JUST A PERFECT DAY / MOMA

It was one of those days, those days for the record books.  Not because anything in particularly fabulous occurred, nor because any great plans came to culmination.  It was just one of those days when a spontaneous outing becomes a magical adventure, when mother nature and father time and good old New York City herself all happen to be on the same subway car with you, so you all travel in step together for a few hours, and hence the stars align.  It was one of those days that calls for pause on every corner so that you can catch your breath as you take. it. all. in... take in the miracle that these two children- these two beacons of joy and energy- are indeed yours; take in the fact that somehow, in a city of over eight million, you and your husband found one another; take in the reality that you've managed to make a life for yourself in your very favorite place in the entire world; take in the anomaly of how every single brick wall and park bench and dirty alley and shiny skyscraper and businessman and tourist and socialite and homeless person can somehow band together in this place and complete you.  It was one of those days.

We had planned to head to the MOMA to walk through the new Rain Room exhibition.  With bagels in our bellies and hats on our heads, we navigated the madness of midtown, dashing through crowds and sprinting across avenues, until we came to the great pristine museum on 53rd street.  Our expert line-avoider (me) scored tickets in a flash, our expert baby wearer (Gaby) turned our son facing outward so that he too might enjoy a little art, and our expert button-pusher (Biet) got us all fixed up on the elevator.  And as the doors opened onto the painting & sculpture floor, the madness and the speed of the city dissipated, and all was calm.  The light shone clear through the creativity-laden air, and the history and magnitude of the space was downright palpable.  Ahh the MOMA.

When I first came to the MOMA at 16 years old, it was truly love at first sight.  Hands down my favorite museum in the city, something about being there just feels right.  As I walk through the galleries, I am overcome with wonder, then understanding, and finally inspiration.  And when I have seen what I need to see and I leave, all I want to do is to go home and create something.  It's a good feeling.  It's a good museum.

I feel so strongly about taking kids to museums from a young age.  I think it is just wonderful.  Yes, there's the tedious process of attempting to teach museum etiquette: the sideways stares from stern-looking art aficionados, the constant explaining of why we can't touch the paintings, the reality of short attention spans and frequent appetites and loud voices, and the sacrifice, in a way, of your own personal museum experience.  You dash from room to room a bit faster than you'd like, stop to nurse in the lounge area, and have to cut the trip short when little eyes begin to get tired and little attitudes begin to emerge. But then your two-year-old daughter points to a Meret Oppenheim painting and turns to you and says, "Nico, ball, flower.", and you know, in your heart, that she's getting it.

On this particular day, we all got it.  I think we were each able to see what we needed to see in order to feel that certain spark of inspiration.  And when we discovered that the wait for the Rain Room was a whopping three hours, well we didn't even mind leaving it for next time.  Because this day was a perfect day, made for going and doing, not waiting and wanting.  So with smiles on our faces and hats on our heads, on we went...

BITS OF CHRISTMAS IN NYC

Why does this time of year always seem to fly by so very fast?  It feels as though yesterday was Monday morning, and now we're heading into the weekend (the last weekend before Christmas!). I suppose this feeling might have something to do with being a family of two working parents, in the food and entertainment industries, and this being one of the very busiest times of the year for both of these industries in New York City.  With my two jobs in Brooklyn, Gaby's nightly jobs working with the big shows in Times Square, and Biet's babysitters in downtown Manhattan, we have been commuting quite a bit these past few days.  And while much of our pre-Christmas week has been spent running and working and commuting instead of relaxing with family, I am not complaining. Because hopping subways and buses from neighborhood to neighborhood also means getting to see the many sides of the city all done up in their Christmas glory.  New York City during the holidays has a certain way of washing over even the most tired sleep-deprived Mama and making her smile ear to ear. And little Biet? Forget about it. When we walk past the lights and the trees and the horses and the music all around, her eyes widen and her face glows and she gazes up and whispers, over and over, "wow."

