Unique New York

(A bit overdue at this point, and with fewer details than I originally wrote, but at least I got something down while I remember anything.)

We had a great trip to New York for spring break!

We didn't stop in Ohio this time, so it was a long drive in one shot from Wisconsin.  Thankfully my kids all continue to be excellent travelers, making 15 hours in the car together possible--even pleasant.

In any case, here is a summary (with lots of pictures) so I won't forget:

My kids' spring break didn't line up with my niece's this year.  She only had off the Friday before Easter, and we had from then up through the beginning of April.  So we decided in order to get the most time for cousins together that we would pull our kids out of school a day early and drive to New York all that Thursday.

The car ride was (blissfully) uneventful.  We finished reading the book Wildwood (which we enjoyed) and started Birds, Beasts, and Relatives, which is part of the My Family and Other Animals series.  I really like reading to my kids in the car.  (It's amazing how much faster it makes the time seem to go.)

We arrived around midnight in New York City where my sister-in-law had an air mattress already set up for the girls and the trundle bed pulled out for Quinn.  My brother was out of the country for a business trip, so it was "just" the seven of us (plus Pepper the dog) for the first few days.  I am amazed every time we visit that they are able to find space for us in that apartment, but they do, and we're grateful.

Spring Break 2015!

This post is a month late, because rehearsals-concerts-work-kids-biopsy-RACE!-stuffandthings.  Plus my nephew was born and we had my parents here, etc. etc.  You know...LIFE.  So pardon this overly long update with too many pictures, but I need to get it down before I forget everything.

That's pretty much it for Indiana

Ian had Army obligations over Spring Break this year, so I took the kids on a road trip.  We headed first for Ohio, which was a good drive in that it was uneventful, but boring in that the most interesting part was passing through the windmill farms.  (In the distance in the photo are windmills.  Don't spend too much time looking--it doesn't get more interesting if you find them.)

We stayed with my aunt and uncle in Marysville for Easter which we really enjoyed.  Everyone was generous and welcoming as always.  It's a lucky thing in life if you get to feel at home in more than one place.

Spring Break in New York City

lobby wall

Whew!  It's a long drive to New York from Milwaukee.  We did the trip home in one straight shot, too, so between that and spending the first few days back desperately trying to catch up on the workload at the store I'm only barely feeling recovered, but I think I'm finally ready to get some of this down on my blog.  Brace yourselves for a long post of too many photos and a whole lot of everything while I still remember any of it.

The kids and I hit the road very early on a Saturday and drove as far as Ohio.  (Ian had classes to teach and flew out to meet us in New York later.)  There we stayed with my wonderful aunt and uncle and got to see my cousin's new house where we had a big family dinner.  Seen here is the cuteness that is Quinn playing on the piano with his cousin Kate:

We love visiting Ohio and hate that we don't get to do it more often.  Our family there is so loving and welcoming and we have equally generous and kind friends whom we're hoping to see sometime this summer.  It was too short a visit since it was really just an overnight stop to give me, the lone driver, a break, but it was great.  When I went to tuck Aden into bed and hugged her, she hung onto me as I tried to stand up and said, "We have to come stay here again."  I promised her we'd find a way.

The drive from Wisconsin to Ohio was dominated by getting through Indiana, which takes forever and is incredibly dull.  Usually there is at least the excitement of seeing lots of windmills a couple of hours in, but this time they were all still, which was a little eerie but mostly boring.

The drive from Ohio to New York was dominated by Pennsylvania.  It takes forever to cross Pennsylvania, but it's beautiful, so that helps.  My kids like to do a countdown as we come to state borders, and they couldn't believe how long we had to drive through Pennsylvania before we hit New Jersey.  (Wait until we eventually do a drive out West!  They have no idea how big some states really are.)

We arrived in New York City in time for dinner.  Kids were thrilled to be reunited with their cousin and to get to meet her new puppy, Pepper.  Pepper is adorable.  Teeth like needles and in a "must nip and chew on everything" mode, but adorable nonetheless.  Pepper needed frequent walks and frequent naps.

Coat Tales

We recently cleaned out our garage in order to paint the walls and put up shelves, and we came across this coat:

It was Quinn's first real coat.  A hand-me-down from a friend that we put on him when he was barely walking.

The Man Under the Bridge

The other day I didn't feel like getting organized enough to go for a swim, so instead for a bit of exercise before a full day of work I decided to take the dog on an extra long walk.  I headed up in a direction I never go on foot, by fields and buildings and parks that look different than they do at a glance from the road.

