By Weirdness Magnet

11-10-2003

Disclaimers: They aren’t mine, and I have no money.  Don’t waste your time.

Spoilers: None

Summary: A mother’s musings on, well, motherhood.

Continuity: Post-Vortex

Rating: G

**

A book.  Martha could really use a book on parenting teenaged aliens.  Some days, motherly instincts and compassion just weren’t enough to cope with the latest developments in Clark’s life.  Dr. Spock should have had more foresight.   

The best she can do is put up a good front.  She knows enough to say “I don’t know” when he looks at her with pleading make-it-better eyes and scratch her head over whatever new power he confesses to developing in school.  She tries to be a good mother—never lets him see she really doesn’t have a clue about how to deal with it and for the love of God doesn’t let him know she’s scared. 

Just a little. 

Of course, Jonathan usually jumps in then, big hand on her shoulder squeezing a reassurance while talking Clark through it, working out logical steps to controlling Clark’s powers.  Jonathan could have made a wonderful scientist if he’d been inclined.  Or a detective.  He had that kind of reasoning. 

And apart from the occasional dream that left Clark hovering above his bed (and she doesn’t want to think about those too much), they’d managed to deal fairly well with the weirdness that was their son for the last 12 years. 

She watches with a mixture of pride and worry as Clark and Jonathan address the last of the debris from the storm.  Clark stares intently at the pile of wood pieces too small to use, until a familiar popping sound and a whoosh of flame.  Jonathan claps his son on the shoulder, looking pleased with the boy’s work. 

There were days she could really, really use a book.

~fin