Add another Last to the list: Aunt Jeni visiting the Big Apple for Huck’s birthday!  Thankfully she’s coming back in May (with cousin Lily!), and we’re already imagining next year’s March visit in a land far away from subway trains and tourists. I’m not sure how many times Jeni has been to New York since we moved here in 1997, but I do believe that since 2005 she’s visited us a total of 13 times!! (Something about the birth of her nephew brought her here more often.) Therefore, I will now bestow on my little sister the title of HONORARY NEW YORKER.

This time Jeni came the weekend before Huck’s March 7th birthday, making his entire celebration about ten days long.  (We’re in the final stretch now.) Her visit included an adult day at the Guggenheim, an Aunt & Nephew night alone while Troy and I went to an Eels show, a family day ice skating, a sisters’ day at the Bronx Zoo, a family massage, many games, many cups of coffee, many glasses of wine, sack lunches, Elvis impersonations, Rolos, iPad playing, cupcake making, and much, much laughter.  A highlight of the weekend was when 11 adults braved the Harlem Chuck E. Cheese on a Saturday night to give Huck a dream-come-true-pre-birthday dinner.  Huck got a lot of tickets that night, thanks to our friends’ surprisingly savvy gaming skills.  And because Jeni’s training for a marathon, she and Troy did a lot of running together along the Hudson River.  Using her fancy schmancy Fit Bit device, she logged 90,000 steps, 45 miles, and 287 flights of stairs.  All in 4 days’ work for a New Yorker!

And not only did Jeni bring Huck all kinds of fun gifts (including his new calculator watch), but she also brought her fox footsies pajamas for Huck and her red ‘n white polyester jump suit (not pictured) for me.  True Love.

Next up: The Actual Birthday Tomorrow followed by The Slumber Party.  JENI, COME BACK!!!!!!

A definition of pining is to suffer a mental and physical decline, esp. because of a broken heart.  We just returned from a weekend in the beautiful Poconos Mountains with some very close friends, and because one of those families is about to leave us all, and because we’re a few months behind them, and because this is one of my favorite places ever, there was some pining going on in Pocono Pines, Pennsylvania.  But  just like with everything, there was also a lot of laughter.  Huck had between 3-5 friends to play with at all times, which meant we hardly saw him for 4 days.  There was foosball, darts, Scrabble, ping pong, air hockey, piano singalongs, guitar singalongs, and a fire pole to climb.  There was snow tubing, sledding, and walks across the frozen lake we’d played in just last summer.  We were proud to be amongst the few who took part in the official inaugural of the Man Cave, and of course we spent lots of time admiring various fires.

Plans were hatched for future visits to the winter Poconos, and though this means airplane tickets I must believe we will make it happen!  Otherwise my heart might actually break.

Snow Tubing!

Just about the time neighborhood friends grew accustomed to our plans to leave New York, one of our favorite families down the street broke everyone’s hearts and announced their departure first, paving the road and giving us a sneak peek into the next few months.  Famous as the neighborhood’s preeminent party hosts, we’ve loved gathering round their piano to sing show tunes, Christmas carols and Irish ballads till all hours of the night. A couple years ago they hosted our BALLAD OF RUSTY AND ROY fundraiser, magically transforming their beautiful apartment into a Texas trailer park to set the mood for our story.  My improvisation class wouldn’t have been the same without Dave’s hilarity, and my beloved book club wouldn’t exist without Sue.  (I won’t even start with how great those two kids are.)  And on New Years Day 2012 they and another favorite family gave us a VERY hard time for wanting to leave NYC and made a napkin contract to descend upon our new abode one year after the move for a “multi-day carnival-esque debauche.”

This place would be a lot easier to leave if all our friends left too.  I just wish we’d end up in the same new town.

Winter Storm Nemo brought us a lot of snow on Friday and Saturday, once again putting the news of New York weather into the rest of the country’s living rooms. (My dad in Kanas always informs me of the next disaster.)  Since Huck would be happiest living inside a snow house full-time, we soon bundled up and began exploring our beautiful Christmas card-like neighborhood.  The highlight was our time at Fort Tryon Park overlooking the Hudson River where we risked our lives (and gloves) sledding down the hill into tree trunks, stone walls and fellow sledders.  There is nothing like sledding on a freezing cold day to make one aware that one is almost 43 years old.  ”The old mare, she ain’t what she used to be,” Troy and I like to say about our middle-aged bodies. After all that activity mine felt exactly how my ultra marathoner brother in-law must feel.  Huck, however, is unstoppable in the snow, until we stop him and make him come home for warm beverages and Phineas & Ferb, which to me is the best part of winter weather.  The coming home and warming up part.

And since no family outing is complete without an insightful child zinger, here’s yesterday’s: While helping Huck with his long johns and shirt and jeans and snow pants and snow gloves and snow boots and socks and hat and scarf and coat, all with their own set of specific rules that always causes a parental overheating induced bad mood, I began huffing and puffing and exclaimed my shock at how our friends we were meeting had THREE children to get ready for the cold.  To which Huck replied: “Yes, THREE children to yell at.”  My friends concurred that this was, indeed, truth.