Bay View is an interesting area.  It has some beautiful sections along Lake Michigan, but much of it is grittier and working class with pockets of artistic aspiration.  We're still in the city of Milwaukee but south of downtown, residential but not suburban, green but dense.  When we were house hunting over a decade ago the realtors referred to Bay View as "the affordable East Side."  It doesn't feel cut off from the issues of the city they way suburbs do, but certain problems don't stare us in the face every day.  Like homelessness.

My dad grew up in New York and we used to visit relatives there every few years.  I've taken my kids to New York several times, but it's not the same place I remember as a kid in the 1970s and 80s.  It was grimier, a bit scarier, and my brothers and I found the beggars on the sidewalks confusing and upsetting.  One of my brother's clearest memories of one of those early trips was of a man in a suit rushing along and gingerly stepping over the cane of a blind beggar without a glance back.  It seemed heartless to ignore people in need, but there were so many.  You couldn't blame the man who needed to just be on his way for not stopping because he would never get anywhere if he stopped for them all, but still....

It's a complicated question for people in areas like NewYork where they are confronted with that problem on a daily basis.  They have to be wary of scams in the subways and concerned that maybe handing someone money on the sidewalk is exacerbating problems instead of helping.  They have to decide all the time how much attention they want to pay to the blind beggar with the cane.  I don't know if my heart could take it.  It was the hardest part for me about visiting India, feeling helpless in the face of so much need.

But the truth is such problems are everywhere.  In the suburbs where the environment is manicured and clean, addictions are masked by money and abuse and neglect are hidden behind neatly painted doors.  And in my neighborhood I may not see beggars when I step right outside my house or on my way to work, but desperation exists just past my gaze.  You simply have to know where to look.

And the other day I happened to look under a bridge.

My dog is small and cute, but noisy and loyal.  As easily as I know he could be kicked aside by anyone needing to get past him, he still lends me an air of protection when I walk with him at night or in unfamiliar places.  I'm more inclined to wander somewhere unusual with Chipper than I am all alone because lord help the strange man who thinks that cute little puppy-dog won't bite if someone gets too close to me.

So we walked along some areas with crumbling buildings and strange paths and torn fences near the river.  We explored a park I've never been to and checked out a softball field and a wooded area.  And then when we were back along the main road near our house I noticed for the first time from the bridge that on the bank on the north side of the river there seemed to be some concrete steps.  I was curious.  I crossed the bridge and circled down onto the grassy area to a fence at the top of the slope above the water.  Across the river was a wide set of steps leading to a space overgrown with trees.  I have no idea what it was once for.

But I didn't speculate for long because when I glanced back in the direction I'd come from I realized there were things tucked under the bridge.  It looked like a little makeshift sleeping area.  And there was a bike.  Someone lived under the bridge and he had a bike.  I had never considered a homeless person owning a bike and wondered where he went on it.  Then I saw movement and realized the man under the bridge was getting dressed and I didn't want to cause him any embarrassment so I nudged the dog and headed back up toward the street.

Not a day goes by now that I don't think of the man under the bridge.  My first instinct is to leave him something maybe he could use.  But what would that be?  Is that condescending?  Or dangerous?  Is it kinder to look the other way and pretend I don't know, or is that callous?  Is he happy under the bridge?  Is he suffering?  Is it even any of my business?

The main thing that kept going through my mind as I finished the walk home with my dog was that whoever the man under the bridge is, he was once someone's baby.  How would I feel if one of my babies ended up in a situation that necessitated sleeping on a blanket by a bike under a bridge?  It makes me cry.

I try to help individuals in need when I see an opportunity, but this is definitely an area where people who belong to a church or similar organization have an advantage over those of us who don't.  If you are ready and willing to do something, someone in your organization would likely be able to point you the right direction.  I do think the problems of the homeless are better addressed by groups that understand all the needs involved beyond my superficial concerns.  But I don't belong to such an organization.  I have to make the effort on my own.

For a long time now I've been meaning to investigate the food pantry I've seen signs for outside the jobs center by where I vote.  I finally went there and found a phone number to call and left a message.  My volunteering for the food pantry may not directly impact the specific man I saw, but then again it may.  It's a start.  I talked with my kids about helping out there if the food pantry can use us.  We have so much and want for nothing important and should find the time to help others in need.

I'm not sure where in my schedule I will find that time, but that's not an excuse.  Because how would I take such an excuse from someone else if my son were the man under the bridge?

History In Your Hands (Babble)

Okay, I know this is a parenting website and not a forum about violins.  But not every parenting lesson comes directly from dealing with your kids.  Parents have identities beyond that one label, and I’m proud that when I ask my kids what they want to be when they grow up they have lists of things they want to do, which include being a parent.  My daughters always say, “Well, I want to be a mom of course, but also….” and words like scientist and singer and teacher roll off their tongues.  I feel that my job and my life outside the walls of our home shapes their sense of the possibilities out there.  That makes me happy.  I miss my children when I can’t be with them all the time, but I have no guilt about working.  And my work is all about violins.

