Twains and Hotels

Tomorrow night I will be in a hotel room in Washington DC ALL BY MYSELF. To be sure I look forward to an intense few days of talking about theater and space in early modern Europe at the Folger. But there is nothing better to a mother of small children than a hotel room with a bathtub, a tv and a nice cozy bed. The room does tend to need the trusty “Mommy’s first Hanukah” flask and chocolate. Before the hotel Eli and I are taking the “twain” together and he will stay with Joyce and papa all by himself after “mommy stays and chats a while” He also plans to get a hair cut, go to a "restawant", play fire trucks and do some fighting games with Papa.

The Last time I braved the train with the children alone was during the winter holidays. The highpoint was Rebecca asking every African American person if they observed Kwanza, which she had just learned about in school. Jonathan then informed the people on the train who by then were wondering who had let me reproduce that “we don’t celebrate Christmas because we do not believe that Jesus Christ is our savior” In theory Halloween ought to cause us less problems. Manuel and the big kids have a handout that ought to get them through my absence and the gemelli look forward to being in charge of Daddy. Apparently if they see the words homework and practicing written down they actually do it as opposed to when I’m here and it involves titillating dialogue like “no the violin bow is not a sword” “yes playing the star wars theme on the piano is a sign of genius but please play your five finger patterns,” and no neither dim wit nor butt are first grade site words. Last nights round of dim wit and butt following on the heels of advising ten undergrads most of whom want to go to the useless comm. school pushed me to stuff the boys in front of the History channel and plunk myself in a bubble bath with Ann Sexton poetry. Manuel came home with Rebecca to this scene and busted out laughing.