We are moving offices today.
I think because we knew this was the eventuality, I’ve always looked at the current space and neighbourhood as temporary.
Transferring each morning at Times Square, to then exit at Grand Central- temporary. Hopping on at Wall Street on other days and hopping off Grand Central- temporary.
Taking the occasional stroll at lunch past the United Nations- temporary.
So I haven’t really established any regular ‘spots’ in the current area- no delis with a fall-back sandwich, no favourite coffee shops where they know my order ( although Grumpys did offer me some early morning solace on occasion).
It’ll be an interesting adventure to now actually establish and commit to the new space and neighbourhood.
Work out the new kid shuttling routines, become accustomed to the new view from the windows, coordinate coffee stops…
While away from ‘home’ this week people asked me what I thought of New York.
How in the hell do you answer that?
It’s awesome. It’s crazy. It’s intense. It’s kinda dirty. It’s a bit overwhelming. It’s inspiring. It’s tiring. And it’s here for us to explore.
And as temporary residents of the city ( for now anyway), I find us trying to strike that balance in becoming woven into the fabric of every day sort of living, while also allowing our curiosity as visitors to explore…

Is it way too naive to seek that balance now just when moving to a brand new city?

I’ll be honest.
I’m struggling.
Not all day. Not even every day. And in no heroic measure in any way. At all.
I’m supported and loved and respected. Enough for right now, anyway …
But I’m not winning all the time. And I’m learning, sometimes only after I’ve done something regrettable, or made a disappointing judgement, or just plain gotten too stuck in my own head for too long, that I need to be ok with cutting myself some breaks, with picking one thing over everything, with saying yes to help and no to more.

I wrote this to a friend going through some big changes today, and it brought me some peace, reflecting on things from this perspective…

‘Sadly we all know that nothing is certain in life… But what does need to feel as certain as it can is that you will each have each other’s backs in good and bad. And adventures aren’t easy. Sure, there’s the excitement and the inspiring parts. But it is also scary and tiring at times. And knowing that regardless of good or scary, you will be there with each other is what I think matters most …

And the Kids are awesome; they fill me up.’

These little ones this week, growing and learning and crying and screaming…but filling me up each day.

E awake at 10 PM one night to take a poo. And N with her hand on my leg as I was the Mystery Reader in her kindergarten class last week.

Now off to order the Creme de la Mer that exactly everyone here ( ok, maybe 5 New Yorkers in 3 days) uses.
Building the old self-esteem one awkward day at a time.

Shit is getting real. Or so Mayor De Blasio tells us.

Sunday afternoon we start to get ‘warning’ texts from our East Coast family and friends asking is we are ok for the impending storm. It was a balmy 8 degrees (celcius) outside, the sun was shining, and even if snow was on its way, it was hardly something that merited any kind of reaction from us.

We snickered, rolled our eyes, and carried on with lovely Sunday afternoons in the Village and Soho, casually strolling, sipping, munching, and takin’ in our happy Sunday NYC afternoons.

And then De Blasio went and pooped on our parade. Or just did his job, I guess.  It was his urging of NYC residents to ‘take this storm seriously’  that caught our unwaveringly law-abiding, rule-following, stay-in-line selves to take pause. So wait, this actually is something, beyond normal CNN-FoxNews-Americana-default-hysteria for the sake of hours of news filler? This storm might actually be legit? And might actually temporarily cripple this city? (not to mention the 50+ million other residents neighbouring NYC.)

Thinking it would be really unfortunate if the dummies from Canada were the ones ill-prepared for a snowstorm, regardless of how severe it promised to be, we did the necessary ‘prepping’, filling all water bottles, stocking up on groceries, charging devices, and ensuring candles, lighters, and blankets were all easily accessible. And then we went to bed, anticipating little more than a dusting this morning, and expecting a business-as-usual day.

Uuuurrrch. It wasn’t until early afternoon, but the warning signals intensified- first, after-school programs cancelled, then warning that pre-school had secured hotels to keep staff in town for emergency-coverage only tomorrow, then public schools being cancelled, and then a final urging from the Mayor to ‘get home and stay home’ tomorrow.

