Tuesday, 17 November 2009

Oh My! How They Grow Up Fast

ACTORCASH. These are the words emblazoned across the top of the debit card Cory has handed me so I can withdraw money without him and pretend I am not a kept woman. Actually its more to do with not being able to get any card of my own, not having a social security number and all. As with any good actor, if there is a significant amount of belief in the playing of a part the audience will usually go along with the illusion, so too then with this card. If I just believe we have bottomless funds it will be true. Just as well seeing as over the past few days I have gone from laissez faire attitude towards our sons birthday to a host of a full on shindig for the troupe and family in a loud Trocadero style game haunt, the sort of which you will rarely find me in. More disappointing than that, is the fact that when we went to check it out I suddenly was craving chicken wings and coins to squander on the machines. What a difference a day makes. We also have abandoned the idea of buying a very modest wooden puzzle to remember his third birthday by to the new one of investing in a tiny miniature wooden toy piano. It sounds like the kind a monkey would have ground back in the day. Its red. I love it. I justify the purchase because I miss our piano and being able to hear Sammy boy tinkle on it. Also there is a part of me that expects him to suddenly come out with a bar or two from the overture of the show, seeing as we have started seriously committing it to memory. I am waiting for the day he starts giving his father notes. As long as he learns to do it with more gentleness and panache than I usually do, all will be well. So there we have it, my free couple of hours this morning whilst Cory and Sammy went to the commune, sorry playgroup, (more on this anon) which I filled with short sharp arrangements of venues, balloons, cupcakes and a tear or two whilst I picked out a card. The nostalgia of the C-section overcame me its true. Especially the tender memory of the (male) nurse who, having met me in for the first time in my last crazed minutes before the epidural took hold for the surgery and who missed my heroic calm and endurance of the previous 30 hours turned to me and told me (without some attitude as I recall) that I had to "just calm down!" Closest I ever got to committing murder. Cory held me down. He still has the bruises. I have been somewhat slack with the blog over the past few days. I put this down to the highly social life we have been enjoying. Over the past few days we have: had my brother and sister-in-law and our nephew over to stay for a long weekend, seen the show with them and the Chicago family, watched said nephew twist and turn in the skate park, drunk in art at the art institute, eaten a Chicago filled pizza (did I say pizza I meant 6ft deep quiche disguised as a pizza. If you struggle with that image, howsabout 3 pizzas cooked one on top of the other? Still not working? Hows about calorie intake for the month? Knew that would get you) partied in the suburbs at one of the producers of the show's home and found Frank Sinatra's favourite haunt in the city. Catch a breath. Yes, life in Chicago is rough let me tell ya. That last outing was a personal favourite. We listen to the rat pack so much its beginning to feel like the boys are one of the family (I remind you again, who we named the tykey after. No pressure kid). On the corner of a tree lined street is a little place called Twin Anchors, a somewhat nautical name for very much a neighbourhood place. I passed two neighbourhooders as we walked in past the awning, in deep Russian mafia type conversation and was surprised to see them in the same positions when we left and with the same level of suppressed urgency and air of conspiracy. Either that or the zesty sauce on the ribs (fall off the bone utterly delicious) had gone to my head. I knew Cory was a little giddy. He even bought a bowling shirt with the name of the place on the back. Two pints of the local ale - day off - and ribilicious dinner turned him into a happy camper. At first we wondered whether Sam would make the meal, he seemed quite upset when we told him we had to wait for a table (the place only sits about 50 and hasn't changed a bit since maybe the late 50s early 60s) but once we sat him at the dimly lit bar and he had dunked a couple of fingers into his dad's beer he mellowed out and made friends with the people who perched next to us. One by the name of Jack who had lived in London for 3 years and had moved to this part of Old Town just because the architecture had reminded him of London (he lived in Kensington and had many friends in Hampstead). My favourite memory of the place is a sign hung overhead that read "Positively no dancing!" Call me a rebel......
Yes the days here have been punctuated by a string of foody delights. After the matinee last Saturday the family headed to Berghoff's, est 1890something and the first place to have its license reinstated after the lifting of prohibition. It is a large wood pannelled schnitzel house with a host of beers on tap, high ceilings separate bar and lounge area and despite the decor being recent the lighting and the atmosphere does induce Victoriana. Sausages and schnitzels filled our table and happiness abounded. Sammy has learnt to take pictures with our phones and snapped the waitress many times, proudly interrupting her at other tables to show her his portraits. Hugs were exchanged. Thats hug with an "s". You've got to hand it to the kid. He has style. She was quite a looker too. Enough already, I'm doing that thing I have started to do, you know, talk in his voice and stuff. I couldn't help myself this morning either when we wrote (yes "we" I dictated letters he punched them in. It took a LOOOONG time) the invitation for the party to be put up on the call board at the theatre. I tried my hand at witty three year old speak. It will either make people smile or send them running Hey ho. Its been great to socialise with the crew and actrines too this week out at the producer's home. A coach arrived to ship everyone over (we drove because insurance does not cover Sam and I) and a feast was generously laid on by our hosts in their welcoming home. David, their 11 year old son, took it upon himself to befriend Sammy and they enjoyed each others company. I will not pretend that I was somewhat alarmed when the older loudly invited Sammy to play on his trampoline downstairs (cue memories of horror stories of children bashing themselves into oblivion on said contraption) I did my best to deliver my "May I see too?" in the most non-panic way I could but got flack from the others later on who had all enjoyed catching my worst acting performance ever. I gave the boys some space and enjoyed mixing with the folk but listening to my antenna I followed the signal downstairs a little while later just in time to extricate Sammy from the eliptical machine which David was riding whilst Guitar Hero-ing with some passion this was after he had been leaping from the trampoline landing on a bean bag stradling my son's head. It was I admit all most nimbly performed and I had all confidence in the young man of the house, its just that mother preserving child thing prevents me from watching our son working out on excersise equipment unaccompanied. Call me old fashioned. Actually Sammy had already been saved by Nicole, one of the stage managers who had been keeping a very close eye on the mascot. He is accruing new mums and dads each day. Its a good feeling. So now, with grandma and grandpa on the road from Rochester prepraring for the big day and with the toy piano wrapped and stashed in the cupboard it only remains for me to watch Letterman, stock up on sauce for the guests, order the cupcakes and dry off the tear stained You're Three! card, and a few hours left of the evening to think about my favourite moment with our son today. He, sat finishing up a number two on the loo, fiddling with his nipple that is making him laugh and looking up at me with two puppy dog brown eyes and asking me, in between giggles what his nipples are called and whether I too have these nickles? Its in the memory bank. Or as the tyke shouts out after anything kooky happens along our travels, "Its in the blog!!!!!"

1 comment:

  1. Give our birthday greetings to Sammy. I had a great time Chicago during my one visit, but I must admit that you add great color (colour) to an already colorful city.

    We are expecting Helen's Will and Katie plus Katie's boyfriend Ryan. We have ordered Amish pies from Freeman's Farm for the festivities. Give my love to Vern and Fay, as well as Sammy and Cory.