Our Manhattan Project (Advent 2)

On the second Sunday of Advent, we went to church at 8:00 and then headed straight to Princeton Junction to catch a train to New York. It is astonishing to me how our kids seemed to take this for granted; that hopping on a train was no big deal. I continue to be impressed by their resilience and ability to trust us when we say, "This will be fun!"

We didn't even decide to go until Saturday evening. Late in the week J had learned that kids under twelve ride the train for free.  Ahhh, how that smacked of the European public-transit-hospitality to children (although there, it's every day). That's a 66% discount and there is so much to do in NYC; we plan to make repeated trips. It seemed good to go ahead and get started. But where to begin?

J built this first itinerary around the thing I most wanted to do in New York, paired with what the kids most wanted to do. So we began at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and followed that up with FAO Schwarz. Central Park is conveniently between them for a nice walk; and Christmas decorations in NYC was a bonus.

After a hour and a quarter on the train we landed at Penn Station and took a couple of subway transfers to the Upper East Side. We walked over to the museum and were there by noon. It was impressive before we even got inside.

The last time we had been in a big museum was our infamous Night of the Wrecked Ankle at the Louvre. Throughout our entire visit, there were eerie correlations. Like the fact that every time I carried Nutmeg anywhere, we all felt a little skittish. And the stairs. So many stairs. (I was carrying her down a flight of stairs when I fell). Also everyone would groan when I would say, "Let's go see just one more thing…" (just as I had in the Louvre to see an Egyptian statue--which I never saw--instead I saw the inside of a Parisian ambulance).

After fall 2013, our kids have lots of experience in museums. And we also have considerable experience with children in museums, which means that we know there will be no leisurely wandering around all day. There will be burnout and we will have to decide when to cut our losses. After consideration (and a reality-check reminder from J), I built a must-see list of two things only: a work each by Caravaggio (painter) and Bernini (sculptor). My visual art education ended in 5th grade, and was kickstarted again last fall. I have a lot of catching up to do, but chasing down two of my newfound favorites sounded good. Anything else would be icing on the cake.

However, right by the door was the Egyptian exhibit. Wombles entreated. We spent a LOT of time in there and by the time we came out everyone was already tired. And thirsty. There are apparently only two water fountains in this mammoth museum, and we were looking for them. And for the bathrooms. And for items from the Percy Jackson series. 

With the Percy Jackson flier

Suddenly, it was 2:00 and everyone who rode for free on the train was burning out.  When we came across Marsyas (below) J posted this on Facebook, with the included caption:

Up for debate: does this sculpture better represent tired, hungry children being tortured by staying at the museum, or the parents wrangling them? Hmmm... 

Instead of abandoning the museum, though, we headed down to the cafeteria. They had these great kids' meals that came in a taxi box. Chicken fingers, fries, juice. Perfect.

We were ready to continue my list!

Which was rapidly growing. While it started with two must-sees, once we were in the museum there was always One More Thing. We discovered a short-term visiting El Greco exhibit. There on the wall was Vista del Toledo. I have been to Toledo three times, and on the first trip got abysmally lost in quest of a canvas print of this very painting (that story ends with a car ride courtesy of the policía). I had no idea it was in the Met! What a gift. And a room filled with El Greco!! J and I were excited, but the kids were a little, "Ehhh….you said two things…"


We did eventually find the Bernini. It had the end of a large room to itself, except there was a man sketching it. He was very friendly and kind to the kids, chatting with Wombles about being an artist.




And then the impressionists. I had assumed they would all be at MOMA (future trip). The children enjoyed seeing paintings they recognized; who doesn't? Nutmeg stayed cheerful, although somewhere in a room of Van Goghs she needed a break. And took one. ~supersweet~

I loved every second of carrying this girl through the museum. She's mostly outgrown sleeping in my arms.

I carried her sleeping in my arms for some time, until we came to "the ballerinas," at which point I woke her up.
 Because. She needed to see them.

When it was finally time to leave, no-one had broken anything or torn anything and we all walked out on our own two feet. And Lo! and behold:

One. More.Thing=An Egyptian Statue

The sun was already beginning to set as we headed out of the museum and through Central Park, but we could see pretty well. It was cold enough that we kept a brisk pace past playgrounds and ponds.

