Births, Birthdays, Breakfast, and a Busy Day

My partner is an Ides of March Pisces. My mum is a Leap Year baby. I may even find time to sing them Happy Birthday before I collapse.

The final class of my drawing course should have been last week, but the snowstorm postponed it to today. One last look at someone’s gastrocnemeii and coracoid processes, then, from 9 00 to noon. Then I walk straight from class to the pet store for a four-hour shift. Then I hurry home, harness up poggles in the back seat, and head up the highway 90 minutes with my partner to Mum’s place and a double birthday celebration. With any luck, I should be decompressing with a Guiness just after 18-hundred-hours.

At least that was the plan. Yesterday my sonny-boy called. “Hi, Mom, what are you doing over the next few days?”

“We’re going to Grandma’s for the weekend — wanna come?”

“Sure!”

Ah, my one-and-only, my Quebecois kid, born in St-Justine children’s hospital in Montreal a quarter-century ago. When I beheld him for the first time, I gasped: “C’est un petit boy!” And when he was placed in my arms, he felt like a little trophy.

So, he’s on the midnight bus and should be here around 7 30. Instead of sleeping in, my partner gets to drive me to the bus station to pick him up. Then we’ll all have a hearty breakfast somewhere, I’ll get dropped off at class, and the two loves of my life will plan their day.

Meanwhile, having gotten up with the cat alarm at 5 30, I’ve found that the latest litter at Yasashiikuma Kennel has arrived. The breeder and her husband had laid bets: one said seven puppies, the other said nine. There are eight. Contrary, peace-making Pisceans, the lot of them.

Oops, change of plan! Sonny boy’s bus is an hour early. Okay, I’m heading for the shower, the birthday girl is heading for the car, and then we’ll go out to breakfast.

Many happy returns to every member of the fishy tribe.