Back to the Windy City

Chicago is a city that tugs at my heart. Although I’ve traveled there dozens of times for fun and work, each visit is exhilarating. The bustle of the city alone gives me chills as a Hotel Snob, but it’s the memories cemented in my mind that draw me there again and again.

This past Sunday I pulled out the well used TravelPro from the top shelf of my closet. A strange feeling came over me as I took the small, empty suitcase out again. Although I’d only be gone for one night, a familiar emptiness filled me. It would be my first business trip in almost a year and a half. Strange as I once was on an airplane frequently, some points in my career nearly every week.

The emptiness subsided surprisingly quickly. I could feel the Hotel Snob adrenaline slowly increasing as I packed the items into the case. Envisioning the airport, flight, bustle of the city and the independence of travel made my heart race.

What’s so appealing about the Windy City? The sites maybe…but I think it’s the memories:

• Tripping down Michigan Avenue with my broken leg, cast and crutches. Enjoying the falling snow and Christmas lights with my loving husband. He desperately wanted to hold my hand, as I desperately held onto the crutch.
• My first trip to Burberry. The home of “if you have to ask how much it cost, you can’t afford it.”
• Navy Pier with the boys. Watching them grow larger year after year. Still wanting to hold onto their childhood.
• Wrigley, Wrigley, Wrigley. The highlight being Joe Mauer’s home run against the Cubs.
• Riding the L to the White Sox Stadium, the four of us dressed in Twin’s garb. Big Mistake!!!
• The day before Eli was diagnosed with T1. The frightful airplane ride…to and from the city.
• The rewind return trip exactly one year after Eli was diagnosed. The ‘do over’. The celebration trip.

Although my business trip was less than 48 hours, the memories came back in full force. Just not quite the same without my three men. The emptiness wasn’t there. I made it through my first business trip since my transformation. And it was just fine.

Dear Mr. Pool Table

Dear Mr. Pool Table,

One would think that as the only woman in a household of three men, I’d be some kind of princess surrounded by my court of loyal subjects. On the contrary, my laid back nature has allowed my court to slowly turn our home into a bachelor pad. As a result, there is nothing remotely feminine in any square inch of our house. (Even my master bathroom has been taken over by an array of 14 year old hygiene products. The lingering smell of AXE body spray seeps into what used to be my only retreat from the testosterone filled dwelling.)

Just three short weeks ago, you, “Mr. Pool Table”, were invited to join our family. The most recent addition to the Grayson Family Amusement Center. Yes, your newness and intrigue have left the Xbox 360, Wii, RockBand, 50” cable equipped HDTV, basement and backyard basketball courts, knee hockey rink and the newly formed spring training baseball field located in the formal living room in the dust.

As you know, your new home is located in what used to be the large wood floored room that was originally intended to be a family room. Yet was coined, the “world’s largest mud room” and holy dumping ground of sports equipment and on average at least twenty pair of sneakers. Although assembling you, Mr. Pool Table, is a story in and of itself…I’ll just leave that one alone.

Over the past three weeks, there has been a strange transformation with my men. When a pool cue enters the hand of a young gentleman, suddenly, even the quietest man becomes a pool shark. Full of confidence and swagger. The crack of the balls banging together induces some kind of adrenaline rush within them. It also induces the well known “Mom, we’re hungry” request.

Alas, the princess now comes to the rescue of the four to five 14 year old billiard men to take their order. Three large pizzas, wings and the dreaded request for a case of Mountain Dew. In thirty minutes or less, the loyal subjects are happy again. At the end of the evening, the princess is left with empty pizza boxes and dozens of half consumed cans of soda. Time to turn off the hip-hop music streaming from the iHome and say goodnight for yet another day.

Mr. Pool Table, there are some benefits of living in an all male household:

1) I don’t clean toilets. My handsome prince hired me a cleaning lady after our second son was born. Literally, this saved our marriage. I highly recommend it.

2) Something as little as making a sandwich for a loyal subject turns them into a puppy dog. They know I’m not a gourmet chef, yet these tough men turn into Jello at the sight of ham and cheese.

3) There is no price that a mom can place on the sounds of young men giggling and having fun.

I truly hope that your novelty lasts for many years and that you do not quickly become another piece of furniture that collects sporting equipment in the world’s largest mud room.

Sincerely,
Hotel Snob