The pools of the Poconos, the playgrounds of Menotomy
We have just returned from our first significant vacation (i.e. more than a weekend) for any purpose other than visiting relatives since Edith was born. We were the guests of Harrison's family for five days in the Poconos before being the guests of good friends from college in the Boston area, where we attended a wedding celebration and revisited many old friends and old haunts of our days in Beantown, where Tom and I first met. Even though she was a little young for it, we couldn't help taking Edith around to see the various houses in which each of us had lived. Upon being told at each one (there were four in all) that either Mommy or Daddy had lived there, she asked expectantly whether the other had lived there. We told her no, that this was before we were married.
"And Edith live there?" she asked at the first house. I told her no, that she hadn't been born yet.
"And Daddy not born yet?" she asked. I said no, Daddy had been alive, but he had lived in a different house and had come to visit me in this house.
"Edith not born yet," she repeated. A pause. "Then Edith come out Mommy's belly!" she announced. Well yes, about five years later. "Then Edith come out Mommy's belly!" became the refrain that ended the visit to each of our apartments.
But there were other Boston sites that neither Tom nor I had known while we lived there to which Edith introduced us. Most specifically, playgrounds. We are now well-steeped in the respective merits of one playground in Somerville and two in Arlington Heights, as well as an indoor children's playspace on the Arlington-Somerville border. It was a reminder that much has changed for us since we last were in Boston. Edith found taxing what seemed to us a relatively modest schedule of trying to visit with one or two good friends a day. Seen through her eyes, it was a matter of waking up in unfamiliar surroundings and climbing in and out of the car multiple times a day to go to unfamiliar houses with unfamiliar people, most of whom she actually has met before but almost none of whom she remembered, with none of the usual markers of routine in place. All things considered, she did remarkably well with it. But the days she liked best were the ones on which we ratcheted down the pace and hung out on the swings and slide for long stretches.
Meanwhile, we have tried to sow the seeds for a second generation of good friendships, re-introducing Edith to our friends' toddlers at a point when she is more likely to remember them, at least for a little while. When we got home to New Jersey, we showed her pictures of her previous meetings with these various little boys, ages 13 to 26 months, as well as with our adult friends, and she was delighted to recognize them in our albums.
For curious relatives, and as a log for myself, the illustrated play-by-play.
Part I. The Poconos
This part of the vacation was perfectly tuned to toddler temperaments. Get up, read some books and play with some toys, go to a playground, go to a swimming pool, nap, repeat. All in the company of her bestest buddy. For their part, the grownups enjoyed a respite from daily responsibility, the lovely scenery, double the number of hands normally available to care for kids, and best of all, the possibility for a late-night social life with interesting friends after the kids had gone to bed. (Incidentally, this vacation had me referring for the first time to "the kids," both in PA and MA. While having one child is something I've come to terms with, referencing "the kids" made me feel markedly older.)
Having overdosed on Trashy Town, Harrison asked Tom to share his own book, which also turned out to be about trashy town. "And then I saw that the pimps and the prostitutes on the corner were just like me," he read aloud. Harrison listened avidly.Edith sampled no fewer than five swimming pools plus the Delaware River while we were in the Poconos. The best option by far, to which we returned multiple times, was a full-sized, resort-like pool full of islands and nooks and crannies....all of it under 3.5 deep and most of it under 2.5 deep. You could walk in gradually from an inclined edge, as at the beach, and there was a fantastic, rubbery slide shaped like a wrecked rowboat that was fun even for the grownups. Edith loved walking all over the pool by herself, and the few times she lost her footing and went under were badges of honor. As she told us later, "Edith go under water. Edith very brave."
