Nails R' Us

Yesterday Ben and I walked up to 14th street to buy some baseball cards. It was a beautiful and unusually warm March afternoon. As we walked down Avenue A, I noted the grand opening of yet another nail salon.

How many nail salons can this neighborhood support? There must be one on every block. As a matter of fact, I live next store to one. At that particular nail salon, the nail drying machines are lined up along a bar counter at the front window. Women sit on stools and stare out at the pedestrians walking by. I can't tell you how disturbing this image is. Everyday I walk by this window and look over at the row of women - each of them daydreaming with a remote and forlorn look in their eyes. I've never seen them actually speak to each other - which I find odd. Where is Diane Arbus when you need her?!

I wish they would take their manicure money and

1. buy a book
2. buy a cd of great music
3. buy a movie ticket
4. buy a museum ticket
5. make any of the above purchases and give it to someone who can't afford them

Perhaps my reaction to nail painting is over the top. It just seems like yet another huge waste of time and money targeting women.

Beautiful Boy

About a month ago, a doctor suggested I send Ben to see a specialist about a blemish on his mid-back that seemed to be hard with the hint of something larger under it. We went to the specialist who then directed us to a surgeon. The surgeon confirmed that Ben either had a cyst or a tumor and that it needed to be removed and tested.

Until this point, Ben had never been to a hospital or emergency room other than the day he was born. He has never taken prescription drugs. He's almost nine. It never occurred to me how lucky we were.

I was with Ben during the surgical procedure - - we squeezed hands as the surgeon inserted a huge needle about three or four inches into his back (at an angle). The pain was intense followed by the anesthetic that burned until it numbed the area. I clenched his hand and stared into his eyes the whole time. He didn't cry or scream - - he sucked it up just like I have in those situations and braved it out. I saw a side of him I'd never known before. Perhaps it was new to him too. It was a trait we both share. I'm not sure what I think about that.

The biopsy report finally came through on Friday afternoon indicating no malignancy.
There are no words to describe the relief and thankfulness my husband and I feel right now. I am very aware that not all parents receive such news (as I witnessed during my first visit to the surgeon).

Of course Ben has no idea of what this week was all about. He's just indignant that the stitches across his back are preventing him from engaging in gym, recess kickball and BASEBALL. In his mind, this whole situation is an exercise in adult ineptitude. "Of course nothing is wrong with me Mommy! I could have told you without getting my back split open for crying out loud!"

Saturday in the Park

Isn't this a cool photo? It was taken by Michael - you can see his work on One Foot in Front of the Other (check out my link list). His photos of the East Village are phenomenal! This shot is one of the many skateboarders who rule the blacktop area of Tompkins Square Park on weekend afternoons.

I spent three hours in the park yesterday quite unexpectedly. Ben's playdate managed to segue from one friend to a series of new ones. At one point an Egyptian dad was leading a pack of 7 and 8 year olds in a pick up game of soccer. It was a pleasure to watch someone so nimble and graceful with the ball.

I got to spend time with other moms who have lived here for years and who, like me, were living in very tight living quarters. It just felt so nice to be around friendly neighborhood moms. It's been a while since that's happened.

Ben couldn't have had a nicer day. And there was nowhere else I rather be. It felt good - like it was still home.

Erin Go Blaaaaahhhh.

I'm sitting here watching Visions of Ireland on WLIW Public TV. Just me and thousands of 80 year old Irish American's in the greater metro area.

Today is day four of the worst tummy virus I've had in ages. It's left me weak, depressed and extremely cranky.

Work is non stop and home life has its own worries lately.

I just want to cry.

Sleep is the New Sex

Sadly - this fact is true for many parents of children under 12.

A few weeks ago the NYTimes had an article on the "family bed" syndrome. It was such a relief for me to learn that Brian and I are not the only parents on the planet dealing with musical beds at night.

Sometimes I put Ben to bed after a long day at work. We cuddle together, I sing him a song and he falls asleep...um...we fall asleep. Then at about 2am, I open my eyes and focus in on a fleet of WWI model airplanes. I drag myself into my bedroom where my husband (and dog) are fast asleep on our bed.

OUR BED....what does that even mean anymore!!! One day, Ben laughingly corrected me as he climbed beneath the covers and said "Mommy, it isn't YOUR bed, it's the FAMILY bed!"

The mere thought of going to sleep at 10:30 and experiencing eight solid hours of sleep ....well, it's just beyond the Holy Grail.

Nobody's Perfect

Sometimes I like to look things up in Wikipedia. Don't ask why. You can't trust it as a source.

