Welcome mat

The welcome mat is getting plenty of use this week. It started off with a surprise visit from a friend I had not seen since my son was a couple of years old. I, regrettably, forgot to take pictures, but it was such a treat dragging him around my small world, feeding him my provincial cuisine, and catching up on old friends. It was an especially joyous visit, as he had recently been married, and I got to bask in his warm, happy glow. I particularly enjoyed the looks I got, a short orthodox Jewish woman with a scarf on her head walking around town with a tall, thin Chinese man. My daughter's day care teacher asked me, in Hebrew, if he was, "the father of my child". No, I smiled. He's a friend, I said, using the term that connoted more than just friendship. I mean a friend. I corrected myself, with a laugh, using the term that connoted more than acquaintanceship.

It was a wonderful visit from a different lifetime. I marvelled, as we strolled around my neighborhood, down memory lane, that we had changed so much, me more than he, as I had become a parent of three exhausting, energetic, wonderful kids, and a bit of a religious nut. We talked, briefly, about his own thoughts on becoming a father. I look forward to the visit, after that occurs, when I see what's become of my dear old friend once he's immersed in parenthood. I suspect he'll still be the same, sweet, laid back, warm and wonderful friend I've known for a few different lifetimes; just more tired.

That visit was followed with a long planned, and even longer anticipated visit from a San Antonio Sistah. One of my dearest, bestest friends in the the world came for a two and a half day whirlwind tour of Chicago. We checked out as many kosher restaurants as we could cram into that time. Kosher candy stores, museums, parks, and art galleries were the major stopping points of our agenda.

I had the whole trip planned out, but as happens when dealing with children and workaholics and unpredictable weather, and a devastatingly dippy hostess, most of the plans went awry. The idea was to drop the kids off at camp and let my husband pick them up so we could spend time at the Art Institute of Chicago. Unfortunately, I was experiencing a potent bout of ditziness, and I couldn't find our car parked directly in front of our home. I left my husband several panicked voice messages as we wandered around the neighborhood for thirty minutes, only to find it parked where it always is. At this point, it was too late to take the baby to camp, so we dropped off the big kids at their camp, and dragged the baby with us on a tour of Kosher Chicago. My husband had too much work to do, so our downtown visit was cut too short for the trip to the art museum.

But even that slight disappointment couldn't dampen the excitement of being with my best friend, talking like nary a day had passed between us. We rushed back to my neighborhood to pick up the kids, and took them out for pizza. After everyone was bathed and sent to bed, we left my husband at home to get more work done and we slipped off to see the latest Harry Potter movie. Giggling like little school girls in the dark theatre, smiling at the much anticipated funny bits, and grimacing at the changes from the original text, we picked up everything, right from where we left it off. For a few hours, I was home again.

The next day, I packed up the kids' lunches in their camp bags, and prepared to take them to the park where they were spending their summer. One look out the window, and we knew it was time for another change of plans. Summer camp in the city parks aren't well suited to rainy days, so we dragged the kids along for our second attempt at an art museum visit. The kids managed pretty well for the first hour, but they were getting hungry and grumpy; so I left my artistically talented friend to take in the exhibit on her own, while I found a place to feed my kids in the museum. I hadn't realized how big the Art Institute was. We drifted through Egyptian, Greek, and Asian art exhibits. We lingered over swords and armor, gawking at halberds and pikes, while the baby got hungrily restless.

Finally, we made our way out to the gardens. The sun had emerged from behind the dark grey cover. We wiped down a marble bench covered in a pool of rain water, and munched on our impromptu picnic, while the baby chased butterflies. After a short while, my friend emerged, glowing from the thrill of seeing such exquisite art. I ran the kids in for a potty break while she ate her lunch, as we pressed on, down the Michigan Mile, through Millennium Park, past tempting boutiques, a really cool art space and children's play area called the Art of Play, into a Starbucks and another art gallery, and to the Ghirardelli Chocolate shop where the kids crammed more sweet stuff into their sugar-infused little bodies. I cringed at the nutritional apocalypse I was observing, while my friend smiled indulgently.

We made a couple more detours past the Museum of Contemporary Arts and the Law School, finally heading home to get the kids to bed and prepare a Thai feast. One of the events I was most anticipating about this visit was bringing together my best friend from home and some of my closest friends here. I had planned an exotic menu of a vegetarian tom yum soup with coconut milk and lemongrass, two spicy and sweet curries, Panang and green, a vegetarian pad thai, jasmine rice, and the piece de resistance, a chocolate tofu pie.

Unfortunately, I was having too much fun dragging my friend and my children around downtown Chicago to pay attention to anything as mundane as the time. By the time I got home, I had left myself a mere two hours to whip up this complex repast and get my children to bed. I flew into action while my dearest friend kept her adoring "nieces and nephew" entertained. Any plans I had for showering or cleaning up the apartment flew out the window when my husband arrived home late; with the guests, in fact. I immediately put him to work, getting the kids to bed, while I put the finishing touches on my piquant soup, and the starting touches on my pad thai, leaving my friend to play hostess.

An hour later, we were enjoying a fragrant and sinus-clearing meal, and playing our favorite card game. As much as we missed my San Antonio Sistah's husband, it was a nice twist, like kosher Thai food: an exotic refashioning of a long standing tradition.

The guests have all gone now, the kids are in bed, and my husband is trudging along in the library. I could get melancholy, but there's too much to look forward to: the new Harry Potter book being delivered to my door this weekend and a trip back to San Antonio with my kids in August. Most of my family will be there to show off new babies, and to see how much the old ones have grown.

Mom, dust off the welcome mat for us all. I'll bring the chocolate tofu pie!