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Wednesday, July 29, 2015

The Daily Chai Doesn't Remember Where She Works

Today's philosophical in nature. While I would really like to have a chai latte, I feel that it is morally irresponsible to buy one. If the latte loves me, I shouldn't have to buy it, it should come willingly and gladly to me of its own free will. So I'm trying to be a grown up and live with the loss of this delicious, delectable drink. Dealing with disappointment is part of growing up. Of course, I struggle with this decision daily and will probably change my mind tomorrow, but that's all part of my questionable charm. And if you think I'm talking about something else, you're probably right.

I've now been on vacation long enough that work seems like a dream and that I have always been off, living a fresh adventure with my children each day. I'm reminded of the two delightful summers I had with my children when Anna was a baby. I was so lucky to have that time, even if it meant we were a little broke for six months or so. It's almost worth having another baby to have another year off again.


No, it's not. I hated being pregnant and the two children I have, lovely and spunky as they are, are quite enough for me. I should have stopped at one, but what can you do. Seriously, can they not hear the other kid talking? Why do they both come up to me at the same time, asking me separate questions and then demanding loudly that I answer them this very minute. What? One person at a time, please!

I made a funny observation when I was married. My ex is an only child and I noticed that when he and I had dinner with his parents, one person talked at a time. He would be telling his dad a story and I, not really interested in talking about cars (for example), would start a conversation with his mom about something else. Invariably, my ex would stop talking, look at me with some irritation because of my interruption and wait for me to finish before resuming his story to his dad. I didn't know where I had made the mistake. He was talking to his dad, clearly talking to him about something that was of no interest to his mother, so I struck up a conversation with her about, I don't know, horses or something. But he acted as though I was rude and interrupting him. It took me years to figure out that as an only child, there were only ever three people at his dinner table. So when one person talked, the other two listened. There were no side conversations going on, no chaotic confabulation amongst them, no loud debates about the word ubiquitous, no simultaneous conversations. It was one person talking and two people listening. Period. If one of the listeners spoke, they were interrupting the original speaker and it was rude.

I, on the other hand, have a brother, which meant that two conversations could and did happen at my dinner table every night. Sure, there were many times when one person talked and the three of us listened, but as the meal progressed and we had each told our stories of the day, there would often be a conversation between my mom and brother and a different one between my dad and I and all the variations in between (mostly my dad talking over to my mum while my brother and I squabbled). Very rarely was one person the centre of all the attention. This is how I grew up, this was normal.

The only reason I'm telling you this is because I don't have anything else to write about and I find it interesting how the number of children in a family can dictate that what is socially acceptable and normal in one family is considered rude in another family. Only the secret here is that it's not rude, it's just different. However, my ex never really gave up being irritated when I started side-conversations with whichever parent he was not directly engaged with so I gave up and sat mute at the table, waiting for my turn to speak. Just kidding. I could never be mute.


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