As it turned out, I think the kids joined me in preferring the Met to FAO Schwartz. The toy store was much more crowded, and we had already finished our Christmas shopping for them, leaving no hope for last-minute requests. It was certainly a spectacle, though!

It was also the perfect place for the kids to get their picture taken with Santa...

A Santa made of Lego bricks, that is. (I would also like to note here that I just looked up the plural of Lego. And found there is considerable online discussion of it. Lego. Bricks.)

Probably I should also note that we did not in fact get out of FAO Schwartz without incident. Nutmeg got her hand caught in the escalator and we had to go into some interior office and get an ice pack and fill out paperwork. She was fine eventually.

We finished our day with a nighttime walk to Times Square. Because…one more thing.

It was a great day, and I can't wait to get back! I am loving living out in the country but a dose of the urban was very nice.

Last Weekend

Last weekend, J went to a conference in San Diego.

I know. When he first told me last fall that there was an organization which had both invited him to a conference in San Diego in January AND was planning to pay for all of his expenses for said conference, I started crying. Because in that instant all I wanted was to go to San Diego in January. (This must have been during the first brutal cold snap in November. I was out of sorts). 

Fortunately I am capable of being quite happy for him while being rather sad for myself. However, as last weekend approached I was having a rough time parenting and teaching and managing tempers and wills and such (mine AND those belonging to people-under-12). I also gave myself food poisoning (Save the jokes: too soon). Combined with total cabin fever and the outside temperatures bottoming out, I quailed at the thought of the weekend of solo parenting ahead of me. Dust and ashes.

People were praying for me. J asked his parents to pray for me, who asked his sister pray for me, who said she would--but (I paraphrase her here) sometimes when you get asked to pray, maybe you also should actually do something about it.

So she called Thursday night and invited us all up for the weekend (all but J, of course, because he was going to San Diego). ALL FIVE OF US. 

Friday morning I said yes. We made plans. She let me know that she was also keeping three other children for friends of hers. 10 kids in the house with single digits outside? Okay. If she was up for it, I was.

She let me know that sickness had come to her house that morning: fever and cough and grumpiness. 

I considered for a bit, then decided to go anyway. I mean, we wouldn't get sick until next week. Deal with it then. Besides, the kids had been crossing their fingers and legs and eyes and arms that we would go up to Argyle. I was not prepared to deal with the fallout of disappointing on that, and I was looking forward to it myself! 

 We loaded up with all of our cold weather gear and headed out. This was my first solo overnight trip with four children. We drove four straight hours without stopping once. Because they are awesome. When they are strapped down with seat belts.

I know I am overusing italics. Because when you talk to yourself in a car for hours on end, that's how you differentiate between yourselves. I may not have recovered yet.

We had a fantastic time. Chili, pizza, wine, screen time, snow angels, hot buttered rum. On Saturday it was too cold to play outside, so we drove over to Saratoga Springs to let the kids run around inside a mall. (All of you shoppers at the Wilton Mall last weekend: You're welcome.)

Three kids inside the helicopter. Three.

Indoor Playgrounds!

Pixie.

Sunday we drove back home through the rain, staying just ahead of freezing temperatures and ice the whole way. We didn't stop once. And we were all sane and enjoying one another and happy: flourishing instead of slogging through with clenched hands and teeth. 

Snow on the trampoline=awesome sauce.

What a tremendous gift. Thanks so much, MacK's!

In spite of the fact that J was the one in CA in January, he was the one who was jealous. It was a little strange to have him running on the beach while we were tromping through the snow--and we were glad to all be back together again.

Baptism of our Lord (with Advent 1)

This morning, our little church in Blawenburg celebrated the Baptism of our Lord. And on the first Sunday of Advent, I took pictures of the interior of our historical building. (Here's a mashup of the two).

Every week before the sermon, there is a "children's message" during which the children go to the front of the church. Each week "the children" are comprised of our three younger children, the son of the pastor, and one or two other kids.

This week when we arrived at the building, there was a crystal pitcher and bowl filled with water on a table in front. "It's because this Sunday is the Baptism of our Lord Sunday! I saw it on the calendar!" Pixie whispered. She was right!