*2 winners have been chosen for LaTonya's Vintage Giveaway! See HERE* 

HAPPY MONDAY!

Our weekend was pretty low key.  We spent it mostly relaxing in bed, watching old movies (Biet's favorites so far are Heidi {starring her sort-of-look-alike Miss Shirley Temple} and Breakfast at Tiffany's), and eating Tibetan food.  Oh yes, and in between lounging, we walked- a lot.  All this little girl wants to do is to walk, all day, all afternoon, all over town. You just can't stop her. I guess its a good thing we live in New York City :)

Happy Thanksgiving week everyone! I can't believe the holidays are here already!

ALONE IN FALL IN BRYANT PARK

What's a girl to do when she finds herself in midtown, in autumn, sans baby, husband-free, with her errands finished and a moment to herself?  Why, run off to the park of course! Hot tea and camera in hand, I found a quiet spot at the abandoned tables by the carousel and sat for a minute, alone.   The clouded sky reflected off of the tall buildings lining Bryant park, casting a quiet cold light over the mid-afternoon bustle, while the plants and trees within brimmed with the colors and smells of fall. The park was in a rare state of transition, preparing for the icy magical days ahead, but not quite ready to let go of the warmth of seasons past.  The infamous central yard, where I've watched old movies at dusk each summer at the park's Summer Film Festival (one of the highlights of my summertime!), was in the midst of transforming into the annual ice skating rink.  I first came to this park with my sisters, on my first visit to NYC at sixteen years old.  We took the F train up from downtown, had a picnic on the grass, and drank fancy sparkling lemonade from glass bottles.  I remember sitting in that patch of grass sipping lemonade from the prettiest bottles I'd ever seen, watching the whole world, so fashionable and busy and excited, buzz around me, and thinking, "this is where I need to be."  And now, twelve years later, I sat here in silence, sipped my tea, and humbly watched as the park-goers frolicked, the businessmen buzzed, the carousel spun, the taxi cabs honked, and the workers worked to build an immaculate winter ice-skating rink.  This city keeps moving, keeps evolving, season to season, year to year.  Nothing stays the same for too long, eras pass, people come and people go, and it is bittersweet.  But that is what keeps it alive, and that is why I love it.  The parallels to watching your children grow are undeniable. You miss your tiny baby of yesterday, are eager for your child of tomorrow, and try your very best to soak up every single moment of your little one today.  And the magic is in the perpetual change and constant newness of it all.

And on this day I was lucky enough to have time alone, to reflect and explore and remember. I finished my tea and took a walk around the park, realizing that this was the first time that I had ever peeked behind the scenes of a New York City ice-skating rink- how lucky of me to wander by on such a rare day.  So I turned on my camera and tiptoed onto the construction site, because a girl's got to break the rules every once in awhile... 

DOING THE TOURIST THING (AND LOVING IT)

We took a few days off from regular life to spend time with our dear friends who were visiting from Canada.  They had quite a long wish list of places to see in NYC- Bryant Park, Times Square, the giant Toys R' Us with the carousel inside, the Disney Store, Central Park- and we did them all.  And as we journeyed through midtown, pushing a stroller, party of seven, the funniest thing happened.  This feat that usually makes me want to pull my hair out- navigating through the most crowded, most insane, more touristy part of the city- suddenly became the most fun I'd had in a while. I guess good friends can do that.  The bright lights, the excitement, the magnificent buildings of midtown- it all brought back that  enlivening and humbling feeling of being brand new in the big city. And the kids, with their eyes full of wonder and big city dreams, had a blast. They forged bonds and memories that will last a lifetime. By the end of the trip, Biet had inherited a dark-haired "big sister" (because, as our friends put it, "some people are family by blood, and some people are family by love") who played with her and laughed with her and even held her hand as she walked, for the very first time, down a busy Manhattan street. We had a truly thrilling and exhausting time with our guests and can't wait for them to come back.  Maybe next time we'll show them around our neck of the woods- downtown.

