girl named Samantha Grey, a member of Tri-Fruhm sorority.  A sorority girl?  I thought.  Have to wonder what her intentions are. 
"I want you on the dean's list this semester, AJ," I told him, "no excuses."

After spending the rest of the evening preparing the lesson plan, I walked into my classroom the next morning and took in the surroundings.  The desks had been freshly cleaned and wiped of the gum and graffiti of the previous semester, the seats had been freshly laundered, and the carpet vacuumed and shampooed.  Even the walls smelled of newness. 

As I walked to the podium I realized, to my students, I was now the dreaded Mrs. Cheesman.  I had turned into my old history teacher, minus the gray hair and the wrinkles.  If you'd have told me I'd be here, I'd have told you that you're off your rocker. 
My children can tell you that I can be a very difficult taskmaster and disciplinarian.  They'll also tell you I can be intimidating at times.  But I will let nothing, not even my own preferences, get in the way of their happiness. 

I took a deep breath.  It was showtime.

As my students began filing in one by one I began my first lecture.  I introduced myself as Savannah Plumb Cheesman (the first time I ever did that in public), and decided to spend my first period just talking about my background and experiences.

 

 

Some of my students were interested.  Others, though, used my period as an excuse for a siesta.

 

 

 

I could tell I was in for a long semester as most of the students this period came in late.

 

 

One girl, who straggled in about twenty minutes late, decided to ask a question.  "How many different places did you go?"

 

 

I frowned.  I thought I'd told them this already.

 

 

"I never went to college," I told them, "I got my education in the tombs.  When I was eighteen, fresh out of high school, I asked my father if I could go to Egypt.  He didn't want me to go.  Neither did my mother, who definitely had a different vision for my future.  No amount of cajoling and begging worked.  I ended up going anyway, basically going to find myself.  I learned more life lessons having to do without the comforts I'd been used to than I could get from any textbook."

 

 

 

"I've had enough electricity shot through me to power this campus for an entire year, been through fire more times than you could count, and collected enough artifacts to fill a museum, some of which are older than all of us on this campus put together.   My mother didn't agree with the path I chose, but eventually she had to accept that it was my life and she couldn't live it for me.  You see, history is not just about dates and battles, but about people and how they lived their lives in the past, and what lessons they left behind for us today."

 

After class it started to hail and I got in my rental car and went back to my rental pad.  It's a nice pad, 4 bedrooms (I asked for a big one in case my kids wanted to sleep over) and has a home office.  The university is paying most of my expenses and I can even go on trips, provided they're research for my work. 

The Vanderburgs and the paranormal

Now you know...  I'm writing a book on the Vanderburgs. 

I probably shouldn't be... but I am.  There is scant historical and genealogical literature on this particular family, but what little there is has been done to death and done quite thoroughly.  The family is actually of fairly recent origin, the current iteration probably doesn't date beyond the last four or five generations, as far as I can find.  
For my current research, I'm focusing on their involvement with the paranormal.  You'd be surprised to find out that their involvement with the paranormal actually rivals ours (the Plumbs), and has been going on for quite a long time, even though the Queen herself will never admit it. 

To begin, though, I must recall my very first visit to Vanderburg Palace.  It was right before Crown Prince Sebastian's wedding to Ella Carlisle. 

Prince Renauld had asked me to check the palace out for ghosts.  I had never been to the palace before, so I was more than a little intimidated.  Imagine -- me -- intimidated.

Anyway, I saw a ghost -- had the nerve to try and taunt me --

-- and I took out my trusty blaster and blasted him back to the afterlife where he belonged.

The palace has been haunted by ghosts for quite sometime, in particular the ghost of a butler who used to work there by the name of Gregor Bellemy.

Mr. Bellemy was a longtime servant of the Vanderburg family, and his ghost is reputed to scare away anyone else who tries to 'replace' him. The queen keeps his ashes on her desk, and on occasion the ghost haunts the castle at night. The rumor du jour in Hidden Springs is the butler may have been the biological father of Crown Prince Sebastian and Princess Francisca. The queen has never, in fact, divulged his identity, and may go to her grave with that secret.

Now there are rumors that the deceased Prince Renauld's ghost now haunts the palace, and that his daughters are desperate to find a solution to bring him back to life.  