This week we had warned the boys about paying attention during the children's message after a less-than-stellar performance last time that involved some poking and prodding of one another. There are only 30-40 people in the room, so those shenanigans are fully visible to everyone. This week as the children's message went on I was a little nervous about how the three Covs would resist the temptation presented by being splashed with water at the beginning of the children's message…and then being invited to splash the pastor in return at the end. Are you kidding me? an invitation to raucousness? Can anyone who knows our boys imagine this? (The pastor's only child is 18 months old and as of yet incapable of giving better than he gets.) I think I actually covered my face. However, nothing too crazy happened and after a few splashes the ninjas turned and trotted back up the aisle to our pew.

They then proceeded to narrate aloud all that had just transpired, as if we hadn't seen it. There was considerable amusement expressed from the pews behind us. Once again, I was grateful for this generally gray-headed church that is so incredibly welcoming of our children.

This was not a communion Sunday at Blawenburg Reformed Church, but after the sermon we did all file forward communion style. Pastor Travis took water and made the sign of the cross on our foreheads, saying, "Remember your baptism…and be made whole."

Not quite the Anglican "marked as Christ's own forever,"but a good reminder, particularly in concert with the sermon this morning reminding us of our identity in Christ.

The kids had a lot of fun trying to actually remember their baptisms (Bud was 4 days old, and Wombles was 2.75 years old, and both more or less insist they can remember something. At least everyone but Nutmeg can remember Nutmeg's). It was a good opportunity to chat with the kids about remembering what our baptism means, rather than the actual physical sensations. All the same, it was special to have the tangible reminder of the water again today, and I am grateful.

Organ in the rear of the sanctuary, above the doors.
This is where the boys got a tour of the organ and also where they could fall over the rail.

Happy Sunday!

Thoughts on this Twelfth Night

Just like that, Advent has come and gone--and Christmas as well. We have just this one night left to celebrate before Epiphany tomorrow.

I have been thinking quite a bit today about Twelfth Night 2013, when my crazy idea of hosting a dance party came to fruition. I remain incredibly grateful to the friends who came and danced and celebrated with us. It was filled with magic and rejoicing and is now a treasured memory.

I planned to make it an annual event, but last year we had to cancel the dance because of my torn up ankle. And this year we are away out here. But I am already scheming/planning for an Epiphany dance next year…

Other schemes of mine have come and gone. While some remain ideas filed away for later consideration, others have become beautiful, better-than-technicolor reality. 

Hosting a house concert for Lowland Hum last March is certainly one of the delights that has come of dreaming and planning while being a part of a community that both encourages and supports the dreaming and planning.

 

The 2014 Thanksgiving Lip Sync (contest? smackdown? extravaganza?) is another real highlight of the year and one that would have never happened without the exuberant participation of others. Here's some of the music performed:



That night was the high-water mark of a particular type of hysterical fun. As with the 2013 dance party, I was sore for days afterward. Shenanigans. I highly recommend it with a group of people you know and love. [A gag order is in effect on photos and videos…unless someone wants to give me permission...].

While the fellowship in Princeton has meant that we didn't move to Georgia for a semester, J has worked hard to make good on the plan to spend more time with my family this year. Besides a quick visit on the way to New Jersey in August, we drove down for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. It's about a thousand miles of driving in each direction, each time, and given how late Thanksgiving was this year it meant a season of suitcases, Happy Meals and MapsWithMe; slumber parties and pool tournaments and counting mileage across states by exit numbers. I hope to share some of those stories in more detail. Precious times.

With all of that feasting, it's a bit of an adjustment to come back to real life, and a bit jarring to go from being around people all of the time to being back in our lighthouse, echoing off one another. Today was J's first day back at work.

The season between Epiphany and Lent is referred to as "ordinary time" in some traditions. Thinking about all of these wonderful memories--many of which came in ordinary time--reminds me that while life isn't always feasting and holy days, God has plans and purposes for the times in between as well. While this year in Princeton is in many ways extraordinary, there is also an ordinariness and limitedness to life here. Also, though, we are mostly alone--a stark contrast to the other experiences I'm mindful of tonight. I'll need to keep my eyes open, and hope to catch sight/grab hold of the plans He has for me, and for us, here and now.

For the (first and) last time this year, Merry Christmas! Tomorrow we celebrate among other things the throwing open of God's family to the outsiders--us.