Violins are complicated objects.  They are functional, but good ones have an artistic component.  They are delicate sculptures that are meant to be touched and performed with.  They have stories.  Many cheap violins lead short, tragic lives.  Some are hundreds of years old and are more famous than the people who play them.  Each violin is as unique as the trees that were cut to build them.  There are violins that are abused or forgotten, but many that are cherished and handed down for generations.  I work on violins in my store every day that are worth little in the general marketplace, but that were loved and used by someone’s grandmother or favorite uncle or dad, and that makes them priceless.  Violins are dependent upon their relationship and interaction with their owners for them to have any meaning.  They have a voice.

When I was in New York with my family over spring break I had the opportunity to look through dozens of violins that were coming up for auction at Christie’s.  My sister-in-law, Deepanjana, who is a specialist in Asian art there (although her official long title is Specialist  Head of Sale/AVP South Asian Modern + Contemporary Art–whew that wears me out as much as it impresses me), was able to get me in for a viewing a few days before the public showing so I could take my time and look at things quietly.

(Front door of Christie’s auction house in New York)

What an incredible opportunity!  There were a few mandolins and guitars to look at, but what I spent my time looking through were the violins and the bows.  I read the catalog carefully before I got there and made two lists:  One of things in my price range that I might bid on, and one of things that were impossibly expensive but was hoping to examine in person just because.  The violins valued at under $10,000 were simply laid out on long tables:

Some of them needed a great deal of work, others were ready to play.  The one I was most interested in I actually won over the phone during the auction.  (Although, ‘winning’ in an auction means I get to pay the highest amount offered for the item, so I’ve always thought that was an odd term for it.  But, hey, whatever you call it, that instrument is now mine!)  It’s a violin built in France in the mid 19th century that I thought was just lovely:

But it does need some work.  I will have to bush the pegbox, which essentially means plugging the holes the pegs fit into and creating new ones to go with new, smaller pegs.  All old violins need this at some point because the pegs work their way through the box over time making tuning more difficult.  See how fat and stumpy the shafts of the pegs look?  Once I bush the pegbox and fit it for new pegs it’s going to look and work much better.  (Plus it needs a new soundpost and bridge and the fingerboard needs planing….  Can’t wait!)

During the auction I was also able to get a couple of really nice bows that I’m excited to have in my store.  I’m often surprised by how many musicians don’t even realize how important the bow is to their playing.  Different bows not only handle differently, but they make different sounds.  A good bow is important, and I’m glad to have a couple of new ones for players in Milwaukee to try.

The people at Christie’s were unbelievably nice.  This impressed me because the place is elegant and everyone is dressed impeccably, and I, frankly, in my rumpled yoga pants, fleece jacket and sneakers looked like I’d been sleeping on the street.  I’m not a snappy dresser anyway, because there is no point when everything I wear just gets covered with sawdust and glue (sort of like the baby spit up years when you’re just asking for trouble by putting on a nice shirt), but combine that with living out of a travel bag that week and I was not a pretty sight.  The Christie’s people pretended not to notice and still handed me some of the rarest instruments and bows on the planet to examine as long as I liked.

It’s an incredible thing to hold a piece of history in your hands.  The jewel of this particular auction (and the instrument that graced the cover of the catalog for it) was a Guadagnini violin from 1740 that wound up selling for more than half a million dollars.  They had no qualms about handing it over to me simply because I wanted to see it.  The remarkable thing is that not only do the specialists at Christie’s care for these objects, but that they so readily recognize and encourage the enthusiasm of others for them.  They didn’t just let me hold this violin, they wanted me to hold this violin, even though they were perfectly aware that I would not be bidding on it.  Here are a couple of my own photos of the Guadagnini in the viewing room:

Non-violin people out there may not be struck by it, but the grace of those curves is unusually beautiful, and that maple back makes me swoon.  I got to look at that violin closely enough to appreciate how expertly those f-holes were cut and to marvel at the elegance of the corners and to be thoroughly envious of the varnish work.  I hope its new owner loves it and gets to play it in some amazing halls.

When all is said and done, with the commission and the shipping and the labor, I don’t make almost anything on the items I pick up at auction.  I need to make sure that anything I pass along to my customers is priced fairly, so I price things enough to cover my own costs and then tack on a tiny bit more so that at least the whole thing isn’t a wash.  From a business perspective I know this is not particularly savvy, but this is not a business anyone enters in order to be rich anyway.  I don’t care about being rich.  I care about being fulfilled.  I run my business well enough that I can afford to keep doing it and that’s what matters to me.  So the thrill of acquiring these pieces has less to do with any real good it will do my violin store’s bottom line, and more to do with having really interesting things to offer people, so they can also hold a bit of history in their hands.  The violin I bought at Christie’s is beautiful and old, and I can’t wait to fix it up.  I get to be the one to make it sing and find it a home.  That’s exciting, and it makes me glad I do what I do.

