The Sonia Show

Writer. Mocker. Beer drinker. Old movie watcher. Mother. Goober.

To Grandmother’s house we go


Yeah, so, two more chemo treatments to go, you guys. Let’s dance!


I do chemo on Friday mornings, which means I spend most of my Friday afternoon eating (because the steroid they give me with the taxol makes me super hungry) and sleeping it off. On Saturdays, I tend to feel pretty rundown. Mighty, mighty good man David usually takes Calvin out on a little adventure to the zoo or the playground, so I can rest uninterrupted.

Well, this past weekend David had to travel to LA for work, so instead of keeping the kid cooped up in the house all day and trying to entertain him and rest at the same time, Calvin and I spent the weekend at my parents’ house with my mom (since my dad was out of town for the weekend). She’s a really nice lady. She took Calvin swimming at my sister’s place, and I fell asleep on the couch while watching the Giants game.

Saturday night, my mom started reading all her food labels, trying to figure out what she could make for dinner now that I’m trying a vegan diet. Like I said, she’s a nice lady. She could have told me to fend for myself or handed me a bowl of salad, she wanted to cook something (we had spaghetti with vegetables).

I still haven’t told my dad about my new diet. He doesn’t read this blog, have a Facebook account, or ask his children about their thoughts, feelings or lives, so he doesn’t know that his eldest daughter and turned into a vegan. (Can I call myself a vegan if I’ve only been doing the vegan diet for two weeks? Seems like I haven’t really officially earned the title yet.)

So, yeah, I wonder how my dad will take it?


The Ego Room: The room in my parents’ house that is filled with all the animals my dad has killed. FYI: That’s just one wall.

Actually, I know how my dad will respond. He will think I’m being a stupid asshole, and he will tell me so, even though I’m doing this diet for health reasons. That’s OK. Trust me. It won’t be the first time I’ve done something that disappoints him. I’ve been voting for democrats my entire adult life. He’s used to being disappointed in me.

So anyway, when Calvin stays at Grandma’s house, he gets to sleep with Grandma in her bed. That’s assuming Grandpa isn’t home. If Grandpa is home, then my mom and Calvin sleep in the guest room. True story. She’s a really good grandma. I was really curious to see who Calvin would choose to sleep with since I was sleeping there, too.

At bedtime, I asked him, “Do you want to sleep with Mommy or Grandma?” And he immediately ran into my mom’s room, “I want Grandma’s bed.”

Fine. I see how it is. I put a Calvin-shaped cookie on my back and went into the guest room.


The dog slept with me, so no hard feelings. Also, my mom and Calvin woke up at like 6:30 a.m., while I slept in until almost 9 a.m., so – really – no complaints here.

We had a great time at my parents’ place. We don’t have much in the way of a backyard at our place in SF, and – man oh man – does Calvin love playing in the backyard. He plays in the dirt and kicks balls around. And, finally, after watching his cousin Lucy ride it around on Saturday night, Calvin got on his tricycle and rode it around a little bit.


David doesn’t get home until Friday afternoon. By then I will have had my penultimate chemo, and I’ll have only ONE MORE TO GO. Can you tell I’m excited? I’m almost finished, you guys!




Author: The Sonia Show

I'm a writer/podcaster/mother/goober in San Francisco who likes to drink beer, shop, laugh and make other people laugh, watch old movies, feed my unhealthy obsession with pop culture, kick breast cancer's ass, go on adventures with my mighty, mighty good man David and my awesome autistic son, Calvin, wear orange and root for the San Francisco Giants, participate in general jackass-ery, talk about TV, eavesdrop on strangers' conversations, make nerdy “Star Wars” and “Simpsons” references, and post personal things about myself on the web for all to read, which makes me some sort of literary exhibitionist.

2 thoughts on “To Grandmother’s house we go

  1. Two weeks is more than enough time to consider yourself vegan in my book. In fact if I went one day without eating a cheeseburger, I would consider myself a vegan. (For that day at least.) Alas, that day has not yet come…

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