Weekend Visitors
The paternal parental unit and the sororal sibling unit descended upon Boston last Thursday. The Tweedly Twirp mostly kept me company while Peter tailed Adam around HBS like the eager beaver he is. I mean that almost literally—Peter only wears his M.I.T. class ring (only I promise, the number on his ring is nowhere near 2004) when he goes to Hah-vahd, so he won’t accidentally be thought of as one of them. And yet, he returns each semester and harangues Adam until he sends him his needed cases, because he can’t get enough of the HBS experience. If anyone wonders where my extreme ambivalence about HBS originates, look no further than my father.
So while Peter was learning about Timberland and banking in Germany and accompanying Adam on manly tasks such as a trip to Home Depot, Tweeds and I hit the mall for maternity clothes. This is only after my Old Navy shipment arrived and she burst out laughing at me when I tried on my new bathing suit. “But,” she stuttered as she gasped for air, “it’s so big! You’re so big.” Gee, thanks. And I’m guessing in the next 19 weeks, I’m not going to be getting any smaller (and for the record, I’m actually not very big, but when you're a size zero munchkin Tweedle Twirp, everyone looks big to you). But amusement aside, she was a helpful assistant as I tried to get in and out of these mammoth pieces of cloth that never seemed quite as large when they were on my body. Of course, after our trip to maternity land, we required stops at Pottery Barn Kids and GapBaby, where the Tweeds helped me pick out two outfits for Brown Brown (I've decided not to follow the old Jewish superstition about not buying anything before the baby is born. I think it's going to be a lot more fun shopping now than it is when I have a screaming Brown Brown in my arms). The only frightening moment came when a woman was trying to buy a baseball cap for her son, who must have been about four or five. "Okay, Conner, you have to try this on." Conner was having nothing of it and skirted out of Mom's reach. "Conner, you must try this on if we're going to buy this for you," she said as she tried to force the cap on his head. Conner, however, was quicker than his mother and scooched (yes, that's a word because I say it is) down to the floor. His mother wrestled him to the ground (that's both of them on the floor of the Gap, wriggling around and she tries to smush this red cap down on his blond head), trying to force the stupid cap upon his head for a few minutes before standing up and saying, "Fine, you can't have the hat then." She turned, glanced at my stomach, and then said, "See what you have to look forward to?" I said, "But there are good times, too, right?" She smirked and walked off. Reassuring.
The rest of the weekend was uneventful. I ditched the gang after a breakfast at S & S deli to take my yoga class. I love this yoga class, although it's so 1970s you kind of want to laugh at it. Lots of cushions on the floor. Blue carpet. Wood paneled walls. Chimes and new age music. But it's a great stretch and very relaxing and I enjoy being in a room with other preggos. After, I had grandiose plans for how we'd spend the afternoon, but the rain was fierce and everything was outside, so we ended up hanging in and I think all of us fell asleep. We, of course, ended the evening at Legal Seafood, because no trip to Boston is complete for Peter until he has his lobster.
The two left yesterday, but it was no biggie as I'll see the Tweeds on Wednesday in New Orleans, and both parental units in a month back home (that's Miami Beach, for those of you who just started playing). Adam went off to a barbecue, and I headed to Shannon's for a good old fashioned lingerie/sex toy party (think Tupperware party, only with more mentions of the word "penis" and "g spot"). No need to go into detail because, honestly, it was just some good clean American fun. It definitely made for a laugh-filled afternoon. I'm just now trying to figure out how I can get the Partner's Club to have one of these. If any of you are reading this, I'll even volunteer to set it up. I mean, what good CWIT isn't proficient in the bedroom (or whatever room you prefer). Get back to me, ladies, on that one.
So while Peter was learning about Timberland and banking in Germany and accompanying Adam on manly tasks such as a trip to Home Depot, Tweeds and I hit the mall for maternity clothes. This is only after my Old Navy shipment arrived and she burst out laughing at me when I tried on my new bathing suit. “But,” she stuttered as she gasped for air, “it’s so big! You’re so big.” Gee, thanks. And I’m guessing in the next 19 weeks, I’m not going to be getting any smaller (and for the record, I’m actually not very big, but when you're a size zero munchkin Tweedle Twirp, everyone looks big to you). But amusement aside, she was a helpful assistant as I tried to get in and out of these mammoth pieces of cloth that never seemed quite as large when they were on my body. Of course, after our trip to maternity land, we required stops at Pottery Barn Kids and GapBaby, where the Tweeds helped me pick out two outfits for Brown Brown (I've decided not to follow the old Jewish superstition about not buying anything before the baby is born. I think it's going to be a lot more fun shopping now than it is when I have a screaming Brown Brown in my arms). The only frightening moment came when a woman was trying to buy a baseball cap for her son, who must have been about four or five. "Okay, Conner, you have to try this on." Conner was having nothing of it and skirted out of Mom's reach. "Conner, you must try this on if we're going to buy this for you," she said as she tried to force the cap on his head. Conner, however, was quicker than his mother and scooched (yes, that's a word because I say it is) down to the floor. His mother wrestled him to the ground (that's both of them on the floor of the Gap, wriggling around and she tries to smush this red cap down on his blond head), trying to force the stupid cap upon his head for a few minutes before standing up and saying, "Fine, you can't have the hat then." She turned, glanced at my stomach, and then said, "See what you have to look forward to?" I said, "But there are good times, too, right?" She smirked and walked off. Reassuring.
The rest of the weekend was uneventful. I ditched the gang after a breakfast at S & S deli to take my yoga class. I love this yoga class, although it's so 1970s you kind of want to laugh at it. Lots of cushions on the floor. Blue carpet. Wood paneled walls. Chimes and new age music. But it's a great stretch and very relaxing and I enjoy being in a room with other preggos. After, I had grandiose plans for how we'd spend the afternoon, but the rain was fierce and everything was outside, so we ended up hanging in and I think all of us fell asleep. We, of course, ended the evening at Legal Seafood, because no trip to Boston is complete for Peter until he has his lobster.
The two left yesterday, but it was no biggie as I'll see the Tweeds on Wednesday in New Orleans, and both parental units in a month back home (that's Miami Beach, for those of you who just started playing). Adam went off to a barbecue, and I headed to Shannon's for a good old fashioned lingerie/sex toy party (think Tupperware party, only with more mentions of the word "penis" and "g spot"). No need to go into detail because, honestly, it was just some good clean American fun. It definitely made for a laugh-filled afternoon. I'm just now trying to figure out how I can get the Partner's Club to have one of these. If any of you are reading this, I'll even volunteer to set it up. I mean, what good CWIT isn't proficient in the bedroom (or whatever room you prefer). Get back to me, ladies, on that one.
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