Archive of ‘brooklyn’ category

22
Dec
2015

leaving

categories: brooklyn, new york

In my experience, watching people flee this place, there seem to be only a few ways to leave NYC:

1. “The big fuck you.” When New York has skinned you alive. You leave filled with animosity for a city that is relentless and cruel. The New York you know is merciless, dark, dangerous, hateful. You leave broke and broken, forever changed by the darkness you felt.

2. The, “I’m done with you.” New York no longer fits your needs, or fulfills your lifestyle requirements. You’re not pissed, New York just doesn’t offer you what you need. Whether it’s a new school, new job, a small town, a change of scenery, a different pace of life–it’s not here, it’s somewhere else. You leave knowing that there’s something better out there for you but grateful for what you’ve learned from this sometimes wonderful, sometimes awful, city.

3. The “Nooooo!” exit where you leave kicking and screaming. Your partner gets a job elsewhere, you get into a school, but not in New York. You just CANNOT afford it. You are devastated to leave behind the most exciting and beautiful city in the world. You preemptively long for the skyscrapers, the beautiful brownstones, and late nights, the takeout and public transportation. You spend the next two years romanticizing life in the city, depressed, and forlorn, unable to move forward with your non-NYC life.

4. The “whatevs” ambivalent exit. I could stay I could go, easier to go. I’ll come back to visit. Not too many of these. The people in this category know they aren’t lifers. They come to experience the “energy” but are always talking about their plan to return to their small hometowns.

Where do I fit in? A little from column A, a little from column B. Throw in a little C and D just for kicks.

16
Dec
2015

things i will be glad to leave behind

categories: brooklyn, new york
  • the summer garbage smell
  • humidity
  • the school entrance requirements and stress for pre-K, elementary school, middle school and high school. no one should be that stressed out about fifth grade. it’s not normal. or healthy.
  • the fast-paced nature of everything and everyone
  • the inability of working folks to ever imagine buying anything
  • paying exorbitant, embarrassing sums of money on rent
  • the never-ending winters
  • the way my feet feel at night having walked on pavement all day
  • noise–all the time
  • living on top of and underneath someone
  • so. many. people. everywhere. all the time.
25
Nov
2015

things i like

categories: brooklyn, new york

Since this has turned into a total hater-blog, where I just bitch about how awful the world is…I thought a little positivity could be good.

Things I will miss about nyc:

  • steve’s key lime pie
  • the subway
  • olmstead and vaux parks
  • manhattan skyline
  • brownstones
  • take-out
  • bodegas
  • proximity to amenities
  • the anonymity
  • cicadas
  • year-round greenness
  • summer rain
  • walking
  • that feeling of being in it. being a part of something big and something great. even if I’m sitting on my couch watching netflix–the sensation of being at the center of the universe.
23
Sep
2015

parenting

categories: brooklyn, family

I made dinner twice this week and felt like a total badass. It’s easier right now since I only work until 5:00 — then I pick my kid up from daycare and it takes us at least an hour to get home because we HAVE to stop by the playground and go on the RED swing and we ABSOLUTELY MUST smell every flower and jump in every puddle on the walk home — I’m not sure how we’ll eat once my schedule shifts to a 7:00 end time. Yikes.

Anyhow, yes, parenthood is a swift kick in the ego. And the stomach-hips-ass area, am I right?! I’m going to try and get to the gym more than, never, starting next week when I decrease to 3 days/week.

I used to be so judgmental of parents who had nannies especially when they were home for some of the time. Now, I’m like, hell yeah. Sign me up. Otherwise it’s constant multi-tasking and constantly dividing your attention and half-assing everything and feeling guilty because the house is a mess, or feeling guilty because you’re not giving your kid enough attention. And, oy. It’s just a lot of guilt.

I really do love it. And, it’s getting easier by the day, thank gods. But, let’s just acknowledge that parenting is not easy if you’re doing it right.

