Summer Photos

Beach Boys

My dad came to visit for a week in June. He taught Roan a lot of valuable things: to sing "Skunk in the Barnyard, Pee-You" everytime he pooped in his diaper, which is about three times a day. He also taught Roan a song about bananas that makes absolutely no sense, but one that Roan loves to sing. And he gave Roan whatever he asked for. One afternoon, Jay and I stepped out into the yard for no more than 5 minutes. When we came back in, Roan was double fisting popsicles. "What," said my dad, "you don't usually give him two at the time?"

Roan looks a lot like my father. When they went to the playground together, people would comment on how they look just alike. No one has ever said this to me.

Of course we went to the beach. I packed a decadent lunch, which we forgot at home. We got a pizza instead, which we ate in the shade of our umbrella, along with half a dozen oranges. Together, Roan and my father are capable of eating a shocking number of oranges. They egg each other on.

On my dad's last full day in town, he wanted to take Roan on the F train to the Aquarium. Jay and I had to work, and my dad's not familiar with the subway system, so I tried explaining it to him, pulling up maps and writing down directions. Like a typical guy, he blew me off. "Ro and I will figure it out, we don't need all this," he said. And, "Roan knows the way." Roan and my dad both nodded at me, their mouths full of oranges. I tried a few more times to explain the challenges of taking a 2-year-old on the subway, but I could tell it wasn't sinking in. I went to bed uneasy, imagining all the possible things that could go wrong.

I needed my father to take me seriously.

The next morning, over breakfast, I laid it all out. "Listen, dad, every week someone falls in front of a train and dies. Just last week I read about a 21-year-old girl who fainted, fell on the tracks, and was cut in thirds. The subway is dangerous, even for adults. You must always hold Roan's hand on the platform. He loves to look at the tracks, and will try to go right up to the edge, so never let go of his hand. And make sure he steps over the gap when he boards the train, because it's a big gap, and I've heard of kids falling down and getting stuck there, and getting electrocuted by the third rail. Once he's on the train, he thinks every stop is his stop, so hold his hand tight when the doors open, so he doesn't sprint out of the train before you can stop him. Also, be careful when you're swiping your card, because he'll go under the turnstile, and you need to make sure you have enough money on the card, and it's valid and goes through okay, because you need to be right behind him to grab his hand and make sure someone doesn't knock him onto the tracks."

I paused to take a breath. My father looked thoughtful. "Maybe," he said, "we should just take the car."

Roan wasn't having any of that. "No Popi, we will take the train!"

"Once you promise him the train, it's hard to take it back." I said. "About the Aquarium. It will be fine until 11, when the field trips show up. Then that place will be mobbed with kids, and Roan thinks it's really funny to play chase so if you let a group of kids get between you and him, he'll be gone. Then you'll have to knock down a bunch of field trip kids to grab him before he face plants into the stingray pool. And just so you know, a lot of those kids are gonna be black, so you'll have to choose between being the big racist white guy who bulldozed a bunch of black kids, or the polite guy who said "excuse me" and lost his grandson at the Aquarium."

I talked about the pros and cons of taking the stroller over the ergo. I packed them a lunch. My father had a look on his face that I couldn't recall ever seeing. His lips were set in a thin hard line. It took me a while to figure it out. My father was afraid.

Too late, I realized I had done a horrible thing, and sucked out any joy my dad would get from this day with my horror stories and neurosis. I gave him a hug which he only partially returned. "You're going to be fine," I said. But I think we both felt a little sick. I ended up walking them to the subway and helped them safely board the train.

Needless to say, everything was fine.

Dad, I'm sorry. I still feel like a jerk - for freaking you out and for grossly exaggerating the number of people who are run over by trains. But mostly for the lack of trust in you that all my worry implied. You are a parent too, and somehow you got to a place where you were okay with me taking big risks and hanging out with some pretty questionable people. Obviously I'm not there yet. And to be honest, getting there from here seems impossible. I guess you just loosen your grip, just a fraction, every day, and eventually, without really realizing it, you give up control.

And in his own way, Roan has already begun his getaway.

Dad, I think I understand why you spent so much time talking to Roan on banana phones. Today he picked up a peach and tried to call you. You know what's coming. You were teaching him to keep in touch.

Nap Game

Roan,

Lately you've been role playing. My favorite game is Mommy Take a Nap. After lunch, right around your nap time you tell me, "Mommy, it's time for your nap."

