Sorry if this video is only of interest to my mother, but I wanted to share with you how cute Jackson is lately and how much he’s growing up. He talks (sort of…)! He walks! He knows stuff, like where his head is, and where his teeth are, and how to play the “Jacks-a-phone” (My mom taught him that one. She, of course, plays the “grandma-phone.” My dad taught him how to do the clucking thing with his tongue. And I taught him that farts are hilarious, but that part isn’t in the video, you’re welcome.)
Anyway, I hope everyone had a wonderful week. Last weekend, I was in Chicago for a very brief getaway — too brief! — sans family. I basically spent the whole time holed up in my friend, Chad’s, apartment, parked on his couch, watching movies and eating chocolate cake. I made one trip to M. Henry where my friends and I were treated like utter garbage — I’m only mentioning this so that anyone in Chicago stays away from that horrible place. It’s not like they need your business anyhow and they’ll sure let you know that if you do bother to go.
Anyway, I had dinner and karaoke plans Saturday night, but ended up co-hosting a spontaneous get-together at Chad’s home where I got to partake in one of my very favorite activities of all time: falling asleep during a party. Any time I ever end up at a party, whether it be an intimate dinner party or a big holiday party, there’s a very good chance that as soon as the clock strikes 11, I’ll pass out. I mean, I guess this isn’t unique to just parties. I pass out at 11 no matter where I am, but there is something specific about being surrounded by people having a good time — especially if they are people I love — that makes me feel so cozy and warm that I just can’t help but curl up and zonk out. I used to fight the urge or feel embarrassed when it happened, but these days sleep is so precious, I just embrace it when happens and I think my friends have come to find it endearing. Maybe? Or maybe they still think I’m a pain in the ass. Whatever! I like to sleep at parties, end of story.
So, that was my weekend — couch-surfing in Chicago, sleeping at a party, and getting in a fight with the manager at M. Henry. On Monday morning I headed back to New York, missing the inauguration (but I caught it on DVR later). When I got back home, Jackson was there with his babysitter and another nanny and a couple kids who were over for a play date. It was total mayhem, complete with the Chinese nanny singing loudly in Cantonese, but when Jack saw me, he broke from the group, ran over and threw his arms around me — the first time he’s ever greeted me with a hug — saying, “Mama! Mama!” and my heart exploded all over the place.
It may be bitter, bitter cold here, but I’m feeling pretty good this week — definitely better than I was a couple weeks ago. How are you?