I usually don’t get to do kid pick-up as I work later at the office, but given the schedule and juggling required with cancelled after-school, I got to pick Nora up today. I actually participated in parental bantering (normally something I too easily shy away from), hearing stories about Sandy, and listening to peoples’ predictions about how this storm would compare. And welcoming an invite to meet at the field behind our house at 1pm for a snow date tomorrow to give working parents and kids a break from being holed up in our apartments for the day tomorrow.

While the snow has been steady since early afternoon, and I’ve seen four, FOUR graders scrape our piddly little (inconsequential, might I point out) street THREE times since 6 pm tonight, it doesn’t yet seem to be an overwhelmingly crippling scenario.

But then I remember how much different it must be to receive 2 feet of snow in a city like this, versus a city/town in Canada, where infrastructure just accommodates for such a change. Roads, machines, sanding, and disposal plans are second-nature. In addition, in other places a family with 2 small children might have a car, to begin with. Getting your kid to and from school might be more hazardous via vehicle, but you don’t need to worry as much about whether or not your poor little kid can actually WALK the route in the wind, the cold, the snow…Sure, snow in Calgary, for example, is just something you deal with. But introducing an exposed little kid to this without the comfort of a car, and reliant on a <non-running> subway, or a <completely unavailable> taxi as an alternative to walking takes on a whole new meaning.

We’ve been getting a lot of teasing today from our <smug> Canadian country-men, scoffing at our reaction, at our apparent new softness. And sure,  relatively,  these conditions don’t yet seem as extreme as what we’ve dealt with in the northern deep-freeze.  <firstly- it only makes me realize how shitty those conditions really can be, and makes me think that while I might find comfort in romanticizing the ‘strength’ and ‘resilience’ that a climate like this teaches us, it ultimately just makes us cold and grumpy. or makes me that way, anyway.>  But the means to respond to this weather is different, and that’s what makes this a bit difficult.

I’m kind of excited, to be honest. This is ‘the’ news right now! And we’re in it!

And really I do hope that nothing really bad happens to any communities.

And while we watch it unfold, we’ll monitor our water, ensure devices stay charged, and keep tabs on food supplies. And ration the beer.

Wrapping up our first long weekend of 2015.
It’s remarkable what one extra day on a weekend can do for the normal cycles of a unit…
Friday night feels like a huge accomplishment on most weeks, especially now in our lives here where a good amount of energy still is going into the mechanics of getting everyone where they need to be, shifting modes from readying, to commuting, to working, to familying, and to absorbing our special surroundings.
It’s such a fine balance between making-the-most, and allowing for rest and recovery, and it is still ( maybe it always will be) something that I think I struggle to be conscious of.
Having even just one extra day to play with adds such a welcomed level of flow, of space, of balance. Friday night felt a bit less like of an exhausted exhale, and a bit more like a refreshing inhale, knowing that we’d have a bit more give to our unwinding time.
We had no plans, and the weekend unfolded into a relaxed, spontaneous, and comfortable few days.
Not to mention the very important reason for this weekend’s extension.
Brett and I watched Selma. And we learned a lot. And will be doing more reading and reflecting. Of course.
And we’ve reflected in turn on how this translates to the lives of little ones… It’s the balance again between celebrating in the fact that our kids in 2015 haven’t been exposed to , nor do they comprehend the struggles that Martin Luther King Jr. represents, and in also ensuring that in an age-appropriate way, they understand what his spirit, his sacrifices, his courage ask of us to carry on.
Yowsas.

In much trivial news, I’ve realized that I think I need to do some research for my own camera. I’m thrilled with our Lumix, and either I just need to pack less kid sh#* into my day-pack ( 48 less stuffies/fruit pouches/goldfish/cars/water bottles) in order to accommodate a camera around my neck, or I need to research an option light-enough to grab pics while shuffling strollers and corralling my whirling-dervish of a 5 year old on ‘active’ nyc streets. The photo content here is too good not to have something more accessible than my iPhone.
Until then, this’ll suffice.

