Trying to Live in the Moment While Making Memories

(in Coney Island)

On a cold and rainy Friday, I looked up the forecast and it was set to be 21 degrees and sunny all weekend. We also had a rare and wonderful thing ahead of us: a full weekend with no plans. So, I immediately came up with a plan. The plan was simple though and didn’t involve anyone but us. I texted my husband: Let’s go to Coney Island.

When I was a teenager, my mother got it into her head that we had to go to Fairyhouse because it was a very ‘Meath’ thing to do and as Meath people, it wasn't right that we hadn't done it. It was in the same vein that I planned us a trip to Coney Island - because it seemed like a quintessential way for a New York family to spend a sunny Saturday in May.

I say “planned a trip” but the plan went like this: We're going to Coney Island. The Q train is practically door to door.

So we woke up Saturday morning, had breakfast and got ready. We packed four lunches, water bottles and snacks, togs for the kids, one towel and suncream.

The Q train took an hour and the kids entertained themselves by looking out the windows. There was only one brief part (crossing the Manhattan Bridge) where they could spot NYC landmarks. “Freedom Tower!” (which we visited recently), “Brooklyn Bridge!” (which we walked, when my parents visited last year), “Statue of Liberty!” (they visited recently with David’s parents) and the rest of the journey, they entertained themselves surprisingly well, looking out the window of a train that was underground. “Mama, I see train tracks” was my favourite observation. They spotted rats, “scribble scrabble” (graffiti), other trains, signal lights, construction, subway station art. Towards the end of the journey, we creamed them up, had our picnic lunch on a bench when we arrived then hit the rides!

I thought we’d have to wander the park, finding the few rides that are toddler friendly but there is a whole park (Deno’s) which is just for small kids and it was ideal. 16 rides they could go on by themselves. We did almost every ride available which the kids loved but an amusement park is only as good as the last ride you do, I learned, and on the way out, we spotted a “ghost train” (which we thought was in the toddler park but I realise now, was slightly outside of it). In fairness to the organisers, I asked was it too scary for a 4 year old and the man running it said “Yeah, maybe”. I was getting into the cart with both kids and David said “She’ll be fine if she’s with you” and I agreed and off we went. There is a hilarious photo of us, setting out on the “spooky train” (as the kids call it); we are smiling the biggest smiles and the youngest is pulling a silly face. It's only funny because of how the ride actually went. We didn’t take a photo as we exited but David said it was a completely different scene that came back to him three minutes later: both kids huddled into me and crying, my hands covering their eyes and me shaking my head.

It wasn’t scary in that it didn't go upside down and there was no danger of you falling out or even the suspense of it, but what it was, was a slow trip through a black-as-night room that displayed scenes from 18s-rated horror movies, right up close to your face and sometimes jumping suddenly into your face, with occasional added sound and wind effects. It was the worst thing I’ve ever done to my kids. I spent the whole time covering their eyes and telling them not to look and to think of nice things like the aquarium! And ice-cream! And Daddy! The eldest screamed and cried the whole way round and the youngest was so silent that I found myself saying “Are you still there?”, even though my hand was touching her face.

My approach to the Ghost Train

They cried about it a full half hour afterwards and said it was the worst day ever and they don't like funfairs. We won them back slowly with a scoop of ice-cream each and a nice calm sit-down in the nearby Surf City Pizzeria.

We spent the rest of the day visiting the New York Aquarium, walking the boardwalk and having a dinner of hot dogs and French fries from Nathans, by the beach. After dinner, the kids played in the Atlantic, the youngest, stripping down to her pants like a carefree European and the eldest, self-consciously saying she didn't want people to see her change into her swimsuit so I taught her the trick of putting her togs on under dress before she whipped off the dress (You know the one. You’ve seen it at beaches or pools. You’ve probably done it yourself).

Around 7pm, we called it a day and hit the Q train home. David got off halfway to Citi-bike the rest of the way because he is absolutely obsessed. He recently cycled the whole 50km circumference of Manhattan on a Citi-bike (he should have a newsletter about living in New York, it would be very interesting). He said he’d race us home.

The kids and I took up just two subway seats, with the 4 year old asleep in my lap and the 5 year old on the seat beside me, snuggling in - like bodies cramped into a loveseat, multiple sandy limbs and sandy heads of hair, all entwined.

I really tried to be present in the moment but I’m never present in the moment. One, because I’m addicted to my phone, like everyone else on this planet. David took a photo from the top of the ferris wheel that he went on with the 5 year old while the 4 year old and I waited on the ground. In it, I had one hand on the stroller and one with my phone out, while the 4 year old stood beside me. What was I hoping I’d be doing? A candid shot of me chatting to my child? Playing a game with her? Giving her a hug? Well, yeah, that would be nice.

I tried to be present on the train (my phone was dead by now, so that helped). I was enjoying so much the sleeping child in my arms and the other child’s head in my lap, using my shirt as a blanket. But my mind jumped forward and back, as it thought: “I wonder will she sleep in my lap this time next year? Will we have a stroller next year? They were so small the last time I brought them two years ago”.

We spent an almost identical day at the funfair in Bundoran last summer. The only difference was that in Coney Island the sky was blue but in Donegal it was grey, very grey. And that difference really counts for a lot. In one place you stand with your shoulders back and your face looking up to the sun. In the other, your shoulders roll forward, your whole body trying to protect yourself from the August cold and rain. In one place, you’re on a 70 year old rollercoaster and fishing for rubber ducks and you’re a little bit depressed and in the other, you’re on a 70 year old rollercoaster and fishing for rubber ducks thinking “Isn't this so Americana and cute?”

Arriving up to the door of our building, I looked ahead, as if to see if I could see David there. The doorman knew what I was doing because he said “He beat you by 15 minutes…but he looked like he really tried, if that’s any consolation”.

Before bed that night, I made a photobook of our Americana day - with the photos I took that day in the moment, so that in the future, we can look back on them.