What did I do? S’s parents are meeting me for dinner tonight and I am ner-vous! It will be fine. I have a very full day which is good to keep my mind occupied and I will sort myself out in a few hours.
I head to the gym for a quick workout before the trade show and run into one of my favorite people from Texas—I manage a partnership between our companies and I dig working with him. He’s super excited that I am pregnant and shares his journey into fatherhood that includes “how-to” raise a non-biological child when the dad’s a deadbeat. More proof that “normal” does not exist. I love his honesty.
The rest of the day is productive. In between talking to baseball coaches, I wrap up some lingering projects and connect with a few cool companies that will be fun to work with. The show closes at 5 and I have 90-minutes before I have to be ready to go.
Hmmmm. . I need to chill. I turn on the TV and settle on “The Big Bang Theory,” roll out my feet (rehab for my foot surgery) and do a 10-minute meditation (I meditate during trade show season or else I am bitchy) and it helps me to get clear on my intentions for dinner.
As I am switching dresses, I get a text that they are close to my hotel and will pick me up. Cool.
The lobby is swarmed with baseball coaches and I am clearly the only thing in a dress for miles. It feels good to be “checked out,” and somewhat f’d up. I’m pregnant, I didn’t just guzzle a gallon of milk. I wait outside and chat with a few co-workers until they arrive.
The restaurant is a quick drive (even faster since we are in a Porsche) and really lovely. It’s a historic house converted into an Italian restaurant with over-the-top décor including frescos, fabric-covered walls and lots of gold. It’s quaint and quiet.
My nervousness is gone. It melted the moment his mom hugged me “hello.” The conversation is easy and I feel comfortable with them. We’re seated promptly and I lead with my intent for dinner. No motives. No agenda. Just an authentic interest to get to know each other.
They are clear that they will support us, me, S and Baby T however we need it and whatever it looks like. From there, the conversation splinters. We talk about our respective careers, our families, quirky people, their other son and his dissertation, S’s love of hats.
We marvel at pregnancy in “general” terms and the pressure to choose a birth plan, a sleep plan, a vaccination plan and then compare it to what is was like to have kids 40 + years ago. I tell them more about my first trimester and what’s coming up in the next few weeks (blood test and ultrasound). Time flies. It’s already 9:30. I have an early morning and they have a bit of a drive (it’s 30 miles, not 30-minutes—ooops—I am even more touched they made time for me).
I am returned to the hotel by 10 and greeted by my drunk, 24-year old co-workers. They are a mess. I'm not. I'm happy.