Bye-bye Big City...

We leave for Kansas in two days... and I already miss my city :)  I had high hopes for a few fun flings before our loooong stay away and then... we got sick.  So in the house we have sat, all week.  Ah, well ;)

The Little Man, of course, has made the best of it.  We read and imagined.  A lot.  He spent two entire days laying still.  (Except for when E would return home each evening.  The kid would get all revved up and excited, only to crash, hard, and I don't mean metaphorically.  Off kilter top to bottom, P would end up toppling and cracking his head or getting so wound up over Froggy's peevishness that he was in tears.  As much as I encouraged them, ahem, both, to take it easy, it was wasted words.  They just couldn't help themselves from the fun of it all.)

After a marathon night of coughing, he was back to bouncing today and full of projects.  As proven by the floor this evening ;)  First, he made a bevy of beautiful butterflies for his tissue box house (above).  Then a snake family to join them.  Then, mayhem erupted...

He spent an enormous amount of time pouring and stirring and dumping and digging in his huge bin of dyed rice (a really fun project, if you're looking for one...)  Really fun, that is, if you find vacuuming therapeutic (fortunately, I do ;)

Later, we worked on designs for our fabulous neighbor's wedding jam jar labels.  P was overly helpful ;)  He also pulled out the glitter, always my favorite activity, to create a delightful watercolor, glitter masterpiece...  And then, wishing for more jam jar style designs to paint, he requested scene after scene to be drawn, a mama made coloring book so to speak (Requested theme?  The Ants Go Marching?!), so that he could continue to paint and cut.  This sort of "art" is typically repugnant to me, but the child was ecstatically happy, sitting still as steel as he sang and painted, so screw it ;)

It was a lovely day, despite the fact that it should have featured refrigerator cleaning and bag packing....  But I was a little sad to see the whole week go without a big city moment.   Seems like every summer before we leave, the child has just reached a pinnacle point of homeostasis.   A point of momentary quiet and previously unsurpassed self-directed play perfectly mixed with exceptional city filled excursions.  A period of peer play passing all prior periods.  And then we up and leave town and blow it all to hell ;)   And its true, he has reached new heights of solitary serenity of late, but he has also been in a serious hibernatory mood.  Additionally aided by his boogery status this week and the mass exodus that seems to occur amongst playmates each Summer in this city (every child on our block has been gone for the month of July!).  It all has me guessing that weeks wandering the farm, without other kids or solid plans,  may fit his needs nicely right now...  Here's hoping for smooth transitions!

Sick in the summer

Blogging in the middle of the day?  The child is solidly chillin', so.... :)

Poor kid has a summer cold.  He seemed a bit miffed that he could be sick, "But, Mama, I've been washing my hands?"  

Then, as I made lunch, I looked down at the kid and had to smile.  For whatever reason, one of his pancakes was placed on his ear.  He was lounging naked on the "floor bed" (he'd wanted to go back to bed this morning (but I find it difficult to fry pancakes in the bedroom and he didn't want to be alone) so we settled on a kitchen bed.)  He was staring off into space, imagining the world of Pompeii as the volcano rumbles... (My throat is tortured too, so yesterday's book-a-thon is being supplemented by other readers in the form of the Magic Tree House books.)   Despite his cold, he looked supremely content.

I kinda love it when the kid gets a cold.  I mean, its hard to look out the window on a sunny day without sighing, and I certainly don't enjoy catching the kid's colds... not to mention the child's obvious discomfort (I'm not a totally selfish bitch:)   But I like the Mama I become when his boogers blossom.  He's sick.  I feel like a whiney shmuck when I'm sick, so my empathy flows and any nasty expectations (those things that ruin happiness) fall away when the kid needs extra cuddles.  His wants to be carried make sense.  Any food pickiness has an obvious bodily cause and causes me no dismay.  Any outbursts or lack of self-control reminds me of the restless sleep from last night and I don't tense up and judge.  And thanks to all of this, the kid usually transforms into an angel :)  Seriously, when will I learn to be accepting all of the time?   