Clearly I am accustomed to snowy and cold weather. But I’m entirely unprepared to deal with actually needing to get anywhere ( or my kids) in this weather, by foot. SUVs and all-wheel drive have been the default for needing to be anywhere up until now.

We woke to what looked like smoke filling the street. It was blowing snow. Not smoke.
And of course when I had calls starting the minute I arrived at work, so shifting schedules wasn’t really an option.

I hurriedly bundled the boy into a snowsuit, although the intention had been to toss us both into a taxi for the $5 ride to his preschool.
No taxis. And the one that did approach was scooped by a more assertive ( desperate) parent with 3 screaming kids in tow- he wins.
So- already nearing being late, I picked up all 40 pounds of the boy, and started walking.
We live in a pretty windy corner of the city, so that added an extra lovely dimension. ( by this point I’m already resigning myself to that fact that the Mexican food ( and drinks) I was going to insist we hold off on and instead cook in tonight, will happen . I’m spent. And it’s 8:15.)

We arrive at preschool eventually, and I swiftly carry on the way, getting sprayed by both a snow blower guy (zero attempt to even slightly shift the trajectory of his spray) and a salt sprinkler guy.

And then I see an equally resigned dad, crouched over his wailing kid, face-down in the snow, trying to muster his parental patience asking his son ‘ what hurts? What HURTS? WHAT HURTS?’
He eventually lifts the stay-puffed-marshmallow-man- scarecrow kid up, dusts him off, and they carry on their snowy, manual way, two glistening beads of snot decorating the sad little kid’s face.

I’m spent- and it’s not even 9 am!!

And my freshly-styled hair really should just have a toque on for the remainder of the day.

Happy Friday!
Here’s two random street shots along the way.

It’s the last night of our first holiday since moving to NYC, and, like many others, I’m feeling that normal mix of rest, calm, and dread.
The fact that that normal feeling is what is in front of me, is again testament to the fact that we are feeling more and more comfortable and ‘settled’ with our new home; we’re continuing to progress along the path from foreign newcomers, slowly towards locals. That final ‘arrival’ is still very far off, but we are nevertheless travelling along this path…
And having had 10 consecutive days off, more or less, here, as a focused little unit, in our focused little home, has allowed (forced) for some more reflection… What does belonging feel like for a 5 and 3 year old? What does home mean to them? What do they need to feel the security they need to try new things, to learn new things, to grow?
And what does it mean to really begin to integrate into the day-to-day of a community, versus cautiously living on the edge and looking in? And is there anything wrong with living on that outside edge? On your own, maybe not, but with kids is that ok? Is that fair?

Like a lot of people this time of year, the minute I felt a bit of a lift in the weight that the last couple of months has brought ( really, all manageable, just with an extra noted girth), I got sick. Useless-couldn’t-get-out-of-bed for 4 days sick.
And that sort of sucked. In it’s own accord, but it had an especially new flavouring in an apartment where there was nowhere to go, either for sick, throbbing headache, body-hurting me, nor for the energetic, just-let-me-bash-a-dog-with-my-lightsabre-already kids…
It also taught a very important lesson in terms of what family-time, quality-time, holiday-time really needed to mean, this time around, anyway…
It’s a balance in going and seeing and experiencing actively as an engaged family…., and in allowing everyone to find comfort and happiness and peace in being at home, simply. Playing, pretending, exploring within the safety and calm of a home. Your new home.

Yowsa.

It’s been a roller coaster couple of months, and thinking back to the beginning stages of this adventure again returns me to the head shake.

This weekend brought 2 key milestones for me:

1. The kids started swimming lessons at the gym right below our building- we are legitimately part of this whole game of real enrolled activities here.

2. We bought our first membership here- to the f#*$ing amazing American Museum of Natural History . Cards and everything. Boosh. A goddamned lifelong dream come true for both Brett and I. So nuts.

Today we paid a visit to said museum and walked passed the the very first playground that we took the kids to upon moving here… And they both recognized it happily.

One wacky day at a time.
Saying thanks, doing the best we can, and taking it all in.
And enjoying some final Hawkins until healthy eating habits resume.