But there's something about it, particularly the tone of the language and all of the ridiculous links that make me feel like I'm posing the question to the person next to me - - not really looking it up.

Sometimes I laugh at the editorial undertones - especially what is omitted - love that part the best. There's something about half-knowledge that seems very American to me. I'm sure Benjamin Franklin would have agreed.

Baseball, apple pie and Wikipedia.

Tabla for Two

Brian and I celebrated our seventeenth anniversary (gulp) on Saturday, February 10th. It turned out to be one of the best ever. We made reservations earlier in the week for Tabla - a Danny Meyer's restaurant overlooking Madison Park (24th and Madison).

The ambiance was warm and inviting. The food was fabulous. Each dish I had was superb (try the tabla crab cake then move on to the tapioca crusted shrimp and scallops with braised fennel in a coconut curry - mama mia!). We had a split of champagne to start off the meal. Is there anything nicer to drink than champagne? Not for me folks! Dessert was great - I had a cranberry concoction with a little scoop of rosemary sorbet - and naturally Happy Anniversary was beautifully written across the top of the plate.

We asked for the check and the waitperson replied "M__ would like to wish you both a very happy anniversary with his compliments". My brother had called ahead and paid for the whole thing! He didn't want me to know beforehand because he knew I'd end up ordering a glass of water and piece of toast - if I knew he was paying.

That was pretty darn nice. And of course I immediately burst into tears of appreciation - leaving my waiterperson a bit speechless and Brian rolling his eyes at my corny bad-ass self.

We then returned home and got very silly for the rest of the evening...as my perpetually pregnant Italian Catholic mother would say.

Freak of Nature

After school yesterday, I took Ben to Tompkins Square Park so he could play with his friend before starting his homework.

It was Arctic out. My friend Claude and I did all we could to keep our circulation going while our sons frolicked about the playground as if the first day of spring had arrived.

Now I realize they were in constant motion so their bodies were heating up a bit but what I noticed more is that they were laughing and totally delighted to be playing with each other. Joy, not temperature, was the dominating factor here.

It's been a while since I've been so lost in a happy time that I didn't realize that I was freezing to death. That's life at it's best.

Ennio Morricone

Last night my husband and sister went to see Ennio Morricone, the extraordinary Italian soundtrack composer, perform at Radio City Music Hall. Despite a career that spands over 40 years, last night was Morricone's debut performance in the United States.

How cool for them to be seeing this musical legend during such an historical event!

Ennio Morricone has a singular gift for combining contemporary and classical musical forms into truly unforgettable soundtracks. Even in the spaghetti westerns he worked on, you can hear fine threads of Italian influence in the music.

I LOVE the song Providenza (which I'm sure I'm spelling wrong!). And if you've ever had the pleasure of seeing The Mission (Jeremy Irons/Robert DeNiro), Once Upon a Time in American or Cinema Paradiso (which I also LOVED) and found yourself bursting into tears like I did periodically through each film - - well you can thank Ennio Morricone for ripping your heart out of your chest - kissing it - and returning it safely back where it belongs.

My husband is a musician who writes and performs music beautifully. I'm so happy he had a chance to fuel his soul last night. My sister Elizabeth - - who loves all things Italian and studies the language and culture -- was super nice to invite him as her guest.

Temperature v. The Real Feel

Yesterday I rushed to pick up my son from his after school art class. It was dusk and the wind was wickedly cold. The chill didn't bother me because with ear muffs on, I can face down just about any winter weather.

I stood at the corner of 1st Avenue waiting for the light to change. The weirdest thought entered my mind. I get more comfort from my earmuffs than I ever have from my mother. An odd comparison but I'm not sure how wrong it is.

Maybe I should get her some nice earmuffs.

Thanks...but no thanks

The other day I was thinking about a screening device that I used during my single years. We all have certain tests that people need to pass to move up the relationship ladder and certainly this test was one of them...at least for me. Oddly enough, it has to do with the British Invasion.

This is my British rock hierarchy:

1. The Beatles
2. The Kinks/The Who
3. The Rolling Stones

If someone liked the Rolling Stones more than the Beatles, it was clear that the relationship would not be going much further in my book - of course I never actually articulated that thought to my date- but it was a clear undisputed fact and a deal breaker.

I could never really have meaningful intimacy with someone who didn't understand the nuances that make the music of The Who and The Kinks so great. If I had to explain I was merely wasting time that could be spent with someone else.

My husband passed that test with flying colors on our second date, among many other quizes, exams and experiments!

