Three Things

1. I hate the 405.

Not to rehash my Thanksgiving post or anything, but my good gracious, Los Angeles traffic is absolutely unbearable sometimes. I left work at 4:00 today in order to meet my parents and my grandparents for dinner and sort of kick off the Christmas festivities (I wanted to sneak out even earlier, but forces were conspiring against me - I actually had to, you know, work at work). The trek from Burbank to the South Bay took me no less than two excruciating hours. All I can say is that I have the best baby in the whole world, because for one hour and fifteen minutes of that time he chatted happily to himself in the backseat, working on his pronunciation of "da da da da" and smacking his Very Hungry Caterpillar rattle onto the arm of the carseat enthusiastically. Next he cried for ten minutes, then blissfully fell asleep for the remainder of the drive, all while I was practically eaten alive with guilt for forcing the poor lamb to be in the car for so long. These days I feel worse and worse about working so much and leaving him in day care for so long, and I just flat-out miss him most of the time. Spending such a big chunk of our precious mommy-baby time stuck in a hideous (and pointless - there was never any clear cause for the gridlock!) traffic jam was almost physically painful to me. But I digress.

2. The drive was totally worth it.

I arrived at the designated restaurant feeling miserable and generally beat down, and I'd been driving in traffic so long that my right thigh was literally cramping from going back and forth between the gas and the break. But much like the night before Thanksgiving, I was so, so glad we'd made the trip. I adore my grandparents, and they adore me, and they really adore Gabe. After about ten minutes of watching them talk to him and play peek-a-boo with him, the treacherous drive on the 405 was all but forgotten. (That's a lie. I remember every wretched minute of the drive. But I'm trying to say it was worth it. I'm not very eloquent right now, OK?)

3. I miss my friend Heather.

This has nothing to do with Nos. 1 and 2 above, but it's been on my mind a lot recently, so I wanted to post about it. About four months ago my wonderful, big-hearted, empathetic, always-willing-to-listen, hilariously funny friend Heather moved across the country with her lovely husband and two fabulous children. The move was absolutely the right decision for their family, but goddamn I miss her. (I miss her husband and her kids, too, but I miss her most of all.) Heather's kids are five and three, so she has been there and done that as far as babies are concerned, and she gives the best and most level-headed advice of anyone I know. Plus I think the two of us sort of think alike, maybe because we're both lawyers and ridiculously type A.

Anyhow, the holidays are making me feel nostaligic and a little wistful, and more than anything I wish I could go over to her house with a bottle of wine and we could order a pizza and feed her kids (organic, unprocessed, baked) fish sticks and just talk for a couple of hours. We still talk, of course, and email, but it's not the same. I want to give her a squeeze and show her how big Gabe is getting and see what awesome purse she's carrying these days, and it's hard to effectively do those things on the phone or over email.

This is actually really selfish of me, because the move has been about 1,000 times harder for her than for me. I just miss her, whereas she has to live in a new city and make new friends and get her kids into new schools, and do new things, ad infinitum. But there it is, universe. I miss my friend Heather, and I love her, and hope she and her family have a Merry Christmas.