11
Sep
2015

fall

categories: brooklyn

The muddled sound of bells clanging. What a deep and mournful echo. Why do I want to cry every time I hear a church bell in the distance? Today is the first day of fall. Not by any calendar’s notation. But, I can feel it. Closed toed shoes and thick jeans are on the horizon. Shiver bumps on my arms from the breeze mingling with the misty air, a sensation I haven’t had in months. A hot pot of coffee, brewing slowly on my counter. I’ll drink mug after mug and still feel morose. Jets hidden behind a blanket of grey clouds, concealed but still audible. Like some banshee wailing, unseen, bringing an omen of death. It’s sweater weather, I can taste the September apples, the rich meat of butternut squash and cinnamon. The trees are already toying with the idea of transformation and rebirth. Like a tiny reflection of sunlight at the tip of their leaves, orange and yellow, ombré hued tentacles beginning to droop and huddle in groups. The ground has that spongey quality, the air is rich with the sour smell of decomposing plant matter. Before I’m ready it will be dark by five and when I look out my window I won’t see green but rather the faces of my forlorn neighbors staring back at me, searching too for that elusive streak of red from our cardinal friend. Straining to hear the mockingbird, whose songs kept us awake, cursing, through hot, sticky nights. Where have they gone? we will wonder. Why are the leaves falling? my daughter will ask. Because, my love, nothing is permanent.

27
Aug
2015

poor choices and the friends with whom you make them // present

categories: brooklyn, california

Age and experience certainly change your perspective on yourself and on the world. But, mistakes continue to be made well into adulthood. I can’t imagine that I’ll ever stop making them. The good thing is that those big, scary mistakes are all behind me (I hope) and the little ones are really not such a big deal. I can recover from an ill-informed decision every now and again. A silly purchase, a non-refundable fee, a bad movie, a terrible meal, a baking project gone terribly wrong, a pair of shoes I swear fit perfectly in the store. These are bummers in the moment but not life-altering moments in time. Not the kind of decisions you look back on and think, That was a crossroad. And, I chose to go one way instead of the other.

A size-too-small pair of heels will not make or break me.

My language around choice has shifted. My comprehension of consequence has comfortably settled into a spacious, well-lit corner of my mind. My actions have equal and opposite reactions. I realize this. I live with this knowledge. I find myself making a decision and thinking, yes, I am comfortable with the possible outcomes. They are not all great but, I can live with any one of them.

I just read this Op-Ed by David Brooks about making life-altering choices and he had this to say, “When faced with a transformational choice the weakest question may be, What do I desire? Our desires change all the time. The strongest question may be: Which path will make me a better person?”

I am not someone who shies away from change. I’m not afraid of my life being different from what it is now, I’m not afraid of switching up my daily routine. It doesn’t fill me with fear to consider changing jobs. I’m not afraid to move, or make new friends. I don’t love moving but I’m never sad to do it. I don’t mourn places, I don’t mourn stuff. I’m really good at getting rid of clutter and not getting overly attached to tangible objects. I don’t tend to be overly nostalgic or sensitive. I have been known to be a bit of an, “out of sight, out of mind” kind of a gal. I don’t list these qualities as positive or negative attributes. They are just an honest assessment of who I am in this world.

My husband and I are both from California. Most of our family is out there. Quite a few of our friends are there too. We love the weather and the geographical diversity California has to offer. We miss the produce and the access to nature. We miss a lot of things. But, we also love New York. We love the easy access to amenities, the incredible public transportation, the food, the architecture, the anonymity, the never-ending list of things to see and do and hear and eat.

But, since having the baby…you know where this is going…it’s been very difficult to justify this lifestyle. We aren’t going out every weekend, or taking advantage of all that this great city has to offer. We hardly ever eat out, we never go to bars, we might go to a museum once every few months when there’s an exhibit we can’t miss. We work all the time, our rent is outrageous and we have no outdoor space, which feels really crummy for someone who loved being outdoors as a kid.

We’ve always talked about going back to California. It’s always been a conversation but it wasn’t a serious one until I got pregnant. Let’s see how it goes, we decided when we found out I was pregnant. We’ll see if we can’t make New York work for us with a baby, we’d agreed. Well, we’re two years into the experiment and it is both an incredible place for child-rearing and a horrendously, awful one. On the one hand, you have access to incredible stuff, a lot of which is free or cheap. On the other hand, childcare is SO expensive and schlepping your kid and a stroller and the bazillion things you need as a parent, is exhausting, to say the least.