Russian Turkish Baths

I am super cranky and depressed lately. Too much work and too much to worry about. They are raising tuition at my son's school and if I don't get financial aid this year - well - this will have to be the last year. $26,000 is getting a bit surreal in my book. I've spent over $115,000 in post tax dollars in the last five years. Jesus, think of all the subtle cosmetic surgery I could have had by now!

As it is, I can barely afford to spend $25 at the Russian and Turkish Baths around the corner from my house. I remember the first time my brother took me there. I was intimidated at the thought of wearing a towel or skimpy robe among strangers (men and women)...my fears were quickly dispelled. If your looking to meet Leonardo DiCaprio - he might be here - but he'll probably be sitting next to a big old Russian man who is sitting next to a big old Ukrainian woman who is sitting next to a model who is sitting next to the Polish guy who runs the video store who is sitting next to some cute gay guy who is sitting next to me.

One of the saunas is hotter than hell - a darkish colored room with a big furnace thing in it. You can sit on different level stairs - although sitting on the top stair would be like sitting on the surface of the sun (a quote from another visitor). They have large plastic buckets and a faucet so you can periodically pour freezing water over your smoldering head. Don't dare go in without a bottle of water! There is also a hot steam room, pool and regular type sauna room. You can also have a variety of old fashioned massages and scrubs if you so desire. I haven't taken that leap of faith yet. Back on the entrance floor you can help yourself to some traditional eastern European fare - at some table set up front. If John the Baptist lived today - he would probably work there. It's a great place to clear your mind. I especially like how people sit on the front stoop and smoke cigarettes with their robes on.

I better stop by soon.

College Town

Last night we went to visit friends in Hoboken and took the Path home at around midnight. We got off at the West 9th Street stop and proceeded to search for a cab in vain.

It was drizzling out and I didn't have high hopes - but Ben was with us so we didn't give up. Why was I surprised to see the streets filled with college students everywhere? Both the East and West Village - wall to wall kiddies.

Are there more students? How can there be? Do they just look different so you can spot them? Maybe. Or are they venturing farther off from their dorms because it's safer? That's part of it. But it seems the demographics have changed. These kids are rich kids - with no trace of a counter culture among the group. Very well dressed young people going out to spend a good deal of money.

I know this cultural shift is old news. Just humor me while I try to catch up. Sigh.

I'm Contacting Human Rights Watch

....if the god dam car alarm outside my window doesn't stop in the next two minutes. I'm realizing that I haven't really had a good night's sleep in ages....seriously....ages.

I wish I could think of a quiet place to live around NY where the people are nice and creative (that might be too much to ask).

Soho = Hell on Earth

Granted I never go there. Never went there. Didn't have the desire and certainly didn't have a reason to. It's a HUGE mall.

Only this mall is one floor with two narrow sidewalks. At one point Ben saw the huge Scholastic Store and exclaimed with some urgency "Mom, look! We can go in there for a while." - like we were seeking shelter from the shadow of a soon to be cresting tsunami. A tsunami of shopping people.

So why was I there? Well, I took Ben to the Museum of Cartoons and Comics. It's on the 4th floor at 594 Broadway. The whole musuem is basically a large room with a permanent collection on one side and an exhibit on the other. It was okay. Not well curated. Lots of illustrations and flat screens with cartoons from across the decades playing. It's a small space so it's hard to distinguish who is saying what from what t.v.

Of course that didn't stop Ben from sitting in front of an episode of teenage mutant ninja turtles and falling into a trance state. He mentioned how much he enjoyed watching "vintage cartoons" like that.

For the record. I totally missed the whole Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles era. Yet another cultural void I share with my son.

I think I want to move to Concord, Massachusetts and become a Transcendentalist.

Happy New Year Y'All!

The holidays are finally over. No casualities! Just nice visits.

Christmas in North Carolina grows on you after a while. Even though we break it up with a day or two in Annapolis, the drive is still a long one with a little boy and chunky dog coming along for the ride. It amazes me each year how Ben never complains or freaks out. By the time we get to Sanford, North Carolina I'm ready to file for divorce. Brian says that exit is my official breaking point.

We brought back huge boxes filled with Brian's childhood train set and all the toy cars and trucks he kept so well taken care of. He pulled them out of his mom's attic and sorted through them for hours. When he looked up, he didn't even have to say it....

We're skipping the condo and coop world and looking for a house. Gulp.

On one level it feels good to finally have clarity on the situation. On the other hand it means a very different neighborhood....at least it might mean that. But then - what neighborhood am I talking about?

