IRONY + THE LONG WAY HOME

When I set out to (re)name this little space, we were in the beginning stages of moving to Brooklyn. I knew the kind of 'feel' I wanted the name to have, the image I wanted it to portray, how it would sound when I said it, that it would represent our family values in some way - it would say in a subtle way, 'This is who we are!' I even knew it should be four words because I'm a symmetry freak. It took me months of pondering to arrive at The Long Way Home. I was on a wandering walk through our old neighborhood, pushing Ev along in front of me when I asked her if she wanted to take the long way home - and it stuck. I came up with several others that escape me now, but finally decided, much like naming my children, that this space couldn't be anything but The Long Way Home. Little did I know how ironic this name would come to be.

It's painfully obvious even to this day, but I loved living in Brooklyn. I loved our quiet little apartment on our quiet little street. I love that it always looked thrown together no matter where you put anything. I loved that our mattress was on the floor right next to Evie's and we used to fall asleep holding hands under my pillow. I loved the old hardwood floors that used to frustrate her to no end as she'd try to stack block upon block and they would fall no matter how careful she was. So she'd gather them all up and stake her claim on a different, hopefully flatter piece of floor with a determined and slightly concerned look on her face. I loved our insanely pricey rent that felt like a bargain compared to the rest of the city, mostly because we had a real kitchen. I loved listening to the city come alive each morning and watching our brick wall view turn a golden hue that only fellow Brooklyn-dwellers have seen. I loved using the word 'bodega.' I loved the corner cafe with $20 sandwiches and cereal bowls of coffee. I loved our tiny mailbox and our obnoxious door buzzer. I loved the bagels. Oh, how I loved the bagels. I loved being able to buy a slice of pizza for a dollar. I loved the way the guys at our favorite pizza place said mozzarella. I loved that our church was held in a school auditorium. I loved that we gathered in people's impossibly small apartments during the week. I loved the Manhattan view we'd get on our grocery shopping nights leaving Fairway. I loved and hated Fairway. I loved that everyone had a love/hate relationship with the city. I loved our watermelon picnics. I loved that the playground was never empty the entire time we lived there. There was always someone there for Ev to play with.

I loved the subway smell. I loved the R train, the consistently late R train. I admired that about her, I accepted it because I'm consistently late anywhere I go. I loved that we lived at the end of the line and knew we were home when we heard, 'This is the last stop on this train. Please leave the train. Thank you for riding with MTA New York City transit.' I even sort of loved feeling like steamed broccoli in the Summer heat. I loved our secret Staten Island beach spots with oily water and sand full of trash. I loved the handfuls of sea glass we'd walk away with. I loved walking miles to get anywhere. I loved the street sweeping day, car moving scramble that happened each week. I loved the sidewalk horses that Evie went nuts over. I loved New Yorkers and their constant use of the F word. I loved how people really lived in the Spring, Summer, and Fall because the Winters were so unbearable. I loved that you could go for a simple walk and never be bored. I loved how beauty could find you in the most unexpected places. I loved our view of the Verrazano and watching boats pass by on the Hudson. I loved how people celebrated their New York-iversary. I loved that people complained so much about living there, but refused to live anywhere else. As Anne Lamott says, '. . . [I loved] the feel of being part of a healthy mob, part of a pulse, part of a collective heartbeat. . . [I loved] what it felt like to be part of a huge struggle, where people were winning and losing and triumphing and being humiliated and for once it wasn't you.' I love how living there was kind of like childbirth - after a while you forget how hard it was. I loved it all. I would be a lifer. Sometimes I lay in bed and imagine walking along those Bay Ridge streets with my two kids. It's hard for me to comprehend that a place that is so much a part of me, will never be a part of both of my kids. I sometimes forget Noble wasn't there with us.

