Two more days until Bev and Fran make their grand entrance here on the West Coast! Yaaaay, my parents are coming to visit!
They’ve had quite a winter back in Mass. In fact, isn’t it snowing there right now? Probably not, but I wouldn’t put it past the stupid weather in that stupid state. (Sorry, sorry. In that wicked awesome state! Better, Masshole friends?) Anywho, they’ll be here and thankfully the rain will be making its way onward to some other place and—crossing our fingers we don’t get any more quakes—it should be a beautiful, sunny time had by all.
I see my parents but four times a year, and each time we say hello and goodbye, it gets harder and harder. Lucas is of remembering age now, so he jazzes himself up for their arrival and then he pouts for a few days after they leave and every so often when there’s a few months before we’ll all see each other again, he’ll say “See Mimi and Grampa today?” and my cold, dead heart dies again.
We usually do fun, special stuff when they are around, stuff we don’t normally do in our typical cash- and money-strapped lives. For example, on Saturday we are talking them out to a super fancy dinner in Big Sur at a place that’s up on a cliff and overlooking the Pacific Ocean. (I’ll let you know if it’s any good. You know how I feel about West Coast food.) It’s Bev and Fran’s 40th wedding anniversary, hurrah! So we’ll also be chauffeuring them around to several wineries to do tastings. (While my ass watches and eats crackers.) We’ll shop at the local grocery story instead of the chain grocery store, picking up fresh cheeses and produce and meats. We’ll eat outside because Bev and Fran like to do that stuff, whereas Alex thinks it’s too cold out when it’s 65 degrees.
Things are pretty great when Mom and Dad come around, and not only because they are a barrel of fun. I get to be all “hold my baby!” for a week, and they do it gladly, since they don’t get to be around their grandson all that much. They usually teach him things we then have to unteach him when they leave, but that’s a tradeoff I’m willing to make for one beautiful week of semi-rest.
This time around, with a baby in my belly, I’m feeling extra-needy for my parents to get here. I know this adventure has hardly begun, but I’m getting a very small taste of how very exhausting it will be to have two kids, and holy dear God do I wish my parents were nearby so I could 1. enjoy their company 2. have a night’s rest every now and then. Alex’s parents are great and they step in whenever we need them (including watching Lucas while we go do adult stuff on Saturday), but they are 45 minutes away, so I always feel bad asking. Plus, they aren’t MY parents, you know? There’s just a different feeling of relaxation knowing your own mom is watching your kid (especially since I’m right there in the house with them).
Can we also talk about the fact that I get to eat my mom’s cooking for a week? No amount of nausea will stop me.
Only two more days. Two more days and that breath that I always feel like I’m holding when they’re away can be released. Two more days and my mom can start driving me crazy after about 20 minutes in my home. I’m so looking forward to their arrival, I don’t even care if she tells me how filthy my house is. (She will. She will.) Two more days.
…and only three more days until I’m likely complaining about it here on this blog.
The Olive Gal
green of skin, black of heart