And that’s the kind of feeling I hope my kids will enjoy in whatever lives they grow up to choose.

New York Adventures Part 2 (Babble)

Where was I?  Oh yeah, New York.  Which now seems like a lifetime ago since we are currently back in the swing of school and violin and work and normal life in general.  Good thing I like my normal life or that would be depressing.  (Quinn is pining for New York, though.  He’s finding the return to normal life a step down from subway rides, pigeons, and a playroom instead of school.)

There was a lot to love about New York, most of which included spending time with people I love, but if I had to choose one thing specific to this trip that was special to me, I think it would be seeing how interested my girls were in the museums.  Aden in particular was wide eyed at everything.  She seemed to be trying to read every label at the Met.

(Aden, cousin Ellora, Mona and Quinn at the Temple of Dendur in the Metropolitan Museum of Art)

It’s amazing to me that Aden has reached an age where she’s not only interested in things, but has just enough life experience and skills and stamina to really explore them.  She was deeply disappointed that we couldn’t spend all day at the Met, but her little brother was not up to more than a couple of hours, and her cousin was hungry.  Mona was game, but not able to grasp as much of the information as her sister.  Aden marveled at the Egyptian exhibits, loved the Tiffany glass, was impressed with the armor…. 

My favorite thing was an altarpiece ca 1390-1400 from northern Italy that was carved from bone.  It was exquisite, and Aden noticed details in it that I missed.  There was a time when she would have fallen limp from boredom next to such a thing the way poor tired Quinn did, but not this trip.  She studied it appreciatively and only moved on when I said we had to.

The same was true at the American Museum of Natural History.  Aden and Mona both were thrilled to be there and hated that we couldn’t do more, but between their brother dragging his tiny feet and our need to catch a plane the same day, it wasn’t possible.  The truly fun thing about that museum for us is that my brother, Barrett, used to work there as a model maker, so his tours are the best.  He came down to the city to overlap with us for a couple of days at the end of our trip, and at the museum he pointed out the frog he made on the Wall of Biodiversity (which Aden declared sincerely to be the most realistic of all the frogs on the wall) and his insect models in the rain forest display. 

One of the best parts about having Barrett along is he not only can answer most of my kids’ nature questions (which is way more interesting than listening to me say, “Hey, let’s Google that when we get home!”), but he knows odd behind the scenes information and things we would certainly miss (like the fact that they added a navel to the life sized blue whale model in the ocean life room during the last renovation).

(Quinn pointing out dinosaur footprints.)

I’ve decided that next year I want to get Aden and Mona each a sketch book and a nice set of pencils and pens and plan an entire day at one of the museums.  We will get there when they open, plan for snacks and a hot dog break out front with some time to feed pigeons, and stay until they close.  I want us to be able to take down notes about things that are interesting, make sketches of amazing displays, and take our time really learning about what’s there.  Ian and I agree that as much as we like to stick together as a family, it would be worth it from time to time to split up.  Quinn could have a day in the playroom at home while the girls and I explore something else.  I would have done that this time had I known, but my daughters have grown up more than I realized since last year.

We saw two shows on this trip.  The first was for the kids, which was a musical adaptation of the movie Madagascar.  The show itself bothered me, but being in Radio City Music Hall was magical.  It’s so grand, and I remember going there as a kid to see a Lassie movie, and the real (then current) Lassie was there!  I was excited to take my kids to such a famous place at an age where it would be so impressive.

But the show was not what it should have been.  The kids enjoyed it, but kids don’t have high standards.  The musical did the bare minimum it needed to do to appease children under ten, which was to feature the characters they know, glean the most memorable lines from the movie, and play the “I like to move it move it” song as often as they could get away with.  The music was taped, the choreography was boring, and they even dragged out six animatronic figures to fill out the ranks of the lemurs during a dance number like it was a Chuck E Cheese show. 

Now, again, the kids really liked it, so I’m not knocking the fact that we went, and considering my sister-in-law treated us to six tickets I don’t want to sound ungrateful to her because I’m not.  But!  I have to say, I was distressed at the lack of quality.  Would it have been more expensive to do it well?  As in hiring live musicians, and real dancers to fill out the background?  Of course.  But this was Radio City Music Hall in New York Freaking City.  They should not do the bare minimum, they should do the best.  The bar should be high.  If this was the touring show they brought to Milwaukee, I would have shrugged and said, “Oh, well.  They have to cut corners to make a profit on the road.”  But in New York?  It should be awesome.  They should make it so we leave the theater saying, “Wow!  That’s why you see things in New York!”

