Tag: Kids

  • Odd Start to Summer for the Kid

    New York City is just weird compared to the rest of the country, so let’s just start right there. I say this because around here, kids are off from school for July and August. The month of July is when all the camps happen, both sleep-away and day camps. August is the vacation month, or at least that’s when most people take their vacations, because August is honestly the worst month to be in NYC; it’s hot, humid, and there is this tar/urine/wet-garbage smell that is everywhere. Last Summer, in the month of July, the kid was in a day camp for the first two weeks in July, then we spent a couple of days with friends in Vermont. Following that, the kid took the last week in July to visit a friend in Virginia. It was only when we got to August that we started running around the parks and playgrounds again, and the kid made some friends that she ended up seeing most days, so she had someone to play with. We left on vacation right after school ended, and now that we are back in the City, the kid is running into the problem that there aren’t any kids her age to play with at the playground. There are little kids under six years old, but very few kids over that age. And today, it finally clicked in why that is; all the older kids are at camps. And it is really hot out, too. It’s an odd start to Summer in the City for the kid. Added on top of that is the inevitable let down of coming home from after a vacation. Home just seems very dull after a week of staying up late, eating ice cream, and going to amusement parks. She’s a little bored, and I am okay with her learning how to deal with boredom. Yet, I also had hoped that there would be a few kids she could run around with.

  • The Selfish Act of Parenting

    I’ve had a rough couple of years. From my mother’s death, moves, career changes, and a pandemic, it’s been a lot. On the whole, I’m good, but like everyone of late, I do have rough days, where I do despair and wonder, what am I doing with my life?

    One of the things I tell myself, or remind myself is more accurate, is a question I was asked a while ago from a good friend; Why can’t your purpose be to become the best father that you can be? Let that guide you, and everything else will fall in line to that.

    Like I said, I have to remind myself of that. And I can fully admit that a mess up often as a father. I do my best, I’m not perfect, but I hope that raising a daughter who knows she loved and supported in what she does will go a long way in helping her become a strong and independent woman.

    I thought about that this morning as I was making breakfast for the kid, and we talked about what we would do on this first day of Summer vacation. And then I thought about the selfless act of being a parent… But is it selfless?

    Follow me on this; if by choosing to be the best father I can be is to give myself a purpose, then isn’t the quality parenting that my daughter receives just a positive side effect of a selfish act? I’m not choosing to be a good parent strictly to be a good parent, but if by choosing to be a good father to my kid makes me feel like a good person, than aren’t I putting myself first?

    I can admit that these thoughts are a “Chicken or the Egg” quandary. Does it really matter who gets put first if the end result is that the child receives quality parenting?

    Do I have too much time on my hands, and thus think about details that have no effect on the whole?

    That’s all possible.

    (Oh, and if you like what you read, please take a second to like, share, or leave a comment.)

  • My Daughter Called Me Out

    On Saturday night, the kid came out of her room, and told me that she wanted to make a movie. RIGHT NOW! I thought about it for a second, and said yes. Over the course of an hour, she explained to me the story she wanted to tell, I came up with the shot, and we filmed it. The story was of a detective who is hired to find out what happened to the mummy in the museum. The mummy comes to life and the detective sets a trap which captures the monster.

    It was fun, and we are still editing the thing together. Hopefully we will get it completed for festival season.

    I was older than my kid when I started trying to make home movies. I think I was fourteen, and my dad was willing to help out. Though he didn’t want to be on camera unless he really had to, but he was willing to do all the other work. When the kid came out and told me that we had to make a movie, my first thought was of my dad, and how this was my moment to step up, just like he did.

    When I was tucking the kid in that night, I told her how much fun I had with her, and also let her know that her grandfather helped me make movies when I was a kid, too.

    Then the kid said to me, “I didn’t think you would say yes. You say no to things like this.”

    And my heart broke.

    I thought I was the dad who said yes to creative things the kid wants to do. But clearly, I’m the dad that says no. I guess I should feel honored that I was even asked. Either way, it was a huge gut punch. And it happened the day before Father’s Day.

    Unggg…

    By the way, I totally believe her, because when she said it, in my head, I was like yup, I do say no too often. And for the life of me, I’m not sure how I got here.

    (Say! If you enjoyed this post, please take a moment to like, share, or comment on it. These interactions determines my worth as a human.)

  • ODDS and ENDS: Moving, Weather, Tottenham, and Crappy Time Lords

    (Half days are killers)

    Last night, we brought up the idea of moving apartments to the kid. She did not like the idea, and I understand why. Her objection was that she didn’t want to leave her friends, and I knew that was coming. Having gone through the pandemic and not being able to see anyone, she now is living a rather normal childhood; school, parks, friends. (She’s just missing playdates, but I know that is coming.) For a seven-year-old, she’s living the dream. We mentioned to her that moving to a different neighborhood in the City would mean that we would have a bigger apartment to live in, and though she would be in a different school, we were still in the City and can come back and visit her friends. That didn’t sell her. To her, our little corner of Harlem is the best place in the world.

    I don’t like getting older sometimes. Lately, I keep thinking and talking about the weather, which clearly is a sign that I am getting older. Such as, it was 40 degrees this morning, and it’s the end of April. As we are about to hit May, it should be warmer. I say this because the month of May is one of the reasons I still live in New York City. It’s supposed to be not too hot and not too cold. It’s a Baby Bear month! I want to put on a lite coat and sunglasses and take a walk. It’s the little things in life that make it worth living, and I need my little things, damn it!

    Tottenham better beat Leicester, and West Ham needs to beat Arsenal. That’s my weekend.

    What if we are living in the “fixed” timeline? What if things got so bad that people in the future went back in time and “fixed” whatever made things so bad, and this is the “better” version of things?

  • Summer Vacation

    I have started planning for Summer. Vacations, and interactions, and all that other stuff.

    When I was a kid, Summer just meant sleeping in and watching tv all day. I grew up in Texas, and the Summers last from May to October. I’m not kidding when I say that. It can be very normal for the average high in October to be in the 80’s. My memory is that when Halloween rolled around, that was about the point when it started to feel Fall-like, which means that it got up to the 70’s in the day.

    With it being so hot, we stayed inside often, but that’s not to say that we didn’t go outside and sweat our asses off. The kid who had the pool in the neighborhood became everyone’s best friend June through August. But, being inside, I remember hearing the hum of the central air clicking on, and that low rumbling sound, like white noise, creating an audio-scape that would lull me off into a nap, as there was nothing better to do.

    The other thing I remember about Summers growing up, was that the season created odd friendships in the neighborhood. My close friends always had some place to be; a vacation, or visiting family out of state, or for the kids of divorce, spending the whole summer with their other parent. Those of us left in the subdivision became friends out of necessity. I remember hanging out the jock kids, or bullies, or even girls, the people who I would normally not mix with became rapt conspirators in Summer. But inevitably, when the school year started up again, we’d all go back to our groups, and resume the cliques we existed in.

    With my kid, and planning trips and whatnot, I wonder how she will come to view the Summer of her youth? Here in NYC, it is rather short, of only two months, making a total of ten weeks. If what I have planned happens, we will be out of the City for four weeks, leaving six weeks, which I feel the need to fill with some sort of activity. It’s like, I cannot let the kid be bored. Though when I think back on it, boredom was what Summer vacation from school was.