I relish my Saturday evening visits with Mum.
The nursing home is one of the few places where I know I won't have to deal with the trials and tribulations of my everyday life.
Actually, more often than not my mother is my sounding board.
My venting repository.
She sits in her chair, listens to me, rarely says anything.
She knows I'm not looking for her to solve my problems, figure things out for me.
I just need someone to listen to me.
She's really good for that.
Which is a good thing because I certainly need it.
Yesterday was one of those days.
Beginning with a meeting at the high school with one of the four Vice Principals about Em's struggles with getting to school on time.
Which, as it turns out, isn't so much about her not wanting to get to school on time as it is physical illness.
I am going to request that our doctor test her for celiac disease.
Because all signs are pointing to it as the reasons for her physical unwellness.
But until our end of November appointment, I had to smooth things over with the school, and request that her homeroom teacher call off her dogs and leave Em alone.
Cause she isn't helping.
At all.
After four years with the same students you'd think her homeroom teacher would have figured Em out.
Okay.
Maybe that's a bit unfair.
It's been almost 18 years for me and I still haven't figured Em out.
But still.
I've tried to be polite, share relevant and pertinent information with her in an attempt to forge solidarity.
But to no avail.
And last week she sent me an email implying that soon I would be called into the Principal's office.
Choosing proactive measures as opposed to reactive measures, I got to the Principal first.
Or Vice Principal anyway.
Either way, beating her to the punch and sorting things out before hand.
Always so much easier than waiting for them to come to you.
Stephen and I are heading to Montreal this weekend.
We haven't been to visit his parents since the spring, and not wanting to chance another hair raising drive over the winter, we thought this weekend would be as good a weekend as any to go.
Remembrance Day is Friday, so it's a long weekend.
I don't teach Mondays and Stephen has made arrangements for his one class at 4.00 pm.
So off to Montreal we go.
Sans enfants.
Even if they wanted to go, the theater scheduled them to work, and they all need the money, so it's me and Stephen.
ROADTRIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And the first one with our camera.
Who knows what I'll be coming home with.
Picture wise anyway.
As for what we actually come home with, that is entirely up to Stephen's mother, who is already moving through the house collecting things up that she wants us to bring home.
I just know it.
Unfortunately, Friday, Remembrance Day is also my mother's 72nd birthday.
As I've said before, when I was much younger I was certain that my mother's birthday was so important that everyone got the day off.
Ah. . .the vagaries of youth.
In an effort to celebrate Mum's birthday and go to Montreal, we'll be celebrating at the Dipolmat, her favourite dining haunt, as well as my Dad's.
Probably because of the sodium rich, deep fried, fat enriched Chinese buffet.
Even the kids are already salivating.
Stephen's planning his Caesar salad plates.
And me, it'll be the garden salad all the way.
Because if we're eating in Montreal for the weekend, there's no way I am blowing my appetite on the Dip.
Which in no way compares to Stephen's mother's cooking.
Ever.
Remembrance Day.
As I have said before, I have real issues with Remembrance Day.
Not because I am in any way disrespectful of those who have passed away.
I am not.
What I do disrespect, despise, abhor is violence and war that leads to the deaths of people who didn't need to die.
War is unnecessary.
Bottom line.
So while I won't wear a red poppy, I have no trouble sporting the white peace poppy.
Peace.
That is something worth working for.
Title Lyric: Wong's Chinese Buffet by the Arrogant Worms
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