Posted by: Kate | July 7, 2008

Many, Varied, Unusual

We’ve arrived home, safe and mostly intact. I kept it together throughout the process of checking Emily into camp and settling her in, and for the most part on the drive to New York (there was one bad moment at a rest stop on the Mass Pike in which I had reason to be grateful that they ever cleaned the floors, at all).

One we arrived in the city, we checked into our 15th-floor hotel room and, as Willem explained to his friend over the phone, “Kate is not too enthused about the room.” Which was a screaming flagrant euphemism if I ever heard one: I perched on the edge of the bed and sobbed, with a brief break for Willem to attempt to engage in problem-solving while I was still in freak-out mode, and then sobbed some more. The hotel was, shall we say, a few (hundred) steps down from the last one we inhabited in New York City. It hovered just over the bare minimum of my personal standards for cleanliness, and well below safety for a small child (no screens or window locks 150 feet up? Locks no stronger than that which comes on your average bedroom door? Fabulous!), but by refusing to take my shoes off unless I was actually in bed and watching Jacob like a hawk at all times, we made do.

There’s a lot I could say about how much my standards have changed since becoming a mom, or what the choice of hotel might indicate about Willem’s standards or his upcoming vacation with Mike (who shared the suite with us and made the reservation), or my own capacity for hysteria when faced with disappointing lodging after a very long day in which I clung by my fingernails to some semblance of sanity up until that moment… but I won’t.

The next day, Sunday, was unreasonably fabulous. We spent the morning finding breakfast and wandering in Central Park, and then met up with a lovely woman who is both an old friend and a comparative stranger; we’ve been members of the same message board (of which there are about 8 members, total) for almost five years, but had never met face-to-face. It’s always a relief to meet someone after an online acquaintanceship and be assured that they are not, in fact, a sweaty, panting, overweight man with a penchant for toddlers.

After lunch, Willem, Jacob and I wandered back to the much-maligned hotel for a nap, and met up with Mike for dinner before we headed over to Yankee Stadium. Willem insists that he wrote a post on Saturday morning and scheduled it to run on Sunday, but I haven’t found it, myself. Chances are it speaks about sports in a much manlier, more-researched way than I possibly could. My experience was much less about the game (though I do know that the Yankees won, after a while being tied with the Red Sox) and much more about the crowd.  (Note:  I found it, here.  It’s good to be right.)

We were in a group of nine – the three of us plus a contingent of fraternity brothers, friends and girlfriends thereof. I sat on one end of the group, so the extent of my interaction with the rest consisted of a lot of waving and half-understood conversations. I was a lot more aware of the young gentleman next to me, who is the only person I have ever met who can talk more than my daughter and that is not a compliment, and the delightful young lady a few seats past him who was able to apply the word fuck to many, varied, unusual situations, encompassing all possible word forms, all at high volumes. It wasn’t offensive so much as impressive, and I’d have told her so if I wasn’t a little concerned at her apparently minimal anger-management techniques.

Jacob fell asleep on me in the ninth inning, so as far as he’s concerned, the game ended in a tie. He’s a fledgling Red Sox fan, in contrast to his sister’s insistence on cheering for the Yankees just to piss her father off. Ties are much more conducive to the general peace, around here.

After the game, Jacob and I returned to the hotel to sleep, and Willem went out with the rest of the group. He’s feeling just exactly like you might expect a 30something guy who hasn’t been out hard-core drinking in quite a while to be feeling after staying out past 4:00 in the morning. Our car ride home today was fabulous.

But now we’re home, in various forms of repose and cheeriness. Sometime, I will dredge up the energy to charge my camera battery and upload photos. But first, there is imminent pizza and some snarking over the season finale of The Bachelorette. And then back to the workweek, and twelve more days until I can pick Emily up from camp.

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Responses

  1. I once had a car ride home that was totally awesome also. After a friend’s wedding, we drove her sister and her boyfriend to the airport about 2 hours away. He was totally hung over. Nothing a sheet, a plastic bag, and no sudden turns didn’t take care of. Oh the memories!

  2. O dear. I share your disappointment, imagine being in New York in a crappy room! I’d hit the roof. Sounds like the rest of the stay wasn’t too bad though. Clare saw the Yankees play a few weeks ago and thoroughly enjoyed the ‘atmosphere’. I’d love to see a major league game! Can’t wait for the pics!

  3. I’m tired just reading this. I am glad to know, though, that I am not the only one who has these emotional breakdowns when pushed passed my limits of exhaustion. Just ask my dear husband about the day we got the estimate for our new roof. A day that will live in infamy. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth in biblical proportions.

  4. […] that Jacob has ever seen me cry in his whole life: once when I fell in the driveway, once when the hotel in New York City was several steps down from acceptably safe and clean, and today.  It certainly […]


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