I can actually say that tonight the words ‘that was really a dream come true’ came out of my mouth.
I made the move and gave myself a night out tonight on 5th ave. All alone.
No rush, no deadline, no attending to snacks/potty-breaks/negotiating toy turns/cold legs/she looked at me/I don’t want to’s.
Me. 5th ave. Some lights. And about 85 million other dummies.
And my goodness was it swell.
I forgot to eat today in a focus to really try to close a few things off for a few days of a break. So by the time I left work I was hun.gry. I’d debated eating somewhere out. But got too caught up in wandering, and instead delved into the whole experiencing, treating myself to $3 samosas from a street cart. They were really spicy. And awesome.

So- first stop- Bloomingdales. Interactive and mobile and awesome.
Then on to Barney’s. This was insane. Baz Luhrmann insane. Talking owls, mechanical suns, and skaters. Nuff said. So cool.
From here on to Bergdorf Goodman’s tribute to the arts, followed by a stumbling ( and near trampling, no joke) at Saks and Rockefeller. And a whole sprinkling of other pretty spectacular sights in between.

I was also lucky enough to stumble into St Thomas’ Church. The doors were splayed open, and I could hear singing. I stepped in and saw a choir of red-robed boys practising for a Christmas Eve service. I sat quietly and enjoyed on a pew alone…

Along the whole way I leisurely shopped- didn’t buy anything, other than a pretzel (Duh), and hopped into a few hotels to see if any felt right for a solo drink ( the St. Regis, the Peninsula, Sherry-Netherlands, the Plaza and the Waldorf Astoria) but something wasn’t quite right for me to settle down in any. They were all stunning and iconic, but I was shockingly not in the mood to sit still and drink.

There are enough moments where I’m pretty tired or frustrated or scared or… Just not up. Like everyone. But tonight was just really nice. As vacuous or silly as that sounds. There are so many other elements that can complicate situations. I’m keeping tonight simple and am appreciating it for what it was. A dream come true, without evaluation, or analysis, or judgement.

Also, my one kid officially says ‘Santa’ with a new twang/slant. I’m simultaneously horrified and delighted.

We are celebrating Christmas this year on our own.
We made that decision as we were moving here, oddly enough, already panicking at the prospect of coordinating more travel logistics so quickly after arriving here.
Maybe it was the right call, maybe we took the easy way out, avoiding the stresses of travel while sacrificing time with family and friends. We will see.
Selfishly, it has allowed us to approach this holiday with a much calmer, less chaotic energy. There are only the expectations that I’m setting, so if I am getting anxious and panicked and hyper, it really is my own fault. I have my husband and kids alone evaluating my Christmas morning breakfast plans, and time has proven that they have prettttty low expectations. Not sure what that is a reflection of…

If I get consumed by what kind of dips and cheeses and bubbles I have, what scent of candles I have lit when, what table centre pieces I craft up from late night trolling on f€*# ing Pinterest, I really have myself to blame.
But really, that is always the case.
Of course we, especially as women and as moms, are judged, and judge each other. And of course it gets to us at busy times, at scary times, at weak times. But when we’re able to liberate ourselves from this judgement, you realize how much lighter, calmer, and happier you can let yourself feel…
So- I’ve ordered a shit load of food that will be arriving tonight (a few extra bottles of wine and baileys in there for me, and chips in there for the kids), I picked up some wrapping paper last night, and I have new pjs for the gang to wear as many hours of the day on the holidays as we like. We plan on making our way through the usual Christmas movie repertoire, maybe adding a few extras with some more NY flair. We are thinking about joining a Christmas Eve service at nearby Trinity Church, (should probably make sure the kids know what a manger is and who this God guy is first), and I miiiight try to sneak in an extra giant tree sighting or Christmas market,  while chugging hot cocoa (sounds so much more festive) or apple cider, if the gang cooperates. We are intent on ordering in Chinese food for Boxing day. That is the extent of my planning this year. In theory I am delighted. We’ll see how it translates…!

