For the first time, my baby boy is spending the night away from us. Okay, there was one other time, but that was the night that both Adam and I were at Beth Israel because I was giving birth to Pie. And the next night, Adam was home for him.
But tonight, he has his first out-of-the-house sleepover. I’ve assured him if he wants to come home in the middle of the night, he can. But here it is, pretty much middle, and he appears to be sleeping (he’s at Tab’s house across the street).
He seems to be adjusting well to this “big kid” life. I just wish I could say the same about me.
Tomorrow Doodles and Adam are going to a Red Sox game, so Pie and I are having a Mommy-Daughter day (Pie was given the option of a Red Sox game or lunch with me, and she chose lunch with me). In the morning, the two of us are going together to do some volunteer work. But after, we can do whatever we like.
Me: I’ve been thinking about our day tomorrow. I have two choices that I think you might like: We could have lunch in Harvard Square and then watch the Dragon Boat Races on the Charles or we could go to the art museum. We could have lunch in the cafe there.
Pie: Dragon boats like on Kai-Lan?
Me: Um, not sure. Maybe.
Pie: I want to go to the art museum!
Me: That sounds great! We’ll do that.
Pie [in a confused tone]: So, are we going to New York tomorrow?
Me: No. We won’t go to New York till school gets out for the year.
Pie: But you said we could go to the art museum tomorrow!
It takes me a minute, but then I get it.
Me: No, Pie. Did you know that there are actually art museums in Boston?
Pie: There are?!?
Oops. Somehow, it’s always seemed easier to hop in the car for a 3 1/2 hour drive to NYC to go to the Met than it’s been to hop a T into town. Do you think maybe it’s time for me to start exploring my own city with the kids? At the rate we’re going, they’re going to think that Boston is a suburb of New York. Well, a suburb with a superior baseball team. At least, according to their father.
Doodles: So, will I go to Daddy’s business school when I grow up?
Me: Well, it depends. You may not want to go to business school. You might want to do something else.
Doodles: Well, I need to go to business school to become a paleontologist.
Me: For paleontology, you’ll go to a school that specializes in that, not business school. You’ll need to study archeology and dinosaurs and biology and all sorts of stuff.
Doodles: So I’ll find a school for that?
Me: Yep. Did you decide you’ll be a paleontologist again?
Doodles: Yeah.
Me: So you don’t want to be a doctor anymore?
Doodles: No. Doctors might have to touch sick people, and I wouldn’t want to do that, because then I could get sick.
Me: Very wise.
Doodles: But if I’m a paleontologist, I’ll have to travel to where the bones are and that would be bad because I want to be with my family.
Me: Maybe your family could come with you.
Doodles: Maybe.
How to begin? It was Hah-vahd weekend for Adam as MBAs crawled out of their holes from all over the world to descend upon Allston for reunion weekend. I tried putting on my nice face, but apparently it didn’t work very well, as I did get in a wee bit of trouble: Apparently Twittering through the section event was apparently not the way to make new friends. But since that was what I was up to anyway, here were a few of my observations:
# I’m paying $15 an hour for a kid-free night. That damn well be a midget over there.7:22 PM May 29th from web
# Adam keeps looking at me like I’m supposed to mingle. Sorry, babe. Mingling costs extra.7:36 PM May 29th
# Adam is trying to explain why the lecture “why smart people don’t change” was so brilliant. Let’s all pat our own backs here. Riiiiight.8:41 PM May 29th
# People are already talking about their second marriages. HBS knows how to breed them. 9:48 PM May 29th
# This thing is supposed to end in 8 minutes and I still haven’t gotten my freakin’ cake. MBA efficiency, my ass.9:52 PM May 29th
Anyway, it was highly suggested that I have an attitude readjustment for Saturday, and I did my best to comply. In my defense, Friday night’s activity was not set up well–too small a space, too short an open bar, too mediocre food, and too many people I didn’t remember (wait, does it count as not remembering if you’ve repressed the memories?). Luckily, I wasn’t the only one who behaved badly, but since I’m attempting to be nice here, I’ll skate over other peoples’ rudeness. I’m nice like that. I will give some folks credit though: After all these years, people finally got my name right. Jenny Brown. Jenny Medros is a figment of MBAs’ imaginations (yes, I’m giving them enough credit to assume they have imaginations–I told you, I’m being nice here).
Saturday’s day event was fine–the kids’ area was okay, although whoever thought that turkey, cheese, lettuce, and raspberry mayo on a sun-dried tomato wrap was a good lunch for kids, obviously never met my kids. The grown-up lunch’s mac & cheese and bread was much more kid satisfying. The kids did a fabulous job behaving, even through the section’s trip down memory lane (Doodles loved the slide show and now apparently thinks that business school is filled with guys dressed as women). They were amused to be sitting at the same desks that Daddy sat at, and bribing them with gum to keep quiet worked pretty well. The presentation brought up some sore memories (I still can’t believe Adam didn’t vote for me as a “better half”) but also some fun times and surprise, surprise, they even poked fun of me for this wee, little, harmless blog.
The gala on Saturday was actually quite nice. Because of the economy, the event was downsized so instead of a black-tie gala, it was a cocktail-attire gala. I’m still not completely sure what the distinction is there, but apparently to someone, there is one.
Walking in was a bit odd because the halls were lined with security guys. Seriously, we passed four of them before we even entered the event. We couldn’t figure out who was coming who warranted this. Turns out… it was us. Signs at the bar read, “No shots, no straight-up drinks, only one drink per guest at a time.”
Apparently, at last year’s reunion, the MBAs got loaded and there were actual brawls. A beer bottle over a head. A couple battling it out when he thought she was flirting too much. A bit of blow going on in the corner. Way to go class of ’03!! I think I might have had more fun had Adam started just a year earlier.
But the food was fabulous, the views were great, and I got to talk to almost everyone I wanted to talk to (Meg, if you read this, I searched for you! I was bummed I never found you). We had friends staying with us and that was fun. Kevin and Shannan were two of my HBS favorites, and Shannan was absolutely my partner in crime at the reunion and we had a–gasp!–good time.
Of course, there were a few revelations this weekend. A marriage ended here. Jobs changed there. And the biggest, most horrifying revelation of all: As I was telling Shannan how I love my new remodel, but I’m starting to take it for granted; as I mentioned that I just don’t do crumbs, that’s what a house cleaner is for; as I mentioned how nice it is being home with the kids and that I’ve been managing to have dinner on the table for the whole family at 6:30 every night, it dawned on me…. Of all the CWITs (corporate wives in training) of our HBS years, I am the winner of the Corporate Wife Extraordinaire award. What? Really? Moi?
Dah-ling. It’s quite an honor. I’ll tell you all about it. Let’s chat over martinis and manicures. Your Black Card or mine?
‘Til the 10 year in 2014! Ta ta!
