on the wrong side of the tracks...

I was in Kingston, the ultimate university town, this weekend, dropping off the baby Cherry and setting him up in res a week before he begins his first engineering classes.
I think everything went smoothly, no one was really nervous - except for my brother, who claimed he was fine but I swear this is one of the first times I've ever seen him even slightly nervous and it isn't about sports. Rob T came over and even said "This a little weird, isn't it?", "Yeah" my brother replied. And that my friends, was their only vocal recognition of their feelings about their first day in res. My mother was more dramatic than usual but we've all become accustomed to that. And when we left baby Cherry he just waved his hand at us, in a manner of brushing us away and said "you may go now".

Oh, to be 17 and indifferent.

I stayed with my parents in a hotel and let them wine and dine me. Having someone else pay all the bills was a welcome change. I still met up with friends for both nights I was there and this allowed me to enjoy the best of both worlds. (ie expensive dinner out with family, then drinks with friends and still stay in a hotel and not on a ratty ghetto couch. )

One of theses evenings I stayed out rather late... got back to the hotel, promptly passed out and then woke up later with a full bladder and fully dressed.
My mother, heard me get up, but didn't bring it up that morning...

When she brought it up it was at a moment when I didn't think I'd even see her : at the train station. First I will clarify things: My parents brought up both cars so to bring up all the stuff my brother needs for his room, so evidently they went back to Toronto seperately. My dad had dropped me off, and I had already said goodbye to my mom... expecting not to see her for another 3 weeks.
The Kingston train station only has two platforms, which face each other - and I was waiting on the further one.
SO... I was surprised to see a crazy lady dancing on the other platform, trying to get peoples' attention. Then I realised it was my mother. Trying to get my attention. You'd almost think she was a middle child, not an only child.
Instead of cowering behind the newspaper, like I wanted too - I called over to her. I told her to come over, she said she didn't want to get a parking ticket, so she'd just talk to me over the train tracks. How classy. At this point I wished that I stayed behind my newspaper. So we "talk" (ie scream) back at one another with about 60 people listening/watching. I tried to end the conversation about 10 times, but she'd have none of it. I suppose it is harder than it seems to see both your "babies" (as she called me and the younger Cherry across the tracks) and leave them both in a weekend. Great, now everyone there knew that she wasn't just a crazy woman but that she had two children and was strangely posessive. And just when I thought it was over... she turned to me one last time and said "Alex, I heard you go to the washroom last night at 2am - were you OK??" I think she said this loudest of all.
For about 5 seconds I couldn't say anything, and looked around and realised that yes, everyont was listening (or pretending not too) and oh! there was the old head of Queen's Art History department. I ended up responding in French and said that I felt like knocking some sense into her and that yes, I was ok, thank you very much and now please go away.
She laughed and then a train passed by, and she was gone.

So parents will always humiliate their children, so matter what their age, or position at work, or anything for that matter. And I didn't have the chance to come from a nice WASPy family who never communicate, my mom wants to know everything. And she wants everyone else to know too.

I brought it up with her last night on the phone and again, she just laughed and mentioned other opportunities and life-moments she was looking forward too in which she could embarass me. She started talking about my wedding (which it seems she has already half planned!) and her grandchildren. I then suggested she get a job.

On grandchildren...
I told her vaguely what a guy I had met and got along with and he looked like. Then she said "Oh! Babies with orange hair! I always wants babies with orange hair! Look Alex, there is a baby over there who has orange hair!"

This went on all weekend.


I am not so sure about moving back home now.
Does anyone want to live with me (I'm thinking January 07?)
No seriously.
The pressure to have grandchildren is slowly going to kill my libido.