I just toweled off with the same bright yellow towel that Lily and Milo ask me to dry them off with after their baths every Saturday night. Every weekend, the yellow towel gets the request. Pretty awesome.
The shower I take after I drop the kids off and I have, like, an hour to be normal -- it's such a great time every week for me. I don't have to be on-point dad (which, when solo, is really, really hard to do; and I am NOT good at it; and by Sunday afternoon, I am beaten). I don't have to be on-point business man (which means "buttoned up", "squared away", "quiet", etc. -- qualities I struggle with when sober, and REALLY struggle with when I've had an adult beverage or two.) Anyway, I get an hour to just relax, take a long shower, wash everything really well, shave my head, put on my warpaint, think about the next five days and head out of here on fire.
Usually, I would stop at Del Taco at that point. Not tonight. I decided tonight in the shower, not tonight. No Del Taco, no nine o'clock sideache, no to the nasty gas that always strains my Mondays. Truthfully, it takes a while for me to unwind on Mondays and get back to business mode, but... maybe Del Taco has something to do with it. So not tonight.
This weekend was actually pretty spectacular. We had our share of little flare-ups, but we contained 'em, we kept everything tight. We even made a list on Saturday morning of what we'd need to accomplish to have a great weekend. Funny enough, two hours into it, we were already wavering a little and it made Lily upset. "Dad, we're not getting off to a great start! Get back to the list!" I mean, WTF, right?
So we got back on the list. And it worked itself out.
They are always surprised that I don't take their Sunday morning pajamas off until lunch time. They chuckle about it all morning. "We're still in our pajamas, Lily," Milo will giggle. But I have been telling them Sundays are a day to recharge, lay low, stay in, or go out with friends. So mostly, that's what we do.
Tonight, before dropping them off at their house, I got to go in the backyard and swim in the pool with them and the rest of the family. It was good to just talk and bond and try to be normal. They've been so great throughout this crisis I created in my marriage a few years ago. Tonight was a good omen, in my opinion. We did hang out it, it was fun, we did get to share some stories -- and we got to marvel at Lily who literally went from timidly dipping her nose into the water to full-fledged mermaid in an hour (long swims underwater, jumping from the edge into the water, shedding her life jacket, etc.) She was amazing tonight. She is getting so tall. Her personality is definitely beginning to manifest some permanent positions on things. She definitely is into boys. She asks me all the time who she should marry. When the tween shows on Disney Channel are on during the middle of the day, she loves the Jonas brothers and some of the kids on Hannah Montanna. I can see that little era of her life is just getting underway. And it will be interesting.
One side effect of this summer situation -- me working in LA all week, them hanging mostly with their grandma and grandpa every day because their mom is working doubles to try and bring some income into the house. Grandpa is home all day because he lost his job -- is that Lily and Milo do seem to be developing a good relationship. They tussle and argue from time to time, but 99% of it is the side effect of fatigue or hunger or whatever. Because when we're fed and quiet and clean and happy, we all cuddle on the couch and read books or watch movies or lay out some sort of elaborate social scenario involving the toys in their room.
Ahh, their room. It's so wonderful. It smells so good in there, the bedding is cute, the toys are always organized, the two of them have taken pride in that space. It's been so amazing to experience.
I am not sure what it is, but this last 60 days or so seems like such a pivotal period. Big move out to LA and UP the corporate ladder; gigantic transformative service from my brother and his family; fantastic new lady friend who is light years away from ever being serious with anyone; Lily readying for kindergarten; Milo busting out of toddlerhood like it was on fire. He is a BIG kid and is bold and fearless and tries to play in a space where he sometimes gets hurt. But that's what he does. He rough houses with the bigger kids at parties, he is pretty brave with Lily and me when we wrestle.
Anyway, I know I'm jumping all over the place and my paragraphs contain like eight paragraphs worth of information in them, but it's just been that kind of weekend.
Hanging with those people in LA on Thursday and Friday was unbelievable. I never imagined IN MY LIFE that I would ever be in those kinds of social settings. Spago on a Friday in what seemed to me to be the luxe table in the joint; it was elevated and well-lit and the wait staff was all over us all night long. The food was unreal. I had braised rabbi, with a full rib-cage lined with rib meat that you are supposed to eat! (I didn't). The VIP we were with got "goulash" and some waiter emerged from the kitchen with a preparation cart and assembled an unbelievable beef goulash with beef roast plucked from a just-out-of-the-braiser pot. It was stupid.
Then we end up at Skybar on Sunset Blvd, in Beverly Hills. Like, right in the epicenter of modern pop culture. And I was dining in a room filled with icons the rest of us worship. And let me tell you, everyone was beautiful beyond description. Gorgeous clothing, hair, the cars lined up outside -- Rolls Royce after Rolls Royce, Bentleys, some misguided jerk in a giant Hummer... Everything was there. And we spent like there was no tomorrow.
It was incredible.
At one of our stops, we ended up waiting in the lounge for a table at Boa and I was standing -- no joke -- about five feet from Mischa Barton. She's faded and sad and it's awful, but I ended up partying with her and a friend.
The next night, we were on the patio enjoying mojitos and appetizers and Daniel Baldwin and his family sit at an enclosed area nearby. It is clear from the moment they sat down -- I was the one who spotted him and everyone did their "No, it can't be, no ways" and then finally realized and did their earnest, serious "Yeah, it IS hims" -- that he is a gigantic mess of a human being. He was vicious to his wife, his oldest son appeared to be a special needs boy gone wild. He didn't really look retarded, but he stumbled around and acted like one. It was amazing. After a few moments of us all starting at him, he caught on and they started playing it up. He loved it. It was incredible and terrifying to see them be as mean to each other in public. Like they were almost trying to make a scene. It mighta' been a candid camera moment for all I know.
Everywhere we went, top 40 music was playing LOUDLY. Like to deafening levels. And I loved it! In the limo, it was blasting. In taxis, it was blasting. In restaurants and clubs, it was BLASTING.
It's such an electric place. I clearly would never survive there, but... it was amazing to experience it for a night. I mean, Mischa Barton!? Really!?!?
And, to top it off, I think we accomplished our business objectives of the night which mean swaying the VIP who works for a rival company to come join our time. I think I get to hand deliver the guy to my CEO tomorrow morning. And I get to be the guy to do it.
This summer has been astonishing.