I'm sure the fact that the kid is kinda quiet and I have a little space in my head helps too...  but still!  Ooop!  I'm being invited back to the floor-bed.  I'm sure lounging around on the floor mid-day helps too ;)

Fabulous Fountains

Seriously pretty place to play.

Funny faces are becoming de rigueur for photos lately...

P's been in a home sorta mood.  We might putz around the park or the nabe or have a playdate, but the city hasn't seen us lately.  Its fascinating to watch him wax and wane.

But last week we made it to the best water park downtown.  Or, at least, our favorite :)  Its typically pretty empty, shaded, and fabulous fun.

The trees have these hot pink, yellow, red berries (they look a bit like rainier cherries, actually).  P adopted them as BB stand-ins.  Berry BB floated down countless torrent filled tunnels and washed into water spurters and flooded flats. The child squealed.  A lot.

Sing a Song of Sixpence...

P gleefully floats BB's beeswax boat in the sink.  He tests everything to see if it floats and loved how the water rolled off of the beeswax.  In fact, it floated way to well, requiring the child to add water, drain the water and blow heartily, all to provide BB with a perilous journey....

Stories and Songs aren't new parenting tools, by any stretch of the imagination.  But they don't seem to get much air time, either.  It seems to be all time-outs and time-ins.  Self esteem and limit setting.  None of that has helped us much with P, but the stories and songs bit, man, that's the ticket.

A ticket I wish I'd turned into a season pass a long time ago.  I mean, I read when he was a baby that having a soothing song was very, well, soothing.  And so I started humming a special song from the day he popped.  I actually heard P hum it to himself just this week when he was upset, so I know he still finds it rather reassuring ;)

But that's such a small, small example of song's possibilities.  And I've finally realized this.  After all, transitions are notoriously difficult for Phoenix and mollifying those would be a massive mental balm.  He likes where he is when he's there and has no need to be elsewhere.  Its very zen and all, unless he needs to be elsewhere :)  Getting out of the house, while nowhere near the painful process it used to be, can still find me at the end of my rope.  Especially if we're operating on a time line.

In addition to bag packing, there are a few essential steps to leaving the house with children.  Sub rides can be long, public bathrooms scarce, and a toilet stop before we leave is absolutely essential.  Ahhh, but the way a small child can resist even the most basic and rational processes.  Especially when they are really, really busy figuring out how to establish their sense of self and be independent and operate their sense of choice and, dare I say, defiance?  But who, after all, wants to be told what to do all the time, anyway?  Well, certainly not this very autonomous child (who, in all honesty, takes after his very autonomous parents....)  And rather than working to break his strong spirit we're of the mind to embrace it.  Love him the way he is.... while still getting in a pit stop before the damn day out.

And then there's the stinkin' shoes.  (Yah, I still do his shoes, which never crossed my mind.  Until I was recently judged by a loved one for tying a five year old's shoes.  Assured, in fact, that the child would never do it himself if I continued to help.  A comical picture popped into my head of P, patiently waiting for his wife to finish tying his children's shoes so that she could move on to his before he went to work.  I felt no need to tell this loved one that the child has already tied his own shoes.  That we went through a period for a few weeks where we sat on the stoop for seeming hours while he slowly wound his laces.  That he finally got it and then, as the loosely tied laces came undone every block or so, how he became less and less enchanted with this new skill and the seemingly constant opportunity to employ it.  That he now asks me to do it and that he sees my help as an act of love and devotion, since he's "mastered" this skill and grown bored with it ;)  An act that isn't necessary (as he can do it) and is therefore all the more love filled.  Nah.  Her judgement didn't need all of that background information, cuz she'd already made her decision.  But I was sad to see how easily blinders can break down acceptance.  How easy it is to not know something and just judge.... to think you're so right and, yet,  be kinda wrong.)  But back to the shoes.  One has to sit still for this particular step in the exiting process.  Hah.  Double haha.

And then there's the teeth brushing every night.  He wants it done but he also doesn't want to do it :)  And the last potty before bed.  And, of course, moving from the playroom to the bedroom.  Oh, and the transition from play to dining.

