A protracted sigh

First, we got some prom pictures!

They make me happy.

I like seeing all those smiling dressed up kids.  They had a lot of fun together.

In other news, a week from today, Braeden graduates from high school.

I've tried to downplay the whole affair.  As in, congratulations on making it through the easiest part of your life.

It's no big deal.

Just graduating.

I've also been driven a little bit crazy by Braeden lately.  He's in full on senior-itis mode.   Stick a fork in him, he's done.  He is in a race to see which he cares less about, his school work or actually attending classes.

He was at risk for not graduating several weeks ago because of all of his unexcused absences and tardies.  I recommended to my family that they not take his graduation announcements too seriously.  Write that date down in pencil!  In one class, he had 8 unexcused tardies! (To my credit, I let the child live.)  The day I learned that little nugget of good news, we were meeting my parents at a restaurant for dinner.  Braeden joined us late because he was at work.

When he walked in, my mom stood up to hug him and said, "Well, Braeden.  You're a little tardy."

"Wow, Grandma!" he said, "Shots fired!"

He loves a good joke, even if he's the target.

In order to get back in the good graces of PGHS, Braeden has been serving time at "attendance school" at 6:15 in the morning.  I was glad about that.  Good, I thought, I hope it is miserable and he hates it.  Serves the little turkey right.

But he loves it.  (What is the solution for a kid that is too congenial and pleasant to truly punish?) They have to sit in rows with no food and no headphones/earbuds and no phones.  They can read or do homework.  Braeden reads some and draws maps (no, doesn't do homework) and is a happy little clam.

Sheesh. 

I told Olivia the other day that he was making it easier on me by being such a pain.

I also think it's easier being here rather than at our old school.  I felt a lot more connected at that school.  I knew his friends better, as well as his teachers.  I think I would have felt more sentimental about it all.

Still.

The other day, Braeden texted me that he thought his backpack was in the trunk of his car but it wasn't.  Could I bring it to him?  Because it was the first time that's ever happened (and the school is all of five minutes away), I was happy to help.

When I was heading to the van, with his backpack in tow, it struck me that the boy has days of school left.  It took my breath away.  I tried to go back to the downplaying and denial, but it was too late.

Then, this happened.

These are the kinds of adventures I'll miss (although when am I going to be a grown up and get dressed before I go out into the world?).

He can be infuriating and make me want to hit my head against the wall, but I love that kid.

One of the best things that ever happened to me is going to graduate.

He's going to move on into the wide world and have his own adventures.  He can keep trying as hard as he wants to make me so mad that I'll welcome him leaving.

But I don't think it's going to work.

Pass the Kleenex.

Seas the day

Braeden and Emma in the Long Island Sound...fifteen years ago.

Live in the sunshine

Swim in the sea

Drink the wild air

Emerson

Tuesday we spent visiting some of our old favorites on the Long Island Sound. 

One day, long ago, we watched Santa come into town on a tugboat sitting on this dock in Mystic with our little bald baby boy.

Here's the same dock (and the same baby).

Stonington is a picturesque little place that we love.

Finally, we went to Misquamicut State Beach in Rhode Island.

It is so very pretty there.

It was also sort of breezy and cold.

The thing is, I didn't give birth to anyone that can see a body of water and not want to get into it.  I blame their father.

It always goes something like this.

1) They want to swim.

2) I say no.  It's cold.

3) They really want to swim.  Plus they have swimsuits (because they always do).

4) I point out we have no towels.  The sand will be a mess.  Besides, it's cold.

5) They still want to swim.

6) Adam says he thinks it would be all right.  (of course he does)

7) I give up.

8) The maniacs swim and Adam takes care of all the sand and mess.  He pulls out t shirts as makeshift towels and carefully wipes sand off of feet before they get in the car. 

You have no idea how many times this exact scenario has played out.  It's a good thing we have Adam because I'm not much fun.

So swimming it was.

