Marnie Piazza

Packing Perils

I have been packing for our Fire Island family vacation for the past two weeks.  The boys and I are lucky enough to be spending a month at our rental beach house, and my husband will be there for a week and weekends.  The packing is a labor of love and well worth the effort, but I really need to stop as signs of insanity have set in.

Today I screamed at my husband for handing me a bag of coffee, i-pod speakers, and his camera to pack.  I have been asking him if there is anything else he needs packed for at least a week.  He has said no repeatedly.  So the coffee which needs to be put in a "might spill" section of the luggage, the bulky and exceedingly solid speakers, and the expensive and fragile camera, each of which cannot be crammed into random corners of duffel bags or canvas totes, put me over the edge.  That and the fact that he occasionally wanders past the growing pile in our bedroom and makes comments like "That's a lot of bags.  What's in there?"

Then there's the problem that I've packed things we still need.  Two days ago my older son earnestly asked if I could unpack one pair of socks for him to wear.  Today my youngest son came to me crying because his sneakers were missing.  Of course I knew just where they were:  shoved between a box of Ritz crackers and three baseball mitts near the top of the giant backpack my husband once used on a hiking trip to Scotland.

I think the pile of bags is as big as it's going to get.  It doesn't have much more time to expand, since we are finally leaving tomorrow.  It isn't a moment too soon.   

End of the School Year Blues

As much as the boys and I have been looking forward to summer vacation, we have mixed feelings about the close of the school year.

For me, it's the reminder that another year is passing, my children are getting older and more independent, and the cuddles and joys of having very young children is that much closer to ending.  Though I know they have to grow up, it's bittersweet and tends to make me weepy at certain transition times, such as this one.

For them, it's the unsettled feeling that comes from the end of a year with beloved and nurturing teachers (we have been lucky in this,) the end of daily time with the children in their classes, and for my older son, the end of his soccer season.   They have become so used to the structure of their daily lives that these sudden days off, with no end in sight, seem to make them slightly hyper, moody, and kind of annoying to be around.  The switch to a relaxed pace, with time for free play and spontaneous plans, isn't as easy an adjustment as it sounds.

I know we will settle into summer soon though.  We already had a lovely day of pool hopping between two good friends' homes.  And today we're seeing a matinee.  And then we are off to the beach for a vast expanse of fun with no schedule in site.  I get to be a fun mom at the beach, since I am happy to frolic in the cold ocean waves, get sandy, go barefoot, touch stinky seaweed and sea creatures, and do whatever the boys want as long as the surf is in sight. 

So I'll purge the papers, plans and paraphernalia of the school year for now, and wait for the relaxation to begin.  I'll try to make the most of this summer with my slightly less young boys, while at least the little one is still happy to unabashedly sing songs about how much he loves me while he wraps himself up in my arms.  And we'll all go take a dip in the Atlantic, watch the sunset over the bay, and jump off the lifeguard stand soon.  Actually, I think I may be over the end of the school year blues already. 

 

What I Would Have Said

I recently attended a memorial service for my old boss, Rich, a man who meant a lot to me.  He was my boss for several years, and he was the boss, mentor and friend who wished me well into my new life as a stay-at-home mom.   I joined his company as a young single city dweller dating and dancing into the wee hours.  I left as a married mother of an infant with a house in the suburbs.  He was there for the biggest adult transition in my life so far.

When I found out about his death, in addition to grief, I had regrets.  I missed numerous opportunities to stop by the office and say hi over the years.  We kept in touch by phone and email, but it was sporadic and I certainly could have made more of an effort to be a consistent part of his life.  I always assumed there’d be time to finally get together, to show off my kids, to ask him to look at this site, and then suddenly there wasn’t.

His service was a moving celebration of his life.  People were invited to speak about what Rich meant to them, and their words were as sincere and as unique as Rich was.  He was the most truly spiritual person I’ve ever known, and his relationships showed how seriously he took his calling to be kind to people.

