8.11.2020

catskills getaway...

it's not exactly the beach escape we're desperately craving, or the kid-free breath of fresh air, or anything my longing, exhausted heart is needing after months of needing a break, but it was definitely enough. enough for just a minute of fresh air. breathing outdoors without a mask. driving on an open road. feeling normal-ish (sort of) for less than 24 hours.

after going to a getaway cabin in february, our kids have been begging to go back to "eleanor" and glamp for months. we promised them a summertime trip to compare to our winter break, so here we are. august in the catskills.

life is heavy. it's hard. it's redundant, and a lot of the time, t's also blindsidingly new in unpleasant ways. just when it seems 2020 can't get more overwhelming, it does. i did get about 11 cumulative minutes to continue reading 'untamed' while we were glamping, which was really wonderful (a friend sent it to me knowing i'm not a reader, but assured me it was everything i needed in my life right now, and she was absolutely right). 

our february trip here & here.

i loved our getaway getaway, and i love these 4.

6.30.2020

15 years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

15 years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
it's a lot of exclamation points, for a lot of years. 

love isn’t what i thought it was when we got married 15 years ago. our life doesn’t look like i would’ve guessed on our wedding day 15 years ago. last night we walked at dusk in the pouring rain through the west village, our 3 kids sprinting in front of us temporarily laughing instead of fighting, and we had 7 whole seconds to hold hands and laugh and look at just how far we’ve come. it’s not where we planned to be, and i know you would’ve rather been on the couch scrolling tiktok, but instead, you came with me because you knew it’s what i really wanted to do. it’s been A RIDE, mikal petersen- super high highs, and lonely lows that have nearly taken us out, but it’s all been better than i would have imagined anyway. i’m so proud of where we are. thank you for growing up and making a life with me. happy 15th anniversary!
“I don't know who we'll become
I can't promise it's not written in the stars
But I believe that when it's done
We're gonna see that it was better
That we grew up together
“Tell me you don't wanna leave
'Cause if change is what you need
You can change right next to me
When you're high, I'll take the lows
You can ebb and I can flow
We'll take it slow
And grow as we go”
(thank you, ben platt)

6.26.2020

last day of 4th & 1st!

after 10 months, 3.5 of which were spent learning from home, these 2 are finished with 4th & 1st grade! 

their first day seems long ago based on jude's hair, and the overalls that no longer fit elle. 

they have shown patience and resiliency and adaptability like i never imagined. 

i learned that elle can be entirely self-sufficient, and jude's brain is much more of a math-brain than a writing-brain-- the opposite of me, and likely explains in a small way why he and i have struggles communicating at times:) 

it was confirmed (not that i was considering) that i'm NOT meant to be a teacher, and trying to educate 2/3 kids with a husband working next to us, all in 1 room is less than ideal. i've come to appreciate headphones and zoom calls and just how much really is possible. 

i won't miss 2 computers on my kitchen table 5 days a week, or screaming matches with kids, but i will miss seeing them in pj's all day, or hearing them on calls with their teachers and friends, and absolutely no need for a schedule. i have no idea what fall will bring yet- i assume more of this- but for now, i'm impressed and totally pleased with what these 2 accomplished this crazy school year.

6.19.2020

our new york city, before and after.

last night we went on a walk to see the rainbow lights at lincoln center. 
all of lincoln center is closed and blocked off with the same metal barriers we see all over the city these days, but the buildings, fountain, and columns are lit up for pride month. it was so, so beautiful.
the weather was in the low 70's, but with 87% humidity. we walked home, hot and sticky, and i observed all of the upper west side different than i have before. june 18th. a beautiful, "typical" thursday night. normally, bustling. i haven't walked these streets at night since the start of the year- january maybe? back when it was cold and i walked as fast as i could just to get back inside. now, the streets are dark. ambient light from the closed (and sometimes-still-boarded-up) stores, salons, and offices showed dirty floors, stockless shelves- aside from some easter decor and signage- and tipped over chairs. a few restaurants are open for take-out, with an even more occasional straggler table w/ chairs on the sidewalk-- socially distanced-- even though anyone dining now is technically breaking rules and the restaurants face fines, many don't care. those who are caught are threatened with fines and the loss of their liquor license, but for many it's worth the risk. bars are the only signs of life, with window panels removed so you can order a drink to-go. the stretches without bars are eerily quiet. high rises that are usually speckled with lights now show mostly-dark apartments. those who stayed are clearly much fewer than those who fled.

i thought about the new york city we moved to. the new york city most people imagine. 
this isn't it. 
mike and i walk and talk often about that life- the before- the one that seems like a dream. there are no tourists now. "the rich fled." it's just the "normal people" left here. the days when people came to buy counterfeit bags in chinatown, or to see broadway shows, or take pictures to post on instagram of the a packed times square, or to see the statue of liberty, or ride a carriage around central park (not supportive of that, but i get the allure)...... all those things don't exist right now. most days, the loss and change breaks my heart, but on other days i feel so much love and pride for what's beneath all of those things. the under-workings of a city built on people. the creativity of the quilt shop owner around the corner, where she sits outside to sell pillowcases because she's not allowed to have customers inside. the mta workers who drive the other essential workers around in underground silver worms, or buses above the ground as they try and dodge people walking or riding bikes and scooters in the streets. the doormen who wear masks, but you can see in their eyes when they smile to you as you pass. 

i worry about what will be left. what businesses can survive. i worry that the people who left won't know what the city went through, and just envision her before, and i wonder when we'll be in the after.
*film from some of those cold january days that feel so long ago now.
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