Emma was still changing while I took some pictures of the boys.  At first they ran in and out of the waves, getting up their courage.

Then their shirts came off and they got serious.

Then they did some sort of ritual to increase their nerve?

I can't explain it.

Seriously.  Can't.  Explain.

 Then their native water loving, sons of Adam nature took over.

Emma joined but is slightly less crazy than her brothers.

Braeden's skin was bright red from the frigid water.

So they swam.  I watched for awhile and then I got too cold and went to the car.  My children were swimming in the North Atlantic and it was too cold on the beach to watch.

I don't know.

The ocean is good for the soul though.  It's good to get your vitamin sea.

The sentimental part of the journey

We went to New Haven and to Hamden.  Cue the cascading memories.  We began in Hamden which made sense geographically if not historically (we lived there last, right before we left Connecticut).  Braeden remembered the apartment building and was shocked that it wasn't bigger, because he remembers it being enormous.  I pointed out the fire station half a block away where I took his co-op preschool class (which consisted of our little friend group) for a field trip.

Davis, Adam and Braeden (Braeden's friends had his dad's name...)

I pointed out the library where we went to story time via me pushing the double stroller.  Those were good times.

We drove toward New Haven and stopped at the Eli Whitney Water Park which used to be a highlight in Braeden's life.

He marveled at the waterworks toys which he vaguely remembered.

I could be wrong but I don't think the tree branches brushed the top of his head back then...

I had him throw a rock in the water for old time's sake because it used to be his favorite way to pass an afternoon. (I know, you can be glad I'm not your mom making you throw commemorative rocks into bodies of water.)

As for Emma, (the little Connecticut Yankee that was born in the Constitution State but didn't remember it a bit), she felt like her soul had returned home.  She loved Connecticut.  She tramped off into the woods by herself. (I told her, "Don't get Lyme Disease!" because I like to give helpful advice to my kids.)

Our next stop was our apartment building on Prospect Street.  We showed Braeden the window that had been his bedroom.  This was one way Braeden and I used to like to pass the time.  There was a lot of world going on outside the window.

Also, this happened inside that apartment:

And about a million other happy things.  How could we not love the place?

We stopped by the church building where we used to meet.  It's been renovated and rather than just the two bottom floors, the entire building is now used by the church.  I almost got teary when we were there but I was very brave and held it in.  Inside that building I made lifelong friends.  I was buoyed by a community that held me up when I was sick and far from home.  Emma was blessed there.  It was a good place; kind of the centerpiece of our lives for awhile there.

Here's a picture I dug up of some cherubs at the church for a Halloween party:

Taylor, Adam, Davis and Braeden

Our next stop was East Rock.  Braeden completely remembered it because he loved going there.  We went there at sunrise in our pajamas one Easter morning:

We used to go often to survey the city, count church steeples, gaze out at the Long Island Sound.  It was one of our Places.

It was lunchtime so we did what you have to do in New Haven and had apizza.  It's probably one of the best things that's ever happened to me.

We went to Pepe's. Because Pepe's.  We ordered three large pies.  The waitress looked a little taken back but didn't say a word.  Here's the crown jewel (in my opinion), the Margherita:

We also got the clam (because you have to):

And a pepperoni (because Mark):

It was an emotional experience for some of us:

It's that good.

Adam asked Emma how she thought it compared to Elliott Bay, which was the far and away winner in our pizza challenge a few summers ago.

Emma said, "This kicks the crap out of Elliott Bay."

Spoken like a true New Haven native.

Here are Adam and the boys watching the amazing brick oven where the magic happens.

And here's Frank Pepe himself.  I want that picture in my own house.  I think I love that guy.

From there we went on an official Yale tour which I had never done.  Emma was completely enamored by it and thinks she'd like to go to Yale.

I told her not to make college decisions based on architecture.

Adam said, "I'm sure you could get in."

I said, "Maybe for graduate school." (What have I done showing my daughter Yale University which as it happens is on the other side of the country?!?)

