bird by bird

Every day on our walk to and from school, the boys and I walk past some bearded dudes selling Christmas trees on Columbus street. These bearded dudes are totally the type that I like to fantasize about fixing my leaking drain and then singing me folk songs by a fire all night long, so as we walk past, I always try to make it clear that I am just the boys' nanny, not their mom. I say things like, "We will have to ask your mom and dad about that when you get to your house" or "My apartment where I live alone without a boyfriend is uptown" or "I'm not your mom, and I have a leaky drain and I love folk music." I'm not sure if the bearded tree-sellers are paying attention, but man, am I persistent. So one day last week we were walking home from school, and the guys started talking to K, JJ, and JT. They had a reindeer that they had carved out of a tree scraps and were trying to get JT (2) to say "Merry Christmas." None of the kids really

The other day K (6) was singing " I'm Sexy and I Know It ," which he must have picked up from Hebrew school because I definitely am not the one who taught it to him, and JJ (4) started singing along too. Then JJ stopped and asked K what "sexy" meant. K kindly explained, "It means that you're really fun and everyone wants to be your friend." I guess he's kind of right. Kind of.

"...a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." -Virginia Woolf

So I'm listening to "The Moth" podcast today (which I usually do on Sundays while I put away clean laundry but I'm ahead of schedule this week, though I'm sure you really don't care.) ANYWAY, "The Moth" is a free podcast that features true stories that are told live, without notes. I'm a big sucker for stories, especially true ones, so I LOVE it and hope to go to an event in the city someday. So I'm listening this morning and Peter Sagal from "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" is on and he's talking about his friend who has a PhD in something that I can't remember.. and he tells about when he got out of college and his friend told him this: "Sometimes I think that the best way to live your life is to choose the experience that will have the most anecdotal value." Sagal goes on to say that this casual comment ended up being what he calls the law of anecdotal value. He says: "Everything I choose to do, I tr

“I write in a very confessional way, because to me it’s so exciting and fun. There’s nothing funnier on earth than our humanness and our monkeyness. There’s nothing more touching, and it’s what I love to come upon when I’m reading; someone who’s gotten really down and dirty, and they’re taking the dross of life and doing alchemy, turning it into magic, tenderness and compassion and hilarity. So I tell my students that if they really love something, pay attention to it. Try to write something that they would love to come upon.”—Anne Lamott

Today K taught me a handshake that ends with a chest pump. He's about 3'8"... so it was... interesting. But I'll take it over being punched in the boob any day. The other day K asked me what it was like to have a vagina. I told him that it meant I couldn't pee standing up. His mom told him that it doesn't hurt as much when we get kicked in the crotch. K thought about it for a minute and then said, "Yeah, and penises are really fun to play with." Then he added, "Unless you play with them too much. Then it's a disaster ." Ew.. JJ has been having some.. digestive issues. His mom explained it to me once, but all I know is that it causes him to shit his pants on a daily basis. It's a BIG problem. So to reduce the amount of time I spend hosing down a poopy four-year-old, I make him sit on the toilet every chance I get and bribe him with tic-tacs and paper monsters. When he "doo-doo's," he sizes up his poop based on the s

It's Santa! I know him!

Yesterday on the way to school with JJ,  we walked past a poster of this movie . JJ stopped dead in his tracks and said, "She looks like you!" I love Adam Sandler, but I do not want to look like him, not even in drag.

“There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter — the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness; natives give it solidity and continuity; but the settlers give it passion. ” ― E.B. White, Here is New York

This is how my Friday morning started. Days that start by waking up at 5:30am and working all day generally end in me going to bed embarrassingly early, but Friday was different. Friday I was going back to college. Instead of rushing home to put sweats on, I rushed home to grab my bags and hop in a rented car with girlfriends and peanut butter M&M's. With KS in the driver seat and AG riding shotgun, I buckled up and we headed out of the city for a 24 hour husker road trip. Though hunger and exhaustion tried to hold me back, adrenaline and top 40 radio persevered and I was in backseat heaven (the G-rated version). We crossed the George Washington Bridge, and I looked back at the city skyline, happy to see it but even happier to be driving away from it, for the night anyway. KS fearlessly drove us out of the city and on our way through New Jersey and into Pennsylvania. We pit stopped for some quick food, one very defunct happy meal toy, and a driver change. I slipped off my bo

Like most Sunday mornings, this morning I woke up and read the Sunday New York Times. Unlike most Sunday mornings, I read the Sports section. 

