Alexander was a baby, and it was a beautiful Sunday. I decided to take him for a walk. And there is no better place to walk a baby than Central Park. Except, that is, when it’s the Puerto Rican Day Parade. That’s when close to three million people come to celebrate their heritage in one major love-fest along Fifth Avenue. The parade spills into Central Park and throngs of people make it impossible to get out. I remember being very frightened.
I’m reminded of that day today when I want to go crosstown and can’t; it’s the Puerto Rican Day Parade again. So I take a circuitous route to get to the West Village in order to see a play with Carol at Rattlestick Theater called Little Doc.
Rattlestick is one of my favorite little theaters and I'm not even sure why. First of all, it’s impossible to find. There is no marquis announcing what's playing. In fact, there's not even a sign on the door saying Rattlestick. And the theater itself is small and kind of dumpy. In order to get to the restroom you have to cross the stage, so there is no going to the bathroom during the play (although during the last play I saw there a character actually peed on stage…it was part of the play, not an accident). The productions here are unusually edgy, and interesting, if not always good. Today’s play is beautifully acted. Intriguing. A little confusing, but compelling. And then suddenly it ends. It’s as if the playwright has been told that he has ninety minutes, and at the end of that time, he has to stop. Like taking a test and the proctor yelling, “Pens down.”
After the theater, I make a stop at Zabars to buy food to take up to Massachusetts. Alexander and I are visiting my parents on the Cape, and I am anxious. We are going for two weeks and leaving tomorrow.
Last summer Alexander babysat for a family there, and we stayed for all of July and two and a half weeks in August. In retrospect, this was unfair to my parents and I know now that I was wrong to have stayed so long. By the end of last summer, I was told by my mother that (a) I was so heavy that a friend of hers didn’t recognize me, and (b) that I don’t know how to be helpful. There was also a fight I had with my younger sister that escalated into what felt like an intervention with my father, mother, and sister all wanting to talk to me about my myriad of problems. Even writing about it now upsets me. So yes, I go with trepidation.
I’m also concerned about the eating.
My parents have dinner around 6, and that is only because they are accommodating Alexander and me. As my mom often says, “If you weren’t here, we’d have a late lunch around 3 and then no dinner. That’s how we like to eat.” My mom goes to bed around 8:30 (she gets up at daybreak and walks almost every morning), so having lunch-dinner at 3 is a good plan for her. I’m not so sure my father would agree with this, as he goes to bed late. In any case, I’m more nervous about the food itself than the time the food is eaten.
My parents are in remarkably good health. My dad will be 87 this September, and my mother will be 81. They are trim and active. But they eat a lot of heavy foods with cheeses, and sauces. They like pasta. And agreeing to a vegetable, other than a salad, is often a negotiation. “Why do we need zucchini? I’m making a salad. That’s vegetable enough!”
My parents also eat very small portions. They think that Alexander and I eat enormous ones, which, by comparison, we do. If we have steak for dinner, for example, my parents split one and Alexander and I each eat our own. Or if we go out to dinner, more often than not, they will split an entrée while Alexander and I again, each have our own. And as far as lobsters go, my favorite meal in the world, Alexander and I can easily each eat a 3 pounder (saving the claws for lobster salad the next day), while my parents are perfectly sated with a one-pound chicken lobster.
I am bringing some WW foods, Pringle lights, and today I also bought some prosciutto, two jelly rolls for dessert, and some freshly made salsa. My mom went shopping and also got some WW-friendly food like the Thomas’s 110-calorie bagels, lox, sorbet and the one-point bags of popcorn from Costco. I know how much my mom and I both want this visit to be a good one.
But more than my anxiety, I am happy to be going up to the Cape. I’m really looking forward to:
- seeing and spending time with my parents;
- hanging out with Alexander;
- relaxing on the beach if the weather is warm enough;
- walking every morning;
- spending Father's Day with my father (the first time in years and years)
- wearing skinny clothes; and
- letting my mind go blank for a couple of weeks
Oh, and I’m thinking of not tracking but am still not sure if I’m brave enough.
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