I arrived home from my Ireland trip on Friday evening, naturally exhausted. It was a whirlwind of a trip, with three destinations in 6 days, and I’m glad I got to go. Who know how dad will be in a couple of years when we are all able to go over as a family. Saturday I wake up (late) and feel like I’m barely functioning. Still, I start on going through the hundreds of emails that have piled up since my absence (and lack of internet) and begin getting ready for Monday.
My little brother comes over to pick up a few items that I picked up for him in Ireland, such as a hat, poster, and some sweets. He had to come over because chocolate is not going to last long in my house. We talked about my trip, how dad is doing, and some other stuff. Conversation then turned to what he was up to, and he mentioned that he was to go up to Canada the following day with mom. Why? Because she had tickets to the Olympics and the friend she was going to go with bailed out on her. Jeez. Tough break, getting to go to the Olympics. But wait, my little brother didn’t want to go.
I said that I wish I could go, but have too much work that piled up over the week I was away. Not only that, but I had just left my pregnant wife alone with three small children to care for by herself for a week. My little brother had no interest in spending four hours in the car with mom, and even less in the Ice Dancing event. Laura said I should go. I protested on the grounds of having left her for a week already, and she replied that one more day isn’t going to kill anybody (hopefully).
A couple of phone calls later and I was replacing my brother for Olympics attendance.
This would not be an event free from drama, however. Mom and I have a strained relationship, going months on end without talking to each other. Add to this the fact that another brother of mine Ian purchased the tickets for mom, and will also be attending the event. I haven’t seen nor spoken to Ian in years, for reasons which are not appropriate to go into at this time. So, this could have been a very horrible family disaster of… Olympic proportions.
Sunday morning I wake up and help get the family breakfast together, then I head off to meet mom. Keep in mind that the previous week I was in Ireland, and was just getting adjusted to the time difference, then returned 36 hours previously. My head was a bit fuzzy (to understate things a bit). After meeting mom, we drove up Interstate 5 and had a fairly pleasant talk the whole way up. The border crossing went uneventful, and there was smooth sailing all the way into Vancouver.