"Instructing" what the next step would be just isn't a fab approach with the kid.  Yelling "dinner!" is completely ineffectual.  Honestly though, "announcing" doesn't fly with either of his parents, either, and the kid is just as human as we are, so we understand.  (Despite the fact that we still slip on a regular basis and announce what needs to happen ("Dinner!")....  We're infinitely fallible and unfortunately get hit over the head with this fact, daily.)  And then it finally clicked for us six months ago.  The freakin' songs!

Not that I hadn't tried singing through transitions many, many times before.  But something was different this time and the child embraced it.  I started small, with the goodbye song.  That got us down the stairs with grins and vibratos.  Next came the food song.  Within two days he was dancing to the table as soon as the first bar escaped my lips.  Then I added a song for that last pit stop.  Bingo.  Then child introduced a song for teeth brushing!  Much like I had just started singing certain songs every time we did a certain act (no announcing of "Now, this, son, will be the dinner song.  And when you hear these notes...")  He just started singing the same song each night while we brushed (and then, after a few weeks, he started harmonizing while we sang - it cracks me up).  Then there was the transition to the bedroom song, followed by the last pit stop song again and whalah!  Our transitions were smoooooooth sailing.  Seriously!

I was surprised at how simply songs slid into our lives.  No discussion, no instruction needed.  He seems to relish the simplicity of knowing what comes next without being told what do to.  I relish not telling him what to do.  And I send up thanks every day that it still jives with him.  Because, honestly, I thought the novelty would wear off...

But it hasn't.  And the child has made sure they stick by singing them alongside me.  One weekend, shortly after our dining song entered our repertoire, I sang as I sat out our lunch.  P danced to dine and Ethan... stayed seated.  P glanced over his shoulder and shouted, "Papa!  When you hear that there is food!  Come to the table!!!"  Yah, it hasn't proven as easy to teach an old dog new tricks...

Which includes me.  When I'm in a hurry, "P, go put your potty in" can easily slip out, out of habit.  The response is obvious sudden deafness in the child.  This lack of response triggers my sluggish memory, so I slide into John Denver's "Follow Me" song while gently walking with him towards the bathroom door.   And he, quite the automaton, will wander to the loo contentedly.  It is serious Pied Piper magic.

In fact, he's even started using it on me.  I was busy in the kitchen yesterday and the child wanted to show me something.  Rather than the usual "Mama!  Come!  I Need you!" (which, when I'm really busy is, sadly, only slightly more effective than "P put your potty in.")  He came over and took my hand and sang "Follow Me."  I couldn't help myself, I automatically followed :)

Rooftop: Take Three

We had our third rooftop gardening class a month or so ago.  If we weren't out of town for the rest of the season, I'd set another one up in a heartbeat!  P absolutely adored Farmer Annie and her super sweet helpers.  And, of course, his classmates!  And, of course, the harvesting ;)

Farmer Annie nailed the picking bit for five year olds this time.  The simplicity of chewing on kale on the roof could only be improved upon with a craft :)  The paper window bags and bunches of markers absolutely thrilled P.  He harvested lettuce and radishes and after writing his name (and "heart" Mama) he drew a radish picture and asked that I write "radish."  He was soooo pleased.  

The "after" part was just as great.  P really adored the kids in this class and had a blast on the playground around the corner.  Oh, and he knows a *lot* about plant growth cycles now, too ;)

Projects

P has been enjoying new, bigger projects in the last month (in addition to all of the little ones he invents each day).  We're doing about one a week and sometimes I snap a shot, sometimes I don't ;)  But here's two of the recent faves...

The Terrarium(s)

I scored a fish bowl off of freecycle for a fab terrarium project (no picture of that terrarium, yet).  Carrying the spanish moss and a few pants home the next day, P bumped into our garden-loving neighbor, Connie.  Always excited to see anyone with a plant in their hands, she quizzed the Little Man about his plans.  Then she happily announced she had a fish bowl too!  Which was good, since the kid had picked out more plants than would fit in our first bowl....  When Connie rang our bell a bit later she had, not a bowl, but an entire aquarium.  A funky metal rimmed one from the '60's that weighed a ton and now houses half a rock collection, a bunch of plants and, occasionally, a lost, treasure seeking, snake chased, BB.