As much as I loved Brooklyn, there is a bit of my soul that is nourished by New Mexico. I love the sunsets, each one different from the all the rest, but beautiful in a way you'll never forget. I love the adobe houses with turquoise trim. I love that you get to experience all four seasons, but you really only have to experience snow when you feel like driving up the mountain. I love the freakishly bipolar Spring weather. I love the Cottonwoods. I love that the days are so consistently beautiful that you wake up never thinking about what the weather will be like. I love the Christmas luminarias. I love the old man at the farmer's market that never stops shouting, 'Fresh tortillas!' in his Spanish accent. I love that you can tell what neighborhood you're in by how many Subarus are around. I love their strange exclamations like 'Eeee!' and 'Ah-la!' I love when someone calls Evie 'mija.' I love the trees outside our window that Noble strains his neck to watch from the rocking chair. I love the bike lanes and trails scattered all over the city. I love the love that the lifers have for this city and the effort they put in to keep it quirky. I love living three blocks from the zoo and that it's basically become our backyard. I love that we're surrounded by so much beauty and mountains are always in our background. We'd never make it through our 'places to see' list if we lived here for a lifetime. I love that feeling I get when we're coming home from the East and we spot the mountain silhoettes off in the distance. I love that you can wear whatever you want here and no one will look twice. I love that you can practically wear sandals year round and most people do. I love the frequent Indian Summers in the middle of Winter. I love that it's never hard to find something interesting to do here. I even kind of love the lack of a good Chinese food place. I love that the vast majority of people embrace local, organic food. I love the ridiculous amount of breweries and that you can buy craft beer almost anywhere. I love that both of my babies' birth certificates say 'Albuquerque, New Mexico,' a place where people are advocating for a mother's right to birth the way she wants. I love that that this place will always be a part of them no matter where we go - it called us back twice after all. There must be something special here for them. Even though there is so much to love about each place we've lived, we've known that they all wouldn't be forever.

THE LAST OF NEW YORK

 

It's been a tad bit quiet over here as we're all trying to adjust to life in New Mexico again. Instead of blogging, I've been using the majority of my down time reading or organizing pictures, but I'm starting to ease back into my normal groove and catch up on posts. The week before we left Brooklyn, my Mom came for a visit. We were really more focused on spending time together than giving her the grand tour, so we didn't get around to showing her much. We did manage to take the ferry out to the Statue of Liberty and I was pleasantly surprised. I'm usually not impressed with the tourist attractions, but something about the open air, city views, and magnitude of it all made Lady Liberty worth it. We had been admiring her from afar for quite some time now. Anytime we got a good sweeping view of the skyline, Ev would point out the 'Satch-oo of Wib-tee.' No view compares to standing under the real thing though. At some point I'd love to got through the museum at the base and climb to the crown, but the museum wasn't feasible with a toddler who needed a nap in tow and they don't allow kids under 4 in the crown. Though we're no longer Brooklynites, we aren't done with New York. We still have a long list of things we would love to do, so a trip in the near future is inevitable. Before going, it didn't seem like there would be a lot to do and I wasn't sure how enjoyable it might be for Ev, but she was surprisingly excited about the whole thing. She loved the ferry ride, the walk along the edge of the island, looking at the skyline through the view finder, and standing under the 'big lady holding an ice cream cone' as she liked to call her. After my mom's visit was over, we set to work packing and headed out just a few days later, so these are the last of our New York pictures. Each time we move, it's even more surreal as to how fast your life can change with just a rental truck and a drive.

GOODBYE, BROOKLYN.

On the Friday before last we stood in our empty little Brooklyn apartment and said our goodbyes - to the quirky front door that made entirely too much noise when you shut it, to the kitchen where our meals and practically all of our memories were made, to the bedroom we spent many nights in, holding hands across mattresses and listening to the city below, and to the holes in the ceiling that we managed to laugh about for months. Leaving seemed a little sudden, even to us, but it was something we had known was coming. I love writing our story down here, but this has been something that I felt I needed to process in my own time, my own way, and I'm still not quite ready to give the world an explanation. What I am ready to share here is how good it feels to be back in a place that feels like home. As soon as we saw those mountains silhouetted by a Southwest sunset, our bodies all just breathed a sigh of relief. Brooklyn was a really good time for our family and it will always have been worth it, but it was also one of the hardest times. Since leaving, we've been spontaneously assembling a list of things we learned while living there - No distance is ever too far to walk. New Yorkers have a unique skill for using the F word - I've never heard that word used in so many ways, so many times in one sentence in all my life. Soda water is underrated. Grocery shopping is the single most challenging thing you can do in the city, besides moving. Brokers are people of the most horrible kind. The largest city in the country doesn't feel so big once you live there.