And recently, Queen Catarina's youngest daughter, the raven-haired Princess Anastasia, got married, to much fanfare.  No one in Hidden Springs seems to know exactly who her new husband, Prince Lucian, is or where he even came from.  Rumor is Queen Catarina herself has never even met him, even though it was because of her ultimatum that Anastasia even got married in the first place.   I mean, seriously, she's never met her daughter's husband?? When and if my daughters get married, I would like to meet their spouses!  And according to Lindy Gifford, the palace beat writer at Simstyle magazine, Queen Catarina and Princess Anastasia have not spoken to each other for some time, even since before the wedding.  (And you know I don't read Simstyle or follow the palace beat, I leave that to Satis) 

Adding to the mystery, Anastasia's twin sister, Princess Alexandra, has showed up with a companion of her own, a 'fellow cadet' called Patrick.  They're said to be frequently spotted (along with, apparently, my son AJ) at the town's sports bar.  No one in Hidden Springs seems to know who Patrick is, either, and, according to the royal flight academy, the name 'Patrick' doesn't appear on the list of cadets.

From what I've gathered from my sources in Hidden Springs and the couple episodes of the reality show I caught, when Prince Renauld passed away, he left his twin daughters a substantial amount of money.  He also left them three (!) palaces, including one in Monte Vista that apparently belonged to his family.  But it took them awhile (and a lot of maneuvering on their part) for them to gain access to it, because their mother tried desperately to keep them away from their inheritance.  She only started releasing the money when Anastasia announced her engagement.
I do love a good mystery.  But this one is a doozy that will likely test all of my years of paranormal expertise.  

What Kaydence Knows

A few days ago, I had my first-ever sit-down conversation with my 7 year old niece.  I had seen her only once in person and mostly in pictures Bassy sent of her.  My own kids were at daycare or at school.
I'll step back and let her tell the story, she can tell it far better than I can.

 

"While I was -- I was living at our house in Starlight Shores, I used to love going outside on a clear night, sometimes to get in the pool, and sometimes just to look at the stars."

 

 

"When I was a baby in mommy's arms I thought everything was gonna be okay."

 

 

"My daddy used to dress up in all these cool costumes and not come home for days at a time."

 

 

"Mommy was always on the phone talking about going to sing at different places.  I used to love hearing mommy sing.  She had a pretty voice."

 

"Everyone thought we were this happy little family.  But it was all for show.  The only time mommy ever kissed me, she did it while the cameras were flashing."

 

"When daddy used to cook at home, mommy was on the phone with her people."

 

"One evening while mommy was off singing somewhere I walked in from riding my bike..."

 

 

"...and I saw my daddy talking to Marie, my nanny.  Soon after that, I saw him hug her and kiss her on the lips."

 

 

"I was so upset, I could have run away right then and there.  But I knew Marie would call the cops."

"Why didn't you say this in court?" I asked her after she finished.
"I was scared," she told me, "my mommy and my daddy were there and I didn't want them to hate me."
"They won't ever hate you," I tried to reassure her, "they love you.  They're just doing a lot of stupid things right now."

If I'm to believe Kady, and I do, Bassy, my darling baby brother, was having an affair with his daughter's nanny.  What the hell was he thinking?  Even my dad wouldn't stoop that low -- and he did it with my mom's best friend.   

Even at her young age, Kady knew that what her dad was doing was wrong.

The fact of the matter is, my baby brother has not yet grown up, and it's high time he does so.  He's got two kids and he's not really raising either of them.  Poor Kady is raising herself practically and Aaron - I have to believe he's in better hands with his mother than he ever would be with my brother. It's sad that Kady, at 7 years old, is more grown up than he is.

I've come to the conclusion that, you know, the magistrate is right.  Neither one of them deserve Kady.  Kady's a sharp cookie.  She knows what's going on.   I know I won't be winning any mother of the year contests any time soon, what with my 15 year old daughter so out of control she's about to go to reform school, but these two couldn't screw up a kid more if they'd starved her and left her on the side of the road. 

Neither one of them should have been parents. 