So, this leads me to the question of what to do. Do we stay? Do we go? And, it brings me back to this Brooks article and the query of what will make me a better person. What will make my daughter a better person? Diversity and culture, access and education? Or, family, nature, clean air, and a slower pace of living? I honestly don’t know the answer but it plagues me daily. Am I a better mother with familial support, a house and a backyard to run around in? Or, am I a more contented person living in a city where I can have a fulfilling career and lead a life brimming with excitement?

It’s a crossroads, for sure. And, whatever decision we make, I hope to not look back on it with any regret. We will bide our time and determine what is right for our family, with the knowledge, also, that nothing is permanent. A step in one direction does not have to determine the rest of our lives. And, mistakes are inevitable. Desires change, realities shift. For now, we live in Brooklyn and are pretty darn happy in our day-to-day lives. Although, I must admit, that California sun will be looking pretty enticing once winter rears its ugly head.

17
Aug
2015

the napping house

categories: brooklyn, family, parenting

You’ve all heard parents talk about that magical time during their day where they get a ton of stuff done, right? You know, they answer emails and cook meals. They do laundry and call friends. Doze by the television…

That magical hour (or two or three! if you’re lucky) is called the daily (or twice/thrice daily) nap.

I have never experienced this nap.

Maybe once or twice. But fewer times than I can count on one hand.

My baby has always napped on me. Only napped on me. On the boob, in my arms, in the carrier. She won’t nap in her crib, won’t nap in the stroller, not even the car. Don’t get me started on the car. She’s a puke machine in the car. It’s a good thing we’re hardly ever in one.

I am not one of those parents who keeps her baby ON her at all times. I co-slept until she was about four months old, she slept in a crib next to me until six months old and then we sleep trained her into her own crib at seven months. That’s another story. A traumatic one.

She has just never been a good sleeper. She is practically perfect in every other way (no bias here) but the sleep thing has never come easily to her. Which means we have been sleep deprived for two years.

There is no explaining the reality of sleep deprivation. There is no way to truly understand it without experiencing it. It makes total sense that it would be used as a torture device. It’s super effective at making you feel completely insane. Loopy, confused, heavy. You start seeing things crawling across the floor and realize there’s nothing there. You’re dizzy and drowsy, you get tunnel vision every time you stand up too fast. If you’re like my husband, you faint on the subway platform and get hauled out by EMT’s and labeled officially “exhausted.”

Since she’s been in daycare she has had almost no trouble at all with naps. While there, just to clarify. While on-site with them. Occasionally she skips those too but more often than not she will nap just fine at daycare and then not at all on the weekends. It’s horrible. It’s stressful and it’s just not fun. You end up planning your entire day around this thing that will likely not even happen. But, you have to try anyways. Because, otherwise, it means a cranky kid who then has to go to bed extra early which throws all your weekend plans into the gutter.

I have spent entire days trying to get this kid to nap. I wish I was kidding.

Well-meaning parents would give us their best advice. Use a sound machine and blackout curtain, let her cry for a few minutes, run her around right before nap time, don’t nurse her beforehand, nurse her a ton beforehand, play music, go outside, put her in the carrier, put her in the swing, swaddle her, let her appendages be free. There was no shortage of miracle nap cures. But, nothing worked for us.

This past weekend she napped on Saturday but not until 3:00. Which meant a super late bedtime since her typical daycare nap is 12:30. It also meant hours and hours of trying before success. Sunday we had no nap. Not for lack of trying but, my husband and I have decided that we will no longer waste half of the day trying to get her to take a nap she’s refusing to take.

So, we try not to let the nap run the house. The nap will happen or it won’t but either way we’ll make our plans and we’ll live our lives. Thank gods the nighttime sleeping is going well. We’ve had to do a lot of re-sleep training but mostly it has been quite a success (minus a few unavoidable detours and speed bumps).

All I can say, is that I cannot wait to be done with the nap thing entirely. And for those of you who have kids who nap. You probably have no idea how good your life is. Appreciate it. For you are truly blessed.

