Tag Archives: conversations with a mother

Conversations with my Mother: On Getting Sympathy When Sick

Because today I am sick I decided to call my mother for coddling and sympathy.  Actually as I was limping around the kitchen feeling extremely sorry for myself, even Dave suggested I call Rosie. Then he laughed evilly – knowingly. Tee hee. Why the evil smirk? Because he knows the Rose. And he knows how this conversation will go…

Ring Ring:

Tessa: Hiiiiiii. Cough Cough

Rosie: Tessie. 

Tessa: Yes….gargling and sick noises.

Rosie: Is that you? What’s wrong?

Tessa: I’m sick.

Rosie: Were  you an het boomele (dutch way of saying partying?) You know you shouldn’t do that at your age. You never could take it. Always looking so yellow.

Tessa: No mom. I’m actually sick. I have a cold.

Rosie: Well what happened?

Tessa: Well it happened yesterday. All of a sudden.

Rosie: Well I’m fine.

Tessa: Yeah I know.

Rosie. Well you know I always have that little cuff. (she demos the cuff (cough). It’s my asthma. So terrible. Your brother has an inhaler. I told him not to smoke. We have weak lungs.

Tessa: Yeah. I know. Anyways. I ache. And my throat is sore.

Rosie: I can’t be near anyone who’s sick. You know that.  I could die. 

Tessa: Good thing I’m just talking to you on the phone then.

Rosie: I’ve had pneumonia three times. But I was never sick at your age. Make sure you get your blood sugar checked. Diabetes runs in the family.

Tessa: Yeah. Anyways. I’m feeling pretty tired so I’m going to go.

Rosie: Max pees too much. He needs to get his blood sugar tested.

Tessa: Okay mom. Bye. Love you.




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Conversations with my Mother: The Snow Plough

My mother makes it her life’s work to mock Vancouver’s snow ploughs. Having been here once during a winter storm she still regularly likes to regale me with the same story over and over and over again how the only snow plough she saw was so small, so tiny, so incredibly meek that she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how this poor little machine that was no bigger than a lawn mower could possibly plough an entire city.  This is an example of what I have to live with.

Tessa: Gaboodle
Rosie: Gaboidle
Tessa: My mutha
Tessa: What are you doing?
Rosie: I’m looking outside.
Tessa: What are you looking at?
Rosie: There is a machine out here that is unbelievable. It looks like a space ship.
Tessa: Really. What’s it doing?
Rosie: It’s taking in alot of snow and then somehow I don’t know the snow disappears. It’s just making the snow disappear. It’s incredible.
Tessa: Really.
Rosie: Yeah. Remember the snow plough in Vancouver? How small it was?
Tessa: No.
Rosie: Well, I heard on the NEWS tonight that they said Vancouver had the smallest, worst snow ploughs ever. That they were like lawnmowers.
Tessa: They did not.
Rosie: Yes. I heard it. Tonight. It was on the news.
Tessa: No. That came straight from your own personal newscast in your brain.
Rosie: Are you saying I’m lying?
Tessa: I’m saying that what you just said is something you said but not the news. News doesn’t work that way.
Rosie: Anyways. Those ones in Vancouver are so pathetic. And for a big city like Vancouver with the Olympics and everything. They better get some bigger ones. Soon. It’s a bit embarrassing driving around in such a small thing.
Tessa: Anyways.
Rosie: All of  Port Credit is looking at this machine right now. It’s incredible. It’s as big as the whole street.
Tessa: Really. Anyways. Are you excited about your birthday?
Rosie: Ach. My birthday. I’ve had so many. Why would I be. Who knows if I’ll even be alive by then.
Tessa: It’s only two weeks away.
Rosie: Exactly. You never know.
Tessa: My potatoes are burning. I have to go. Love you.
Rosie: Me too. Bye.

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Conversations with my Mother: The Neighbour

Ring ring:
Tessa: Hello
Rosie: Gaboodle
Tessa: Gaboidle
Rosie: My mutha
Tessa: Is a toitle
After my mother and I get our traditional greeting out of the way, I wonder why Rosie is calling me for the third time this week. And in such good humour.
Tessa: What’s going on?
Rosie: Your sister is coming to stay with me this weekend.
Tessa: Oh yeah. That’s nice.
Rosie: She’s going to help me write a letter.
Tessa: What letter?
Rosie: To the neighbour.
Tessa: What for?
Rosie: The sex.
Tessa: I thought you didn’t mind her having sex.
Rosie: I don’t. But she carries on too long. I talked to Ray about it.
Tessa: What did Ray say?
Rosie: He said there’s nothing he can do about the sex. He can only do something about the music.
And besides she’s moved it to Wednesday night. Must be a salesman.
Tessa: What are you going to say in the letter?
Rosie: I’m going to say ” You really have some guy there, you’re a lucky girl but do you have to scream so loud for so long. Think about your neighbours. You’re keeping the whole building awake.”
Tessa: Are you going to sign it?
Rosie: I think she already knows.
Tessa: Knows what?
Rosie: Knows that I know. I saw her today on her bike. Definitely nothing to write home about. Very ordinary. Anyways, she walked right passed me and ignored me.
Tessa: Did you try say hello?
Rosie: No.  Anyways, maybe I should just wear earplugs on Wednesday nights. He must be married.
Tessa: Okay ma. I gotta fly. Say hi to Jokelee for me. Good luck with your neighbour. Make sure not to talk to her. See ya gaboods.


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