The Decision

Back on dry land, and back to our real-world problems. Sawyer's starting school next month -- I can't believe it. And on the other end of the spectrum, AJ and Sage are going to be returning to college. The funny thing is that AJ actually WANTS to go back, after I had to make him go the first time. I already knew Sage liked school, she was an eager beaver when it came to studying.
But she's told me that she wants to change majors.  She wants to go into environmental biology now.
I said, "Sage, you know what I've always told you guys, if it makes you happy then do it." It was my dad's philosophy and I followed it.
Skylar's started voice and dance lessons at the new Performing Arts Center. (Hey, we're a musical family, and this is the 1st of my children to show any interest in the family business, lol) The dance lessons were actually Sky's idea, not mine.

But the first item on the agenda is a date with the queen's self-appointed magistrate, in a closed hearing in one of their side courtrooms. The hearing, of course, was about who would receive permanent custody of my niece.

With my voice in his ear my darling baby brother filed for full custody of my niece Kady after he learned of his girlfriend Madi's affair with Darren Dreamer (and a few others). Her relationship with Mr. Dreamer had been going on for some time. He found letters Mr. Dreamer had written to her, proclaiming his undying love and support. (Mr. Dreamer is currently married to another woman, Darleen something or other)

In just-released court documents, Madi blasts at my brother, calling him weak and a bad husband and father, and even going as far as throwing his other son under the bus. He only acknowledged Aaron's paternity very recently. Of course, I don't approve of how he handled that either, but that's another post for another time. I never liked Madi much but Bassy has made enough mistakes for three lifetimes. He's as much to blame for this situation as she is.

Anyway, back to the hearing.  Bassy couldn't even keep his eyes off of his ex.  The magistrate had heard from me, Bassy, Madi and her mother/manager Michele, but he wanted to hear from one more person.

Kaydence.

So we were all dumbfounded when this tiny little girl steps up to the witness stand. So tiny, yes, but she certainly has more confidence than either Bassy or I had at that age. This poor girl has seen more stuff in her brief time alive than most of us have seen as grown ups.

"State your full name for the court."

"Kaydence Michele Westley-Plumb." She spoke in a such a clear voice she almost didn't need a mic.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Cuz my mommy and my daddy don't get along."

The magistrate managed a chuckle. "Yes, that's part of it. Your parents came to me to resolve a dispute over where you'll live. Tell me, Kaydence, who do you want to live with?"

Kaydence took a deep breath. She cast glances at her mother and her father before looking at the magistrate. "Do I have to live with either of them?"

The magistrate laughed again.

Then the magistrate decided to rise and address the court, but his remarks seemed to be addressed at Bassy and Madi. "The two of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves, putting this little girl in this position. Thankfully, she seems to be more grown up than the two of you together. I ought not to give either of you custody, but according to the laws I have to award it to one of you. You don't deserve this little girl.

"In the matter of Sebastian Ryan Plumb vs. Madison Brooke Westley, I have decided to award temporary custody to Mr. Plumb. Mrs. Cheesman has been appointed as secondary guardian, and Ms. Westley has supervised visitation twice a week. I'm a firm believer that it takes a village to raise a child, and at this age both parents need to be in her life. This case will be revisited in six months. That'll be all." He banged his gavel signifying the finality of his decision.

So, not only do I have my own issues, I'm a secondary guardian to my brother's daughter. I have to watch him like a hawk, just like I used to when he was younger. I'm still cleaning up his mess, all these years later. I do it because he's my baby brother. I've been responsible for him since he was born. No matter how old he is, he is still my baby brother. He gets on my nerves but he is still my baby brother.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

So said a judge to me regarding my 15 year old daughter Sierra, who, by the way, walked into a courtroom with her hands behind her back, as defiant as I've ever seen her. 

My husband and I looked at each other and we just could not believe this was the girl we raised and I gave birth to.  The only comfort was her hair was back to her natural color, which is the same as mine. 
This took place at a private hearing at a courthouse in City Hall in downtown Hidden Springs.  The hearing was about Sierra's behavior and was to determine her placement.

 

When the judge immediately remanded her to Fort Starch Military Academy, I rose up to speak.  "Listen, I don't understand, can't she have some other placement?  My older son was placed there and he's still under a psychiatrist's care for post-traumatic stress disorder.  He's too young for PTSD!  I don't want that happening to my daughter!"

"I'm aware of your son's diagnosis, Mrs. Cheesman," replied the judge. "We've had quite a few kids who had PTSD upon leaving Fort Starch."

