Yesterday my mother locked me out of the house.
So, some of you know I live with my mom. She was injured 8 months ago and initially required full-time care. She was also still mourning my dad; they were married 56 years. Anyway, I moved in to care for her and discovered I liked having a room of my own which in my own tiny family house was nonexistent.
Anyway, my mom’s house in one of Toronto’s suburbs is the one I grew up in when we moved to 🇨🇦 from 🇨🇭 in the 80s. I was 11. I moved into the room grandchildren used when they came for sleepovers, and after I removed all the stuffed toys and decorated it to accommodate my voodoo magic interests 🧙 (tarot cards and healing crystals), I settled in quite nicely. My laptop is ergonomically placed on my sister’s old desk, the futon has a memory foam mattress, and I especially love the door which, when I close it, announces to all who are in the house I do not want to be disturbed.
Double bliss! 😍😍
Point is, this arrangement is working out for the family dynamic. Perhaps it’s not a traditionally accepted way of life, perhaps people feel judgemental or uncomfortable with the thought of a mom of teens moving away from the day to day parenting interactions, perhaps people can’t phantom the idea that a couple can split up under amicable conditions without hostility, yada yada this is what I’m doing and it’s working.
Everyone has adjusted.
I’m much less stressed, my happiness is directly linked to my emotional and mental health which has stabilized in ways I could only fantasize about at one time, and… I see the kids regularly. In fact, one or the other have spent time here with their grandma and me on a semi-regular basis throughout hockey and ringette season.
That’s all preamble to new readers of my blog.
But back to my story.
My mom and I were watching playoff hockey in the tv room upstairs at the back of the house. I had some jewelry supplies with me to keep my hands busy, making pouches for healing crystals, an idea inspired by my brother’s cancer diagnosis.
I needed a pebble to accommodate some dimensions so I took the pouch I was working on and left the house through the front door. I began searching for a pebble in the front garden.
The size pebble I wanted wasn’t around so I thought the back might have more appropriate sizes.
So I opened the screen door and turned the handle on the main door.
Well, mom was inside, so no big deal, right?
I rang the bell.
I rang it again. Same thing.
Next, I knocked on the door.
Still, nothing happened. I strained to hear footsteps or noises from inside but nope. Absolute silence.
I knocked again, louder this time, then knocked on the adjacent bay window, but it was futile. I was locked out of the house.
I didn’t even have my phone.
Finally, I decided I had no choice than to go wrangle the bungee cord on the gate at the side of the house and navigate the muddy walk along the west wall in my slippers.
Once I got back to the tv room I stood beside my mom’s chair and stare at her.
“Didn’t you hear me ring the bell?”
“What bell,” she said. “There was no bell.”
“I rang it three times!” I exclaimed. “I also knocked. Did you hear the knocking?”
“Oh,” she said. “I thought you were hammering something.”
Hammering? She thought I was hammering something… 😀
Anyway, I survived the minor drama although the mud on the bottom of my slippers wasn’t a desired by-product. Amazingly, neither the neighbour with a key nor the fire department had to be called. And, just to end this thing on a positive note, I wasn’t going to freeze to death, either. It seems spring has finally graced us with her presence. 🌷
Thank you for reading my post! See you in the comments.