I love this game. I crawl in bed and lay there, sleepy and stuffed full of Mac n' Cheese. You bring me your blankie and tell me to have a good nap. Then you shut the door and leave. Then you bring me a train and say, "Thomas will also take a nap. If you play with Thomas I will take him away." You leave again and shut the door. Then you come back in and give me my cell phone, who is also subject to the rules of nap time. You leave again. You come back to bring me my water bottle.

During each interruption I always ask for a story. You always say no. I whine and beg you to sing me a song. You get frustrated and say, "Mommy, just sleep!" and shut the door a bit harder than necessary on your way out.

You keep coming back to give me something, or review a nap rule, so I never get any sleep. One time, after a longer than usual absence, you came back in to ask, "Mommy, what is the thing that I need to do right now?" For all your pretending, you can't imagine what I do while you are asleep.

When my nap time is over you pull me out of bed and take me to the table. You say, "Mommy you are a good napper. You can have a snack now." You give me a single grape. I ask for another one. You say no.

Good thing you're not really in charge.

***

Some of my favorite things you say now-a-days:

When you ask me first thing in the morning, "Mommy, how was your day was?"

When you are pretending to go to the store and holler, "Goodbye Mommy, have a good fun!"

"Daddy is a good cooker and Mommy is not a good cooker."

Punk Rope

Punk Rope Team Photo

A few weeks ago I joined a competitive jump rope team. Technically, it's a Punk Rope team. Punk Rope is this new thing, invented by this guy Tim, and you can take classes at the Y here.

I did not, however, hear about Punk Rope from my local Y. I haven't been to the gym in months. I heard about it from my coworker Amy, who was desperate to find a fourth person so her team could compete in the 3rd Annual Punk Rope Games. I am in no way qualified to compete on any kind of athletic team, but I have a certain enthusiasm for obscure sports, (evidenced by my single minded mastery of the hackie sack, the devil sticks, and break dancing). After a few days no one else had stepped up. I was in!

Two weeks before the games we had our first practice. We all met at Cooper Park in Williamsburg to run through the events. Our team members were Rich and Shaunette, a married couple with a lot of tattoos. Looking around, that seemed to be the primary difference between the punk ropers and my high school soccer team: tattoos.

As practice went on, another difference emerged: most of these people didn't seem to be very athletic. If you looked beyond their punk rope prowess, I was willing to bet that these were people who were really good at painting, or playing the guitar. My suspicions were confirmed when I started jumping rope, for, possibly, the first time in 10 years, and Shaunette said something like, "Wow, that's really good, it took us weeks to do it like that!" Probably she was just being nice, pumping up her new teammate, but I've decided to take that comment at face value.

Let me be clear: Everyone on that field was in better shape than me. I was the only person who literally peed my pants after attempting the Double Unders. (I know this because i said, "oh, wow, I just peed my pants. A lot." and instead of commiseration my teammates just stared at me.) Furthermore, I am not one of those people who excels at art or cooking, and I downright suck at decorating. After years of playing the guitar, I continue to be mediocre. But I've always had a knack for anything physical, anything requiring balance or coordination. I've always been a jock.

I figured our team had a shot at gold.

Our team name was the Unstoppable Mysterians, and the majority of our two weeks of preparation was devoted to designing our costumes. We decided against a cape, for practical reasons. We made liberal use of silver glitter glue, duck tape, and metal studs. Shaunette designed a back patch and bought us all flaming sunglasses. I provided wrist bands. We each chose names. Mine was Deus ex Machina. If you're wondering what that means, it's a literary term for a ridiculous plot device, where a god like figure swoops in at the last minute and saves the day.

I was feeling confident.

Confidence Boosting Back Patches

My individual event was the Double Unders, and I worked hard at mastering them. At first I could only do three or four in a row, but after a week I could do twenty in a row. After a set of 20 I literally collapsed on the ground and had to change my shorts, but still, it was progress.

During the games I was full of nervous energy. Before the Double Unders I felt jittery and full of adrenaline. There were 13 other teams and I had to place in the top four to win points for my fellow Mysterians. I started jumping and felt calm and focused. The timer called out 15 seconds and I barely felt tired. I tripped up once but recovered quickly. I closed my eyes. I was in The Zone. They called time and I could have kept going. I was so amped. I wanted to do it again! I knew I'd made the top four!