 

31
Jul
2015

just a friendly conversation

categories: brooklyn, new york, teaching

“Aren’t you at all concerned with the way in which they handle behavioral issues? They’re quite strict. And, they believe in…consequences!” my mom-friend whispered to me in hushed tones. As though they were listening. As though she’d just divulged some terrible crime. She was fuming over an incident at the YMCA — where she paid a whole $87/month and had access to endless classes, lessons, activities and events for her and her family of four. The ballet instructor had reprimanded her daughter when she told another girl her twirl was wrong and her tutu was ugly.

“I’m…no. I’m not overly concerned with it,” I said, carefully weighing my words. Think. Think before you speak, I reminded myself. Your words have consequences. Your approach to teaching and learning are not the mainstream ideology of Park Slope-ians.

“I’m really sorry you had a bad experience there,” I said. That’s right, turn it around, I thought. “It’s really upsetting when things don’t go the way you expect them to,” I continued. Yes, this is good, I thought. Keep going in this direction. “You should raise your kid in whatever way feels right for you. However…I mean, well, she can’t be getting paid much,” I said. No. No, don’t do it, don’t go there. But it was too late. “We can’t exactly expect her to be up on all the latest parenting or behavioral management techniques. I mean, she’s a dancer. She’s not really a teacher by trade. She works at the Y, for god’s sake.”

“This is my daughter’s first experience with a teacher. I want it to be a positive one,” she said sharply. “This will lay the groundwork for how she views teachers for the rest of her life. If she doesn’t have a good experience now, she may never want to go to school.” She was mad. I could see it. She had expected me to get on board with her indignation. She had hoped for my support. She’s a teacher, I’m sure she’d thought. She’ll understand.

This was a regular occurrence in my profession. Parents expecting me to agree with their views on education. And, to agree with their parenting choices around education.

No, I do not think that one less-than-perfect experience when a kid is 4 will create lasting and irreversible trauma around schools and teachers. If you lose your temper once is your family doomed? That’s it, I’ve been fired as a mother because Zoe did not appreciate that I yelled at her.

No, I do not think that holding a child accountable for her actions and for how those actions effect those around her, is unjust and cruel. I think it’s going to make your kid a more empathetic and thoughtful human.

No, I don’t think that the first time she interacts with a “teacher” has to be perfect or else she will forever hate and distrust teachers. Was her first trip to the doctor perfect? How about the grocery store? Who is this delicate flower who may never want to talk to another teacher because she made her apologize to a kid who’s feelings she hurt? Who is this kid that you are raising who is incapable of resilience, perspective-taking, empathy? Are you not concerned by this?

One single teacher cannot be everything to everyone. Your perfect teacher is not Madison’s mommy’s perfect teacher. Or Elijah’s two dads’ perfect teacher. It’s not Procopio’s family’s version of perfect. It’s just yours. Model who you want your child to be. Let teachers teach and be who they are. They are working hard to meet the needs of all 28 students in their classroom. Don’t make them work even harder to meet your needs too. It’s not part of their job description.

I’m not in the business of judging other parents. We’re all doing our best. We’re all doing what we think is right. I could sure as hell be doing a lot more a lot better.

I will say, though, that I am a huge fan of public schools. And, of letting kids figure shit out. At school, at home, on the playground. School does not make kids smart. Not by itself. School doesn’t fix societies wrongs or teach kids about being compassionate citizens of the world. So much of this stuff is done at home. Modeled by families. Okay, yes, some of it is done in school. Of course. But, you get my point.

Do I want my kid to have a good experience in school? Of course. Do I want her to like her teachers? Yes. Do I want her to be inspired to learn and question and think critically? You see where I’m going with this. But, people take it too far. School is supposed to be everything for a child. Their family, their support system, their counselor, their savior. It starts to feel like no one is holding families accountable for anything. I can say from my experience as a teacher…in many ways you feel helpless and powerless. You can only instill so much. Kids go home at the end of every day and every weekend and all summer. So much of the good that gets done in a day is undone by the time the following morning bell rings.

For that reason and many more, I choose to prioritize my daughter’s life experiences. As a whole. Not just her school experience. You will not find me fighting to get her into the classroom of “the best teacher” at her school. Here’s why: It’s ok for kids to have bad teachers. It’s not ideal. But, it’s okay. By “bad” I mean not the teacher YOU have decided is the ideal teacher. For some, that’s a strict, curriculum-focused, data-driven, serious person. For others, it’s an artistic, fun, funny, rule-bending, process-over-product person. There are so many different types of teachers…it’s almost as if they’re just regular humans like you and me.