"Can't you put kids who act up somewhere else?"

"It's pretty much our standard punishment.  When kids get out of control, we send them to rigorous boot-camp style training at Fort Starch and it works in straightening them out most of the time.  Unfortunately, Mrs. Cheesman, the fact that you're in this same situation with another child reflects poorly on you."

"Are you calling me a bad mother?"

 

   

"Calm down, Savannah," my husband whispered, putting his strong, loving arm around me.  But I was seething. 
I wanted to reach over and clobber that judge.
Maybe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.   I'm not the best parent in the world -- hell, I'm not even the best parent in my own house -- and I acknowledge that I've made mistakes, but I'm not the demon that judge has made me out to be. 

The Two Andrews

I know two guys named Andrew.  I married one and gave birth to the other.  But neither of them actually go by that name.  

The other evening at dusk the two Andrews disappeared on a fishing trip.   The older Andrew said he wanted to talk to the younger Andrew about some things that had been bothering him, namely something Sage had told him about what was going on at college.   Sage doesn't even tell ME this stuff.  She tells it to Andrew senior, and also to her diary.

According to Sage's diary (yes I do read it), Little Andrew met a young woman at university called Samantha Grey, who's in the Tri-Fruhm sorority there, and, apparently, he is quite smitten with her.   But there's a problem.  He's a Plumb man, of course there's a problem.  When the Plumb men get involved in romantic relationships, there's almost always a problem. 

He and Sage's best friend, Kayleigh Andre, got a dare at a party, got drunk, and kissed each other.  Whoops.
Sage is pissed at both of them.  From what little I know of the situation I can't say I blame her. 

And now, according to Sage's diary, Little Andrew is moving back and forth between the two of them. Bassy would be proud. 

And that, presumably, is what Big Andrew wanted to talk to Little Andrew about.  What I would have given to be a fly on the wall of that truck.

I countered the guys' fishing trip by taking my daughters (yes even Sierra) dining out at the fanciest restaurant in Hidden Springs, Scrumptious Nibbles Cafe.  We even rented a limo and wore dressy outfits for the occasion. It was a little girls' night out. 

Sage ran into Braden Cooper, her old high school crush.  They talked for a little bit and she found out he was dating a girl called Marley Wentworth, but had been trying to get a meeting with Princess Anastasia, to no avail.  She shook her head and realized she was completely over him. 

We were all exhausted but the dinner was rewarding.  We spent most of it talking about college.  Sage was raving about her environmental science teacher, Dr. Cramsky, and talking about her art history professor, Dr. Noetal, who she says is a big fan of my work.  She also talked about a curious guy with blue hair that keeps following her around...I warned Sage not to mention blue hair, it might give Sierra ideas.  "Why don't you talk to the guy and see what you have in common, Sage," I advised her.    

When my husband got home, he recounted the conversation with our son.
"We haven't done this in awhile."
"Since I was little, dad."
"Are you angry with me, son?"
"No, I'm not angry --"
"You sound like it."
"I was at Fort Starch."
"Son, if I could have come to get you from there, believe me, your mother and I, we would have come crawling.  But we were forbidden to remove you until your sentence was complete."

"Tell me, who is this Samantha?"  Andy asked as he cast his line into the pond.
AJ sighed.  "She -- she's just a girl.  She kept inviting me to campus parties and then asked me on a date and I finally accepted."
"Sounds persistent."
"I guess you could say that."  AJ sounded defensive.  "Who told you?"
Andy took a deep breath.  "Sage told me."

 "Sage has a big mouth,"  AJ muttered as he pulled a nice perch from the waters.

"Great catch, son!" shouted Andy in an effort to change the subject.  "Actually, I'm glad she told me, because I wanted to talk to you, anyway.  I realize you're a lot closer to your mother and that's great.  But there are some things that need a male perspective.  Like this situation with Samantha and Kayleigh."
"C'mon, dad, I'm not going steady with either of 'em.  We just went out on a couple dates, that's it.  I hardly know them."
"But you can't keep stringing them along either, son.  You just can't do it.  It's not right.  It's exhausting for you and for them, too.  It is up to you, though, to figure out what you want to do.  You have to do what feels right for you.  This isn't about me, your mother, or your sister.  It's about you."