Edith and I drove up to Boston together last Thursday, Daddy having headed to Valley Forge for Methodist Annual Conference, to join us by train later in the weekend. The best surprise of the trip was stopping for lunch at a random exit in western Connecticut to find ourselves not on the expected fast-food strip but in a quaint little downtown, cut through by a bubbling river with benches along it. We had parked in front of a toy store, and after eating at the local coffee shop, I let Edith choose one item to help her get through the rest of the trip. The Thomas the Tank Engine train whistle lasted a good half hour. Then things got tougher, and only a surreal game of make-up-nonsense-names-for-people-we-know, unwritten rules by Edith, got us through to Arlington Heights, where good friend Rebecca was sitting waiting for us on the front stoop. Edith remembered her clearly and was at home with her within minutes, clamoring for her attention to books and toys, and asking her help in winding up a little mechanical bug on the bookshelf that had Edith intrigued.
While Rebecca was at band practice, Edith and I headed over to Brighton to see my college roommate, Lina, and her 16-month-old son, Elan. It took over an hour to go the eight miles during rush hour, and I remembered what I'd disliked about driving in Boston. Elan, on the other hand, was a charmer. We'd last seen him in schrunchy newborn stage and hadn't seen any pictures since, so it was with eager anticipation that I rang the doorbell, wondering what he would look like now. Absolutely adorable. While Lina whipped up supper for the two of us, Edith and Elan undertook a blueberry-eating competition. Elan kept it up long after he seemed satiated, determined not to let the big girl get the better of him. Between them they ate a pound of berries!
III. Downtown Boston
On Friday we set out with Rebecca, plus friends Jenn and 13-month-old Toby, for an adventure downtown. I think my promise that we were going to ride on a train didn't quite live up to Edith's expectations, once she realized that you couldn't see anything out the windows of this train. She was eager to get off after several stops, reminding me of my own dislike of the subway as a kid. But she did enjoy the part where the train emerges from underground and crosses the Charles River, skyline ahead and sailboats below.
The Boston Children's Museum, where both Tom and I had temped once upon a time, was a big hit. We barely scratched the surface of its many offerings, boosted by a recent renovation (the best part of which, for my money, was the replacement of McDonald's by AuBonPain as the in-museum restaurant).
Playing with trains in the 0-3yo room
Toby got into the thick of things, a hands-on stationmaster
Trained as a percussionst by his daddy from an early age, Toby knew just what to do during music hour
Duckzilla attacks a train trestle over the river
Both Edith and Toby conked out after lunch; Jenn took Toby on home, but I figured that the likelihood of Edith's staying asleep all the way from downtown through a subway ride, a transfer to the carseat, a car ride, and a transfer into the crib back in Arlington Heights was slim, so Rebecca and I decided to continue to spend time downtown, walking the Esplanade while Edith dozed in the stroller. She woke up to find herself facing a river full of boats with a breeze blowing through her hair. We walked back along the river, but the biggest delight for her were several dogs swimming in the sheltered pools on the side. For our part Rebecca and I were pleased to spot Mr. and Mrs. Mallard, with four of their ducklings swimming along behind. We then walked over to the Public Gardens, so Edith could see the bronze statues of these famous characters. She was taken with them immediately and had to test ride each one. Mama was highly gratified when a passerby exclaimed to the little rider, "I don't even know you and I might take pictures of you, you're so cute!"
Riding Ouack...
...and Mrs. MallardIV. Somerville
On Saturday we awoke to drums outside and discovered Arlington's 200th birthday celebration parade was going to be passing by momentarily. So we threw on clothes and went out for the fun.
Once the bands and horses and fire engines had passed, we did some errands in Harvard Square, a place Edith seemed to enjoy, before heading to my college friends' Rachel and Eli's house for lunch. Lina, Elan, and Dan met us there, too, and we got to visit with one of Bismarck's old friends, Rachel and Eli's lovely black lab, Trurl.
What transpired was an utterly leisurely afternoon, first at the house, then down the street at the local playground, where we all hung out for over three hours. Once again, the ratio of adults to kids made for a wonderfully relaxing time for the parents. We picked up some local Salvadoran food on the way back and had dinner in the backyard, by which point the kids were well wiped out. Good night of sleep #2. Around midnight, meanwhile, I picked up Tom from the train, and Daddy was there when Edith woke up in the morning.
It might be days if I wait to finish this blog before posting, so I'll post installment one now. Stay tuned.
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