I'll never forget our last night there spent walking through our neighborhood, eating a late dinner at the pizza place it took us a few trial runs to find, and falling asleep together on the air mattress with views of the Freedom Tower beams shooting through the sky out our window. We have so many good memories to hold onto of our time spent in the city, but it still feels really good to be back in New Mexico. There's no doubt that Brooklyn will always be a part of us. Even children we haven't had yet will hear the tales of Brooklyn from us and will feel a connection to this place that other people don't have. There will always be a little part of me wandering the streets of the city, pushing that stroller along, on our next city adventure. Since coming back to Albuquerque, we've spent the majority of our time visiting with old friends, soaking up the Southwest sun during the day, and admiring the stars at night. We're staying with some beautiful friends of ours while we sort out the finer details of our lives, so we're still in limbo a bit, but we're finding peace in already feeling fairly settled in our lives here. It took mere minutes for us to look at each other with big smiles on our faces and say, 'It feels right.' We've been talking of our plans and all we really want to do is plant some roots, make a home, and raise some babies. So here's to that, the end of a memorable chapter, and the beginning of a new and hopeful one.

A HALF BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION AT THE BRONX ZOO

When I found out that I was pregnant, I was ecstatic of course, but soon I did the math and felt sorry for this kid. She was destined to have lame Winter birthdays the rest of her life - think skating rinks and noodle necklace making. I'm an early March-er and it's always a toss up, but if you want to have it outside you better have an alternate inside plan because chances are it will be raining. Because I'm always looking for a reason to celebrate and I figured there was probably no chance of good weather in February (except in glorious New Mexico), I decided on a compromise with Mother Nature. We'd celebrate half birthdays and she could have free reign do whatever she wants on the real day! Ev's half birthday just happens to fall on August 1st, so Alex took the day off and we made our way up to The Bronx Zoo. We're zoo people. We're the zoo-iest people you'll ever meet, I think. Every road trip we take, we try to fit a zoo in there somewhere, but man is The Bronx Zoo way up there. We had plans to be real New Yorkers and ride the subway all the way up there, but they don't open until 10, which means we'd be headed back past nap time and if there is one thing we've learned about city living with a kid is never be on the subway past nap time. You can be anywhere else, but if you're still sitting on a bench in a sub way car all hell is going to break loose. It's a law of the NYC universe, I tell ya.

 

So we drove across the Brooklyn Bridge and up along the edge of Manhattan with views of the East River on our right and the city on our left and thanked our lucky stars we kept our car because it has to be the loveliest drive we'll ever take. There's just something about crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, seeing the Freedom Tower just hanging out up there above the rest of the crowd, and spotting glimpses of the Empire State Building on a drive to somewhere as normal as the zoo that make you want to scream, "IS THIS REAL LIFE?!'

Anyway, the Bronx Zoo is the world's largest metropolitan zoo, so we had to take it seriously and how do you take a zoo trip seriously? By buying t-shirts, of course! We agreed that wearing them while we still live in the city is off limits, but once we leave it's free game - touristy zoo shirts all around! They had no pleasing designs on t-shirts for two year olds, so we bought Ev an extra small and said it'll be a sleep shirt. I cringed as I put it on her. I can't believe she's old enough to buy souvenir shirts for. My dad bought me at least five souvenir shirts a year as a kid, I swear, and it was so endearing in a dorky dad way that I swore I'd have to do the same for my kids.

I can't even stand how nerdy cute she looks in these sunglasses. I could eat her.