For that experience, we went to The Book of Mormon.

We almost couldn’t find tickets that we could afford, but after some internet searching and a willingness to splurge more than we had originally anticipated, Ian and I were able to go.  And it was totally and completely worth it.  The only stage production I’ve seen that surpassed it was a performance of Mozart’s Don Giovanni in the original theater in Prague where it premiered, because that was transcendent in its greatness.  But this was funnier.  And look how close we were!

(We were way off to the side, but in row H.) 

 

I don’t think I can say enough good things about this show.  The timing of the jokes was perfect, I liked all the music, the voices and the pit orchestra were excellent, and the staging was so good it seemed unreal.  There is a number in act 2 about a Spooky Mormon Hell Dream that is an unbelievable spectacle, and then they strike the set and return it to a dreary little village in front of your eyes in a matter of seconds that left our jaws on the floor.  I would go again just to see that, to tell you the truth, because I watched them do it in front of me and I don’t know how they managed it.  And then you don’t have time to dwell on it because they cut right to a joke and you are laughing again.  And it’s completely obscene, but because all the swearing and crude references are used in the service of really profound and important themes it’s not gratuitous. 

Weirdly, despite the fact that the show doesn’t shy away from violence or topics like female genital mutilation, the overall effect is very sweet.  It’s a clever, hilarious toe-tapper that also makes you consider the origin and function of all religions.  It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.  It left me thinking and laughing and humming great tunes, and I am so glad we went.  (My brother asked me if someday I would like a cast recording if one becomes available, and I told him I would, except that I don’t know where I could play it.  They didn’t even list the names of the songs in the program because they were so dirty.)

What else did we do in New York?  Well, every year we go to the Nintendo store and let my kids pick out a Pokemon toy.  My kids aren’t even that into Pokemon anymore, but they love getting a new toy to take home, and love knowing they picked them out near Rockefeller Center.  It’s a simple tradition that makes them happy so we always squeeze it in.

(Aden with Pikachu.) 

 

For myself, there were a few things that turned this into a work trip.  First of all, I was able to view instruments and bows for an upcoming auction at Christie’s.  My sister-in-law works there and was able to arrange for me to see things before the public viewing while I was still in town.  (I have a whole post I plan to write about that.)

I was also able to peek my nose in at the Babble headquarters which is down on Broadway.  That was fascinating, because I’d never met anyone I work with there in person.  Every once in awhile I read something in a comment thread suggesting that all the bloggers and staff actually know each other, (and maybe there are secret parties that only I am not invited to and I’m off base here), but really we’re way off in our different corners of the country doing our own things.  Until this trip I’ve never met anybody.  It was kind of nice to see Babble is a real operation with lots of busy people working hard and not some crazy hoax that I get emails from.  Everyone was so sweet to us, and my kids each got a bag of goldfish crackers which made them happy, but Quinn did pass out on a couch almost immediately.  I regret I didn’t get a photo because that would have been perfect here, but I do have a shot of him passed out on my husband’s shoulder once we got outside again.

Anyway, I work for nice people at Babble and that’s good to know. 

 

The other work thing I did was meet with a friend who is editing a book my husband and I have been working on.  We collected all our emails from the period of his first deployment because I think they are very interesting gathered all together.  Ian’s accounts of his time in Iraq during the surge are unlike anything else I’ve ever read, and my struggles at home with three tiny children were the most intense time of my life.  Even if nothing comes of it publishing-wise, it’s an account I think is worth preserving for our own family.

My friend, Alice, lives in Red Hook, which is a section of Brooklyn with an excellent view of the Statue of Liberty and some nice little neighborhoods.  She lives within walking distance of Ikea, so we took the ferry service Ikea runs from Manhattan to the store.  We loved seeing New York from the water (both in the afternoon and then at night on the return trip), Ikea is a convenient place to eat with kids, and we had a nice time relaxing at my friend’s home.

(Aden and Quinn on the Ikea Ferry)

The only downside to this excursion was when the editors at Babble asked what wonderful things we would be doing in New York that day, and I said we were going to Ikea.  I immediately realized that could not sound less inspired unless I topped it off by saying we were hoping to find a McDonald’s or something, so I started sputtering that we’d already been to the Met!  And Radio City Music Hall!  Oh yes, I can be so cool it hurts.  (If this blog suddenly disappears you will know why.)

And last but not least were the Easter things.  There was a bunny play!

The bunny play started off well, but grew painful as they got into the unrehearsed portions at the end.  (It would have gone better except that I took Aden out with me to Chelsea all afternoon instead of letting her stay home and organize everything, but it was worth it to have that time with her in the city.)  Aden loved directing everybody and has learned how to make things work better next year.  And Mona has great stage presence, so she was fun to watch even as things dragged on too long and got weird. And we dyed eggs!

