When I was just a little to old to want one, there were these toys called Weebls. They were little egg-shaped people with weights at their fat-ends. There was a song on the TV ads: Waddaya love about a Weebl? Weebls wobble, but they don't fall down.
The world has been weebly these past 48 hours or so...
Getting home from vacation was great. We had a wonderful, relaxing, sunny time. Daughter had an awesome time at Grandma and Grandpa's (my mom and dad's). They got to know her in a new way, keeping her for 4 nights as they did, and she them. This is very good. I hope that our son has the same opportunity some time soon. The kids and the Gr's experience each other differently without the parental layer mediating. Of course, when daughter came home to our house, she opened up her pressure valve and gave her beloved parents all of the tension she had saved up being nice at Gr and Gr's house. But that was to be expected. Also, she's ramping up for a pretty ambitious birthday party - lazer tag and sleepover for ten, with a craft and food and fitting 10 girls in our small rumpus room for the night. I finally told her I was feeling pressured by her preparations and she has calmed it down. She's pretty good stuff, and growing up. She'll be 12 on Monday. (I know I was every bit as intense and un-buffered at that age). I have to remember that 12 year olds don't always remember that moms have feelings, but they respond well if I say it directly.
We came home from vacation a day early to see our daughter's performance of Grease - the culmination of her two week drama camp. The show was on Friday afternoon. Grandma and Grandpa came too. But Grandpa didn't make it in to the theatre as the play was starting (having dropped of Grandma and gone to find a parking spot). We were called outside just as the show was about to begin to find the paramedics attending and my dad on the ground. It seems like he parked the car then blacked out on the way into the theatre. Mom and I went to Emergency with him. They kept him there for about 10 hours and ran all kinds of tests and found nothing. He couldn't remember anything much about anything for about an hour but most of it came back after that. Today he seems back to normal but they'll follow up. I was scared when I saw my dad lying on the lawn with blood on his face and clearly confused and disoriented. I wanted to protect my mom, who was really scared. I'm so grateful that he's well now but we want to know what it was and how we can make sure it doesn't happen again. The upside is that the firehall/ambulance depot is right next door to the civic complex where the theatre is, and Eagle Ridge Hospital is across the street, and my house is 10 minutes down the road. Dad picked about the best place possible to have an emergency. I was able to help by staying at the hospital until the initial alarm subsided, then going to fetch some supper, cooked by Andy, so Mom and Dad did not have to eat the hospital food while they sat in Emerg and waited for test after test after test.
In between bringing supper to the hospital and picking up Mom and Dad when they finally finished around 11pm, Andy and I watched Closer on dvd. Andy liked it. I hated it. Not because it's about infidelity, but because I couldn't find a heart or soul in the story. The movie was beautiful to look at, but empty. That's not a moral judgement. I can love a story about someone who does awful things if I can understand why, and connect with the heart of the person. In closer, these unreasonably beautiful people just keep changing partners like a square dance. I love you do-si-do Nope, now I don't after all promenade your partner I love her allaman-left I never did after all, bow to your partner. Oh well, at least there was not shooting or explosions. Andy said the point of it was that it was a story about personal emptiness. I still didn't like it or get it. Probably a bad choice for an interlude during a stressful evening.
Today I went to the Summer Dreams Reading Festival put on by Pandora's Collective, which was wonderful. Great performances and lots of spoken word/literary friends, all at Robson Square in the sunshine. Tonight I took the kids to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with Johnny Depp, which was lovely and much more true to the original than the Gene Wilder version - except for an ending twist that is totally invented. Why do they do that??? Do people who make movies actually believe that audiences need a caramel sledgehammer of an ending? Oh well.
Back at home I read out loud to our son, two more chapters of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, which we bought on Saturday in Osoyoos and we've been barelling through. We have 5 chapters to go and I know it will be shocky-chokey reading. He's used to me pausing to recapture my composure when the story swoops me up as I read it. "Mom, are you crying? It's okay Mom. It's just a story." Already I cried on the beach while I was reading it to him at camp. There's more to come.
Waddaya love about the world? It may wobble but you don't fall down.
question: do I have a weight in my fat-end?
mompoet - tell you about the dog psychologist thing tomorrow
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