I didn't make the top four. I cant be sure, but I think I was number five. The point is that sometimes, no matter how hard you try and how gifted you are, and how many ridiculous obstacles you overcome, you still won't win. You will come home disappointed, and comfort yourself by strumming some melancholy guitar chords, and your husband, who vowed to always support you, will tell you to knock it off because he already has a headache. Sometimes you will feel like you're just not good at anything.

At times like these, it is a good idea to remind yourself that you are in fact good at something. If you no longer own any devil sticks and don't have the energy for donkey kicks, grab your hackey sack, go outside and have a sesh.

Mysterians in action: Rich and Shaunette jump The Twins

The Graduate

On Monday Roan graduated from Chai Tots. It was a much bigger deal than I'd thought it'd be. All the parents were there, seated in folding chairs out in the yard. There was a make shift stage and a woman seated behind a keyboard. Someone gave us a program. The director gave a speech. A rabbi gave a Torah Thought. I was publicly thanked for being Class Mom. When the music started up and the teachers began herding our children on to the stage I realized, right on time, that this was kind of a big deal, and I started crying.

Then all hell broke lose on stage and I regained my composure. Because it's kind of hard to have a my-son-is-growing-up-so-fast moment when half the kids up there are crying for their parents, Oliver's shouting random dinosaur facts into the mic, and Roan is looking completely confused, trying to figure out how he ended up with a big plastic flower around his neck. Even the pianist dropped a few notes in all the chaos.

The kids sang a few songs, and were returned to us to watch the two older classes go through their ceremonies. Then we headed back inside for crafts and snacks. In the toddler room, there was a slideshow playing of all the kids with their baby pictures. Below each current photo, there was a little quote about the child. Stuff like, "always lends a helping hand," and "your smile brightens our day." Roan's read: "your determination is a lesson to us all."

East Coast Conversation

The other day I had some friends over. I asked their opinion about where on the fence I should hang this plant bag called a Wooly Pocket. Here's how it went:

Me: Okay, so, what do you think, right here?

Lindsay: Wait, where do you put the plant?

Me: Right in this bag, you put in soil, then the plant.

Lindsay: Does it even hold water? What kind of material is this? (makes yucky face).

Me: It's made out of recycled plastic bottles. There's a special watering system, like this... (I explain stuff. Friends look skeptical. They discuss alternate watering strategies that would work better).

Gary: Did someone give that to you?

Lindsay: Did you choose that color?

Me: I actually paid money for this, on the Internet.

Lindsay: So you didn't know it would look like that.

Me: Guys, stay on task. Just tell me where to put it.

Gary: You know what you should buy? One of those up-side-down pots where you grow tomatoes. Up-side-down. Those are cool.

(Long argument between Lindsay and Gary about whether such a thing really exists. Gary settles it with his iPhone. It really does exist.)

Lindsay: You need two of those bags, right there, one right on top of the other.

Me: Well, I just have this one.

Lindsay: You need another one.

Gary: Why do you have to put a plant on your wall?

Me: Um...

Lindsay: Why don't you put it over there? (points to a totally different wall, which receives no sunlight, ever)

Gary: Yeah, put it over there (points to sunless wall) and then you can buy one of these up-side-down strawberry pots to hang there (shows me an iPhone picture of one).

*****

If I lived in California, I think the conversation would have gone like this:

Me: Okay, so, what do you think, right here?

Friends: Yeah, that looks good.

Me: Sweet!

Friends: (amongst themselves, after leaving my place) : That was a pretty wretched looking plant bag, right?

Yeah, she totally should have bought one of those up-side- down tomato kits.

Texas Gala

Two weekends ago we flew to San Antonio, where Grandma and Grandpa Lyons were being honored by their synagogue, Agudas Achim. Here you in the parking lot with your cousin Cassie.

At the gala, an a cappella group performed, and then people talked, and there was a presentation and slide show about Grandma and Grandpa Lyons. All in all, it was about 2 hours of sitting still. You have this impeccable sense of timing - just when the music would cease, or a speaker would pause to take a breath, you would yell out some fact about Percy, or ask me a question about your transformer car at the top of your lungs. As family of the honorees, we were in the very front row, so it was pretty hard for us to pretend we weren't your parents.

I told you to be quiet, and so did your cousins Julia and Cassie. You looked all around the room, and seemed to be confused. "Is somebody sleeping in here?" you asked.

The next night, Uncle Beau taught you some classic bad boy moves.

And of course, we went swimming.