I'm never not in my kid's school

Bealtaine and American Girls

Friday 2 May

I can't tell if this is an American thing or simply a modern parenting thing but there is so much participation required by parents in the school. I react to notice of these events the exact same way I do to a hen party invitation in that I say “Ah fer fuck’s sake. Another bloody hen party/Family Friday!”. Even though, when I’m at them, I only ever enjoy hen parties/Family Fridays and I ultimately end up saying to myself “Why are you such a miserable bollox? Wasn’t that lovely?”

We've already done two storytime/craft sessions in the Kindergartener’s class and baked soda bread for a Family Friday breakfast but now that the youngest has joined the school, her teacher asked if we could present some morning on either our jobs or our culture. We didn't want to send the kids home in tears hearing about our jobs so we mined our souls yet again for some culture content. St Patrick’s Day had already been covered by the other Irish family in the class, so we presented on…Bealtaine. I bought a kid’s book that contained lots of ‘traditions’. Traditions that I certainly had never done and most I had never heard of, like putting three pieces of coal under a churn so that the fairies don’t steal the butter. (What?) I felt guilty, in part because I knew so little about the ancient festival of Bealtaine, in part because our presentation of it felt completely made up. And that should have been the real lesson in our culture: guilt. Feel guilty all the time. Feel so guilty you don't know what you're feeling guilty about, you're just top to toe guilt.

David’s sister was in town and offered to read the book to the class and thank God for her. A parent remarked afterwards that she was like Miss Honey and that's a comparison, I can guarantee you, would not have been leveled at me had I been at the top of the class reading ‘Beltane’. Not a comparison in a positive way anyway, maybe in a ‘compare and contrast’ way. After the story, we decorated “mini maypoles” (ribbon wands bought on Amazon) with sticky gems (also bought on Amazon) and then the kids danced with their maypoles to a Bluey-ified version of an Irish polka, which Bluey called “A Message From the Fairies”. The maypoles felt a bit English if anything but before I started to feel guilty about that, I squashed the guilt right down so that instead of the feeling being on me, (as my ancestors would have said), it instead became part of me and my general make-up so that I’m now just guilt through and through; it’s part of my being.

Culture day completed (making English maypoles and dancing to a song from an Australian cartoon),

Lydia Jones

and I left, got the number 1 train to Christopher Street and came up above ground into the West Village. We had enough time before our 10:30am brunch in Dante to visit the Friends apartment on the corner of Grove and Bedford Street and also Carrie’s Bradshaw apartment on Perry Street. Dante was Bealtaine bloom-clad and we took a table inside and had the huevos rancheros verde with a side of fingerling potatoes.

Friends apartment block. Dante, outside and in.

Afterwards, we moseyed round the West Village, wandering into boutiques, picking up a Blank Street iced strawberry shortcake matcha latte like a couple of West Village girlies, except that we never finished our fingerling potatoes in Dante and got them to go so we were walking round the West Village with a bag of potatoes in hand, like a couple of Irish girlies.

Me and Lydia, in the West Village

It was a glorious 26 degree day and we shopped Anthropologie homewares at Chelsea Market like we were on holidays - me picking up a lemon shaped, lemon scented candle, green taper candles and a bright pink tea towel, Lydia picking up a rosemary focaccia and olive oil candle and a pair of summer pyjamas. We decided to head towards the Highline because I wanted to see the new pigeon statue but just five minutes into the walk, the shaded garden of the Highline Hotel appeared like a mirage and I proposed a lemonade stop and Lydia obliged. We sat in the glorious shade for 45 minutes before we had to leave to get the kids from school. We hailed a yellow cab that was pulling up and we got chatting to the woman who had gotten out of the car, while her husband settled up. In the time it took him to pay the taxi driver, we learned that she was from Tennessee, staying at the hotel, visiting her son and that her sister (Leanne Morgan) has a new sitcom coming out on Netflix called ‘Leanne’. We headed for the school, passing the pigeon statue on the Highline on the way.

Photo by Drake on Unsplash

As a godmother treat, Lydia took us all out to afternoon tea at the American Girl doll store. The American Girl store is one of the best places I’ve brought the kids in New York. It is in Rockefeller Plaza and when I brought them first, they were 4 and 2 and just young enough to believe me when I told them that it was a doll “museum” and not a shop. They spent hours enjoying the two floors of dolls and doll accessories and it didn't cost me a single penny. Returning for an afternoon tea in the cafe was a treat! You can bring your doll to tea but if you don't want to stump up $135 for one of their dolls, you can borrow them in the cafe. Seated at our table were two adults, two kids and two dolls. The atmosphere was girly and fun. I saw a whole table of adults (each with a doll) which I initially thought was weird but when the food arrived, it was so good, I would genuinely recommend it as a decent afternoon tea option ($40 per person which includes a glass of champagne).

