Five Things I Learned This Year

1. The beach is about birdies and shells. Too often, I spend my "beach time" reading. My toddler has reminded me that this is in fact a time to admire weird, aggressive seagulls.

2. No one will force you to watch "Indiana Jones V." It seems to me that life, at least my life, is about marriage, family relationships, and petty moments of irritation in small neighborhood stores. Does a new Hollywood blockbuster focus on any of these matters? No? Then you don't have to watch it. Really, you don't.

3. West Orange is a destination. If you have small children, it's always possible to strap them into the back of the car, drive to an empty parking lot, then do this over and over until you have filled a slow hour on a Tuesday afternoon. The best option is to plan your drive around Terry Gross. She is especially fun when she is sassy: "Alito accepted a free ride on a private jet because, in any other scenario, the seat would have been empty? I'd like to use that line the next time I ride with Amtrak...." You go, Terry!

4. Travel with a diaper bag. Even if you're just taking your child to a thirty-minute OT appointment..... Otherwise, you look like an idiot.

5. Ask for help. Last week, my child's bus-driver showed dazzling levels of incompetence, so I texted my mayor and asked for help. I wondered if I was being an entitled "Karen." But, also, it was just a relief to look for assistance.

This is all I can offer. Happy Summer.

Comments

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Joshie

When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...

Liars and Saints

Search This Blog