I’m sure you are quite disappointed right now, some of you may have actually been expecting a picture of my actual breasts blushes (if you do want to see them, you will have to take a look at my Vacation in Jamaica post, and do tell me what you think?). Let me continue, am I referring to chicken breasts or my own breasts for this post? Well if you guessed my breasts, you are correct, though at this time I do not have a prize to give you, hopefully instead I will either make you laugh, give you food for thought at that next meet the teacher night or just make you say out loud WTF?
When my children were in elementary and high school, I attended all of the “meet the teacher nights” , in hopes I could pump the teacher about how my child was doing. Now, thankfully there was never any bad news to deal with, besides I would hope the teacher would give me a phone call, if my child was fucking up ready for Mensa.
Okay, now fast forward to I think grade ten, meet the teacher night at high school for middle child, where it was held in the cafeteria. I don’t know what they were thinking when they decided to stuff god knows how many parents, their teenagers and the teachers in a room where the windows didn’t open. It was exceptionally “hot” in the room.
After meeting a number of teachers, middle child was still quite intent on me meeting one more, it may have been her history/geography/autocad instructor, it is all quite blurry to me now. After walking up to the gentleman, middle child made introductions, and then, well, my words “Thank you for not looking at my breasts, most people do when they first meet me”.
I don’t remember what the teacher said in response to my comment. I do remember being outside afterwords with middle child, who is yelling “WTF MOM!”. I had no answer. The room was hot.
Note: I did not show my face at another “meet the teacher night again”.
The end of August, beginning of September is always a sad and joyful time of year for hubby and I. Why? Well as much as we love our kids, sending them back to university and college gives us a lovely holiday at home. Taking two of our children back to school also means we will be putting a lot of kilometres on our van. The young man (previously known as the teenage boy) is in his third year at Bishop’s University in the province of Quebec, a mere 743 kilometres away, thus 1486 kilometres return. This trip is always done in two days. After driving the young man, we would take one day of rest, then drive middle child to college up north, about two and a half hours away or 201 kilometres (402 kilometres for us). She graduated from Bishop’s University in the spring with a double major in Environmental Studies & Geography plus a minor in Sports Studies.
We packed up the van in the early morning and were on the road by nine o’clock. This trip was made somewhat easier since our dogs were left at home with middle child. Driving was shared between the three of us, except I can only drive for a maximum of two hours, most times though I only last about an hour. We made it to our destination in approximately nine hours, traffic was not all that congested and thankfully there were no accidents.
The young man is not living in residence this year, instead he has chosen to share an apartment with three other guys. He is in a brand new apartment building, which is just lovely, the only issue is he is on the fourth floor and there are no elevators.
So hubby and him have to walk a lot of stairs umpteen times, with me being the door opener, I mean management. After hubby and the young man finished unloading the van, we went out for a late dinner. With our tummies full, we dropped the young man off at his apartment, and headed to our motel down the street.
The next morning we took the young man grocery shopping. This was a huge bill (happily it did not reach $500.00, but it was a close call) since he needed everything from the basics of cleaning supplies, to food (mom and dad always pay for the first grocery bill, I don’t know why). After the groceries were carried up to his apartment, mom and dad made a quick exit, wishing him good luck, and the I love you’s.
We actually got away pretty early, I don’t think it was even 10 a.m when we left. Again the drive through Quebec was quite easy and when we entered our home province of Ontario, I decided we decided to take the scenic route home. We left highway 401, and went along highway 2, which runs parallel to the St. Lawrence. One of the routes we wanted to drive was the Long Sault Parkway, which takes you across numerous island. It did not disappoint. We returned to the 401, then left the highway to take the 1000 Island Parkway. Having taken this route before, we stopped at Brown’s Bay Park for a much needed bathroom break and leg stretch.
