… and some days the bear eats you.
This describes the past month in New York. People who have lived here for 30 years describe their relationship with the Big Apple as one of love and hate. I understand this. Some days I think, “Wow! I can’t believe we’re lucky enough to live here.” Other days I think, “Be glad I’m a forgiving person, NYC. Be very glad, cause I would make the news. Think Stay Puft Marshmallow man from Ghostbusters, except I’m shorter and will be holding a flamethrower.”
But I’m pleased to announce that this week, so far, knock on wood, the bear did not eat us. Jane and I did the eating. We mastered a bus schedule (with the help of Fayez because the man knows this city inside and out, which THANK GOODNESS because you could blind-fold me, turn me around three times and I’d get lost in my own closet). Jane started pre-k. Sniff. I’ve had some serious teary eyed moments over this, but it’s a very good step. It’s a nice place. She seems to really love it. And today when the bus driver opened the doors directly onto my feet because I was standing too close I thought, “Nope, not today New York. We’re still winning.”
We also just got back from one of the best vacations. Passports and witches and indoor pools and seafood. I’ll write more about that in the next post. But for now, yay. All the yays. Yay for vacations. Yay for happy schools with sweet teachers. Yay for meeting other moms and having coffee. Yay for family twilight bubble parties on the roof deck.
Yay for eating the bear.