Meeting up with an Old (Boy)Friend

Every year during winter school vacation, we take a short trip to Newport, Rhode Island. As people who live by the water know, the best time to visit the beach is in the winter. We have a blast going to the Radio Disney shows, visiting the world's best balloon animals made by Ron Sergeant, and touring the Mansions. Hermione Granger has already developed a diabolical plan to buy out the Vanderbilt's Marble House from the preservation society.

This year, the family was going to meet my first high school (boy)friend and his wife. Although Alpha Male had met the old (boy)friend in the past, this was the first time in nine years since we had seen each other. As the old (boy)friend recalled, the last time was only days before the tragic 9/11, I was seven months pregnant, had successfully doubled my body weight and ate everything off both our plates in a restaurant.

Few things could spur me to want to look like a Trophy Wife in less than 24 hours than meeting an old boyfriend -- especially one who broke up with me by making me sit through the Frugal Gourmet for two hours before he decided to break the news.

However, I'll always be grateful that he was the first good-looking, smart, decent person able to see past a lot of appliances and crazy hair. It took a lot of scheming on part though, which included pretending I needed a *chemistry tutor* and planning my own *surprise* sweet 16. Peer pressure forced him to dance with me. My winning braces sealed the deal.

After the Frugal Gourmet Incident, I didn't speak to him for a year to lay on the Jewish Guilt really thick. A high school Newfoundland trip later, we became close friends again and have remained so ever since.

My plans to look like a Trophy Wife were foiled by trying to wrangle two children out of bed that morning. The 4th Stooge had an *accident* in the hotel bed and I tried to fumigate the room and Hazmat him down all before 9:00 a.m. When the old (boy) friend walked in the door, he hadn't changed since college.

My great excuse was 9 year old Hermione Granger dresses me. His wife bought it.

He didn't. He knows me better.

We got breakfast at a local diner and tried to catch up on the last decade in an hour. While they shared their world travels, I could tell the old (boy)friend was still shocked that I had spawned.

We departed by saying that we wouldn't allow another decade to pass. Next time, I'll try to brush my hair.

Next stop: Iceland!