The Aquarium

My dear friend sent me a link to the most amazing kid craft site: made by joel.  I love his style.  And a lot of his ideas are super eco-friendly.  P had a fantastic time making this little aquarium (above, having gone through the play-ringer a number of times but still holding up pretty well...)  The strings are connected to clothes buttons through the top slots so that the fish can be slid back and forth.  I described the concept to P in the most basic of terms and was humbled by his artistic vision.  The sea grass,, kelp, anemone (aka, yellow blob towards the middle front) and sunken boat were all depth adding details way beyond the basic floating fish I envisioned after reading Joel's site.  P carefully designed a shark, squid, clownfish, eel and a family of crabs and jelly fish, aslo all by himself.  Then the families grew larger and their strings grew longer and longer so that they wouldn't be stuck in the aquarium anymore... they escaped out the hole he hacked in the side... and chased the small paper BB he drew...  It was an afternoon of underwater adventure for sure :)

Seriously Laughin' our Butts off

P, happily experimenting, long after he's kicked his herniated parents off of the fun wagon.

I just pulled up the pics for this post so I could pick my favorites.... and quickly had tears running down my cheeks.  E had to pop over to see why I was busting a gut... and then he fell apart too.  Nobody finds the Schultons as funny as the Schultons :)

So, Sunday.  Hot.  Long.  We all sat on the couch, half naked, entertaining each other with stories when the words "fun house mirrors" came up.  (Normal Sunday chit-chat and all.)  Then I remembered my sister-in-law's blog post about Mac's Photo Booth and BAM.  Our afternoon was filled (thank you, Alicia!!!).  Holy gawd we laughed so hard that day.  And the Little Man, he was infinitely inspired.  The double vision effect was his favorite and he played with it endlessly, eventually designing various scenes.  Anyway, we thought we were funny ;)  Seriously.  This next one of him has me in tears every time I scroll past it.

I'm crying here.  P was confused about the whole "happy tears" concept :)  So confused, in fact, he kicked me out of the game.  Mama + Tears = No Go for the Little Man.

And then he tried to get his butt into the picture, but almost fell onto the computer....

Am I the only person scared by this one????

Of course, BB had to be featured...

Another P design...

Oh happy day!

If P were a dog...

The beauty of a Brooklyn mud puddle.  And two boys thoroughly covered in guck :)

Just a little developmental side-note here, how P plays in various surroundings...

When he was little (a year and a half) we had just moved here and had few friends and no real furniture (thus we did not play playdate hosts).  But we were invited to playdates where P would set, watchful and silent, on my lap.  The other toddlers would toddle about, hit one another with cars and stick stuff in their mouths.  P, would not.  He did not speak, nor did he interact with the other babes, all friends basically since birth.  One mother sympathetically told me that she had a friend who's child was late to develop too ;)  

Of course, as soon as we walked out the door the child talked non-stop in full paragraphs.  And ran.  And hit us with careening cars constantly;)  He soon figured out how to specify how much he hated these little get-togethers, and did so so adamantly and convincingly that I gave up, despite my early (and uninformed) "socialization" fears.  We would only go on social outings by group consensus.  And every time I would sneak around this rule by cajoling the kid into something I just knew he needed or would adore, I was met with the reality that no one can really scam someone into socializing :)  

But times have changed.  The kid likes other kids.  He isn't searching them out, per se, but he isn't turning them away, either.  Yet when we go to a friend's house, the child is still typically timid, relinquishing his regular air of authority to the child of the house.  He's no longer on my lap, but he's more mellow lap dog than pit bull.