All in all, I would call the trip a big success. We got to see them feed the sea lions, which I always manage to miss by like two minutes at any zoo. I always wander up after everyone is clearing out and stand there looking around like, 'Hey, what's going on guys?' I think I may have been more excited to have caught the sea lion feeding than Ev - and who knew baby sea lions were so cute? I think they might win the cutest baby animal award in my book. Ev fell asleep on the way home in the car and when she woke up she said, 'Let's go see some more animals!' She was pretty upset when we explained we weren't going back today, but perked up a bit when she learned that she had two gifts to open at home. She's watched the little girls in the neighborhood zip by pushing their baby dolls in tiny strollers since we moved here and has even tried to high tail it out of the playground with a few of them, so I decided to get her one. She promptly took to stuffing her 'Tigger baby' in it and ramming it into the backs of my heels. It's worth it to see her smile, right?

 

 

It seems that her favorite part of the zoo was actually the part without any real animals. She loved the dinosaurs!

Unrelated tangent: The night before we woke up to go to the zoo, the sound of shattering glass tumbling down our fire escape woke us in the middle of the night. Alex's first reaction was that of course, someone had Spiderman-ed it up to our third story window and he was prepared to draw blood and even had plans to bludgeon someone with my sewing machine. I on the other hand thought someone was smashing out the windows of the cars down below and hoped they'd find what they were looking for before they got to ours. It turned out to be neither - an apartment two floors up was on fire. That in itself is not the shocking part. Alex stuck his head out the door to find a large group of firemen pulling a hose up our stairwell. When asked if we needed to evacuate, the answer was, 'It's up to you.' Alex stood there half asleep and confused for a moment like any sane person would do then was like, 'No, bro. It's up to you. I haven't been to the scene of the fire.' In the end, with no help from the nonchalant fireman, we decided to stay put because Evie had miraculously slept through this. You wake up at 6 A.M. to drink some coffee in peace and she's wide awake at 6:05. Forty three fire trucks park on our block and sound the alarms all night, sixteen firemen run up and down our stairwell and yell in the hallway, then bust all the windows out two floors up to send shards of glass careening down the side of the building and she doesn't budge. Go figure.

I hope you all had a lovely weekend. If you blogged about it, feel free to leave a link.

PHOTOS FROM THE JUNK DRAWER + THOUGHTS ON HOME

I sat down to write this about six weeks ago - it just happened to fall through the cracks and didn't make it here until now. A lot has happened in the last few weeks in terms of our thoughts and feelings for this place and our definition of home. It's all still a muddled mess, but we're learning. We've learned about financial struggles and how they can make life seem like a prison, like there is no way out of your current situation and no where to turn. I've come to have a lot more sympathy for the homeless when I see them on the street because I know how temporal financial security is and how easy it is for anyone to lose everything. I know how easy it is to fall behind and feel like you'll never be able to catch up. We've learned about the love and the provision of Christ through the church more here than anywhere else. We learn more about what a church community looks like each week. Our definitions of 'home' and 'family' have been redefined. We've become stronger as a family, more dedicated to each other than we thought we ever could be, and we've learned that simple things are the best things. You don't need an extravagant house and you don't even need to live in an extravagant place like New York City to call it home. This has been the hardest year of our lives, but it hasn't been for nothing.

There are still boxes hidden away in our hallway closet, half of my clothes still aren't on hangers because we ran out, and all of my craft boxes are still piled under an unfinished table in our living room. None of this is bothering me in particular, but it's all collectively contributing to the unsettled feeling that we still have. I wrote about making this place ours before and how little moments seem to be adding up to make this city feel like home, but we still can't shake the feeling that we're on vacation, like we'll be headed back to New Mexico any day now. We get out for walks along the bay often and the smell of the ocean still surprises me. We hit the top step before they descend to the promenade and I still stop and inhale and can't help but let a smile slide across my face. The struggle that we thought would be over when we finally made it here has continued due to circumstances out of our control and it's taken a toll on all of us, but every time we stand on that top step we can't help but turn our conversation towards our knowing we're supposed to be here. Some days I fear that this will never feel final, that this big dream that we managed to accomplish will always feel clumsy and not just right. This is the clearest life decision we've ever made, but it just feels weird. We've never experienced this before - each time we've moved, we've anticipated it for so long that when the time comes we're rejoicing! This move was fast and furious and we were torn away from home like you would tear off a band-aid. A sting has followed.

