Bumpkins in Beantown

I had heartburn, an ink stamp of Curious George looking at me from the back of my left hand, and hair so tangled that I squealed like my 7-year-old when I tried to brush it out. Oh wait...that's the end. Let's start at the beginning...

In 1993 I graduated high school alongside my lifelong best friend, Jessica, and several other close friends, including Barbara. Jess is still my best friend - we live an hour away from eachother, get ourselves and our girls together as often as we can. Barb I've seen twice since high school...that's twice in seventeen years. Ouch. Back in the day it was all about good tunes, riding in cars with boys, and lots of shinanigans I'm not sure if I should feel fortunate or unfortunate to have forgotten most of. What I definitely can't remember is Barb without a smile on her face. Thanks to Facebook (dontcha love Facebook?), we reconnected over the last couple years. Barb's now happily married with three kids (and a 4th in the hopper - bless her) living on the outskirts of Boston. Jess and I agreed we were due for a road trip.

The road trip started out at 6:30 yesterday morning. I hadn't been to Boston since high school, it was humid and hot already, and it was supposed to rain too...I had changed my clothes a half dozen times...we were running barely on time to meet Jess at 7. I put my hair in a barrette, but it promptly got stuck in poultry netting when I hurriedly watered my chickens before we left. The hair stayed down.

On the way to meet Jess and her daughter, Emily, I made the threats and statements any good (?) mother makes before a public outing when her children are already antagonizing eachother in the backseat..."I am NOT dealing with this ALL day...at least TRY to PRETEND to behave!" But the show hit the road in lighthearted manner when we picked up Jess and Em. The backseat was very loud that first hour with the three banchees teasing, laughing, poking, and I daresay, licking? Jess and I just leaned in and yelled toward eachother when we wanted to chat...at a certain point in motherhood you start to unwittingly tune out the happy noise, as long as it stays happy.

We then boarded a bus in Concord. The girls were antsy...Jess and I needed a second wind already...it was a long ride. They played with some of Em's little figurines(little animals with abnormally large heads), they ate crackers and peanut butter, and they resorted to more teasing, laughing, and poking. I finished tying off a baby blanket I had last-minutely thrown together for Barb and had just gotten a Tetris game started on my cell for Keegan, my 9-yr-old, when we entered into the city. The girls were awed by the tall glass buildings. At South Station, the escalators were the big thrill (a reminder to other bumpkins - tie your children's shoelaces). On our walk from the terminal to the Boston Children's Museum, I kept track of my ducklings while doing some people watching. I found it all rather amusing. Aside from lots of men in suits going hither and tither, the vast majority of locals seemed to be suffering from clothing style confusion. I felt oddly put together in my simple top, skort and sandals. The storyteller/historian in me couldn't help but note a few "bums," one very happy man with a yellowed gray beard who reached out and gave us the peace sign and a surprisingly trustworthy smile as we walked past. I wanted to sit down with these people...I wanted to ask them about their birthplace, their childhood, the places they'd been, what they've done, what long litany of small and big adventures, successes and struggles had brought them to be sitting here on this city bench, with us walking past...and I wonder if they are there again today. If the girls took in any of these things, they didn't mention them...instead they seemed mostly enthralled, sadly enough, by...taxi cabs. "There's a TAXI!!! Mom, what IS a taxi exactly?"...."Well, it's kind of like a bus, only it carries just a few people to wherever they need to go."..."Like how many people?"..."It's a CAR, Keegan, however many people can fit in a car..."

Mae remarked a couple times during the day "I want to live here!" I told her there were probably no chickens in Boston, but she could live anywhere when she grew up. She seemed alright with having to make that poultry sacrifice. After all, while waiting for Barb and family at the museum, the girls got to share their snack crumbs with geese, seagulls, ducks, and random little birds along the rail of the river...oh, and pigeons...which, apparently in Boston are vile, red-eyed, toxic, trash-eating devils. I secretly still love them tho, as they must be related to doves, and doves are my favorite wild bird.

It was windy...did I mention it was windy? I was pulling hair out of my face all day.

Barb arrived with two of her children. In a word...adorable. In more than a word...sweet, well mannered, take-home-able. Barb said, "just wait"; but I never did see their mommy-draining sides. I don't believe they exist. As far as the adults, we came together with surprising familiarity...seventeen years apparently is like two minutes between true friends, and frankly I was both proud of and perplexed by the serene, mature woman and mother Barb has become. I'm sure she won't take offense when I say that back in the day, I wasn't so sure what the future would bring to my happy-go-lucky, good-timing friend. But it's done her very well indeed. Love you guys.

The kids had a blast on all three floors of the museum. Even from adult perspective, it had it's cool parts, all five hours of them. At one point, we three moms were all resting on a...culvert...in the construction zone play area. We had our eldest children take a picture of us with all our cameras. When we checked for "Facebook worthiness" there was a momentary pause. We looked...less than vivacious. So, maybe time and motherhood hasn't been ALL that kind...I'm pretty sure we're leaps and bounds better on the inside for it though. We said our fond farewells with hopes to meet again soon, maybe in the "homeland" of New Hampshire.

On the bus back to Concord, Mae noted the emergency hatches on the roof. I pondered what situation would make you require such an exit. I tentatively suggested to her that maybe they'd be handy if the bus was to tip over..or something. And I had scenes of the convict bus crash scene in "The Fugitive" playing over in my head...excellent movie, by the way. Jess and I sat together on the way home. It had been a day or two since we'd giggled in the back seat of a bus. There was a man seated in front of her, who was rude enough to tilt his seat way back in her lap. Although this allowed me to see into HIS lap from my seat. He spent awhile doing some mundane work on his laptop, and then when he was finished he simply held his MP3 player (probably something far more advanced than that, but that's what I'll call it). I soon realized he was cracking his knuckles, and in a methodical manner...and all his knuckles on each finger. And I could hear the popping. All this made me want to cover my eyes and ears and curl up in a fetal position. Jess and I laughed at my new middle-aged sensitivities. The girls were remarkably quiet behind us, only asking for snacks and taking turns going to the novelty which was the bus bathroom. They ate astronaut ice cream and read Diary of a Wimpy Kid (both purchased at the museum gift shop, and surprisingly both well worth their exorbitant pricetags).

Back in my car, we stopped at Arnie's Place in Concord for dinner...your typical order-at-the-window sort of joint. We ordered all things greezy, complete with ice cream (real - not with the life sucked out of it for space travel) for dessert. I got frozen pudding and rum raisin, some old favorites of my mom's. The heartburn hit when we finally got home from our Beantown adventure...

The city is a cool place. I've certainly been to bigger, more interesting ones; but I'd like to go back to Boston sometime to re-travel some of the historic sites that I walked in my youth and have completely forgotten. Otherwise, it's kinda dirty and a little too busy. Jess and I chuckled in a sad sort of way at the "nature walk" in front of the museum, with it's random shrubs and plants in the middle of all that pavement and structure...no contest to our country homes. In Diary of a Wimpy Kid (which Keegan and Em narrated to us most of the way home) the wimpy kid is involved in a terrible rendition of The Wizard of Oz. So, I'll simply leave you with this...There's no place like home.