A Good Start

Yikes, has it been that long since I posted a blog entry? I placed it on the back burner and forgot it apparently. It reminds me of Gabriel's perfect boiled egg. Gabriel - a dude I worked with - decided to follow a recipe for boiled eggs that required turning off the heat after the water came to a boil and having the eggs sit in the hot water for ten minutes. Naturally, he forgot all about the eggs because what New Yorker gives an egg ten minutes to cook when he's only got thirty minutes to get out the door? A week later, his partner asked him, "What's with the eggs in the pot of water?"

Before my blog wound up like Gabriel's eggs, here are the events that kept it in still waters.

The "Time Machine" tour: Rush at Madison Square Garden. I thought only Hippies took their kids to rock shows but the times, they are changing. When my husband and I heard Rush was set to play the Garden, we said let's bring the kids!

We figured any show at the Garden would be the same price as buying a small country, so why waste it on "Disney on Ice" or "Dora The Explorer" or shitting elephants in a circus? Give the boys an opportunity to see a legend in their own time. Maybe one day, when they're all grown up and comparing battle scars, remembering girls they've kissed and bands they've seen, my boys will be able to say, "Oh yeah? Well I've seen Rush play Moving Pictures in its entirety." Then again, they may not remember a single moment of it.

I have to admit, I was a bit apprehensive about bringing kids to a rock concert but when we saw the numerous other parents waiting in the beer line with their kids in tow, we felt at home. The clincher was a dude who traveled down two rows to tell us he was proud that we were getting our boys off to a good start. One likes to believe in the freedom of music!

Nose Bleed Seats! Yeah!

The altitude is kicking in!

Spirit Of The Radio

 Da Bronx Zoo: Pre-K classes visit puking animals.

I don't do Zoos. At least not voluntarily, so when the school arranged a bus to schlep a bunch of four-year olds to the Bronx to see cooped up animals, I was glad that somebody was willing to take my kid there.

Not only did the school's field trip gain admission with just the school bus parking fee, they also were admitted to the "Congo Gorilla Forest," which would cost the average visitor an additional five dollars. If it were my dime, I would have skipped it and that would've been a shame. After seeing live gorillas, it's hard to imagine how anybody could honestly question the theory of evolution - they're exactly like my husband, only with hair.

The gorillas watched us observing them and their expression was one of pity. Not because they were the attraction locked up in a zoo but quite the contrary - like we were the restrained species. In their primordial faces, I imagined what they were thinking, "Why'd you do it - evolve into humans? You shed your body hair and lost control of your toes for what - to join a rat race? Here I sit, enjoying the day while my cousin sleeps with his butt facing you. If you wanted to live like us, you'd have to be on welfare."

With that, the older looking gorilla sat close to the window and waited for all the children to watch him with awe. Then he puked in his hand and shoved it back in his mouth while the kids screamed with revulsion and enjoyment. Where's Sigourney Weaver when you need her?

Sleep farting Gorilla

The Puker

"Take it in, boy because Mommy's never doing this again."

Spring break 2011 posed a big problem: free time and what to do with it. I must've heard three different mothers refer to themselves as "Cruise Director." On the other end of the scope, many of our friends were out of commission due to some virus going around - lovely. On my own, I had to entertain two boys on a low budget. What else could I do except drag them around the city and hope they'd finally learn how to master the subway.

New York Hall of Science: Although the boys enjoyed the shadow wall immensely and was mildly entertained by a few other stations, I honestly think that one should only enter the Hall of Science if there's an underlying need to waste money on the kids. I paid the robbers, oh I mean cashiers, twenty-seven dollars for two kids and myself and that did NOT include access to the Science park or miniature golf. Next time, we're just doing the golf. And paying four bucks for the Science playground is ridiculous considering there's a huge playground nearby that's totally free.

The shrinking room

Watching balls spin around a vortex for ten minutes. Yeah - ten minutes.

At the Playground for All Children. Looks like an album cover, right?

Ancient Playground at the Metropolitan Museum: After my last fiasco with the Hall of Science, I was more than hesitant to bring the boys to the Met Museum but the Ancient Playground right next to it seemed a promising feature. Fashioned after Pyramids, the Ancient Playground is huge with plenty of crevices a kid can hide in. It's not great, however, if you can't transform into a midget to chase your kids through the three-foot high tunnels and if you're the least bit claustrophobic then you'll just have to yell at the end of the tunnel until your kids come out like a red neck looking for his dog.

While we ate our lunch, I asked the boys if they were interested in seeing what was in the big white building across the street. It was either curiosity or the cold that got the better of them - they enthusiastically agreed to visit the museum.

The greatest feature about the Metropolitan Museum is the suggested donation for admission - it means I get to keep my arms and legs and still get to use the bathroom. I don't know why I was so skeptical about the Metropolitan Museum because the boys had a blast. They loved the Egyptian mummies and the Asian art where my four-year old got to see an Isamu Noguchi sculpture. Having the same first name as the artist, it was a big deal.

My doggie comes out after I yelled his name for half an hour.

Climbed the Pyramid...BLAH!

Posing with Mummy...statue.

In front of Isamu's sculpture. Noguchi's that is.

Knights, fists, tongues and hoodies!

Finally, a sad separation as our good friends moved to the forbidden state of New Jersey. One by one, we've watched our friends move out of our metro area and though the distance is passable, it's melancholy just the same. One of the last play dates as neighbors was spent at L.I.C.'s Gantry Park.

Good Luck in Jersey!

So for all the family and friends who remain in our hearts despite the distance, I owe an apology for the lapse - it won't happen again. If it does, feel free to mail me one of Gabriel's eggs.