I find myself missing our life back in New Mexico a lot - our routine, our friends we made, our grocery stores. You'd be surprised at how one little thing, like not being able to find or buy the same food, can throw you off. I've been going through pictures, trying to get them all in order, and plenty of them just feel like a punch to the gut. I find it hard to wrap my mind around the idea of another family living in that house, the house we loved to hate, our dream come true in a city full of crumbling stuccos. I can remember peeking over the fence into a backyard of green and running back to the truck with excitement - 'There's grass! And big trees! It's amazing!' I said, trying not to smile any wider than I had already allowed. It was a miracle that anyone would let the two of us buy a house, two people who still felt like kids. Sometimes I like to pretend we're still there, Air Force Alex and new Mama me and that Evie that used to army crawl across the hardwood floors and all her pants had the knee stains to prove it. We're not those same people anymore and we're here in Brooklyn, but sometimes I like to imagine parts of us are there too. I like to think as I'm sitting on the mattress on the floor reading books to Ev that year ago me is laying year ago Ev down in her crib and shutting that wooden door to make my way down the hall and into the kitchen, bare feet across cold tile floors.

I've never made a move and then felt so conspicuous for so long. Everywhere I go I feel this tense sense of awkwardness following me - I order a bagel and the man behind the counter yells for me to speak up. I walk to the park and am met with stares from the women on the benches because they don't recognize me and my kid is met with bullies. I walk along the street, pushing the stroller along with one hand, holding my phone in the other to glance at the map. Hell, we didn't get mail for two months because I had no idea that the post office won't deliver your mail here unless your name is on the outside of the box! It's obvious every day that this isn't home yet, but I've found you don't feel quite as self conscious if you just own it, if you just force your face and your body to say 'I'm here and I'm loving it and I'm making it home.' You don't let the awkward moments phase you, you smile at the women staring and have courage enough to tell someone's kid they aren't being kind, you shamelessly turn around two or three times in a five minute timespan and keep walking like you know exactly where you're going, you don't stop at the top of the subway stairs and wonder how you're going to get your two year old, stroller, groceries, and diaper bag down the stairs and through the turnstiles - you just push on and you do it to the sounds of 'I am woman - hear me roar!' in your head.

Our home is just a muddled mess these days and I'm trying to just breathe, let it go, and tell myself it won't be like this forever, but I know our home has stayed this way in other places the entire time that we lived there. We bought a three bedroom house in Albuquerque and couldn't manage to fill any of it up in the two years that we lived there. We didn't hang a single picture on the wall or paint or even buy a new piece of furniture - that's just us, but when we moved here we promised it wouldn't be us anymore because the gypsies have tired of not having a home, of living inside a box. If I could have chosen a single place in the country to live for the rest of my life before we made this move, it would be here, but we still find ourselves talking about our forever home. Maybe all New Yorkers do this? In a place like this that feeling of being on vacation is bound to reoccur whether you've lived here two months or twelve years. There are a million things to do here every day, a million choices to make, a million memories to be made. It all feels like a completely absurd dream. We've found that we have to force ourselves to slow down and remind ourselves that this is home for now - there's no need to run from one thing to the next, devouring it all without ever savoring a bite. We have years to explore.

MOTHERHOOD RIGHT NOW. . .

Anyone that knows me, knows that I document moments obsessively. Most of the time it's a good thing. On this day, I thought I would take Evie to the library to see the 'Why Children's Books Matter' exhibit at the New York Public Library before it closes in August. I have this habit of not sharing photos of a moment or day if the day went awry afterwards, so I hesitated to even share these pictures because we really didn't have a great time. I don't know why I do that. I'm not ashamed to say we had a bad day, but maybe I just don't really want to remember them the same way I would like to remember the good ones. I also feel like I'm making things appear more awesome than they actually were, so omitting them altogether is easiest. Trekking into the city is never easy, but it was exceptionally difficult on this day, so we were both frazzled by the time we arrived. Oftentimes I blame it on the two year old - she's being whiny, uncooperative, ungrateful. All of these really mean-spirited words come into my mind and it affects my attitude, then patience and gentleness and kindness all go out the window for awhile. We boarded the train home and I listened to a little girl scream and thrash and in the middle of all of that, I came to a realization and I wasn't angry at her any more. I was more disappointed in myself. After I held her through her fit, she wrapped her legs and arms around me and almost fell asleep and it dawned on me that I hadn't even let her play.

