The Good Guys

Back at it, and raring to go! Historically Tuesdays are my most productive of days-- the weekend has worn off, the inherent Monday-ness of Monday has passed, and I hit my stride, at least in the workplace. At home I always manage to be simultaneously on top of things and not at all on top of them, no matter what the day. One thing in my favor right now is that, after a week of good sleep but unfortunate 5 a.m. (or earlier) adamant-start-the-day wake-ups from the toddler of the house, we've experienced the favored combo of good sleep until 5, followed by more sleep once he gets into our bed. It indeed makes a difference.

And now to recap the weekend, which happened a year ago, feels like. My sister threw a belated surprise 30th birthday party for her husband (surprise! You're actually 31!) and we went up to her neck of the woods for the occasion. HR is getting to be ever so much better of a traveler, thankfully. He slept pretty much the whole two-hour ride to Portland, and was so exited to wake up in Maine and to see his Auntie straight away. We met my sister for lunch while the birthday boy was off on a golf boondoggle, not realizing that our predetermined rendezvous point was smack in the middle of Portland's gay pride parade. Luckily there was minimal parking inconvenience and the atmosphere made our lunch date that much more fun. After that we went to my mother's oldest friend's place where my parents were staying, and where my mother would be taking care of HR overnight while the rest of us went to the party. It was great to spend some time there with Aunt Maria (who is not really my aunt but is my godmother). I even got to take a little nap while my kid basked in all the attention from his grandmother and "Mia," as he calls her, which was supremely lucky since it had been one of those 4:30 a.m. mornings, and I knew I had a long night ahead. HR barely even noticed when we kissed him goodbye for the night, and I was so grateful to know he was in such good, loving hands. I'm at the point where I can go out and don't even think about him anymore or worry about how he's doing, and that is a gift.

The party was such a good time. It was a pretty intimate affair, with immediate family but also their millions of friends (my sister and her husband are way more social than I am) and there was great pizza and overall it was a big pile of happy. When the rented time in the restaurant was over, the intrepid among us moved to where we always end up, having some beverages and messing around on the patio of our favorite spot in the Old Port while a band of white dudes played reggae covers. And it was a blast. I am not over these kinds of nights, not by a long shot. And thought it's not in me to ever want to leave when something's still going on--it's downright Perry of me, you could say--I decided to follow my cousin's lead and get scarce before last call and it turned out to be a smart move.

On Sunday we got to sleep in at my sister's (past 8 a.m., even), and feeling mostly human, took our time getting into the day and going off to retrieve our boy. By the time we arrived he had just woken up from a nap and was rewarding his grandparents with extreme grouchiness, so our timing was perfect. My godmother and her boyfriend invited us and my siblings and their spouses to stay for a Father's Day barbecue and it was perfect. The food was great, the weather was beautiful, and the company was perfect. HR repeated "Happy. Faddurs. Day!" on demand, which I can't believe I didn't get on video, it was such a delicious novelty. His speech is really blowing up right now, and it was an unexpected present for his dad and grandfather.

I think I could have stayed there hanging out with my full belly all day, but we needed to get back to the city and so we did. HR was a trouper once again, which gives me hope for summer packed with traveling. So that was my weekend, rather a whirlwind for this homebody. There's more mundane detail in this post than I usually like to give, but to me the entire weekend was a highlight. The little things like awesome childcare and a mostly agreeable kid and a rare, full weekend with Mike and quality time spent with family mean a lot to me. And in some ways I paid for it, but I don't think there'll be a time in my life when it isn't worth the price.

I got to see my old bud Jay at the party (he was my friend first, but has more or less evolved into family at this point) and he asked why the hell hadn't I linked this on my blog yet? And I was like, right?

So for those who haven't yet seen this, here's something that's not really a song, but it showcases one of my life heroes and it gives my whole being the hot-cold chills. There will never be another human exactly like Fred Rogers, but I hope there will be lots of them at least a little like him.