My Dad is the only male in the Toronto-based Moore Clan, and I think that once it was clear that Lexy was more of a yoga-doing, intense studying, kind of like Princess Mia kind of girl, and Emma was the Novelistic internet Princess, it was decided that there was enough princesses in the family, and I was to be a prince, or perhaps a dog, or maybe even just a son.
Alas, I was born lacking in that ever-important y-chromosome, and was therefore robbed of the other important boy-bits that make a son a male.
I also had the nerve to be a week late so that I would be born on a 3rd (February), important,when both Lexy (May) and Emma (August) are also born on the 3rd of their respective months. Mom could probably tell you all about how much of a Charlie-Brown head I had as revenge for that extra week, though it could also NOT be out of revenge and instead be out of her being a Mom and required to mention such things.
But still, even lacking, I am still the Son of the Family.
When I was 5 or 6, Dad decided that I needed something to do, and so he signed me up for Hockey, and then told Mom about it.
Mom then told him in response that I didn’t know how to skate.
I love my Dad for many things, and signing me up for Hockey is one of the best things he’s done for me. He signed me up for Faustina, a boy’s team, and for the first while (a year or so, maybe two), I was playing defence, standing right next to the goalie, my partner in defence on his other side. I was that little blonde girl who walked to her position on the ice. Surprisingly enough I didn’t get too much experience in skating. But Dad once again stepped up to the plate and signed me up for another hockey venture; this time a Hockey Skillz weekly morning lesson.
I remember doing countless circle drills (youtube it), and being forced to stop walking on the ice. I remember having to push rungs on a gigantic metal circle thing with a dozen other kids, and skate circles again. I also remember getting slushies with Dad afterwards as a prize, and getting better at skating, and now I am still playing hockey, though I am taking the year off due to lack of space to out my equipment.
I complained about my roommates gross habit of leaving hair in the shower, I don’t think that it’d be a nice revenge to go against ALL of my roommates by airing out my equipment in the livingroom/kitchen area…
My equipment doesn’t smell that bad. I know it, and reading this I know that other people will think that I’m just saying it because I’m used to it, but my stuff doesn’t smell. My parents agree, and my mom even told me a story about how one of her friends’ sons had broken his arm, and had to be brought to the hospital in his equipment. According to her, people with knife wounds were telling him to go ahead, he smelled so bad.
I think that guys’ stuff smells so much worse in general so that it’s yet another weapon to use against the other team. It’s why guys hockey is known to be the more full-contact sport, so they can use their built-up stink against the other players.
But back to me being the son of the family.
My dad signed me up for hockey, and we even accepted the old patched up hockey net from one of my neighbours, and dad got me a fake ice sheet so that I could practice my shots on something that wasn’t the pavement part of our back yard.
My Mom even helped out in the years where it was an extra cold winter, by going out in turns with Dad and dumping water so that we didn’t have to use the fake ice and could use REAL ice.
I am the sporty child of the family. Primarily Hockey, but I was the Tomboy in school as well. I remember way back when that I preferred wearing pants, as they weren’t as likely to be ripped, and at one point ne of the intimidating older kids asked me if I was a Tomboy.
“A Girl who dresses like a Boy.”
I decided that was close enough, so I dedicated myself to dressing to my full Tomboy potential. Our downstairs neighbour (someone renting our basement) gave us clothing, and we once got a pair of her brothers pants. She was assuming it would go to my dad.
I had to get a belt, but I got those pants.
It didn’t help as a child that I developed a bit quicker than the other girls. I don’t have huge knockers, but it seemed as though 60-70% of THAT development happened in grade 6 or so. I didn’t like bras either. Wow, that was fun to write. 😐 AND put onto the internet.
It didn’t help that occasionally I did non-Tomboy things, and other people would point it out. I got self-conscious and worked to do something different the next time.
example: for Gym class (changed to PE in high school), instead of changing pants, I wore the uuber cool pants that could unzip into shorts. They unzipped into short shorts though (apparently), as I overheard whispers from the other girls in my class. So I was happy to throw those pants into the good will bag when hardly a month later I outgrew them.
One thing of amusement that my Mom has expressed to me is that I’m the only leggy one in the family.
in general there are people who have long a torso, or long legs, and I got long legs.
How can we tell? I’m taller than both of my sisters, and about the same height as Mom.
Unless I’m sitting with them. Then they’re all a bit taller than me.
So hockey, tomboy clothing, general cliché boy attitude, what else…?
OH! How about watching sports with my dad, and being known as the carnivore of the family. Whenever the talks of vegetarianism comes up, most of the family comes up with some way to bring up the likelihood of me becoming vegetarian. They laugh.
Less now, but still, I once asked Mom what she would do if I told her that I was thinking of becoming a vegetarian, and she gave me a weird look.
A look that said : “Um, Really? Did you hit your head?”
And then it changed to a look that said : “Oh no, did someone say something to you? Pleasepleaseplease don’t get an eating disorder.”
My high metabolism is another reason why my mom laughed at my being so boyish. Me running around, playing hockey, and being one of the kids who always played that throwing a ball against the wall at recess game, and I stayed fit, but never got the muscley-ness that others got.
Oh, Lexy just reminded me of one other thing in my Tomboy stage: I wore a hat. All the time.
“Hey C, do you remember the years that Doodle wore a baseball cap? ALL THE TIME? Indoors, outdoors, everywhere? Yeah, wasn’t that funny?”
(P.S. This is in joking tone to childhood friend, who I was just joking to about how she wore a childish kitty sweater even when it was much too small for her when we were younger, and had just admitted that in middle school I thought she sometimes dressed like an old lady… CHILDHOOD FRIEND. All children are jerks, and we were having fun with the reminiscing :D)
So now, even when I’m on a break from hockey (something I hadn’t ever thought possible, except, you know, those breaks called spring-summer-fall of not-hockey-season), no longer dress like a tomboy, don’t wear hats all that often, I’m still the honorary Son of the family.
I’m still the carnivore of the family, and to show that I’m not the only one with the male-eating-habits, Lexy has the quick-eating habits that my Dad has, but doesn’t have the excuse of being the oldest of 5 kids, and Emma has a bottomless pit, or perhaps a second stomach, that she dumps food down. (in Emma’s defence, she’s slowed down considerably from the small child who could eat 5 pieces of schnitzel on her own, and still ask for ice-cream afterwards. Lexy has no excuse, since Mom says she had the habit since before I even started eating solid food… inherited?)
I’m fine with being the ‘son’, as my Mom has made it more than clear that she’s not having another kid and has made preparations to keep it from becoming a possibility or accident.
Oh, fun, I just went to ask her if she knew of the places of any computerized pictures of me in tomboy-stage, and she said no. Sad, as I know it would have gotten some giggles, as I think that a lot of those photos had bangs from when I cut a stripe of hair to the base to get my bangs out of my eyes). I then asked her if she had anything to add.
Apparently I was rather aggressive– You were pretty rough on the other children…”– and then she tells me that dad signed me up for hockey also because he wanted me to have something to get rid of some of that aggressiveness, or for mom, to let out my aggressiveness on kids with padding.
Ouch 😐 That’s fun to learn but I am suddenly reminded of an early grade-school teacher saying that I was much to competitive…
But I’m still glad that I was signed up, and I don’t remember ever getting into those horrible fights… I think I have only gotten like 4-5 penalties, and I’ve been playing for over 10 years.
I think that says something 😀
Anyone else the boy or girl of the family? Fun experiences?