As friends and family walked to the front of the church to say a few words about him, I considered going myself.  But I’ve never gotten over a primal fear of public speaking, and I didn’t manage to do it.  And part of me didn’t feel entirely worthy, since we hadn’t spoken for a few months and I felt I’d already missed out on my chance to say goodbye.

But there were some memories and thoughts I would have liked to share about his generosity of spirit.  He supported me well beyond the realm of work life, listening to my love life problems, apartment woes, and anything else.  He was thrilled with a pastel I drew for him of his and his wife’s beloved Yorkshire terrier, Mischief.  I’m not even sure it was any good – it was probably fine, but it was on cheap paper with cheap pastels and put in a cheap frame by me.  Yet it is probably the most worthwhile piece I’ve ever done. 

He danced with his wife at my wedding and seemed to truly enjoy himself.  He held my cranky baby once and seemed to feel privileged.  He truly loved his job and his company when most people seemed to always be looking for something bigger and better.  Most of all, he seemed to believe that I was talented and brilliant, and tried his best to get me to believe that too.  He did that with everyone he cared about, found the positive and never looked back.

When I left his firm, Rich sent me a compass with a note that I wish I could find.  It said that I should look at the compass and consider it a moral compass to keep me on the right track in life.  My kids got hold of the compass a long time ago.  They have it in their special tool box that they use for hunting insects and finding other treasures, but I think I am able to keep Rich’s sentiment in mind without its physical presence.  I hope I will. 

The Cat's Out of the Bag

My nearly six year old son has a summer birthday.  What this has meant, beyond a very uncomfortable July for me while pregnant, is that he never had a 'real' birthday party.  We are always on vacation at Fire Island in July.  The community where we rent our house is a laid-back, quiet and small place where the kids pretty much run free and barefoot between the bay, the beach and their house.  There's not a lot of hoopla about anything, which is the whole point of the place and integral to why we love it.

So, for Jacob's birthday each July, we invite over whatever sandy kids happen to be on the stretch of beach near our house at the time.  We have pizza in our screened-in porch.  After scavenging a few candles from the drawers of our rental house, we eat a semi-crushed and slightly melted cake that my mom brings over on the ferry from the mainland.  Jacob gets a few little gifts from the one general store in town.  Then we all go back to the beach to play, chasing sea gulls and jumping off the lifeguard stand.  I wish my birthday could be spent this way.  Actually, I wish my every day could be spent this way.

Well, now that he is in kindergarten, all the kids talk about their birthday parties, all the time.  And if there are any conflicts between the kids, apparently the big comeback is "You're not invited to my birthday party."  And if the kids want to pledge their undying friendship, "You're invited to my birthday party."  It doesn't matter when their birthday actually is; this went on all year long.

So I sold out on the mellow birthday party dream.  We had a party for him a month before the actual date so that he could invite his classmates and have the big party that his brother, with his January birthday, has been getting for years.  We had it at a location with lots of hoopla, including a dinosaur dig, games, the works.  And a giant pile of presents from 20 plus kids.  Jacob loved it.  And the truth is, I thought it was pretty cute too.

I don't think there's any going back now.  Maybe we can tone it down a little, not invite the whole class, pick a slightly more modest location, but the cat is definitely out of the bag on this one. 

But he's still going to have a sandy little party in July.  And I bet someday he'll decide that the one with the sunset over the waves beats the one with the party bags and crowds any day.

Worthy of Nostalgia

A restaurant that I haven’t been to for about ten years is closing and I find it sad.  It’s a place called Florent, in the meatpacking district of Manhattan.  I used to go there with friends back when there were actual dead cows hanging and dripping blood onto the cobblestone sidewalks.  I have a vivid memory (slightly dreamlike, I hope it is real) of trying to get past the cows without getting blood on my shoes, probably at about 4:00 am.  Luckily this was pre-Sex in the City, so the shoes were probably Doc Martins and definitely not Manolos.