She was so excited about the entire exhibit. She wanted to run and touch and talk excitedly (loudly) and ask questions and climb and read books, and I just wanted her to walk quietly through and look at things because that's what society asks people to do in exhibits, but where's the fun in that? Her natural wonder and curiosity registered in my mind as defiance and disobedience and I thought I needed to correct her. Afterwards, I realized I was the one that needed correcting. If only you had someone to follow you around through your mothering moments and say, 'Hey, you're the one that's being a turd right now.' Alex does that for me sometimes and it's never an easy thing to accept, but I'm grateful he does it. I probably do that for him too often. I realized I had taken her all the way into the city and trekked through this library to this exhibit only to request a picture that resulted in a fit and to give up and leave. It wasn't that the day was about taking that picture. My intentions were good. I wanted to get her out of the house, surprise her with something she would enjoy, but then things started going South and all I could think was, 'We're trying to make memories and I'm going to document it so we can leave.' I didn't even try to repair the day. I guess I put all of this here for her to read one day because I know I'm imperfect and this probably won't be the last time we have a bad day because of me. I just want her to see that I knew I wasn't always right, that the bad days weren't always because of her behavior or attitude, but oftentimes because of mine.

. . . is filled with daily requests for 'peppahs and cheese and trackers' for a 'ffnaack.'

. . . is a little finger held up in protest accompanied by raised eyebrows and a 'Hold on set-unt! I got a twestion.' A real question never follows, of course. She's only trying to get out of doing something unpleasant like going to bed.

. . . is peeking through the crack of the bedroom door to find her flashlight on and books scattered around when she's supposed to be sleeping. That's the one thing I'll let slide past bedtime and I think she knows that so she milks it.

. . . is hearing her exclaiming, 'This is fun, Mama! I having fun!' She's all about telling me when she likes something these days.

. . . is walking by the grocery store and hearing, 'Are we go the grocery stowe t'day?' every time.

. . . is an outstretched hand and a 'Mama, you tome wif me.' anywhere we go. In her eyes, I'm as much of a child as she. In her eyes, my size doesn't matter - even if I'm adult size, I can still be her best friend. I can still play on the playground with her.

. . . is shouts of 'You so funny!' or 'That's vewy funny!' Along with telling me what is fun, she likes to tell me when something is funny.

. . . is conversations interjected by 'Hey, you stop talking.' and 'What you talking 'bout?' She wants to be a part of everything we do, even our conversations.

. . . is letting my mama bear come out when kids become bullies on the playground. She wants so badly to play with anyone, even if they're hurtful. It's a gift and a curse I feel.

. . . is not having the heart to correct her when she calls her belly button a 'buddy bellon.'

WEEKENDING + HOW ABOUT WE FAMILY DATE 3

Sometimes weekends are rejuvenating and full of rest and sometimes I feel like I need a week long nap come Monday. Our weekend was full, but full of good things and it was somehow a bit relaxing too, but I'm still tired. Once again, we waited until the last minute to use our free date from How About We for the month, so it ended up being a family date. I really don't mind as we don't get a chance to get out as a family often enough anyway, but I'm determined to try and squeeze a Mama and Papa only date out of July. Friday the whole family got all gussied up and jumped on the train headed for the East Village, which turned out to be a much more difficult task than I had anticipated. We left right around rush hour and it gets crazy at rush hour - there are a lot of people, yes, but some of the trains turn into express trains and all of the N's were turning around at the Manhattan Bridge and going back to Coney Island and I swear it's like the elevator on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory come four o'clock or so - '. . .it goes sideways, and slantways, and longways, and back ways. . . and square ways, and front ways, and any other ways that you can think of.' So we train hopped for a good hour and a half before finally arriving at our stop. By the time we had gotten onto the last train Ev was sobbing, "I don't wanna go on another subwayyy.' Isn't it funny how toddlers always passionately display how you honestly feel too? It isn't really acceptable for me to ugly cry about taking the third subway of the night, but boy do I wish it was.

