Like We Used To

Remember sleeping in and then slowly getting up and wandering around NYC with your guy (or girl), brunching, shopping, laying around on the grass? Because I do. Everyone without kids nevermind. Enjoy your uninterrupted lunches and daytime drinking.

Today we spent a day sort of doing what we used to do, but really not at all. It was the kid-version of our old Jeff and Frauke life. We had brunch in the East Village with Jeff’s brother and their parents, who are in town. And then, after coffees and mimosas, we did some playground hopping. Ever tried it? You’d be surprised. It’s fun. First we rode our bikes over to a playground in the West Village. Julian took a nap on the bike while Arthur frolicked in the water. Then we all played together.

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Next up: Washington Square. I think we spent close to three hours there. Arthur napped, we ate ice cream, Julian bathed in the fountain (“Let’s go back to the water park!”). And then we played, danced, ate some sand. You know, the usual stuff. No one got hurt, no one was cranky, there were plenty of snacks and just overall a generous amount of happiness.

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Around dinner time we headed back to the East Village and rode around our old neighborhood. We had dinner at Veselka. The boys stuffed their faces with pierogis, potato pancakes, and sweet potato fries. And then Julian wanted to see where we used to live before we moved to the only home he’s ever known. We stopped at Ten Degrees and showed him where Mama and Papa met. And then, conveniently located around the corner, where we used to live together before we had our babies.

Then we rode our bikes down the East River Park as the sun was setting. I think Jeff and I were thinking the same thing. We were thinking about the many mornings we would ride there on our way to Sandy Hook. Our first summer together. Riding bikes, holding hands, kissing all the time.

And while so much has changed, so much also remains the same. I love that we still ride our bikes all the time. The freedom I feel when on that bike is indescribable. And sticky little boy hands and slobbery baby kisses ain’t so bad, either.

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