A bunny laid a chocolate egg for kids on Easter. Do you think somewhere before what we now call ‘civilization’ that chocolate bunny egg origins were derived from shit? I could totally see medieval parents telling their children that to honour the resurrection they could chase the bunny around the filth-laden streets and look for the little treats it left behind. Maybe that was one cure for scurvy that we never heard about – and was a sneaky trick for kids who didn’t eat their vegetables.
Anyway – my sister is staying at my mom’s this weekend with her roommates. I was unaware of this until I asked if my mom would want to watch my kid’s lacrosse game since we’ll be close to her and she almost snapped back, “Maggie is here”.
“Uh, OK”, I said. “You can’t take a couple hours on Sunday to come watch your grandson play lacrosse?”
“Not likely”, she replied. This was how our visit started. I had driven to Sidney from Ladysmith, about an hour and a half drive to visit with her and learn more about our family history.
As soon as this came out it kicked awake the memory of all the other times I had tried to create some family time and memories and been met with an “only if I have nothing better to do” sense. This also kicks my mama bear sequence into high gear to do my best to protect my own kid from this lack of closeness, awareness, and empathy for another.
My mom never really came to any of my sports games as a kid. I remember being at my Grade 12 grad and receiving Senior Female Athlete of the Year and my parents had got into a fight, so when I came out to see them they were gone. A friend’s mom took my photo.
where rivers are born 