Our friends Russell and Cheryl are also leaving New York this summer for a land far away, and like us they’re giving up a lot of wonderful things for the unknown (or the barely known).  Recently they came up with a NYC Bucket List, and on it included a visit to the Cloisters, which is our neighborhood’s museum at the top of Fort Tryon Park.  When I read their lengthy list I commented that I didn’t think mine would be as long, but I did agree that revisiting beloved places was a good idea.  So last weekend we combined our plans and the five of us traipsed through the cold and beautiful park up to the glorious old castle whose architecture is more familiar to us than the Empire State Building (whose top happens to be on Huck’s bucket list).

I just read an old quote by JFK: “Other cities are nouns.  New York’s a verb.”  I’m ready to live in a noun for a while, but for now I shall put on my good shoes, hope my plantar fasciitis goes away someday, and prepare to do a lot of walking and appreciating.

Huck loves candy flavored lip balm (or any flavor really), thanks to a set he got from Santa with names like Watermelon Laffy Taffy and RazzApple Magic Fun Dip.  Each one is assigned a very specific use: Orange Nerds is best for sleep, while Grape PixyStix is preferable for regular old daytime.  For a while there he applied so much onto his dry lips that friends at school told him it looked like he was wearing lipstick, so he’s cut back.  He keeps his chapsticks in one of three places: his gigantic LORAX shopping bag, his first aid fanny pack, or his pants pocket.  We’ve talked a lot about the importance of always emptying his pockets at the end of the day so we don’t accidentally wash any of these beloved tubes of delicious lip care product.

Yeterday I was in the middle of my very well rehearsed morning routine that includes naggy phrases like “You’re going to be late for school if you don’t stop dilly-dallying!” when Huck finally put on his tight brown corduroys and made a very sad discovery.  As I walked in to shout some more on the theme of hurry-up, I found him holding an empty container of lip balm.  He looked up at me and said, “It got washed,”  and then dropped his head down and began that heartfelt weeping that will make even a hot-on-your-trails mother like me stop in her tracks and go into comfort overdrive.  I was afraid to ask but ask I did: “Which one is it?”  He moaned, “Rainbow Nerds.”  He tried to catch his breath. “The one for VOCALS.” And it was jazz choir day.

So we stopped rushing and let time stand still for a minute while I avoided any mention of the importance of always listening to your mother.

Life sure slows down around here come January with its cold temps and abandoned Christmas trees lining the curbs, so we decided it was time for one of our always fun seasonal adventures with Dusty and Natalie.  This year’s MLK Day off from school and work meant piling into their car and heading up to beautiful Cold Spring, New York for a day of strolling through the woods, playing with ice at the Hudson River, gazing at the mountains, browsing at the antique shops, dinner at the local pub, and lots of requests from Huck for Dusty’s “dumb jokes and non-rhyming limericks.”

(We’re running out of New York seasons with these two and are relieved they also love Fayetteville.)

For the past year or two I’ve been pretty cranky with this city I’ve loved for so long, often joking that New York and I could use some couples therapy.  And now that we’re on the six month homestretch to finally breaking up but remaining really good friends who reminisce about the good old days, I’m worse than ever with my lack of tolerance for all the city’s flaws. Poor New York can’t do anything right these days!  Recently while trying to get somewhere and having one subway problem after another I said to my little family, “I think New York’s officially broken.  I think that’s what’s happened.”  And Huck looked up at me and said, “New York’s not broken, Mommy.  You are.”  Ouch!  But true.  I’m a little broken and need more fresh air and less people around me all the time.

And though Huck’s insulting wisdom makes him sound above it all, he’s also going through a little something.  Still at that tender age when his mother’s opinions sound fact-like, he’s been known to grumble about NYC too.  The other day I told him I was ready to move to Fayetteville tomorrow and he said, “I’m not.  I’m ready today.”  I asked him why, seeing as how not so long ago he was none too pleased with all this talk of relocation, and his answer was basically a bunch of repeated phrases he’s heard from me about being sick and tired of it all.  I made a quick mental note to keep my darn thoughts to myself from now on.

So in an effort to be a better person with a brighter attitude during these long, never-ending January days, I’ve started a new tradition at the dinner table where we each name something great in our day that is specific to our lives right now in New York.  Troy and I give answers like, “I got to spend time with such and such friend,” or “the sunshine was so beautiful today,” but Huck always has the same old answer.  ”Muscota,” he states.  Because no matter what influence his crabapple mom may have on him, nothing will change the fact that his school is precious and unique and will be missed.

But still.  172 more days!

Here are pictures from back when New York and I were still in love and very committed to each other …

Central Park, New Year’s Eve, 1989

Times Square, February 1992

Times Square, Fall 1998

Rockefeller Center, New Year’s Eve 1999

Times Square, Spring 2005

After we took down our beloved Christmas tree and put away our many decorations this afternoon, we each wrote ourselves a letter to be read in December 2013.  Not able to completely picture our new lives in Fayetteville, we realized we have a lot of questions that we’re excited to answer.  Troy and I wonder things like where we’ll be working and what kind of dog we’ll finally have, but Huck … well, Huck is hoping his future self knows more of the numbers of Pi.

Time will tell …

From swinging at the Park Avenue Armory to ringing in the British New Year with special friends to barely staying awake till midnight to a New Years Day walk in Fort Tryon Park … a happy new year indeed!