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!)

Home of the Sensitive (Babble)

I’m the first to admit my kids have it pretty easy.  I expect them to help keep their toys and clothes picked up a bit, and to be responsible for their schoolwork, but I don’t make them do scheduled chores.  I remember how hard it was sometimes just to be a kid, and when I see them playing in the yard or creating a pretend restaurant for their stuffed animals or spinning in circles and just being kids, it makes me incredibly happy.  They are still so innocent and sweet and I want them to enjoy that.  It doesn’t last long, and they will have the rest of their lives to work hard and know unpleasant truths about the world.

They are good and kind little people, and I want them to look back on childhood as a loving, creative time with a lot of freedom.  I was lucky enough to have had that kind of childhood.  I want that kind of foundation for my kids, too.  They take a lot of things for granted, but only because they don’t know anything different.  And every now and then my kids stumble against some other reality that they find jarring, and I am amazed at how sensitive they are.

Aden has always been incredibly empathetic.  From the time she was a baby she hated to see me upset, and she is deeply affected by the suffering of others, especially children or animals.  When she’s moved by the plights of others she often comes up with creative ways of trying to help, usually by drawing people pictures or creating little plates of food for them.  I found out the other day that she gave away all of her birthday money to the charity drive happening in her class.  I asked her why she didn’t have money to buy the Yu-Gi-Oh cards she wanted, and she said when the funds came up short for the kid her class sponsored to buy him warm clothes for winter, she emptied her piggy bank and donated every last dime.  It made me proud.  I don’t know how much credit I can take, but I’d like to see this as evidence that I’m raising her right.


But it’s hard to know.  With Aden it may just be innate.  We read a book in the Magic Tree House series for a new parent/child book club we’re a part of, and there was a description of New York during the Great Depression.  The Magic Tree House books are pretty tame.  There is some suspense but no one really gets hurt and problems are solved quickly, yet they still make my kids nervous.  The moment things aren’t going well, one or both of my girls will insist I tell them it comes out okay so they can relax and listen to the story.  The descriptions of the Great Depression were mostly soup lines and people without adequate clothes for a blizzard–nothing too graphic–but Aden couldn’t take it.  “This book is too sad, mom,” she kept saying, tears streaming down her face.  “What’s going to happen to all of those people?”

I tried to tell her about how her grandparents on my mom’s side of the family lived through the Great Depression right here in Milwaukee.  How her great-grandma’s family had to sell their piano, and great-grandpa had to drop out of school to make money on a farm to support his parents and siblings, but it all worked out eventually.  Aden just kept wiping at the tears on her face and saying, “I don’t want to hear this book anymore.”  We did finish the story (I told her we had to if we wanted to go to the book club), but I had to keep pointing out the positive elements to string her along.

The stories out of Haiti since the earthquake have been particularly hard for her.  I often watch the news while preparing dinner, and Aden was transfixed by a story about an orphanage in Port-au-Prince.  I think it cuts too close to home for her.  She doesn’t have to imagine what it’s like to have one parent gone, and she’s fearful of the idea that something could happen to me.  I tried to point out that in the news story there were kind and generous people from all over the world who had come to help those orphans, and we should be happy there are such people in the world, but Aden put her arms around me and sobbed, “But I wouldn’t want another mother.  I want you.”  I told her I was very careful crossing the street and would do my best to be around a long time.  When she was satisfied that we were going to be okay, she asked what we could do to help the orphans in Haiti.

Mona wasn’t born with the same level of empathy her sister was.  For the first couple of years of her life I was a little worried about how oblivious she was to the feelings of others, mostly because I was used to Aden.  Mona continues to dance along through life keeping herself amused, but in recent years she has developed an incredibly sensitive streak.  Most often it’s about herself, but it was surprising when it first surfaced.  You used to be able to say anything to or about Mona and she would smile and move on, but now if she thinks anyone is being critical she bursts into tears and runs to her room.  She cares about the opinions of others in a way she never used to.  Her reaction to accidentally hurting other people is to get angry and sullen.  It’s hard for her to deal with the guilt of making her sister sad or disappointing her mother.  If I express frustration with her about anything she gets very huffy and can’t look at me.

When sad things happen to other people unconnected to Mona, that doesn’t usually affect her much, so I was shocked the other day when she cried during a movie.  I was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner and I’d told the kids they could go upstairs and watch a Pokemon DVD we’d just rented.  After a little while there were wailing sobs from Mona and I thought she was injured.  I raced upstairs expecting to see broken bones or blood, but Mona was under a blanket, crying uncontrollably, with Aden and Quinn patting her lightly and saying it was going to be okay.  Apparently one character had sacrificed its life for another and it was too traumatic for her.  Aden kept saying the character wasn’t really dead because part of his essence had been passed on to the other character (I have no idea about the details because I just can’t bring myself to sit through a Pokemon movie), but Mona kept weeping.  She curled up in my lap (as much as her six-year-old self will fit there anymore) and I stroked her hair until she calmed down.

Mona had a scary accident back when she was two that caused part of her face to get badly scratched up.  Due to the miraculous healing powers of toddlers you can’t tell, except when she cries.  When Mona is really upset I can see the ghostly image of those scratches appear across her forehead and cheek.  I held her until those little pink marks faded again, and then offered to read her some Amelia Bedelia books to make her laugh.  She liked that, and cheered up considerably, but looked sad again when I tucked her in to go to sleep.  Mona has declared she won’t watch that movie again.  Aden’s emotions may be close to the surface, but I think Mona’s run deep because they are so strong and she needs to be insulated from them a bit in order to function.

Quinn is only three, and most of his tears are related to being tired.  He’s very cooperative and self-sufficient so he doesn’t get told ‘no’ very often.  The minute he does, though, and if he is overdue for a nap, his face dissolves into sadness and the tears flow freely.  On the sensitivity scale he is definitely closer to the Aden end of the continuum.  He hates to see me sad.  He hates to see his sisters sad.  I love my sensitive little guy.

The tricky thing from my perspective right now is trying to figure out how much Ian’s deployment may or may not be influencing any of their tears.  Back in 2006 we had to have both our pet bunnies put to sleep around the same time their dad left for Iraq.  Often that year Aden would start off being sad about the bunnies, and it would turn into a crying fit about her dad.  There was too much loss in her life at one time, and there were days it overwhelmed her.

This time I think I’m doing a better job of keeping them occupied.  I know it’s hard for them to see other kids with their dads, but they aren’t as quick to tell random people this time that they have a dad too.  I used to think families living on a base were at an advantage in terms of support during a deployment, but now I’m not so sure.  I don’t think being surrounded by reminders of what you don’t have is very useful.  We are always looking ahead toward fun things coming up, like the book club or movie night or events at the school.  We talk about all the fun things we’ll do when their dad gets back, and I only bring up their dad in a positive light.  There haven’t been any crying fits about their dad this deployment, but it’s possible they were disguised as tears over Pokemon characters.  It’s hard to know.

I like that my children are sensitive.  I know it makes them more vulnerable in the world at large, but they are so willing to help others that I believe the connections they form because of that will provide them with great strength in the long run.   I love them.  I know that’s the most unoriginal thing ever posted to a mommy blog, but it’s true.  I love my kids more than I know how to say it, tears and all.