The occasional crap teacher is good practice. An adult with a different approach to the world than myself? Great. A person who forces my kid to be adaptable and flexible and to modify her behavior to fit different expectations. I’m in. I mean, if a teacher is a bad human and saying hurtful things or teaching inaccurate facts and sitting on his ass all day or bullying kids, well, I’ll kill a fucker. But, a teacher who doesn’t see the world as I do? That’s great for my kid. She won’t be traumatized because someone holds her to different standards than I do.

“We’re just in daycare,” I’d said to a woman on the playground one evening after work.

“Oh, us too,” she responded “What’s up with those crazy parents who are obsessing over pre-k and, like, worrying about where their 2-year-olds are going to school? Jesus, I’m just happy if they’re feeding her and keeping her alive and you know, happy most of the time.”

“Yes!” I said. A bit too loudly and emphatically. This was someone I could be friends with. No one makes new friends in their thirties but this will be my exception. She’s smart, she’s got a kid my daughter’s age, she’s gorgeous and funny. It’s a freakin’ soulmate-friend situation. “It’s insane to be consumed with the education of a 3-year-old. Paint, dirt, water, some books. Social skills. Right? That’s where it’s at. Turn-taking, sharing, reacting without frustration…” I could see my new bestie losing interest. What had I said wrong? It was going so well. “I mean, right?” I sort of half laughed and half stuttered.

“Two-year-olds are one thing. But, we’ve got Mira on the waitlist for a great 3’s program in Tribeca. It’s supposed to be the best in the city. And, anyone who goes there is guaranteed a K spot in their sister school, and an elementary spot in the parent school. Which means, she’ll end up in their cousin school for middle school and get into any college she wants.”

I kid you not. This was a real conversation. Except the sister/cousin/brother business. The schools had real names.

It was so outrageous, I honestly thought she was pulling my leg at first.

This is what I have learned about some people. Not all people but some of them. Some folks have this incredible ability to just believe whole-heartedly and without any doubts in their mind in whatever the latest trendy thing is. Parent trend, celebrity trend, education trend, fashion trend. They are all in. Until they’re out. And, then they are all out. And, they cannot even see that the views they held less than a month ago now completely contradict the ones they are currently holding. “We cannot wait to have a baby and change the world one person at a time.” Turns into, “Population control is real. This planet is overpopulated and we refuse to participate in the chaos.”

That one’s real too.

I wish I could be like that. I wish I could just believe in things. Just blindly and without all the questioning and wondering and the what if’s. How freeing it must be. How clear the world must seem. Everything in black and white all the time. I am always making things far more complicated than they need to be. Over-explaining and overthinking. What if I could just believe that I was right all the time? Those people must feel very powerful.

21
Jul
2015

people

categories: brooklyn

I am a totally perfect human. Obviously. I mean, I have a blog, so…

No, but really. I try to be kind and generous (I don’t always succeed) and give people the benefit of the doubt (sometimes I forget). Since my mom died I have been much better at understanding that peoples’ lives are not always what they seem and that we’re all going through shit. At some point or another. Life is complicated and difficult.

Living with chronic pain for ten years without any obvious exterior signifiers has helped me to understand that pain and suffering are often under the surface. I’m just trying to say, there’s more than meets the eye. Beauty isn’t skin deep, I wear my heart on my sleeve. I am trying to think of as many lame cliche phrases as I can.

Okay. Back to serious thoughts…

I am in the process of dealing with some really lame folks. Condescending, rude, disrespectful — there are many adjectives that could be written to describe them.

It makes my stomach turn. I can’t shake the feeling that I am being taken advantage of, that I’m being treated with a total lack of human decency. I don’t do well with these feelings. I’m quite sure this comes from having spent a good chunk of my childhood and adolescence believing that I didn’t deserve anything good. That nothing should be easy. That no one should be trusted.

I rebelled. Against believing that everyone was out to get me. I rebelled against believing with total certainty that people were inherently bad. It sets me up for some disappointments along the way but it also ensures that very little gets under my skin. If I believe that people are doing their best then I don’t have to take anything personally.