Ian and I fled to Book of Mormon, though, rather than watch the chaos of the hunt unfold.  There were too many elements that my kids weren’t prepared for so I had a bad feeling about it.  My kids are used to searching for the specific eggs they each decorated, but because there were extra kids invited along my brothers divvied up the eggs at random.  They also thought filling the plastic eggs with things like chess pieces and an occasional potato would be a hoot–which it is until you watch a kid who was expecting chocolate open those eggs.  We asked how it all went when we got back from the show, and all anyone would say was that in maybe ten years they could all laugh about it.

I did like Aden’s homemade basket constructed from an egg carton.  And Quinn and some of the other kids had fun.  But otherwise it sounds like we have nowhere to go but up for next year’s egg hunt.

And that about roughly covers it.  We had long delays getting home, but overall it was fine.  Can’t wait for next year!

(Aden and her dad by our subway stop.  I’m proud at how good my kids got at using the subway!)

New York Adventures Part 1 (Babble)

We just got back from our annual Easter trip to New York City.  It’s expensive and exhausting getting a family of five to New York and back, but worth it.  I’m impressed with how much we manged to pack into a week, and yet there was so much we never got to.  We already have plans for what to tackle next year.  Our trips tend to be a paradox of feeling both long and short at the same time somehow.

I could write about a hundred blog posts on different aspects of our adventure, but just to organize it in my head a bit here is the quick rundown of what we did:  Monday we went to Hoboken to see Carlo’s Bakery of Cake Boss fame.  Tuesday we spent a quiet rainy day at the apartment doing sand art and letting the kids play in the playroom across the hall.  Wednesday we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the park.  Thursday we saw Madagascar Live at Radio City Music Hall, made our annual pilgrimage to the Nintendo store to get Pokemon toys, and I got to look through violins and bows for the upcoming instrument auction at Christie’s.  Friday we visited the Babble office and then took the Ikea ferry to Brooklyn to meet with a friend who is helping us work on a book.  Saturday some people stayed home and a few of us hung out in Chelsea all afternoon, and then the kids put on a play after dinner.  Sunday we dyed and hid eggs, and Ian and I were able to go off to see Book of Mormon on our own.  Monday was the Museum of Natural History and the flight home.  Mixed in with all of that was a lot of time on subways, eating from carts, walking, rain, wind, and Quinn threw up a few times in the night (you know, to keep it real I’m sure).

So I’m just going to dive in and see how much I can get to writing about, and if there is something in that list anyone specifically wants to hear more about just speak up.
First off, navigating an airport with three small kids is a special event in and of itself.  I’ve been doing this for awhile, and I’ve got some ideas to share for anyone interested. 

Always assume there will be a long delay.  The only times I’ve gotten in trouble traveling with my kids is when I’ve paced myself in terms of activities and snacks only to find out there is an extra two hours to fill that I hadn’t planned on.  I keep a box at home of art supplies we use just for travel.  Those twistable crayons are great, lots of pads of paper, and little activity books with mazes and dot to dot games, etc.  I usually pack Uno cards, a ball, and a DVD in my laptop.  When the girls were smaller a magnadoodle kept them very busy and was perfect for the airport and the plane.  Usually I hide small chocolate eggs or Hershey kisses at our gate (on the Milwaukee end, anyway) and that keeps them happy and occupied during delays.  I dole out single tic tacs to any child willing to read me an ad on the wall and explain to me what it means.

(Kids hunkered down with their projects at the Milwaukee airport during a long delay.)

The biggest revelation about travel came a few years back when I realized my girls, at least, were capable of dragging small travel bags themselves.  We found cute ones at Target pretty cheap.  It’s so much easier for us to each have our own carry on bag instead of trying to pack one big one to check.  Quinn now has his own bag, too, and we get around like a little luggage convoy when we travel.

(Kids at LaGuardia wheeling along.) 

 

We try to keep the kids in shoes that are easy to slip on and off (although remembering to check that they are wearing socks is an issue for us), and they are good about helping get those trays onto the conveyor belts for shoes and jackets.

Anyway, New York!  What’s the first thing we did in New York?  Leave for New Jersey!  It only takes a bit over an hour to get to Hoboken by subway so we took the kids to visit Carlo’s Bakery.  Aden and Mona are big fans of the show Cake Boss (although we haven’t seen any recent episodes because we only watch what’s available on Netflix) and they really wanted to see the famous bakery for themselves. 

