Some families go to thrill-a-minute theme parks for a spring vacation. Others, to exotic island resorts or cosmopolitan world capitals. As for us -- well, we go to the suburbs. It's where we come from, and where some of our nearest and dearest still live. It's where we are now, and why I probably won't be able to post again until the end of the week. (How will you ever survive?)
We spent a few days in my hometown of Fairfield, Connecticut, where -- fun fact -- portions of the original "Stepford Wives" movie was filmed. It is also the hometown of famed Mac guy Justin Long, tennis up-and-comer James Blake, and sensitive pop sensation / starlet swain John Mayer. You might also have heard of in the news of late as the town that lost its police and firefighters' pensions to Bernie Madoff. In other words: smokin' hot vacation spot!
The girls got some quality time with their great aunts and first cousin once removed (my first cousin; right?), and had a play date with the progeny of some of my old high school pals. They hit several playgrounds, two backyards, and one Greek diner -- a key part of living in the tri-state area. Though honestly, I don't know why we keep attempting to take them out to restaurants. Because we're so darned optimistic, I suppose. Every time, I guess we think: hey, maybe this time it will go great! Maybe we've turned the corner! And every time -- like today -- they end up eating jelly out of the little Smuckers packets with their fingers, poking each other with forks, spilling at least one of our drinks, and making everyone stare in our general direction, either in anger, sympathy or some odd mixture of both.
Today, we proceeded to vacation paradise #2: Westchester County, New York, to stay with Grandma Jaycee. Getting here was approximately one-forty-eighth of the fun: Clio screamed for her gaga (=pacifier) for the entire 45 minute drive down the Merritt. I tried to keep things lighthearted by making jokey comments to my spouse ("Hey, what do you think? Is she going to scream the entire way there? Wanna put some money on it? Make things a little more interesting? Ha ha ha.) But he was not amused. He likened trying to drive with a screaming toddler in the back seat to Chinese water torture. And really, he's sort of right. Which brings us back to the whole idea of using toddlers as an interrogation technique. Seriously, why hasn't anyone tried this? Is there something in the Geneva Conventions that forbids it?
Fortunately, all was well once we got to the house and there were golden retrievers to squeal at and raisins to eat and new wind-up bunnies to play with. Alastair and Jacyee took the girls on a walk, and yours truly took a nice run in the finally spring-like sunshine. Tomorrow, A. and I are going into the city for an overnight at an undisclosed hotel on the upper west side, with plans to hit the Hayden Planetarium, the Cafe Des Artistes, and the sack. Then, it's back up to the 'burbs for a couple more days.
I'm glad we live in an urban setting, just outside a major city. The people, the pace, and the vibe -- not to mention the pricetag -- are all better suited to what we want out of life right now. But one thing I'll say for the gold coast good life: it's awfully pretty. Especially right at the start of spring. Unlike in our typical just-outside-of-Boston neighborhood, where trees are few and far between, and it is de rigeur to pave over as much of your yard as possible, here there are forsythia bushes and crocuses and daffodils and trees just about to bud. The houses are durn pretty and well-kept up. The cars are shiny. And there's also that great suburban yard/driveway/cul-de-sac culture: plenty of safe outdoor places to run around and ride bikes and play games without having to worry about traffic and trash and anatomically correct grafitti.
I wouldn't want to live here. But it's a nice place to visit.
Back in a few with pictures (I hope) and tales of spring break twins gone wild.
