Quality vs. Quantity

Tiffany and I met Lily, the daughter of our good friends Meg and John, on Sunday, a couple of weeks before her 1st birthday and exactly six days after she took her first steps (Yes, the entire country celebrated and the sky exploded in color on the day Lily first put one foot in front of the other.).

We were late meeting her. Late on Sunday specifically, by a few hours, and late in general, by a few months. On both counts, this is because Tiffany and I have a tendency to over-commit (this should come as no surprise for a couple who on some weekend mornings can do laundry, make lunch for the week and get in a run all before breakfast).

On this trip back to New Hampshire and Boston, we had over-committed ourselves in stupendous fashion. We had allotted four hours to Meg, John and Lily. By the time we got to them, at the soccer game in Boston where Meg's sister was playing, we had about 37 minutes. We had come straight from a New Hampshire brunch with Tiffany's high school friends (only three hours for them, due to the hour travel time required to get Tiffany and me from one state to the other, which we spent in the car with Tiffany's cousins: transportation + quality time = uber efficient). We lost an hour in an unexpected dinner with Tiffany's sister and boyfriend who had flown in to surprise the family, and another hour en route to pick up our friend Jessie (one previous hour, over breakfast after Tiffany and I flew in on the red-eye: eating + quality time = uber efficient) because I was holding the iPhone.

When I called John to let him know we were finally on the way, he just laughed on the other end of the line.

"I'm so sorry!" I wailed.

There were 20 minutes left in the game when we arrived at the stadium. But by the time we got to the right entrance gate after heading off in the wrong direction, we lost another four minutes.

"Hurry!" I shrieked over my shoulder to Tiffany and Jessie as I sprinted off in my flip-flops.

With injury time and the minutes we spent lingering in the parking lot, we earned back some of that clock, but I doubt we made much impression on Lily. I coaxed a few smiles out of her by offering up my wallet, cell phone and sunglasses (the closest things I had to toys), but the one time I picked her up she squirmed and made an "I'm-about-to-cry-face" so I put her back down again quickly.

In the parking lot, we walked past our car to Meg and John's, and then they drove us back to ours.

"I'm not sure whether this makes you the best kind of friends or the worst," Meg said, of our brief encounter, as we hugged goodbye.

Then John offered me a handful of peanut M&Ms for our car ride home, and I felt assured of the answer.