BIET'S FIRST PASSPORT

Well we've finally done it- we applied for baby girl's first passport! I've been meaning to head to the big marble midtown post office for months now to turn in the application, and finally got around to it the other day.  Since both parents have to present in order to obtain a US passport, we made a family day of it: bagels and cream cheese on the train, a stop at the passport photo studio (I love her beaming little six-toothed grin!), and lunch and dessert afterwards. It was really nice, but man oh man is midtown exhausting.

We are planning to head down to Argentina for a few weeks in September for Gaby's birthday and I am beyond excited (as is Gaby- he hasn't visited his birth place in quite a few years).  Our Israeli family will be meeting up with us in Buenos Aires, and it will be the first time in over 30 years that Gaby and his sister will be able to walk their childhood streets together.  Its going to be beautiful.  I can't wait.

And when we get back I'll have to take little Biet to the Argentinean consulate to get her Argentinean passport.. lucky girl gets dual citizenship! If anyone has any travel/neighborhood/to-do advice please do share! thanks! xx

The Library

While running errands last week, we found ourselves passing by the lovely New York Public Library. She is a beauty. Where else can you walk, past the lion statues guarding the front, away from the buzzing and honking and rushing of the streets, through a sparkling revolving glass door, to find yourself in marble-walled silence? Within the library exists a certain stillness which is so elusive in the city.  Time slows down, knowledge and wisdom overcome movement and schedules, and all is calm. I immediately discovered two things upon entering the grand ol' library. {1} I still love it, & {2} it may be the most stroller-unfriendly building in all of New York. 
The place is made of wraparound staircases, not an elevator to be found. Majestic, breathtaking, shiny, inconvenient staircases. Staircases & books. Of course I never noticed this before I had a bambino. So we didn't make it all the way up together or stay long (Biet was sleeping anyway), but I did leave the husband and the child to wander through the building on my own for a little while. I so look forward to bringing Biet to story time here in a few months (when she is big enough to both walk and grasp the concept of storytelling). 
The NY Public Library always reminds me of my late Grandfather, my Mother's father, Horace. He used to take me and my sisters, when we were tiny, to the downtown Portland library every week. He would teach me how the books were organized with their secret codes of numbers and letters. He signed me up for my very own (!) library card, and showed me how, with it, I could take home all the books that I wanted. I remember coming to him, after joyously perusing the children's' section for close to an hour, with arms spilling over with of all the magical storybooks I could carry. He would help me sift through to find the very best ones to carry home that week. And we would check them out and drive home, and he would read them to me. 
We called him Grampy, and, as I remember, he was the smartest man in the world. He used to tell me that he had read every single book in the library, and that if I kept at it, I would one day accomplish the same. I remember that seeming like a very exciting and reasonable challenge. Grampy sparked my lifelong fascination with storytelling and love of literature, and for this I am grateful. I'm sure he would have loved the New York Public Library. I know he would have loved the fact that I bring Biet here, and that I will teach her, also, to search through the vast rows and rows of books and to discover her favorites. I hope to instill in her the same wonder that Grampy fostered in me so many years ago. He was a well-traveled man, and I often wonder if he ever stepped foot inside the great New York Public Library. I hope so. 

Tax Day

We journeyed to midtown yesterday for our annual visit to the taxman (which turned out splendidly well - a nice surprise!). His office is on the edge of the classically beautiful Bryant Park, so we gave ourselves a bit of extra time and made an afternoon out of the trip. We strolled Biet through the businessmen and women rushing about, the picture-taking tourists, and the general mayhem of winter in midtown. She loved it. Sitting in her stroller whilst zooming through the noisy, colorful, & (ahem) fragrant movement of the city streets must be her favorite thing to do in all the world (besides nursing, of course). It's almost as if she feels the kinetic energy of it all, and it somehow puts her at peace. Sometimes I tell her "Baby Girl, you get to look at the best mobile in the whole world!"

