Around me is a whirlwind of activity. At the center of it I am still, tired, soggy.
It’s a hot, sticky day. My friends just left. Courtney came up from San Diego for the night to hang out before we leave town. She brought a garbage bag full of hand-me-downs for Aidan. Yesterday she was here with her two year old Mateu while her husband was at Universal Studios with their daughter and his sister who’s visiting from Spain. The kids played, had lunch, while we struggled to catch up. Aidan napped while Mateu became wired and overtired. Took them for a walk to try to get Mateu to sleep in the stroller. Put him into the pack and play where he refused to nap and ended up smearing poop all over the mattress.
Courtney’s husband came to pick Mateu up on the way home and Courtney spent the night. For dinner, we were joined by our friend Sara, her boy friend Charlie and our other friend Jesse. We’re all good friends from college. Harlan cooked chicken and risotto and we drank a lot of wine. Today Sara came back to meet us for brunch and now she’s driving Court to the train station.
Tonight we’re having Korean food with a couple we’ve only met once. We all got along at the party where we met months ago and made a dinner date at the time that got pushed and pushed and is miraculously happening tonight. I wanted to stop by a Reggae Pool Party at a Bev Hills hotel hosted by a high school friend who’s still throwing Reggae Pool Parties at Bev Hills hotels, but Harlan said no way.
Tomorrow morning our architect, who never saw our finished home, is coming for coffee. In the afternoon my mother in law arrives in town for three days of bonding with Aidan and covering our butts so we can get move-oriented errands done.
Next weekend we’re hosting our monthly Beach Mamas group potluck. A week later our final bbq. A week after that the official going away party at my parents’ pad. The social engagements, the entertaining, the whirlwind of activity is not going to stop until we leave town. We’re also trying to squeeze in a trip to Santa Barbara to see my aunt, uncle and cousins, and we have theater tickets, not to mention assorted birthday parties and mom’s nights out. I feel numb. I enjoy it while it’s going on and then my friends waltz out the front door and I stand at the sink washing the blackberry jam encrusted dishes from breakfast, put toys in the bin, delete old emails, search for an emotion higher or lower in register than blah.