Last week, we traveled (all three of us) down to my hometown. My wife went to a conference nearby, so RR and I tagged along to spend some quality time with my mom, who will hopefully stop guilt-tripping me into visiting more often. A girl can dream.
I wrote a song recently inspired by my unexpected extended visit to my hometown when my mom had a stroke in January. I was fortunate enough to live on and among such rhyme-worthy street names. Alas… I’ve spent years avoiding “going home,” but then found myself stuck there for a while, alone, freaked out, and forced to drive through old memories every day. It’s been ten months since my sister called me to tell me that my mom was hospitalized and unresponsive. Considering that I just spent two days with her, driving around those same memories, on the way to the Red Robin for lunch, is awe-inspiring. Before, going to Red Robin with my mom would have been hell on so many levels … but as I sat there, chopping up cantaloupe for RR (who was actually behaving in her high chair), I found myself actually having a delightful time.
The visit was just long enough, and my mom and I had plenty of time to chat and complain about my sister. She not once judged (out loud) any parenting decisions I made on the spot, and she and RR got along famously. She had unearthed some old toys for her to play with, and we spent most of the days in her apartment, just hanging out… “visitin’” as my mom calls it. I held my ground Thursday night, making sure RR and I were back to the hotel in time for dinner, and to see the ferry boats putter about in the river under the city skyline from our room on the 8th floor. Friday morning, we had a room service breakfast picnic on the floor before checking out. We were back in time Friday night to relieve the dogsitter, and spent the weekend doing domestic weekendy things.
The visit aside, RR these days is quite a hoot. She talks nonstop. Some things we understand, most everything with an inflection, and she laughs out loud huge belly laughs when she’s not talking or sleeping. Her newest trick is fake-sneezing… where she inhales loudly and then makes “aashhhhhhhh” noises right after. This age, apparently, is where parenting turns into a sketch comedy show. Who knew?