To sum up what Florent was like, I’d have to say it was a glamorous dive.  The space was diner-like, the food wasn’t expensive, but the feeling and crowd were dynamic.  It was the perfect place to end a night out at bars and clubs, to rehash the evening and make it last a little longer.  And part of its draw was that it was off the beaten path in the somewhat seedy and desolate meatpacking district, making for that unbeatable in-the-know feeling.

It’s probably amazing that Florent lasted this long into the meatpacking districts’ metamorphosis into a playground for the privileged, with expensive bars, restaurants, and boutiques.  And I’m not saying that from an anti-gentrification high horse – I’ve enjoyed my meals and drinks at Spice Market and a few other glitzy places in recent years.  I just wish that Florent could have stayed too.

It’s different from the closing of CBGBs, which I found sad in a more theoretical way.  After all, I was too young to have seen Blondie or the Ramones there.  I saw a friend’s band play at about 6:00 pm on a weekday and must have stopped in for some random acts on crowded nights.  But by the time I was roaming around the city, it was already a bit of a museum.  The new music was playing elsewhere, like the Knitting Factory and Mercury Lounge.

But the closing of Florent, I get.  It has the feel of the end of an era.  And my blurred memories of the place, and I’m not sure if they are blurred from age, the passing of time, or the amount I was drinking back then, are some good ones. 

There’s a quote from the owner in a recent New York magazine article about its closing that about sums it up for me: “New York is the city of changes.  People forget that is what they love about it.  They get old…They get nostalgic.”

So in the name of change, I cede the meatpacking district to my 20-something cousins, who are having a party there at Ono at the Hotel Gansevoort, with a private cabana and bottle service.  I can't picture a cabana in a New York bar and I’m too old to have experienced bottle service, but I’m sure it will all be worthy of nostalgia someday.

Cosmo, Anyone?

Sometimes my moods can seem shallow.  Last Saturday night I got upset because I was not going to see the Sex in the City movie on opening weekend.  I had known I wanted to see it at some point but hadn’t thought much more about it.  Suddenly, on Saturday night, I felt like I had missed out on a major girlfriend bonding event.  It became clear to me that everyone with a friend to their name was out drinking cosmos and enjoying the perfect chick flick, while I was home with kids who were getting overtired and a husband who was going to be sound asleep on the couch at 9:00 pm.  Not to devalue the kids and the husband, but what happened to fun Saturday nights? 

When I shared my angst with my husband, he was fully supportive of me trying to find a friend to head out with.  But when I checked the movie listings, I saw that the local theaters were sold out, more proof that I was Cinderella missing the ball.  And I didn’t want to go to the ball badly enough to schlep into the city or make too much effort in the end.

The truth is, girl time doesn’t come as naturally as it used to.  It’s not a constant given.  It’s hard to make it a priority.  The kids come first, and then everything else is in one big pile to muddle through.  Sometimes it’s easiest to be passive and let relationships with friends slide.  But the problem is, if you do that, those friends might not be there when you are ready to make time for them again.  It starts to seem strange or presumptuous to pick up the phone out of the blue and say meet me for cocktails or coffee.  I had a friend do that recently, and I was thrilled, but unfortunately it ended up being a missed connection.  I was out at soccer practice with my kids, and by the time I got home to hear her phone message and call back, I only got her voice mail.  I hope we reconnect soon, but between all the demands on our time, we may not. 

But it's important to remember that girl time lightens us, lets us laugh about nothing or something that we wish were nothing, lets us obsess outloud and shamelessly, lets us forget the chores and the tension in our family relationships and all the things that aren’t perfect.  It helps us do better and feel better in all the other parts of our life.   

The next day, I wasn’t thinking about my lack of opening weekend Sex in the City plans anymore.  It was nice weather, the kids weren’t being annoying, my husband was in a pretty good mood, and things were ok.  We all went to see my older son’s soccer game and life was status quo.  Then a girlfriend came to sit with me on the sideline, and asked me if I wanted to go see the Sex in the City movie sometime this week.  Another mutual friend wanted to go too. 

Maybe there’s a cosmo and some girl time in my future after all, if I can just find a babysitter.