Halloween in NYC did not disappoint. Though there were no Halloween blow-ups across the street, and I no longer live in a murder house (or do I?), I still had a pretty freaky weekend. He was terrified of his panda costume, but I got him to put these on for a picture. He's going to make such a cute fuzzy-eye-browed old dude.   It snowed the day before Halloween, and New Yorkers didn't know how to handle it. I told them that when I was a kid, we often had to design Halloween costumes to fit over snow suits. Then as their mouths dropped, I took the Halloween candy out of their hands and ate it. Pussies.   The six-year-old wrote this sign and hung it on the wall after we spent the afternoon making paper monsters. He reassured me that the monsters weren't real. I told him that made the sign ironic. He didn't get it.  The Greenwich Village Halloween Parade with KS was a serious sensory overload.  The city is filled with freaks every day, but Halloween gives

So nannying hasn't been going so great. The kids hate me. Whenever I tell someone this they always say, "Impossible. Why do you think the kids hate you?" To which I reply, "They tell me they hate me. Regularly." And it's true; they do. They tell me they hate me when I make them complete ridiculous and obviously mean-spirited requests like putting on underwear and stopping at red lights. I am the nanny-nazi in their eyes, which is especially offensive because they're Jewish. On top of being told that I am hated, the six-year-old told me if he had one wish in the world, it would be that I was never born. This, because I made him get in the bath. The four-year-old told me that I have the biggest butt he has ever seen. This, because I made him go to the bathroom before we went to the playground (and because, well, I do kind of have a large ass). And the two-year-old, who can't really say offensive words yet, hits me because I take away his pacifier. In C

Once I had a Spanish student who studied architecture, and he told me that the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco is constantly being repainted to prevent rust and corrosion. He said that by the time the painters get to one end of the bridge, the need to go back to the other side and start again. They never stop painting. This is how I am beginning to feel about catching up with all of the people that I miss from home. Once I am able to connect with the list of the people that I love and miss most, I realize that so much time has elapsed from when I started, and I need to go back to the list and start over. It's a good problem to have, but it does make me feel a bit like a shitty friend sometimes. If you're feeling neglected, I'm sorry. I'll make it to your part of the bridge soon! And thank you for your support :)

The thing about a NY minute is that it adds up, and before you know it, two and a half men, I mean weeks goes by, and you realize that you haven't blogged about any of the disasters, adventures, or mayhem that you have recently experienced. At least this is what happened to me today. So I'm spending the extra hour that the sun gave me (or actually took away) to hash it all out. Happy Sunday! Photo Preview: Went to a club with the S girls that was the closest thing to Soul Train that I will ever experience. We realized right away that we were the only people there under the age of 35.  Then we realized we were the only people who weren't black. It was. Hilarious.  Cousin CP, aunt PP, and Mama Lightfield came to visit!! They kept up with my fast pace walking through some questionable walk signs, and in return I showed them what I consider to be the best parts of the city in just over 72 hours. We had a blast! My nanny chair where I spend 1-2 hours a day reading a

The good part about making a big pot of chili on a Sunday afternoon: Leftovers for a week. The bad part: Leftovers for a week. Day 5

I am not a teacher anymore. I am a nanny. It's been an adjustment I went from a school bag to a diaper bag, from changing verb tenses to changing diapers, from dismissing class to putting to bed. I went from standing up in front of 15 adult students every day to sitting on the ground with three kids under the age of six. And I'm getting paid more ?! Yes, but my new job is poopy. Very, very poopy. It's not all different though; I'm still reading a lot of stories, correcting vocabulary mistakes, and giving encouragement. Also, I am still laughing. Still laughing a lot.

Followed by why I sorta kinda miss being a teacher:

I'm a nanny now. Actually I prefer the term "governess" because it sounds less like something I used to do when I was 13 to make money to buy scrunchies from Claire's. But it's essentially the same thing. I've had some ups and downs in these last couple of weeks, but my lowest point so far (God help me) was last Wednesday. Everything I did was wrong, and I found myself wanting to flush my M.A. down the toilet because I don't deserve it. I'm an idiot. The whole day I felt like that children's book character Amelia Bedelia who, like me, is kind of an idiot. She misunderstands all of her instructions by her employer which creates ridiculous and often comical situations. The difference is that Amelia almost always wins everyone over at the end of the book by baking a delicious treat, and Amanda, well she doesn't. So here's my story: I take all three boys to school, and drop K off first at 8:00. Then, JJ and baby J and I walk to Lenny'

Go be productive.

Today a guy told me, "Hold me, and don't ever let me go." He was 6 and needed a spotter on his pogo stick. I'll take what I can get.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” ― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Mama L and I rolled into Verm-town around 5, dumped our luggage, picked up my auction aunt (she likes to go to auctions, I didn't buy her at one), and headed to Careys for live music and free popcorn. I ordered a Colorado bulldog, sat back, and soaked it all in. I didn't recognize a single person there (except the one and only Steve Ward), yet just being there I felt like I was surrounded by friends. The band played a Neil Young cover and I thought, "Does it get any better than this?" Then I remembered my Viejo date with the girls, so I said I silent "yup!" and headed to BL's Prentice St. address to pick her up. A funny thing happened as I saw each of my oh-so-missed friends in Mexico Viejo. First it was BL, then JF, MR, and finally GG and MW. The lights dimmed, a spotlight shined on their faces, and a movie star fan blew back their movie star hair, all in slow motion. Or so it seemed to me. I was just so happy to see them all, and so grateful that the