September 26, 2011
Family dinner last night.
My house.
Mum and Dad, my brother, me and Stephen, Keith and Em.
Mer had to work.
Dijon chicken.
Wild rice.
White rice for the kids.
Bok choy, carrot, almond stir fry.
Squash so there was something during the meal my mum recognized.
Plus it just needed to be cooked.
It was all Simply for Life approved, and turned out rather well if I do say so myself.
Dad was somewhat skeptical.
Not the biggest fan of Dijon mustard.
But throw some mushrooms and onions into something, and he'll try anything.
Maybe even like it.
Imagine.
The meal itself was lovely.
But there was a purpose for this family gathering.
Family talk.
One of the things that doesn't happen as well as it should in our family is communication.
I talk with Mum.
A lot.
My brother. . .not as often as I should.
My dad.
Um.
I have a hard time talking with my dad.
And I am still working through that.
Loving him has nothing to do with it.
I love my father.
But I have never felt comfortable talking with him.
And yesterday was tough because it was the first time I'd seen him since I asked him not to come to the cottage with us.
Because we really needed some time alone.
Just because I asked him not to come doesn't mean I didn't feel guilty about it.
So in addition to everything else we had to discuss as a family, I had to address this with my father.
Finally.
Not easy.
But necessary to ensure further familial harmony.
The rest of the family conversation is in a file called "private and confidential" for now.
Frankie and I were equally tired and cranky by the end of yesterday's events.
Me because family can be exhausting.
Especially when the day started with us hosting Quaker meeting.
Frankie in the crate for the duration.
Plus Quaker meeting confuses him.
He knows people are in the house but because Quakers worship in silence, there is no conversation.
Nothing to actually indicate there are people in the house even when you know there are.
Periodically, he would emit barks in an attempt to stir up some movement.
When my mum comes over, with her walker, we put him in the crate for his safety and hers.
He can get underfoot and caught up in her walker, which could have disastrous results for both of them.
Take all these ingredients, silent Quakers, walker mobile mothers, and add in the 30+ temperatures we had yesterday, hot temperatures, some crate time (and there was a run at the farm afterwards, but this was, in Frankie's mind, too little, too late) mix them together and at the end of the day, you'll have a cranky Frankie.
Even the fan circulating the night air in our room wasn't enough.
Heat rises.
Our room was most warm throughout the night.
Stephen and I struggling for comfortable sleeping positions.
Lead to Frankie jumping off the bed and throwing himself on the cool hallway floor, but not until he released what was most definitely a sigh of absolute disgust with me and Stephen.
All Stephen said was, "good."
At some point during the wee hours of the morning, probably after I had gotten out of bed around 2.00 am and took him our for a piddle, he forgave us our transgressions and rejoined us in our bed.
And by this time, we had a Jasper sleeping between us.
Huge dog at the end.
Itty bitty kitty wedged between us.
Snoring Stephen beside me.
No wonder I'm tired.
Who could sleep in such mayhem???
Someone, and you know who you are, texted me last night at 11.04 pm.
Phone by my bed in case of emergency.
It's always there.
But not for texts at 11.04 pm.
Unless someone is bleeding profusely, there is no reason to text me at 11.04 pm.
Title Lyric: Four in the Bed by Raffi
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