A woman on my flight asked me who was right, the man who wouldn’t store his small bag under the seat because he preferred the overhead bin and was on-board first; or the woman with a large duffle bag that wouldn’t fit under the seat, so she needed the overhead bin space – she should have checked her oversized bag.

“I don’t know.” I replied, my gesture mimicking the emoji who wears a purple shirt with her hands in the air. ‘I don’t care’ would have been a more honest response.

This happens to me a lot. Complete strangers bring me into their world and for some reason see in me a sympathetic ear to vent to and receive moral support from. They tell me about their problems. I don’t mind, because I learn a lot without having to dig for much information. I often think to myself, I’d better text this to my friend Julie so that I have a record of it. I’ve been noticing a general trend of forgetfulness lately, so the texts are more frequent and increasingly more detailed.

I was the only one to make eye contact with the mother who was five minutes late for swimming lessons – the other three parents couldn’t be bothered to look up from their phones when the woman asked where the change room was.

“There are two single change rooms here, that are full, but if you walk past the front desk and to the right the women’s change room is there.” I answered.

“Thank-you.” She replied as she scurried by me to get her daughter changed. She took the teeniest, tiniest shuffle steps, a seemingly inefficient use of her energy, but she was quick.

A couple of minutes later she was back and took a seat next to me on the bench where we sit to watch our kids in the pool.

“My husband signs my daughter up for so many activities and doesn’t factor in travel time. After this I have to take the child to Chinese school on the other side of the city so she can learn Mandarin. She is three. She can’t even hold a pencil properly yet and he thinks she is going to be able to write. I don’t think so. I hate Chinese school. I can say that because I’m Chinese.”

“I hear ya.” What does that even mean I thought after I said it. I can in no way relate to what she just said. I guess I was going for supportive, she appreciated my reply with a smile. “Are you from China?” I asked.

“Yes, but moved to Canada by way of Hong Kong five years ago. I lived in Hong Kong  for ten years. Can I ask you a question?” she raised her eyebrows and tilted her head forward looking at me overtop of her glasses that had slipped down her nose.

“Yes.” I answered.

“Do I have to re-teach my daughter all of the lessons she learns in school each day?” I could tell from her tone that she was fishing for a certain response.

“I wouldn’t. Seems like a waste of your time to me. If she has homework you could help her I guess, but no, don’t re-teach everything.”

“That’s what I thought. The education system is different in Canada. My husband said I have to re-teach everything.” She said as she removed her winter jacket.

“Well, I went through the Canadian education system and I ended up ok. Maybe your husband should relax.” I replied.

“Yes, he should, but won’t. I don’t think he wants me to have friends so he keeps me occupied with the child.”

“How does that make you feel?” I am such a psychologist, of the arm chair variety. I have absolutely zero qualifications but I am acutely interested in the lives of others. My mother thinks I’m nosey. ‘Curiosity killed the cat, Kate’ she would often say. To which I’d reply, ‘and yet it spared George.’ That monkey is a liability.

“I pretend to like the activities so that the child does not get discouraged but I actually hate the activities, especially Chinese school. Swimming is ok.” She pulled out her phone, I glanced at the screen and she had an incoming call from ‘The Man.’ I assume that is her husband. She has her husband in her phone as ‘The Man’

I nodded before looking at the clock, stood up, grabbed a towel and walked out to the pool deck to collect the child named Olivia following her lesson – I can’t call her the child with a straight face or without thinking about how the woman’s daughter is ‘the child’, her husband ‘the man’ and I never got the opportunity to ask her what she is called. Probably ‘the mother’ or ‘the wife’. She hasn’t been back to swimming lessons since and owes me $125 for our half-hour session.

“Do you think I have pre-early-onset Alzheimers?” I asked Heath, worried.

“That’s not a thing. You’re ridiculous.” He said as he folded our socks.

I raised it with my doctor because while Heath is a lot of things, he is not medically trained. As I described to my doctor what has being going on I dismissed it with some of Heath’s key messages: I don’t get enough sleep, work is busy and then there are the hormonal shifts associated with building humans. Instead of reassuring me that I was fine and Heath’s inferences were correct she raised her eyebrows and simply said, “hmmm” in a tone that was sufficiently alarming and fueled a series of late night Google searches. Based on my self-diagnosis I should be dead right now. I’m a medical marvel, truly.

Heath was watching the pre-coverage of the NBA All-star Game one night while I was sitting next to him on the couch responding to work email on my phone. I looked up momentarily and noticed Shaquille O’Neil, “How tall do you think Shaq is?” I asked.

“7’1 I think.” I later Googled this and he was right. Heath underestimates his ability to recall sports facts. If you want to know who won the second set in the men’s Wimbeldom finals in 2004 or what NFL team has lost the most Superbowls, Heath can tell you without spending much time thinking about it. The guy is unconscious when it comes to these things.

“Oh, ok thanks.” I looked back down at my phone. A few minutes later I once again looked up at the screen and commented:

“Hun, how tall do you think Shaq is?”

Heath looked at me in disbelief: “Are you serious? You just asked me that question.”

“No I didn’t, I would remember that.” I replied.

“Yes you did and I told you he is 7’1.” Heath was visibly annoyed. This example just further supported his assertion that I don’t listen when he tells me things. I realized later he was right but at that point the ship had sailed, to circle back would do no one, especially me, any good so I let that one lie.

Stay great!

Kate