On the playground or at the park, he's neutral.  Think, golden retriever.  He stands up for himself, he joins into the things he enjoys, yet quite simply steps away from anything that's bothering him.  He hasn't shown any inclination to fight for anything, but he will make his thoughts known.  I've seen him stop, mid-game, and stand firm with an outstretched "stop-sign" hand to an unknown boy that was playing with them in a really rough way.  It was a solid enough move that the kid turned away, but there was no aggression there either.  I've also seen him walk away from a group of good friends playing a game he enjoys.  As he slumped onto the grass beside me and started to dig a hole, I asked why the change?  He felt one of the kids was being really bossy to the other kids and he'd just rather do something else.  That was that.   He never asks me to interfere, never "tattles" or asks me to help him "change" the direction of a situation.  He's neutral (strong but not pushy) and autonomous in the outdoors.

And then there is play at our house.  Oy.  He loves his house, loves to share things with friends.  Almost everyone that comes into the house leaves with some type of gift that P decided to send home with them.  He loves to bring out food and feed his friends, often playing waiter.  But he is neither timid nor even neutral in this setting.  No. Labrador retriever he is not.

Aggressive.  That's the word floating in my head.  Not full on frothing doberman, but yeesh.  At least leash fighting, giant imagining, chihuahua.  Every time, it strikes me as the strangest thing.  We've had chats about it, and the Little Man tries to carefully channel it away from his buddies (well, unless there's an Uncle in the house, then they usually get the brunt of it;)  But it has to go somewhere, so P-hosted playdates usually end up with him pinning me and growling "I need to move my body!  I need to wrestle!  I need to hit something!!!!"

Erm....  His friends are nice.  They don't break his shit.  They listen to him (in as much as five year olds listen to each other regularly;)  They are a great bunch to the very last one of them.  So what is the deal?  

I don't know.  Honestly.  I know he worries his stuff will be broken, though he still invites other kids over.  I know he doesn't get as strong of a connection coming from me when others are in the house and this is a sore spot.  And I know, I know.   He's really young and there's bound to be bumps.... but some kids are calm when they have visitors!

But I also know a couple of his friends who seem to have the same tendency.  Sweet as pie at ours, friendly on the playground and possessive to aggressive on their turf.  So the kid isn't crazy.  But gawd, it can sure feel like it in the middle of a playdate ;)  

I also know he's used to big physical play.  (But here, I don't know which came first, chicken or egg.  Do we do big physical play with him to meet his needs or does he need big physical play because that's what he's used to?  I vividly remember the child needing to be bounced (BIG bounces, not little burpy ones) continuously to reach any sort of sanity when he was small, so perhaps he just really thrives on movement....  Then again, there was all of that chasing and tossing when he played with extended family, pretty much setting the standard for how he likes to play...but if he hadn't so loved to play that way, they wouldn't have done it...   Bottom line, I'd like to think it isn't our fault ;)  Cuz its so much simpler to accept your kid for who they are if you don't think you've caused the craziness.  (Because, if you are the cause, then you must be the cure too.  Parenting 101: chapter title: GUILT and Parenting, subset: How to Appease Parental Guilt.)

At any rate, until he grows through this stage or finds ways to cope that don't include pummeling me to achieve passivity, I just have to perfect my playdate transition line.  Cuz, really, what do you say to another five year old that's happily ensconced in your house?  Please drop that really fun toy and run outside before my kid starts spraying his territory?  Yah, I'm gonna have to work on that one... 

But, hey.   Baby steps.  I mean, it was just a while ago he didn't even want to play with anyone under 15.   Now he even adores toddlers.   Just moreso when they're outside his marked territory;)   Ahhh, to every age there is a season....  

The Carrot Family Moves

I ran across a couple quaggy carrots tonight while cooking and tossed them in the Little Man's bath (he was covered in mud from playing in puddles with a buddy).  He was thrilled.  Anything from nature being cream of the crop for him.  An hour later he was still knee deep in carrot scenarios; they were moving from their bread bag house under the trunk to BB's treehouse in the other room.  Above, their furniture, blocks and motorcycle aboard the moving truck.

This picture highlights a new trend.  One I'm leery to vocalize lest it leave.  The child has been playing independently, on a regular basis, for the last month.  Seriously.  While I make breakfast or dinner (lunch is still squarely my, erm, BB's domain) the kid has been settling onto the floor by himself. Whisper, whisper, whisper, followed by some high pitched, unintelligible mutterings (his Mama or baby voices), and then whisper, whisper, whisper again.  Then things fly around and he runs about and then settles back into a crouch to whisper and mutter again.  Its really kinda cute.