The architecture is pretty amazing though...

Braeden had a less ambitious takeaway from the tour.  He said, "When we toured BYU, I thought, 'I want to go here!' Touring Yale, I think, 'So, this is where the smart kids go...'"  That's my boy.

A highlight of the tour was the Sterling Library which was always one of Adam's favorite haunts for studying:

He liked showing them where he used to drink deeply from all that Yale knowledge.

Here's Mark, rubbing the statue of Theodore Dwight Woolsey for luck.  His toe is discolored because of the tradition but I don't know, maybe he doesn't mind? 

We swung by the New Haven Cemetery briefly.  This gate always seems very forbidding and grim to me.  I mean, the dead shall be raised, but this seems like a threat somehow.

Our last stop was the Yale Bowl.  We love telling our kids the story of the time we went to the Yale/Harvard football game there.  It was quite the culture shock.  People were wearing furs and tweed and tailgating on tables with linens and fancy dishes.  There were limos everywhere.  We felt sheepish in our sweatshirts and jeans.

I took a selfie with the bulldog statue:

He had a very earnest and wise face.

Thank you New Haven.  Thanks for the memories, the good education (for both Adam, the graduate student and me, the young mother), thanks for the friends.

Thanks for Pepe's.

And home

We're back.  There is nothing as sublime as my own bed.  Last night, when Adam crawled into bed next to me, he asked, "How are we going to be world travelers if we like this bed so much?"

I suggested hiring strong men to follow us around with our bed on their backs.  It's a thought.

You'll have to pardon me the next several days while I record our trip for my digital scrapbook that is my blog.  It was perfect (with a few bumps along the way).  It was sentimental and beautiful and full of history and fun.

The first day:  we flew into the Newark airport.  Braeden used to love to ride the train at the Newark airport.  The whole trip, we kept telling Braeden what he used to do and what he used to love and he remembered some of it.  Emma was enamored by everything and felt like she'd returned to her ancestral home and as for Mark, he was very patient with us expounding about the days when he hadn't been born yet.

Here's their first glimpse of Manhattan:

Yeah, Emma's holding her Pooh Bear.  Her friend bought it for her on their Disneyland trip and that's as much of an explanation as I can give you.

As my dad would say, "How are you going to keep them on the farm once they've seen the lights of the big city?"

I don't love NYC.  I never have.  I also have never really given it much of a chance.  To me, it is just crowded and dingy and smelly.  And stressful.  I know lots of people love it and that's great because with that many people living there, it would be sad for them if they felt about it like I do.

We decided to take a quick drive through before heading to Connecticut. Here's a peek at the skyline as we drove in.

And then a whole lot of this happened:

Once inside the city, the chaos really hit:

Adam, who was an indispensable hero the entire time, drove us around like a champ.  We purposefully got a smaller rental car for just such experiences.  It was a wild ride.  At one point we turned down a one way street to see a green semi truck (owned by the city) barreling toward us, going the wrong way.  Adam quickly veered off the road into a tiny spot and we all breathed the shaky relief of people who had cheated death.  A few minutes later, we were nearly taken out by the same truck!  The rest of the trip we kept an eagle eye out for a green semi truck with some unexplainable grudge aimed at us.

Adam stopped to let the kids and me walk through Central Park.  He drove around to meet us on the other side.  I didn't want to walk through Central Park, I didn't want to let my kids go alone and I certainly didn't want to drive.  I decided walking through the park was the best option.

Here's a shot of the kids outside the park with the Plaza Hotel in the background:

They are, from left to right, Happy, Happy and slightly Stressed.  Because he knows how to drive, Braeden appreciated the driving, the way lane lines are suggestions and taxi drivers are straight up crazy.

Like everywhere else, the park was crowded and dingy and smelly.  (I should work for NYC tourism...)

Here's a quick picture I took while we walked.

We got as much local flavor and as many near death experiences as we could handle and then we hit the road for New England.  As a parting look, here's the Manhattan Temple: