The sprawling pink blue indigo Texan sunset framed by our floor to ceiling windows on the fifteenth floor makes me glad to be back in our travelling mode. Admittedly the heat, which we have so longed for through the chilly depths of the Michigan and Minnesotan winters has come upon us in dramatic fashion. Who knew that 35 degrees and what feels like 100% humidity would reduce the weary jet lagged ones into a heap of sleep deprived weather wimps. I mean, I have Sardinian blood for goodness sake. I should be able to take this heat. Not so.
For the past couple of days, since boy and I arrived, we have been hiding away in doors and letting rip when you can almost breathe outside, usually after 4pm. It feels wonderful to let your skin breathe again after mummyfying ourselves for so long on the tour. Boy proudly strutted his England football uniform. We are training him up for the world cup of course. And preparing him for some in family feuding. I am rooting for Italy, and its not just because the players are pretty, Dad is on "team" USA (couldn't resist sorry) and boy will be painted red and white. We are a true coalition. Its all the rage in England these days don't you know?
The joy of boyo finally being allowed to wear his shorts took me back to school days when we would change over into our summer uniforms. It was then that I would know it would be only a matter of weeks till we would pack off to Sardinia for the summer. Yippeekayay! A term we have been indoctrinating the boy into saying. Well, we are in dude country now. Best get with the lingo. We past a 5ft man on the street the other day and mum, rather too loudly shouted out at boyo to look! Course he looked in the opposite direction. I had spotted my first cowboy. Well, my first man in a cowboy hat. Sammy asked me if he was with his horse too? He then asked me if I was so keen to buy cowboy boots should I not then in fact, be a cowgirl what with me being a girl. I answered in the affirmative. He then drilled me on whether they lived in the same place as cowboys. I admit I struggled on answers for all of the above and so, as a family, we have decided, for educational reasons of course, to find ourselves a dude ranch on our way to San Antonio next week. It'll be like City Slickers meets Bugsy Malone, I can just see it now....
Our first few nights in Houston have of course been spiked by some serious jet lag - nothing like waking up at 3 in the morning to a viciously AWAKE three year old - but also a warm reunion with the acting brigade. Sam boy and I had planned on playing outside the stage door in the balmy evening whilst dad brought home the bacon (we had slept all afternoon and mum didn't fancy staying indoors) but a thunder storm sent mum and boy running inside. We were greeted by the lovely Mr Vargo, who, as a swing in the show, often has time for a good natter. Down we went to the green room and set about a marathon round of Mousetrap. It was interspersed with pop-ins by everybody in the company who took it in turns to vie for Sammy's undivided attention so excited were they to be reunited with their mascot. By the end of the show he had been squeezed and teased by most of them, sat on beautiful ladies laps, been fed birthday cake (this week is littered with celebrations) and generally held court in a way that only a three year old can. He even managed to sit next to Ry, the actor playing the monster, in his full make up, without clinging onto mama. The boy is growing up. And clearly happy to be back with his other family.
At lunch today he started to give Cory suggestions for ad libs. At one point in the show his dad has slipped in a "Samalamadingdong!" which makes our son squeal in delight every time. Last night, he shouted out at the monitors in the green room a loud "thank you Dad for saying my naaaaame!" Today however, he was full of alternatives, including substituting the above for "Little big bottle of ketchup!" Not sure what Mr Brooks might have to say about that one. Later at dinner, he sat, bolt upright, eyes a-sparkle with love for his papa whilst drilling him for details on how the show went and why and how and why and who and when and why. It was like being at a pub after a show with the performers. I don't know who was loving it more. Boy or slightly bigger boy. I was fussing around the peripheries trying to make a decent dinner out of our bathroom, sorry kitchen, with the use of a foreman grill and a helpful microwave.
The past few days have seen us leaving London after a few more teary goodbyes with our best (newlywed) mates, a quick turn for me as a mean posh bird in another children's comedy BBC show, or as I like to think about it - mum playing dress up and getting paid for it - and some serious grandma and grandad time. Now we have returned to our travelling life and I feel perversely settled again. I can now fully appreciate why people do this for years and years. I remember being left open mouthed when John Mark on the crew told me he had been on the road for 14 years. I struggled to truly comprehend what this meant. Now me and my bones get it. And as for the folks who are so keen to remind me that when Sammy starts school it will be curtains for travel I just have to observe the soundy giving him magnets from his tool box to enlighten him on the magic of physics, Nicole the spotlight operator (who presented Sammy with a night light in the shape of a Lego man just yesterday) carefully explaining why a hex rivet is called so and the performers taking it in turns to pass on tricks of the trade to know that the little tyke is getting a very special education. For now anyhows. Whilst we live the pretend end of the reality spectrum.
For the next few days we plan on soaking up Houston, catch a ball game, perhaps a farmers market, a trip to the (air conditioned) children's museum and some serious wiffle ball action with the troupe....
Its good to be back "home"........
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