Next we decided to take highway 33 just after Kingston, Ontario because I was interested in seeing Picton, Ontario. This drive had us driving a horseshoe shape which is very much out-of-the-way, but the scenery is well worth it. I was driving well Matt was looking at the map, to all of a sudden tell me that a bit further up the highway ends. I asked “what do you mean it just ends?”, he responded with “I don’t know, the map just shows it ending”. Well not knowing what would happen we continued on and much to our surprise at the end of the highway (Adolphustown, Ontario), we came upon a ferry. Our timing was perfect, having only to wait about five minutes when the ferry started to load.
The ferry ride was only about fifteen minutes, giving us just enough time to get out of the van, walk around and take a few pictures before getting back in and landing in Glenora, Ontario.
After Glenora, we drove into Picton, Ontario a lovely little town. The only sad part was we were starving, and the two restaurants we stopped at, were only excepting people who had made reservations. We ended up stopping at a mom & pop restaurant, and though the staff was very nice, the food, well it filled our stomachs, but it was nothing to write home about. By this time we were very tired from all the driving, and have followed the rest of the scenic route home on other occasions, that we found it was now time to get back on the 401 and just get home. All in all, it took us about eleven and a half hours.
Luckily Sunday was a day of rest, well, almost, there was laundry to do, before we would drive middle child to college on the Monday. We had forgotten that Monday was a holiday, and grocery stores would be closed. Middle child would need food for her new place, a house she is sharing with four other students. Off to the grocery store she went with her dad, I refused to get in the van again.
Monday morning arrived, the van was repacked, again, stuffed even more than what the young man had fit into it. We were happy though, because this drive would only take about two and a half to three hours, most of it on secondary highways, so there wouldn’t be a lot of traffic. We arrived in Lindsay, Ontario a few hours later, again I was management, thus in charge of opening and closing the door while middle child and her dad moved her belongings into her new room. Middle child decided not to bring her queen size bed, instead our futon would be her bed for the next ten months. Yet, no matter how many times they maneuvered the frame there was no way it would fit around the corner to her room. Her dad offered to take the frame apart, thankfully middle child said “no dad, it’s okay, I will just use the mattress and sleep on the floor”. The frame went back into the van, plus a few other boxes full of kitchen things she wouldn’t be needing. Nothing like packing stuff up, stuffing it into the van, and having your daughter realize she wouldn’t be needing these three or four large boxes of things.
Once again we said our goodbye’s and I love you’s and took off. We did take a slightly different route home, but unlike the trip from Quebec, this rounded out to be the same amount of time and boy were we happy to arrive home in the daylight. I had booked the next day off work for hubby, which was great, because we needed to get back in the van again, and do our own grocery shopping. All in all in the course of four days, we put just over 2000 kilometres on the van. In case you are wondering, yes our butts were quite sore. Me, well my body has given me loads of grief from all the driving, and then I started doing winter canning the past couple of weekends, thus the reason it has been a couple of weeks since I last blogged. Please accept my apologies.
Yesterday was no different from any other day for our eldest daughter, she rose at 6 a.m., had a quick breakfast before getting ready for work. She doesn’t get dressed up for her job, its work boots, a bright orange shirt, and overalls. Her job for the summer? She cuts grass for the city using either a weed whacker or the cutter. She enjoys her job very much; she’s working outside in the fresh air, its physical labour which keep her in shape for soccer (she’s keeper).
There are a couple of issues she does have to deal with, first she is allergic to grass, trees, and outside ground mold but she has learned to deal with those allergies. Second issue, which I think is more of a problem, is dog poop.
There she is working away, and what does the weed whacker hit, not one but two bags of dog poop. Now there is flying dog poop, nowhere to run or get out-of-the-way, because it all happens in a quick second and her face is splatter with poop, lots of poop.
“Oh f***, where am I to get cleaned up?” There are no washrooms in this park. Ahh, she spots a puddle. That’s water from the sky, it must be better than the dog poop on her face. So there she is, splatter with dog poop, dipping the only Kleenex she can find in her pocket, washing her face. She dries her now somewhat cleaned face with her grass stained t-shirt and goes back to work.
Mom’s question: Why would someone take the time to put the dog poop in a bag, then toss it on the ground?
Daughter: “Mom, I don’t know, but this is why, when I see someone picking up after their dog, I take the time to say thank you.”