Sounded like a great idea, but unfortunately many many other little girls also had the same great idea.  In fact, when we exited the subway station and stepped onto the streets of Hoboken, a man passing us the other direction saw our little band of kids, shook his head and smiled while saying, “Carlo’s Bakery,” and nodded the right direction.  And we found it all right.  There was a line to the end of the block, and when we got behind a woman at the corner, she said, “No, this isn’t the end of the line.  THAT’S the end of the line.”  And she pointed down the next block and the block after that to a sea of people that we never did spot the end of.  Estimated wait time was four hours.

(Part of the line in Hoboken) 

 

We weren’t doing that.  We used the bathroom in the city hall across the street, asked a guard inside where he would take kids for cupcakes that wouldn’t require an all day wait, and he sent us to a cute place called Crumbs with no line a few blocks away.  It wasn’t exactly like being able to say we stepped on the set of Cake Boss, but what kids are going to complain when they get handed this?

(Aden, Mona, and their cousin Ellora with a snack in Hoboken.  Mona’s favorite movie candy is Sno Caps, so that she could order a cupcake covered with them made her day.)

But we did peek in the window of Carlo’s Bakery, and we can say we were there, and that was fun even if we didn’t go inside.  Although the kids have already asked if next year we can plan ahead and get there very very early.  Since we have a backup bakery now, why not?

So when my kids think of New Jersey they think of cupcakes.  When they think of New York they think of the playroom across the hall from their cousin’s apartment.  A lot of time in New York is spent playing, and this trip they put together a network of stores.  Quinn sold balls.  When I selected a few to buy, he told me they were $5 and then handed me some homemade money.  Aden’s a little more savvy and actually takes money rather than giving it out when you buy something from her, and Mona’s thing was all about adopting animals so they could go for a ride in her cart.  Or something.  I have a hard time following the ins and outs of their games.

My brother and his family also have a dog, and this is also a big part of New York for them.

I think we are very lucky to have family in a place like New York City so that our memories are so personal.  We had a great time exploring the Met, and we do things other tourists do, but we get to combine that with the fun of cooking waffles in the morning and hanging out in a real home.  It’s a big adjustment squeezing five extra people into an apartment that usually holds three, and it doesn’t always run smoothly, but it’s family and that’s important even when it’s not easy.  There’s nothing like seeing my kids with their cousin and hearing them whispering together in their bunk beds at night.  I love that.

And I think that’s all the energy I have for blogging right now.  It’s great to be home, but the flight back took longer than expected, and you never realize how tired you are until you have a moment to really sit still, and I am wiped out.  More soon.

Big Apple, Little Legs (Babble)

We just got back from a week’s vacation in New York City!  Ian’s visit happened to overlap with our annual trip to see my brother and his family over spring break.  I started flying out to New York with the kids during Ian’s last deployment as a way to break up the depressing rut I was in.  Navigating airports alone with three kids (ages 5, 3 and 5 months at that time) was insane, but I survived it.  Every travel experience since has seemed easy, despite the trouble of getting so many little pairs of shoes on and off at security.

We have a nice little tradition going for Easter.  My kids get to do an egg hunt with their cousin in New York every year, and most of the time we are able to overlap with her birthday as well (depending on when Easter and spring break fall).   How cute are they with their baskets?  I helped Aden make her own out of cardboard and paper right before the hunt.

(Ellora, Aden, Mona and Quinn in New York after their egg hunt.)


It was a great trip.  We got to see friends and family and the weather was beautiful.   We got out a little, but as far as my kids are concerned, New York City is their cousin’s apartment.  At one point late in the week when we were trudging through Times Square, Quinn laid his exhausted little head on my shoulder and pleaded, “Can we please go back to New York now?”  Our first full day in Manhattan we took the kids to Central Park, enjoyed a carriage ride, ate ice cream, watched the sea lions eating fish at the zoo, climbed rocks, and rode many trains.

After getting out and about the first day to satisfy my need to feel like I’d seen something of the city, we were good to let the kids do what they really wanted which was play in the apartment.  Their cousin has a new bunk bed, a big cuddly dog, and a play room across the hall so they couldn’t have been happier.  They squealed and giggled and made up a million games that all seemed to involve making piles of stuffed animals on the floor.

One of the things about New York that’s hard to impress upon people who have never been there is how it is really a collection of little neighborhoods.  Yes it’s dense and busy, but in some ways it feels more friendly than a typical midwestern experience.  There is nothing charming about the giant chain stores I depend on in Milwaukee.  Many of the shops in New York are tiny and personal.  Three times on one lazy day we had to run out for groceries, and each time Ian or I went out with whichever one of the kids wanted to come along.  We walked to a different little market just blocks from home each time.  When Aden and I picked up milk on one of those trips she was thrilled with a tabby cat sleeping in a little bed on one of the lower shelves.  (No cats pouncing on flies at Pick ‘N Save or Home Depot.)  So when sticking to the immediate neighborhood, a visit to my brother’s home in New York with three small children is simple.  Things are convenient and the kids are content.  Getting to anything beyond that is a more complicated story.

