gratitude-a-thon day 648: it’s parent’s weekend

My first Parent’s Weekend was kind of awesome. I’ve sort of always fantasized about what it would be like when I was the mom and not the kid in the college equation. I had my kids so late, I always wondered if I’d be like the oldest parent at one of these shindigs. Fortunately, I wasn’t. And guess what else, I practically walked a marathon while I was there, and my bunion-less foot got a big fat A+. This had been a huge worry for some months, whether I’d be able to really do any kind of walking while I was there, but I aced it, baby.

Anyway, L.A. is great. I mean, every time I’m there, I want to stay, Peter and I scheme about how we could move out there, I smile a lot. Let’s face it, I am no longer cut out for a cold weather landscape, if I ever was. While it was snowing in Brookline, it was sunny in lala land. Sunny and warm. And pretty. And yes, there was traffic, a lot of it, but it was sunny. And who doesn’t love a palm tree. They just scream vacation, even though they’re just regular old trees doing their thing.

I went to my first big time college football game. I mean, I have been to Harvard games, but this thing was huge. The Trojans (and no, I will never get over the fact that the team name at USC is also a birth control device) play at the L.A. Colliseum, which seats 93, 607 people. So, it was, uh, kind of BIG. And very cool. It was televised, so the camera was on wires, floating around the field, which was one of the most fascinating things to me (I really must up the ante on what impresses me, or get out more), and the fans are rabid. The USC Trojan (there’s that word again) marching band is really, like crazy exceptional. These guys blow it out of the park every time they open it up. So, that was super cool, and then there is Tommy Trojan (how about that for a name), the mascot, who rides around in a Roman gladiator get-up on a white horse! This was an event, I can tell you.

The rest of the weekend was spent walking around campus, meeting roommates, frat brothers, roommate’s parents, frat brother’s parents, eating and laughing. Our first glimpse of our son’s apartment was of it having a party with an intense beer pong game, an ice rink of beer on the floor, and a bathroom so dirty, I almost cleaned it right then and there. Ah, boys. We went to what was my first water polo game, even though my husband used to play it and coach it (pre-me). What a sport that is. You gotta be in some majorly great shape to play this. You’re treading water or swimming the entire time. There is not one moment when you’re on break during the game. We’re talking superhero cardio shape. We won in an exciting match up against Berkley. We had a Mexican dinner in downtown L.A. with the frat pledge class, and Peter met one of his childhood swimming idols, Olympic gold medalist, Bruce Furniss, who was super nice, and who’s wife is my new bestie. We went to a giant barbecue at the Phi Psi frat house, with the entire frat. We stayed in Santa Monica, so we got to go to Urth Cafe, my favorite coffee place, and gaze at the beach every morning.

It was so much fun, I was immediately depressed to land at the end of a gray day in Boston. Of course, heading almost immediately to the end of year soccer dinner, where Ally was named captain of her team (more on that later) cheered me up A LOT, but I still wish I was back in L.A . with the sun, and my son (who we shamed into shaving by telling him he looked like a pedophile, which he did, but now does not).