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I was talking to my mother on the phone this evening, about logistics. Tomorrow is Canada Day, you see, and since it’s a Tuesday rather than attached to a weekend, and Doug and I haven’t made solid plans, Ma pounced on the opportunity and invited us to a dinner.
“We miss him! We want to see Doug!”
This dinner will take place at friends of my parents’ house. It is likely that there will be several Egyptians.
“He needs to be introduced to the Egyptian Community.”
It will be the first affair involving many Egyptians and my boyfriend. They’re sort of like family.
It’s also a true testament to my family, my mother in particular, accepting Doug into my life, and into the family. He’s wonderful, and now it’s time that I show him off to family friends.
Besides. I am very much looking forward to watching how they all interact.
“OW, OW, OW. MY FEMALE PARTS, THEY HURT.”
A sympathetic smile was all I wanted. OK, and drugs. I wanted drugs, too. It was early morning and my chipper parents were puttering around. I couldn’t fall asleep again amid the noise. I felt like someone had mowed the inside of my uterus. Literally, mowed. Like, with a lawnmower. And blades.
She just chuckled at my insistent yelling and replied calmly. She is a patient woman.
“This is your body preparing you for children, chérie. What are you going to do when you have to give birth?”
Well, I didn’t take that too well.
“Mama? I am going to have an absolute maximum of, say, five children. I WILL NOT HAVE TO GIVE BIRTH ONCE A MONTH UNTIL THE SWEET RELEASE OF MENOPAUSE!”
She only laughed at me.
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