We walked by the ice-skaters, sat down for for coffee at Grand Central (which became an hour-long nursing-turned-falling-asleep-on-Papa's-shoulder-while-he-sings-to-me session for Biet) popped into Sephora for a minute (I can't quit you, Sephora!), and grabbed lunch. Midtown is usually not my most favorite of NYC neighborhoods, but yesterday, yesterday it was beautiful!

This was the first time our taxman, an old Irish New Yorker with a thick accent and plenty of city personality, met Biet. Last year when we did our taxes, which was far closer to April 15th (this year we are on it!), I was still hugely pregnant. As we introduced them, he looked at her and said "Eh, look at that! You gotchyaself a thousand dollars right there!" {Baby=child tax credit} He's quite a charmer, that tax man of ours.

A Tradition

 We didn't have a Christmas tree this year. We didn't do the whole Christmas morning present extravaganza. We didn't light a shamash for the Channukiah. We didn't even hang the stockings. No, this year, our holidays were, in a word, mellow. Gaby and I come from very different backgrounds and different religious upbringings, each with their own traditions. We consider ourselves a very spiritual family, although we no longer practice any specific faith. We want Biet to know the deep joy of the holiday season, to understand her rich and diverse heritage, and to experience all of the warmth and magic of this time of year. So we sat down with each other for a long discussion, and decided that from now on, when the holidays rolled around, our little family would focus on two things: the act of giving, and tradition.

The only dilemma is that, for a multitude of reasons, many of our family traditions have become faded and lost over time.  We don't have any old family recipes to bake, songs to sing, places to go, or people to see. We could have gone the traditional route, like we had enjoyed in past years - tree, lights, hot chocolate, shopping, mountains of gifts, Santa, cookies, stockings, candy canes, and eggnog - but, for some reason, now with Biet, that just didn't feel personal enough.  What we make of our holidays will become Biet's memories, her childhood, and her traditions. So we decided not to let mass media, or pop culture, or holiday sales determine that part of her history. We decided to choose each tradition carefully, and with purpose. And we started with one: volunteering.

After our lazy Sunday Christmas morning, we all dressed up, grabbed the giant plate of cookies I had baked the night before, and hopped on the train to midtown to meet an extraordinary group of people. These people also forgoed the tree and the stockings and the gifts, though not by choice. They each awoke on Christmas morning and made their way to the second story of a little building on 46th street to enjoy good company and a holiday meal; because they had no feast at home in the oven, and no family there to share it with.  Gaby mingled and greeted everyone, holding his daughter, in her Sunday best, proudly (oh my did she bring a smile to everyone's face!), while I did dishes in the kitchen and helped prepare the food. A single tree stood in the center of the room, twinkling with white lights, and surrounded with donated gifts. We stayed as long as baby girl could manage before her nap, gave what we could, and made a few friends in the process.  This was the first time I had volunteered, and it was a blast. It was such a meaningful way to spend Christmas day, and reminded us of what the holidays are truly about: coming together, community, and giving.  I feel that this brand new tradition is a priceless gift to Biet.

After saying our goodbyes, we strolled around midtown, took in the sights (its funny but when you live in New York City, you sometimes forget to enjoy all of the majestic attractions the city has to offer), and stopped by the iconic Rockafeller Center tree. We snapped a few pictures so that Biet will see that her very first Christmas tree was the best and biggest in the world! Then it was back home to put a roast in the oven and cherish and be grateful for all that we have.  I feel very proud of our first family Christmas. I know that each year forward there will be more and more bells and whistles {advent calendars! gingerbread houses! Channukah celebrations! tamales (an almost-forgotten tradition of my late grandmother - more on that next year)! home-made gifts and ornaments!}, and I look forward to experiencing them as Biet grows. But this year, it was simple and quiet and magical.