On New Year's Eve, we walked home from a friends house down Avenue A. A really super french/dutch couple with wonderful kids around Ben's age. There was such a great mix of people - I don't want to lose that. As we walked home someone shouted out of a fancy SUV "Happy New Year Everyone, and I hope 2007 is a wonderful and productive year for each and every one of you!!!"

Granted - that's a lot nicer than saying "Bite my ass in 2007" - - but to have someone shout out an internal memo salutation on my street well....it's a bit heartbreaking and sadly funny.

This place is changing. I'm changing too - though I loathe to admit it. But Jesus Christ - I'll never change that much!

Merry Christmas Eve

When I was a young girl in the East Village, my family celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve. That's the Sicilian tradition.

My Sicilian grandmother set up a nativity scene that could rival a Who Concert. She placed a 6 by 5 foot piece of plywood on the table in the parlor (yes...I said parlor). She covered it in a few yards of green felt. The edges of the platform were lined with Christmas lights. They were those huge 1960's christmas lights not the small cutesy fire proof types we have now. The lights went along the edges and then climbed up one side of the manger, over the roof around the front and back down the other side. To this day I always imagine Jesus in a manger with big multi color lights around him keeping him warm.

I also believed that Jesus was Italian. And God was Italian too.

My grandmother had lots of straw all over the inside of the manger. There must have been scores of shepards, angels, lambs, ox, donkeys, three wise kings (like 4 sets of those), a few saints that were the same size of the rest of the crowd slipped in for good measure. There were even a few back up Marys and Josephs blended into the crowd.

I used to take the straw and put some all over the board to feed the extra animals. And of course we had a train track running around the platform as a nod from the captains of industry to the baby Jesus. Looking back, I guess that this is the type of reception that my grandmother thought Jesus should have had - tons of well wishers, animals and angels cheering him into the world.

There were so many figures that I had Catholic guilt about the ones that didn't have a good view of the baby Jesus from where they were standing.

As I got older, I began to wonder where all these hundreds of people went the day AFTER Jesus was born. Did they just go back to work and kind of forget all about him while they got lost in their day to day routines?

I miss the smell of tinsel melting on a 1960's christmas light on that sacred space.

I can feel my grandmother's spirit with me tonight. A holy night for the two of us.

Happy Christmas Everyone. Peace on Earth. Love, EVI

Sleep Debt

I remember reading that you can't really write off the sleep you've missed. That the lack of sleep builds up somehow in your body and results in sleep debt.

Last night I went to sleep at nine and woke up at seven the next day. I swear I could do that for the next month. I'm afraid to find out what my sleep debt is. Some frightful figure I suppose...probably somewhere around 200 hours in the last six months.

Uneven

After dinner the other night, Ben had something weighing on his mind. He told me that he felt funny about some of the kids in his class because he wasn't "even with them" -- that he was "lower" than them.

Ben is in third grade and almost nine years old. He has no feelings of inadequacy about money or class because we don't. There are wealthy and not so wealthy kids in Ben's class who are obsessed with money because their parents are. That world has never touched Ben because he's so loved and satisfied with his family and his life. I'm happy to add that no one in his class has ever said hurtful things to him in that regard.

But last week they went to the Tenement Museum and I suppose some children were aghast at the thought of living in such a small space. Our apartment isn't much more than 450 square feet - but it's provided Ben with 1 million square feet of happiness.

He said he thought it wasn't fair that some kids live in big big houses and other kids didn't. I explained to him that life is inherently "uneven". Some kids live in big houses, some live in small houses - - some kids don't have a home.

Just like some kids (like Ben) are super smart and great at drawing, while it take other kids in his class a little longer to grasp new concepts. Some kids in his class are healthy or great athletes, while some feel they are far too short, too slow or have long term medical problems. Some kids don't have a mommy and daddy in the same house living together, some do.

All kids have something they feel "uneven" about because everyone comes to the table with a unique story of who they are. Our job is to make everyone feel okay about who they are.

Then he got teary eyed and said "but mommy when you live in New York no one likes you when you love the Red Sox like me and daddy do."

He got me there........

The Party's Over

I may be getting a promotion at work. The thought of it unhinges me a bit. These two years away from the executive management mode helped me realize how miserable I was attempting to juggle motherhood with management.

The revised adage is true...you can have it all, just not all at the same time. Picking Ben up from school once a week is such a wonderful gift. Being able to volunteer at his school has been corny and fun. I remember when I barely knew any of the parents because I was busy running in and out the door so fast.

But Ben's $25,000 tuition is crushing us. His education means everything to me. So you do what you have to do.

Being a working mom is all about setting boundaries....and staunchly defending them.