He's also busting out of his social shell too.  Our dear friend noticed it this weekend when P flew down the sidewalk and into his arms.  No long warming period.  Instant interaction.

And he's chatting up anyone who passes by our brownstone, too.  Asking people their names, asking to pet their dog, telling the lady on the train platform that he likes her necklace.  He's always adored adults, but primarily prattled to ones he saw on at least a semi-regular basis (like our landlord.  Lord, the child would trap this man to talk to him.)  Now he seems more than happy to chat with anyone over 4 feet tall, anytime, anywhere.

Like at Montauk, last week.  We were schlepping off the beach, past some rental condos, scooters over our shoulders.  The balcony of one featured a keg and some guys enjoying said keg.  A jovial junior asked us if our transportation was electric (our scooters have a wide base compared to the typical Razor and elicit this question constantly).  As I answered, another guy asked if the kid had one too.  The kid instantly answered for himself, yelling across the dunes and up to the second floor.  Even giving the details of wheel number, color and manpower.

"Did you hear that kid, man?" The drunk, er, condo goer, asked his buddy.  "He just answered right up to me.  Seriously!  Little kids never do that - they're too fucking scared of strangers.  Kids got balls, man."

Hehe.  I got no sense from P that he had heard his critique.  But its true.  The kid has grown into some serious stranger cajones these days.   At least when you compare him to his pansy parents ;)

But he's still five.  As he tucked his carrot family into their rag beds tonight, he hoped beyond hope that they would live forever and never rot.  We'll see how big the cajones seem tomorrow in the broad daylight when faced with shriveled carrots.  Sweet, sweet babies.  They are just toooooo much fun to watch grow :)

A hole is to dig

Once upon a time, E and I took the train to Montauk, pre-P.  Surely we left late in the morning, we had no children and Saturday mornings made up for five o'clock a.m. Fridays.  Yet, we managed to see two different beaches, climb the lighthouse, eat dinner and, well, just dally in general... Long story short, I'm consistently shocked at how much longer everything takes with a kid :)

After E surprised us with our day's destination and we finished running around like headless chickens gathering suits, we rushed to the train station.  Along with the rest of the city.  Ahhh, of course.  It was the weekend of the Fourth!  (Insert head slap.)  We made it through the line and onto the train just as the doors chimed for the last train (ummm, we now have the kid but still sleep late on Saturdays.;)  Phew.

After 3 (initially short and then veering towards long) hours, we reached the eastern tip of Long Island.  We hopped aboard our scooters and scooted into town (if only train stations were still the centers of a city.  Even if you adore public transportation (like we do) its unusually difficult to live outside of, well, NYC or San Francisco, and get by.  At least, without a lot of sideways glances ;)

The beach is so clean compared to Coney Island, its like a totally different concept.  The water has no slimy sludge.  The sand only holds seashells and rocks.  The waves are huge.  E eventually grew jealous, watching P and I play in the surf while he sat in his jeans on the sand, so he got up, called P's name and then.... dove into the ocean.  Oh, the child's happy squeals.  Just today (over a week later) he told someone the story of Papa's fabulousness...

Then we dug a hole.  It was so deep only E's arm would reach.  So, really, E dug a hole.  Clear down below the water line.  Then the Little Man took a running leap into it, only to realize the landing wasn't quite as soft as he'd anticipated :)  He spent a long time in his hole.  And then a long time filling his hole.  We couldn't help but think of that crazy book, "A hole is to dig."  Too true, apparently.

P, flying en route to the less than soft landing....

And then we were out of time.  We never made it to the rock beach or the lighthouse.  The kid didn't care, the day was perfect.  Not too hot, not too cold, not too long, not too short.  We scooted back to the station to catch the only return train and read Harry Potter all the way home.  If only I'd had that crazy hole book to read too ;)

Mama can't miss Montauk.