Most of the parents I know in New York city only have one child.  This makes sense because it’s an environment where the expense and difficulty of additional children is tangible.  I don’t know anyone in the midwest who chose not to have another child based on available space.  You may have to make compromises or get creative, but in the midwest you can find more room somewhere.  In New York it’s a real factor to consider because one more bedroom could bankrupt you.  In any case, getting more kids than you have hands on and off the subway takes a little practice.  Teaching Mona not to lean out over the tracks looking for the A train keeps you alert.

For the most part my kids do really well in New York, but the biggest challenge was all the walking.  My kids are very active, so I don’t mean they aren’t physically up to it, it’s that the kind of walking you do in the city they aren’t accustomed to.  Once we hit the park or the zoo or a pile of wood chips they were ready to run for hours, but the sort of fast paced, single file, keep your head down walking for many blocks just to find the subway entrance or a restaurant was not easy for them.  My friend, Alice, met us one morning near Washington Square Park, and she commented on how different the city looked when you walked it at my children’s level.  It’s slow, and you look in every window and check out every street vendor, and a block is suddenly not a short stretch anymore.  Quinn did the best he could, but often I’d end up scooping him up and carrying him for a block or two before having to set him back down again.  (His dad was willing to carry him, but when my son is tired he just wants me.)  Overall I was really proud of how well Quinn kept moving along on those little legs, especially when you remember his only view much of the time is of other people at about waist height.

The only really hard moment with the kids was after Ellora’s birthday party.  She had a party at a restaurant called Mars, which was like Chuck E Cheese’s but red and with martians walking around instead of a mouse waving at you.  It was a great time, especially since my brother put on some crazy face paint and stole all the hired martians’ thunder.  (My brother is incredibly fun and spent most of the party under a pile of happy six year olds.) 

But afterward we went to Central Park so the kids could run around, and it was another one of those moments when you realize how differently you navigate certain situations when you have multiple kids.  You don’t think too hard about keeping track of one kid at the park, but when you have more than one you need a plan.  The weather was gorgeous and the playground was packed, and Mona was tired and pouty because she had managed to lose her balloon and her goody bag from the party (and didn’t want to look at me because I had predicted all of that if she didn’t take my advice and now she was embarrassed).  I’m still not sure how it happened, but we all got spread out a bit, and the next thing I knew all the kids had scattered and I couldn’t see any of them but Quinn.
 
Normally when we enter a crowded place I make sure my kids know where we should meet if we’re separated.  I didn’t get a chance to do that, and I ended up handing Quinn off to Ian so I could cover more ground and figure out where the girls were.  I spotted Aden pretty quickly, and made sure she and her cousin knew where the meeting place was, but it took a long time to find Mona.  When I say a long time, I mean about ten minutes, but ten minutes of your mind racing through all the possibilities of losing your kid in Central Park are agonizing. 

Luckily Arno can move with an effortless speed that is astonishing, and he was able to cover every part of the playground quickly and track Mona down.  She was fine, of course, pouting in the sand pit area where she buired and lost her last toy.  I stuck to her like glue for the rest of the afternoon much to her chagrin.  I don’t know how anyone survives really losing a child like that.  I was physically ill for those ten minutes.  Any real length of time would probably kill me.  So as far as bad experiences go, this one was more of a reminder of how fortunate I am, and not anything actually bad.  I’m not letting those ten minutes that turned out to be nothing hijack the memory of a perfectly nice day, because the rest of it was pretty great.

The highlights of the trip for me were meeting my friend Miriam’s adorable baby and Satra’s lovely wife and daughter, and spending a little time with my friend Alice and my cousin Mary.  We ate some great pizza and rice pudding.  We got to see all the flowering trees in bloom (and then come home in time to watch everything start to bloom here, too).  I got to visit my niece’s school and read to some of her classmates.  My brother and I stood in the little rose garden near his home by the Hudson River one warm evening and listened to a man singing powerfully from a high up window we couldn’t pinpoint.  I got a night out with just my husband and we saw Hair at the Al Hirschfeld Theater (it was amazing but that’s a whole other post).  I bought Aden a small locket from a street vendor in Soho and she wears it every day now.  Did I mention the rice pudding?  And Ian told Mona if she caught a healthy pigeon she could keep it, so watching her chase birds with that weird mincing run of hers was beyond entertaining.

But most of all I got to spend time with people I love while taking a break from thinking about moving or that Ian’s leaving again soon or when a million appointments are happening.  That’s spring break at it’s best, even with tired little legs.

(Aden, Quinn and Ian on the A train)