Sunday, April 22, 2007

Meow


Some time ago, when we were three, we stayed at my mom's place in Armpit. I posted about it. If you would prefer a precis to reading the linked post (which will surely change your life... go ahead) I observed thus: Mo and P-ma are on my list of family members likely to go all UFC on one another; and I am a pussy. Meow!

My mom stayed over the past four days. No fatalities to report. I have not posted anything or read anyone's stuff on account of (pre-visit) all-consuming anxiety and (during the visit) fatigue. I hope you are all doing well. E and I dropped my mom off with her boyfriend today but before we did that P-ma showed us one of her ponies who is presently for sale in Langley. That's right - today is the day I envisioned a financial bankruptcy to match my moral bankruptcy - E met a passel of ponies and she liked them. No, she loved them. And the cows. And the barn dog. And the sheeps, llamas, dromedaries. Dire times. By the time the visit was over P-ma was selling me her pony and E was keeping her in her bedroom. I told them this will never work - some crackhead will steal that pony for rock, but they did not listen. It is as though I have no authority around here. I am some kind of wet noodle. A pussy.

Oh well, I thought, I may be a soft-in-the-middle, conformist, desk jockey now, with a small horse in his daughter's room, but I was once a delinquent youth, a badass from way back. I was so bad, so early, I got expelled from kindergarten. Top that, Todd Bridges! No-one could take that away from me, my precocious pre-criminal career, or so I thought.


You know how your parents like to tell your partners stories about you when you were young, when you built up a life's worth of embarrassing deeds whose main value appears to be to allow your parents some recompense for your aberrant adolescent behaviour at your expense and the occasional relationship? (This predates all the embarrassing things you did which your parents tell your offspring about. That's a whole different set!) Since I don't see my mom very often these tales come out in floods during the time we do spend together. My dad, who lives nearby, has often reminded me of my expelled-from-kindergarten creds, which gives him some pride. As may be apparent, it gave me some pride too. Sad little man that I am, I have relayed this tale of badassery to others. Sad little people they are, they have feigned interest. And concern. "Get help" they said. I digress.

The weekend was not, unfortunately, all about me. Maybe next weekend. We spent much of Saturday at Granville Island strolling, eating, shopping, and enjoying the, um, act of Byron from England. P-ma made dinner and all was good. E may've thought she was moving in. I was happy. Mom was here. I was sad. We see her so infrequently. I was happy. P-ma brought some lavender ice cream from the local 208 flavours gelato emporium. I was sad. I ate it all once the others were in bed. I enjoyed the visit, P-ma enjoyed it, the kids enjoyed it... Mo is glad the others in her life enjoyed it...

This weekend a little part of my own history was changed. According to mater I wasn't expelled from kindergarten. She withdrew me because the teacher was mean. I went from badass (self-styled) to momma's boy in an instant. Meow.

P-man out.

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