My baby!

March 23, already! Twenty-three is an important number to me, calendarwise. My birthday, my daughter’s, my brother’s (the one who doesn’t acknowledge my existence) and my brother-in-law’s birthdays all fall on the 23rd. The 23rd marks the anniversary of my first menses. It’s just one of those totally random things.

Anyway, I was up again before the crack of dawn this morning, delivering my second-born to the bus station so he can journey to the land of my birth to spend a fun-filled day at one of the universities of his choice and be interviewed for its film programme. Last night we went over in detail how he will get from his grandmother’s house to the campus, from what subway station he will get which bus, where he will transfer buses, what he will do with his actual transfer (when to keep, when to relinquish), and then how to make the return trip when the day of fun and frolic is over. The campus is enormous and he has no idea where he’s supposed to be going and when his interview is scheduled for. It is extremely disorganized in my mind. Also, the majority of students attending this large establishment will undoubtedly come from the city itself and surrounding areas. I don’t thing they are really all that sympathetic to kids coming from great distances, totally the opposite of the institution where I work, which actively recruits across the country.

Anyway, I packed him a lunch, gave him lots and lots of money (most of which he will spend at the Montreal bus depot on his return ticket), kissed and hugged him good bye, then returned home and went back to bed for a couple of hours. It’s just me and Little Princess now, until Hubby returns tomorrow night.

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