Meet the Martins

Last night we returned from a trip to sunny Ft Myers, Florida, where Rob and I introduced our parents to each other for the first time. Rob’s parents live there and my dad was in town for a baseball tournament. I assure you, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen the 60+ set play ball. I don’t know what’s more amusing: the running, the cigarette smoking, or the fact that they all call each other “babe.”* Rob was the official scorekeeper at the first game (it’s so weird that they didn’t ask me) and the coach explained his responsibilities like this “Ok, just start here in this column, babe.” Rob took the job very seriously, and I think this was mostly because it allowed him to walk away from the rest of us and look busy.


The parent meeting went well. Words to describe Rob’s mom: British, fun-loving, sweet, alcohol pusher. Not that anyone else had a problem with this. After all, what do you do in situations like this? Eat and drink. But I think if she had her way, we would have spent Sunday completely wasted on margaritas from a frozen bucket (and some of us might have drowned in the pool.) Also, whenever I said that something in the house was nice, she earnestly told me I could have it.
Words to describe my mom: short, friendly, energetic, grandchildren demander. But she put her demands on hold for a few days and concentrated on arguing with Rob’s stepdad about who was going to sit next to the mixed nuts (they bonded over their portion control issues.) She also made friends with the entire baseball team, “That’s Bill. I call him Billy” and only got yelled at once by the coach for distracting them in the dugout. It was a surprisingly serious tournament.


A high point was the dinner out when everyone went around the table and ordered ice teas and diet cokes. Rob and I didn’t even have to look at each other to know that we needed one entire bottle of wine. To start. My dad’s teammate Greg joined us that evening. Greg is vegan, which doesn’t really work in Ft Myers, but Rob’s mom was very helpful, explaining to him that she doesn’t eat red meat and has never had a problem finding something on the menu. Because that's the same.
All in all, it was a very enjoyable weekend that I don’t think requires any kind of annual tradition. I plan to coast on the memories for years to come.

*In a completely unbiased note, I excuse my dad from this assessment. He ran well and did none of those other things.