I know we will miss our families immensely. And I am complying with my default response of deny, deny, deny until I absolutely must confront the feeling…It’ll be a season of skyping…

So- our traditions will, for now, be founded on however we interpret the spirit of giving, saying thanks, and enjoying whichever family and friends you are near to. Or far from.

Here’s to rest, reflection, and…rum? (i needed an ‘R’, and it really is such a versatile drink, seasonally-speaking.)

I’ve always had a dream of being in New York for Christmas.
Until coming here, I wasnt exactly sure what it was about it that drew me to this experience, but now 10 days into December, I am basking in the Christmas glow that this city is come December. Well, technically by the 2nd week of November the term ‘holidays’ is being woven into nearly every interaction here…

It’s again a fine balance between actively plotting out our Christmas experiences, and allowing serendipity to play it’s role, allowing you to stumble upon Christmas markets, bask in the heavy evergreen smell of the pop-up Christmas tree stands around the corner, or dipping in to a dark and cozy pub for a warm drink, boughs and berries and candles enveloping you.

We have hit the usual suspects up, in one weekend making rounds to Santaland at Macy’s ( which was sadly ended abruptly with protestors- it was difficult to explain why this was happening and why they were chanting ‘ I can’t breathe’ and ‘black lives matter’ to a 5 year old. Difficult but important.), a $10 performance of the Nutcracker that Nora and I went to at a theatre in the Upper East, and then rounding it with a 9am performance Sunday of the Rockettes.
Phew!
But somehow it all felt manageable.
This weekend we have Nora’s dance recital for the Nutcracker… And then Sunday we’re planning on taking in some Christmas train activities… Not sure where the Christmas and train connection came from, but there are displays everywhere, so that’ll hopefully be something we can take in.
And- I stumbled along one particularly cozy looking pub that we will be sipping a warm drink at.

Taking it all in. It’s a silly magical feel… With all the crazy to ground it…

This weekend someone presented me with the idea of being ‘isolated’ and ‘sheltered’ from so much, living in New York.
Initially I was dumbfounded. Sheltered living in this wack-job of an awesome place? Isolated in a place that doesn’t have a space that isn’t connected to another place? I don’t think so.

But in an ironic way, I could see how there are some truths to this statement…
This place is so consuming. So intense and so… Itself. It makes no apologies for its flaws, it doesn’t make excuses for its ways, it doesn’t necessarily even celebrate it’s graces.
It just is. It pulses, it beats, it whirs along. And you’re along for the ride, as active or passive of a passenger as you chose to be.

There’s so much here. An embarrassment of riches, really. You just have to make it available to you with your own two hands. New York isn’t the kind of place that holds it’s hands out to you. It’ll point you along, or even open a door or two, but it doesn’t strike me as the kind of welcoming guide who will take your hand in hers, reassure you of your route, and wave goodbye at your destination, sending you off with a friendly and encouraging wink.

It is also a city of extremes.
At least once a day I remind myself to show respect to one of the many mentally unstable persons rocking himself on a street corner, by acknowledging him instead of turning away; or I have to resist the urge to shy away from a tired and hungry looking mom riding a train with her equally tired and hungry-looking child much too late at night.
And then on another day I scratch my head at the parade of orange-skinned oldies congregating at the south edge of Central Park, crisp shopping bags accompanying them in and out if their shiny black cars. I pass through stunningly picturesque streets, lined with ornate brownstones, and spilling over with shop and restaurant after shop and restaurant, little treasures waiting to be discovered.
And then the next day my kid squeals with horror/delight ( another extreme reaction) at the dead rat she sees on the road. The pretty road.

And I forget about the ‘rest’ of the world. I’m absorbed, and consumed, and overwhelmed, and inspired, and conflicted.
But all of it so immediate. And in my face. And shadowing what else might be going on ‘outside there.’

Maybe it’s all of that that can make it seem isolated, or sheltered, or removed…maybe from ‘the rest’ of the world, but certainly not from the extremes within this New York world..

Sitting at my desk today this little dude paid me a visit. 30 seconds after I took this picture a see another little buddy floating by.
Funny stuff.