My mom lost a dear companion this week.  Her friend had been sick a lot over the last year, and my mother had consistently skipped outings or trips to stay close by.  Sometimes this made people roll their eyes, her friend being the four footed kind and all, but I'd guess that my mom doesn't regret one single skip, one outing missed, in order to keep her companion feeling safe, in order to spend that extra time with someone she loved.

Which has had me thinking of an email forward.  And also our trip to Montauk.  Years ago, some forward found my inbox.  Now, I'm not a fact kinda girl, so spot me the missing details here.  But the general gist went something like this:  A professor showed up to the first day of some class with a huge jar full of gum balls.  He told his class that he had calculated how many days, on average, would be left, statistically, in his life.  And then he'd dumped in that many balls.  Each day, a gum ball was extracted (eaten?).  An obvious reminder of, well, so very much.  

My first thought was, of course, really?  That must have been one old dude.  Or really small gum balls.  Or one huge jar.  But after these, ahem, inspired insights, the rest of the message resonated.  Yes, I'm sheepishly admitting it, I was touched by a freakin' forward :)

Which brings me to Montauk.  We woke up last Saturday to Ethan, bag packed, train schedules in hand.  He was taking P to Montauk and giving me the day to clean and breath.  This is becoming a weekend ritual, the Papa and P playdate.  And its doing fabulous things for E and P's relationship, the state of our house (which is still stunningly borderline - how do those mum's do it???) and my strangely revitalized sanity (yah, Cash, I use that word loosely;).  But, (there had to be a but, no?) those damn gum balls get me each weekend.  Truth be told, the freakin' forward is seared so boldly into my brain, I chew them, erm, daily.  

Like, when P was a baby.  And would awaken before the sun.  Up all night nursing and changing wet for dry, I was less enchanted to greet the day than the sweet babe was.  Upon awakening, there was always about 10 minutes where he would sit on my stomach, just looking around, before the morning dump would arrive and the rump would need immediate assistance.  Even ten minutes are precious to a new mama.  But I couldn't bear to close my eyes.  He would only be exactly that old, wake up to those new notions that day, that one time.  The preciousness of time was visceral.  

And so it was with Montauk.  It would be a first.  His first really long train ride.  His first time on the truly open ocean.  His first lighthouse.  His first rock beach.  My eyes grew misty just thinking about it.  I love watching him, seeing him translate his world. 

Fortunately, Ethan knows me and my insanity and he allowed me to piggyback on his parade.  I mean, don't get me wrong.  A day of eating what I want when I want while listening to what I want while cleaning for as long as I want, well, that sounds wildly attractive.  But after having a lifetime of that, and only a few more years before a lifetime more of that, the parenting part of my gum ball jar doesn't seem so expansive.  

We had a lovely time.  And much like I'm guessing for my mom, I don't regret missing a day of leisure, at all.  But it seems its more complex than just recognizing you're a gum ball shorter each evening.  Seems you have to choose what flavor gum ball you chew each day, too. 

And the sweet husband!  This weekend, he carefully selected their Sunday outings for fun that didn't feature any big firsts.  He's a big boy and happy to share those :)

When the cousins came

My Aunt, Uncle and their three grandchildren (aka, P's cousins)

Technically, they may not be cousins.  My cousin's kids would be P's...?  Well, whatever they are, we're calling them the cousins, since P's only official cousins are all... college age.  You'd think with 11 grown children between the two families the child would have someone chronologically close....  but no.  The fate's have stacked his hand full of adults.

P's played with these cousins in Kansas and adores them.   For months he knew of their impending visit and requested weekly countdowns.  Once they arrived, his excitement almost veered towards insanity.  Honestly, the kid does play with other kids all the time.  He just really likes family :)

I overviewed their whirlwind itinerary last weekend, so I'll seriously summarize here:  P was pleasantly enamored the first day, psychotically excited and overwound the second and heading back towards normalcy (or his usual approximation there of;) again on the third day.  The cousins were sweet and accepting and patient and fun and, basically, just wonderful.   P had a blast and did his darndest to make sure the cousins did too (giving them constant attention and endless chances to wrestle being his darndest - oh and showing them his city, too ;)  Some highlights:

Rock hunting (of course) in Dumbo

Atop the Brooklyn Bridge (and full of adoration)

Erm, "helping" Caleb at Coney Island.

