I have been asked on several occasions why I do not share more of my personal life on my blog, stories about my family, my life and my friends. I suppose this is partly because I find it difficult to write about myself but more so because you may find it hard to believe some of the events and activities in my life could possibly be true.
Reason should have it though that a dear friend is moving to another state and she also happens to be the main character in one of the more charming and ridiculous chapters from the story of my life.
If I were a scrapbooking kind of mother, I suppose this would be called “while mommy was at the INS office” and then I would paste this picture.
Years from now I imagine us flipping through the pages and having a conversation something like this…
Daughter: “Where am I mommy?” Me: “That’s you at a pub dear”
Daughter: “Where are you mommy”? Me:” Oh, I am at the INS office with your father. “
Daughter: “What am I doing there?” Me: “You would rather be at the INS office?”
Daughter: “Who took me there? Me: “A neighbor, she was very nice and offered to watch you, but you see, there was this very important soccer match at the exact same time as our interview, so I said okay, she could take you with her.”
Daughter: “You let her take me to a bar?” Me: “A pub, there’s a difference.”
Daughter: “So, you had me go to a bar with a stranger while you went to the INS office?”
Me: “A pub! See that pint of Guinness there – a pub. Also, it was a much better option than the INS office; did you want to get deported back to Canada? You don’t even like maple syrup. Plus look how cute you look in the uniform? And for the record, she was not a total stranger, and now she is a dear friend. In fact, she is your brother’s Godmother.”
Daughter: “Oh yeah, Where did you get him baptized, at a bar? Me: “Hey, don’t be cheeky, see what a nice, unique memory this is?”
So yes, while I was at the INS office with my husband answering questions about what brand of toothpaste he uses and what side of the bed he sleeps on, my six month old was at a pub watching Celtic play Barcelona with my now dear friend Janice, who assured me that in Glasgow this would be completely acceptable and that after my daughter’s first pint of Guinness she hardly fussed at all. (kidding) (I think).
Thanks to Janice, I didn’t have to take my baby to the INS office and I got my green card. Three years and one more baby later, baby at the pub turned out to be one of our tamer adventures. New York City China Town purse shopping, half-marathon training, almost-arrested at a soccer match night before my son’s baptism made up some of the more interesting times I won’t soon forget. Janice, thanks for the memories and the blog material.
Unfortunately, I can’t seem to find any scrapbooking materials made for INS interview- green-card memories but like most of the stories in my life, they don’t seem to readily fit into pre-made categories.
