August 14, 1991

Made a rice krispie cake. Rode my bike. Went to Gramma’s. We might go pick Corinne up in Regina on the 22nd. Dad has just a few more fields to swath.

Pretty typical day, it seemed that the days were just repeats of each other and nothing much exciting ever happened. Growing up on a farm can be easily romanticized but honestly when I think back, I just remember being bored a lot and having to make up our own entertainment. I mean yeah we helped out a lot but it was WORK, not fun.

My parents did end up going to Regina, which is in Saskatchewan, to pick up my sister the following week. She had spent the summer at my aunt and uncle’s near Calgary, Alberta and it was time to come back. Regina is about five hours from where I grew up and since there are no airports anywhere closer, her flight was Calgary to Regina which left the five hour drive to go pick her up.

I did not know the significance of this at the time. But it’s a jab I make (jokingly) at my parents probably once a year or so, for the last 33 years.

This was prime harvest time. My dad didn’t leave work in the field at harvest time for anything. Harvest is the cash cow. It’s what he worked all year round for. This is when a farmer literally reaps what he sows. As farmer’s daughters we made sure we planned our weddings around harvest time.

But for some reason, he ditched a day of work to drive to Regina to pick up my older sister. His first baby. And did I mention she flew to Regina?

Now fast forward 12 months, it was my turn to go and stay with Aunty Janice and Uncle Roy in Alberta, work, experience a whole different life. Spent my cheques as fast as I made them. Had a blast. I wanted to stay. I wanted to do my grade 12 year out there and live with my aunt and uncle. I asked my parents, they said absolutely not, no way.

So it was time to come back to Manitoba. Did I fly? No. I booked a bus ticket and rode the hellish 13 hour bus ride across the prairies right to Swan River. Did my parents at least drive the 30 minutes to town to pick me up from the 13 hour bus ride from hell? No. They didn’t. Guess what, I’m a middle child. So I take it as it comes.

My sister, Corinne, was working that day and would be done her shift at 5 pm. My bus got in at 3:30, so my parents just told me to hang around town until she got off work and then she would bring me home at 5. Okay, thanks.

My boyfriend at the time actually met me at the bus station and we (and one of his friends) went for coffee to kill time. Weird thing to do when you haven’t seen each other in almost two months but okay.

Anyway, I realized over the summer that I didn’t want him to be my boyfriend anymore and in my eyes he was a bit of a loser. So what did I do? I dumped him right there. After he waited all summer to see me, wrote me letters, the odd long distance phone call. I dumped him and I walked to the gas station where my sister worked and we went home.

Yesterday was National Middle Child Day. I guess I’m feeling sorry for myself lol. Honestly this is all said tongue in cheek. I do like to bug my parents about how they treated Corinne like royalty but wouldn’t even drive the 30 minutes to town to come and get me. Honestly, it’s typical for middle children. My son Taz would agree most likely.