It’s pretty great, actually. You should totally try it.

So, these humans. They are not being good. They are not doing their best. We have given them ample opportunity to do what is right. We have been understanding and patient. We have given them the benefit of the doubt. Used cordial, even friendly, language in dealing with them. Nothing.

No offense to lawyers but I’m pretty sure he’s a lawyer because everything is black and white. There is no room for doing the right thing, there is only room for, ‘what are my legal obligations to you.’ And, I think that is totally shitty. That’s just my opinion.

We are talking about exchanging BABY items. You heard me. Babies. Those tiny humans that make life so wacky and so wonderful.

Can we not just be normal, civil neighbors? This is crazy. Cuh-razy. Like, I can’t even believe that we are having these conversations because you tried to sell us some junky junk and we were way too trusting (I’m noticing a trend here — perhaps we should rethink how we operate in the world a little bit.) And, so we are just trying to return this junk to you and instead of owning that you sold us crap you are instead using all this lawyer jargon, mumbo-jumbo, double-talk, “proprietary interest,” blah, blah, blah “product we tendered…mitigate your loss…I draw a distinction between…”

I draw a distinction between being an ass and being a good human.

So, I’m frustrated. I’m currently working with my daughter on articulating her feelings. Naming her emotions. So, I will express mine through words and hope that in some small way, it will mitigate my queasiness.

I’m frustrated. And disappointed. I’m shocked and I’m not easily shocked. This should have been a simple transaction. We’ve bought and sold a million things on this list serve. We’ve never encountered someone or something so sketchy. I’m bummed. I’m really, really bummed. We’re out $350 and more than that, we’re left feeling helpless.

And then I think, where do I live? What is this strange world that I am a part of? Where do I fit into this world? And then I feel like an outsider again. Because I don’t want to believe that people are awful. I want to believe that people are mostly good. And that, if you give them a chance, they will show you their goodness.

I’m not some naive commune kid. Well, I am a commune kid. And, I can be a little bit naive. BUT, I do know there are awful people out there. I know there are unspeakable acts of cruelty and violence. I know there are unexplainable tragedies and unimaginable losses.

This is not one of those. And, these are not evil people. They’re just assholes. And, this is not some great loss on our part. It’s more money than I’d like to lose learning a life lesson but ultimately, it’s just money. The bigger loss for us is trust. New York can be a real bastard. Beating you down and then continually kicking you once you’re on the ground. We’ve had some pretty traumatic life lessons here. Again, this is not one of those. I have my priorities straight and my perspective intact.

But, that’s not to say that this isn’t a really annoying thing happening. Despite the bigger things in life and in the world. Despite the (ultimate) smallness of this experience. Despite all of this, I am still frustrated. Ya hear me? I’m frustrated!

And, this concludes my rant.

14
Jul
2015

olfactory receptors

categories: brooklyn, california

Someone woke up this morning and said, “It’s a fine day for a fire.”

Perhaps it’s the rain. Or, the drop from 86 to 81 degrees. I suppose this is chilly for Brooklyn in July.

I can’t imagine why anyone would be lighting their wood-burning stove today. But they did. And, it’s magnificent.

Is it wrong that smoke makes me nostalgic for California? Given the current drought situation it seems macabre to be daydreaming about such things. But, I can’t help it.

My sweatshirt is soaking up the the oak’s insides, the sap sizzling and popping, creating a fountain of bright orange ember. We’re sipping Makers and staring into the sun’s reflection in the moon. Stars. So many stars. And darkness. It’s so damn bright in New York.

I’m roasting marshmallows and drinking bloody beers at 9am. Baking potatoes, canned beans, sausages, whose idea was it to bring the instant coffee? I love you. Waking with the sun. The sensation of heat as a being, an entity, trapped inside your tent, pushing against your ears, squeezing your thighs until your eyes are forced open. The sound of the ocean in the morning. Constant, magnetic, totally, totally scary. I mean, the ocean is gorgeous and hypnotizing and totally terrifying, right? I find the warm sand to be a perfect place to enjoy that majestic beast.

All this in one breath.

Thanks for the smoke, Brooklyn.

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