Anyway, we hopped off the train and of course we all needed to pee. I feel like I might need to start carrying adult diapers around with me because the public bathroom situation in this city is just ridiculous. Ev is probably ready to potty train, but it practically makes me break out in hives just thinking about it. Anytime I take her out and tell her to tell me when she needs to use the potty, she does, but then a bathroom is no where in sight and I have to be like, 'Just go man. Just go.' which kind of negates the whole premise behind potty training. If you do find a public bathroom, it either closes around five o'clock (because no one needs to pee past five?) or it takes a quarter to get in and I almost never have one. I guess they think if they make you give them a quarter, you're committed now, you've invested in this bathroom so you won't trash it, but it really does the opposite for me. I walk up to the door, realize I can't get in, and immediately want to go find a quarter just to go inside and string toilet paper from the rafters or something. So we're slowly learning the tricks of navigating the public bathroom issues here and one place we usually end up heading for are crowded bars. Someone parks outside with the baby while the other goes in to scout the place out and see if it the bathroom could be hijacked without anyone noticing. It's usually so loud and crowded that no one can tell you aren't a customer - almost every business has a sign on the door thats says bathrooms are for paying customers only which is usually an obvious sign that I don't want to give them my business.

After we all snuck in and out of a bar, we made our way into a little pizza place (where Ev became friends with the twirly bar stools) with $2 slices and filled our bellies, then we headed next door to Mikey Likes It for some ice cream. We got two free scoops each with our How About We date - I got purple rain (blueberry) and southern hospitality (butter pecan), and Alex got their triple chocolate and coconut ice cream with chocolate and almond chunks. Every flavor I tried was delicious. We'll definitely be back, but I'll probably just get the butter pecan next time! I'm such a sucker for butter pecan. As we ate our ice cream, we made our way down to South Street Seaport. I say 'made our way' like it was a short stroll down the block, but it was actually two miles. What's funny is to most people two miles is not walking distance, but in New York you pull it up on a map and say, 'Oh, two miles - that's not that far. Let's go.' Our pants are literally falling off of both of us from all the walking since living here.

While we were walking, we ran into the end of the Gay Pride Parade. Most kids would show some sort of excitement or curiosity at people walking down the street dressed like this, but Ev was just looking around like it was the norm. I guess that's how I know she's an official city kid now. We walk through a parade and she doesn't even blink. I'll never forget seeing a rather large man in nothing but a thong and hard hat when my sister and I ran into the parade during my bachelorette party weekend in 2009.

From the Brooklyn side of the river you can see this pirate ship by the shore and I always wondered what it was and why it never moved, so Alex did some investigating and found out it's a museum! The South Street Seaport Museum - it was closed by the time we made it there, but I'd really like to go check it out during the day soon. We stood on the boardwalk for a long while watching people swing from a trapeze and listening to Alex tell me I was bonkers for wanting to take a trapeze class (but I still do). Then we walked along the promenade for a good while checking out the view and trying to keep Ev far away from people she was making loud embarrassing commentary on (a man running without his shirt - 'He running nakey!' accompanied by laughs • a little person walking in front of us rather swiftly - 'Run baby lady, run!'). Two is really fun, but I have a feeling embarrassment in public is about to become the regular very soon.

Saturday morning we woke up and took a drive to our church's community garden to help them water and harvest. Afterwards, we decided to stop at Home Depot for some things we've been meaning to buy since we moved in, like screens. It turns out I still love Home Depot even in the city. We bought some houseplants and tomato plants while we were there and planted them all yesterday. We debated on whether to spend money on houseplants because there are so many more important (and expensive) things we need, but decided that the little touches are what make a place home and ours needed some love. I'll share some pictures of the beginnings of our urban garden later this week.

I hope you all had a lovely weekend!
Leave me a link if you blogged about it.