"Assisting" Andrew on the Staten Island Ferry

Keeping Lizzie cool in Central Park.

Central Park fun

The Central Park Carousel

Too hungry to break for the picture - eating parmesan in Central Park

His cousins sweetly shared his fascination with chiseling crystals.

And his death defying love of climbing.

Last stop: public art.  

Summer in the City

Despite the heat, its hard to leave this city in the summer.  There's too much to do, too much fun to be had, too many amazing something-er-others every day of the week.  Just this week, the child has enjoyed:

1.  A family visit (yet to be blogged about).  This included:

• A trip to Dumbo, playtime on the beach and a late evening stroll over the Brooklyn Bridge.
• A trip to Coney Island, beach play.
• A quick tour of China Town and Little Italy
• A trip on the Staten Island Ferry
• A trip to Rockefeller Center followed by...
• A day hiking in Central Park

This gets us all the way to Wednesday morning....  And includes, of course, all of the train time involved in each of these.  Plus the late evenings.  And the weirdly scheduled meals.  After a few days of this, I figured the kid would conk.  Nope.  The rest of the week reads like this...

2.  A day of recovery.  That turned into a day of adventure in the park

3.  Another day waiting for Sears (they were only 5 and a half hours late this time...)  I know we did something after this, but I can't for the life of me remember what...  Then grocery shopping.  Followed by an evening concert in the park with Uncles and Aunt Alicia.  

4.  An adventure day in the park, thorn hunting.  Followed by a picnic.  Followed by Luna Park and Coney Island Fireworks.

5.  A day trip to the tip of Long Island to experience Montauk (arriving home at almost midnight, again....)

6.  Today.  Some adventure with Papa I am not privy to........

I'm exhausted just typing it.  And simultaneously shocked that the kid, my kid, the kid who used to not leave the house for weeks at a time, is excitedly orchestrating this.  

Friday night fireworks sounded lovely.  Especially since E uses Friday evenings for his downtime, leaving P and I feeling unusually footloose.  I hadn't considered the rides.  The neon signs and twirling machines.  I was thinking beach, book, sunset, fireworks.  

The child was thrilled the park has been reinvented (again) and was bouncing with excitement to ride a ride.  It was, of course, packed.  This Kansan is always amazed at the length of line a New Yorker will endure.  My son, the New Yorker, didn't flinch.  We started small with the kiddy rocket.  Feeling a bit big butted for such a tiny ride, I told him I'd wait at the fence.  Only to get muscled aside as the ride started.  When I finally found Phoenix's face it was not a happy one.  He screeched to me "Stay.  Right.  There!!!"  as he whirled around.  When he realized I would faithfully follow orders, he finally relaxed in and enjoyed himself.  

Most of the photos I have of this ride show the Little Man, finger pointing, frown fixed.  Here, he's finally chillin....

So much so that he wanted more.   But the kid, he learns quickly from his mistakes.  He would not be leaving me by the fence again.  And so it came that I rode a rollercoaster.  Nyack.  Followed by some intolerable twirling thing high in the sky.  The kid's grin was permanently plastered though :)

We hit the boardwalk for the big bangs that were really, really beautiful.  But, to be perfectly honest, fireworks have always bothered me.  Those poor confused birds.  All of that smoke.  And all of those resources going up in smoke....  But I'm not going to be the one to burst the boy's bubble, so I sit with a sloppy grin and stay quiet.  But there is something about such enormous explosions that are a bit unnerving, and the Little Man wanted a quick reassurance that we were all safe, un-explodable...  He settled in on my shoulders and then wondered, wait, what about the birds and fishes?  Heheehe.  I hear you kid....  But don't worry, I'm still on Mission Protect Childhood.  I didn't burst the damn bubble. And so he happily took pics (see top) and then propped his exhausted eyes open on the late night sub ride home...  I can only imagine that we're in for a week full of recovery after all of this, but I've soooo been wrong before...