Every summer my mom and I visit New York City to spend time with my sister Phoebe, plus half a dozen cousins who live there too, for a weekend. This year, someone new came along too.
After vacationing on Martha's Vineyard last month, I was feeling a bit more confident about traveling with the baby – even though this time, my wife Kristie would be staying at home. Of course I was with my mother and Phoebe the whole time, but I was feeling the pressure of being the baby's sole primary caregiver for three days.
I needn't have worried that much, though. Thanks in large part to the women we wandered alongside, and my son's unflagging chillness, it was a great trip. He liked his first train ride (which in turn makes me less wary of that someday first-flight), was largely unimpressed by the tall buildings, and from the stroller waved with both hands at people, dogs, fountains, garbage cans, pigeons. Some even waved back!
Just like in Martha's Vineyard, I thoroughly enjoyed the suspension of our sleep rules and nursed him to sleep for a few naps. He slept sweatily in the crook of my arm whilst we laid on my sister's bed and I read on my Kindle (I just finished The Alienist [affiliate link] for the second time).
Despite the change in nap scenario, my child blew all of us away when it came to bedtime. The ease with which Miles took to the pack-and-play, whether posted up in my childhood room at my parents' house (we stayed overnight in CT the night before riding into the city, and then somewhat unexpectedly for one night after) or wedged next to my sister's bed in her peaceful bedroom, he slept. He negotiated with himself a little bit – 20 minutes the first night, 10 the next, none at all the final – before falling asleep on his own and letting me spend even more time with family members I love so dearly. I had prepared myself to hold him all night, steeling myself for joining him in a 6:30 p.m. bedtime – and the cosleeper [affiliate link] I'd ordered the week before did itself come in handy in the early morning hours – but by and large we were all swelling with pride at his healthy sleep habits.
Miles is always happy in the stroller, and we spent time wandering Phoebe's neighborhood of Gramercy. We walked to breakfast, lunch, dinner, around the block. The roasted asparagus and fingerling potatoes at Maman (pictured above) were so delicious. Miles loved the whipped ricotta, and even (surprisingly!) the caper-olive gremolata. Orange juice, however? Hard pass.
I also got to complete the one thing I want to do before I turn 31 in September: get my aura photographed. At Magic Jewelry in Chinatown, I sat for two pictures: one with Miles sitting on my lap (above, left), and one without (above, right). I thought it was interesting that the colors are so different. The aura reader explained that in the left photograph, pink represents love for the baby, and that orange-ish glow at my chest represents the worry I have for him. And in my solo picture, green is creativity and perfectionist tendencies (who, me?). As for blue? Well, blue means tired of course!
My mom and I ended up leaving the city about 3 hours late, ha! Pretty typical if you know us. Miles napped against my chest in the carrier while we made our way back to Grand Central. A traffic jam on 91 meant that once we arrived back in New Haven, we had another hour to wait until my dad arrived to drive us back to their house. Carrying on the weekend's theme (flexibility and taking cues from Miles), I opted to stay one more night in CT rather than drive all the way back to western Massachusetts. Exhausted (happy), baby and I both slept soundly, and were gleefully reunited with Kristie the next day.
See past trips to NYC: 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013.