Celeb Spotting

Monday 5 May

Friends of mine arrived from Ireland Monday morning. They dropped their bags and we headed straight for Dudley’s on Orchard Street where they’d made a reservation for 10:30am. We had a window seat, perfect for people watching, and our people-watching game started strong when as soon as we sat down, my friend said “There’s James Corden” and we looked out the window and there he was! Walking down Orchard Street!

“That’s my first real celebrity spot”, I said but my husband jumped in very defensively straight away to say “No it's not! You passed Chrissy from the Sopranos in the Upper West Side. Twice!”. That’s true, I had. I also passed John Oliver on the Upper West Side and I don't know if I was staring at him but somehow he nodded and said hello to me. Maybe I was staring. Maybe he recognised someone who had a look of the British Isles about them. Maybe he’s just a friendly man. Another day, David came up to me in a West Village playground and said do you know that guy over there? He keeps looking at me, I think I know him. He knew him because it was Mitch from Modern Family. We saw Paul Rudd in the audience at Hamilton, looking exactly as he did in the 90s. And we saw George from Seinfeld, sitting behind us in a restaurant, also looking exactly as he did in the 90s.

After breakfast, we took a look in the Housing Works Bookstore on Crosby Street and after so much culture (standing in a book shop), we thought it was time for another coffee and the lobby of the Crosby Street Hotel called our name so we settled in and had tea and a slice of chocolate cake. I left to collect the kids and go about my ordinary, Monday afternoon life. The visitors stayed out and managed to get a table for two in Via Carota while we were at home ordering Mexican takeout from Tacombi (for the day that was in it).

Crosby Street Hotel

It’s a Vibe

Tuesday 6 May

Another day, another brunch and this time we’re headed for 10:15am breakfast in Bubby’s. There was already a line round the corner in the rain, which we got to skip because we had a reservation and inside, we enjoyed devilled eggs, pancakes and corned beef hash in the homely surroundings of Bubby’s. I bought their brunch cookbook as I left. We went straight for another coffee, in Maman in Hudson Square, and afterwards walked up to the West Village, where I hopped on the 1 train, back to real life. My guests headed to the Corner Store, where they stood in line an hour and a half to get in. They said it was worth it (even though the food was average) because it “was a vibe” and a “place to be seen”. (Not one bit of this description has sold me).

Field Trip

Wednesday 7 May

I tapped out of the brunches today. I sent the guests off to Barney Greengrass with some recs of things they could see on the way: the Apthorp building where Nora Ephron lived, the Belnord Apartments, where Only Murders in the Building is filmed, Trader Joe’s.

I headed to the school for the Kindergarten field trip which was “a walk round the neighbourhood”. First stop was the hospital. The teacher asked the group “Who works here?” and one boy put up his hand and proudly answered “My Dad!”. The dad in question was also chaperoning the trip and he said to the boy “What do I do?”

Well.

The soul-destroying look of disappointment on that man’s face when it was clear that his 5 year old son didn't know that he was a doctor. The boy shrugged and the man laughed and said “Come on, you don't know? What’s my job?” The boy still didn't know and it wasn't a big deal but the doctor wasn't going to let it go. He started to give his son multiple choice answers. With increasing desperation in his voice with every option added, he started off:

“Am I a NURSE?”

(boy shrugs)

“Am I…am I (struggling to think of other people who work in a hospital now) a SECURITY GUARD?”.

The little boy’s face was completely blank and the dad finally dropped it but was muttering to himself that he couldn't believe he didn't know what he did.

He looked like he needed a hug and for someone to tell him “YOU’RE A GREAT BOY!” (the man, not the child) but he was a man my own age and I’d never met him before so I settled for saying to him “AND WHAT TYPE OF DOCTOR ARE YOU?”. He was completely deflated though and replied glumly “a urologist”. “Oh wow!”, I said (trying to lift his spirits). “I’ve a friend a urologist! She has some crazy stories”. But even this didn’t blow life back into his damaged ego. Kicking the dirt with his feet now, he said “Yeah, sometimes. Kidney stones are our bread and butter though”. Note to self: never to invite this man to dinner. My pal the urologist has kept many a dinner party entertained and has never once lowered the mood by mentioning a bread-and-butter kidney stone.

Next stop was the library. The teacher asked who had been to the library and only about half the class raised their hands. He asked people to turn to their line partner and explain what the library is. My daughter’s line partner turned to her and very earnestly asked her “So what happens at the library?”. She, equally earnest, said “It’s kind of hard to explain but can I tell you something crazy! There are TVs! And chairs! And you can sit on them! And play computer games!”. That was the end of the explanation of the library. I didn't want to contradict her but also felt I couldn't let the moment pass so I bent down and whispered to her “You know, the main job of the library is that it has books”. Thrilled with this reminder, she tapped her line partner on the shoulder to update her report: “Oh! The library also has books! And you can take them!”