The summer I fell in love

Opening Day of 2003 I was 8 months pregnant and toddled down Clark to meet the girls for bloodies at 8:30 am. Tradition trumps everything. Had a big virgin one with extra pickles. The Cubs had an inauspicious start to the home season; the beat the Montreal Expos, a team that I think ceased to exist right after that game.

There was lots happening in the neighborhood that spring. My husband and I were waiting for our first child to arrive. To speed things along, I took long walks around the neighborhood. Another reason was our new next door neighbor, Eric Karros. Eric walked to and from Wrigley (anonymous, then) and we became friendly. I started watching Cubs games more often, so that I could name each player’s position and strengths. When we walked down Southport you could go from store to store and listen to Pat and Ron uninterrupted. At home we would sit on blankets in the yard and crank up the radio and listen to the crowd. We got really good about guessing what was happening in the game just by the different cheers. We waited.

On our daughter’s due date, May 15th, I went out with my girlfriends (we met weekly at what we called ‘Wednesday Night Club’) to watch the Cubs and catch up. From the bar, we watched Eric hit a home run that night, and the Cubbies beat the Brewers 4-2. It was the last game of a 4 game stand in Milwaukee and a turning point in the Cubs season. Everyone started paying closer attention to the games.

Cassidy Mary finally arrived Memorial Day, also memorable for the 10-0 thumping we took from the lowly Pirates. At home.

My parents arrived to meet the baby in the midst of the Houston series but I had already rented out our parking spot (Cubs fans: $20, Astros fans: $40).

We took our first family vacation to Saugatuck, Michigan. Cassidy was a month old and a screamer. Most of the vacation was spent with my husband and I taking turns rocking her in our tiny cottage and looking at each other fretfully; what are we doing? With this baby? We watched the Cubs beat the Brewers one night on the 13 inch TV as she intermittently screamed. The blue screen seemed to soothe her.

After the All-Star break, Eric’s family moved in next door. Gorgeous wife, two little kids. The Cubs were knocking down wins, and the neighborhood was perking up. I spent afternoons on a rocker on our porch, exchanging hellos and baby anecdotes with Eric’s wife. Her enormous ring glinted in the July sun.

My husband did a hilarious impersonation of Pat Hughes after particularly noisy nights with a crying baby: "Ronnie, Our first baseman, Karros, seems a bit sluggish today. He mentioned in the clubhouse that he didn’t sleep well last night. Wonder what kept him up so late?"

The next few months were a blur of diapers, rocking, Cubbie baseball, visitors. By the time the Cubs won the NCLS we were cocky. Perhaps an attitude better left to the Yankees. When Prior was set to pitch on October 14th against the Marlins, we thought we were home free.

You know the rest of that story. It all fell to pieces.

I spoke with Eric one last time before he left town. He was packing up his car and I was pushing Cassidy in the stroller. We met on our shared sidewalk beneath turning leaves. I couldn’t help but ask how he felt about everything. It just seemed so sudden. "Well, I came home last night, and it was tough. Not what I expected." He sighed. "I just wanted to hug my kids." In that way, I think, he was simply like many of us that day. "It wasn’t that kid’s fault, I know that’s what people are saying, but no one thinks that," he said, refering to Bartman. I couldn’t meet his eyes, and I settled on a half-empty beer bottle on the sidewalk that someone had been too sad to finish. "No one?" I asked. "Nope," he said. "Well, wait ‘till next year."

I did. And keep waiting.

why I'm a secret narcissist

These facebook tests I get all the time are not especially revealing. Most of them have misspelled words or poor punctuation and cannot give an insightful answer based on 5 questions with limited answer possibilities. BUT I take them all the time anyway.
Which leads me to think I'm a total narcissist.
But I took that personality test to see if I really am and it turns out I'm a 10 on the exhibitionist scale but not too full of myself.
Still, this doens't help me think I'm any less interesting to everyone else, so I have this habit of calling in to various radio shows. I've been on like 3 times in the last few months, always live. (Who's the radio star now?) So yesterday I called in about things that tick you off; it's like an open bitch forum. People are calling in with real serious things, like not being able to afford their gas bill to health insurance bureaucracy. Mine was, I hate when someone gives you an address of someplace, asks if you know where it is, you say yes, and they proceed to GIVE YOU DIRECTIONS anyway! Don't confuse me! So I'm driving home from having my car repaired, all hopped up on Saturn of Glenview's coffee, and I'm live ON THE AIR when I realize that I'm lost. I totally lose my train of thought and have to end the converstion pretty confused and not as funny as I'd intended to be. Next time I guess I should pull over.

Vega$ and skinny jeans

Vegas: Gets bigger every time I go. Losing a lot of old-school charm b/c of massive, block long hotels as ornate as Notre Dame cathedrial. Now when getting from hotel to hotel in a taxi, drivers always take back ways, not going down strip, because it's so packed. Meanwhile, the hotels are so big that it takes 20 minutes just to get from your room to the strip. Saw a lot of the backs of hotels. Saw a lot of kids. Little kids. I'm usually not judgemental (!) but I would never EVER bring a child or three to Vegas. So on this trip there were 16 girls (and one guy, a brother) and we travelled in a pack and dressed up and ate well and drank even more and stayed out real real late (several moms in group, one pregnant girl, moms breakin' it up!) and gambled on our lucky numbers and made a hundred people laugh, especially ourselves.
One friend fell on the last night and hit her head really hard. The security guard at Harrah's was like, how dare you do this to me right before I get off work. Real charming, right?
My friend whose b-day it was had a great time too. We have been friends for 25 years. But we can still giggle like 15 year olds.
MEANWHILE:
Back at Wayne Manor, I was mortified at how my jeans fit. (When I say I ate well in Vegas, I mean ALL THE TIME, even when I wasn't necessarily hungry but just because it was social.
Or there was a lull in the action.
So I decided to go back to the gym.
First sign that it wasn't going to go well was that I couldn't remember my combination to my lock (okay-- it's been awhile). Next, I had to dig through many many frequent-eater cards in my wallet to find my gym card. Then the lady next to me, easily my dad's age, lapped me on the treadmill. I started watching her screen little guy run the track instead of mine for motivation. Why get discouraged your first time out?
Rome wasn't built in a day.