Memorial Day Weekend

I would love to write a glowing review of our Memorial Weekend, but in truth the start of it – Friday – also happened to be the highlight. We rode our bikes over the Brooklyn Bridge and then took the Staten Island Ferry to, you guessed it, Staten Island.

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We spent a lovely day in Staten Island at Snug Harbor and in the Children’s Museum.

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Hey look! It’s Julian in a maze.

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The museum was fun, and we could have probably stayed there all day.

But in reality, who wants to do that. We had more important things to do, also known as eating German food at a German restaurant. Arthur was way into it.

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The ride home was beautiful.

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The next day we left for New Jersey to celebrate the cousins’ birthdays, and that was also lovely. Mostly because the kids had so much fun. There were water balloons and slides, and lots and lots of toys and kids to play with.

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Driving sucked. We all hate being in a car. On the ride there, after 10 minutes, Arthur proclaimed he was tired of sitting.

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Bedtime in New Jersey was interesting, because one 3 year old, two 5 year olds, and one 7 year old wanted to have a sleepover. I think they had fun? But oh man, all the adults were ready for them to be quiet. At, you know, 10:45pm. Note: both of the boys’ cousins are wearing noise-cancelling headphones. Because Julian and Arthur are just that pleasant to have around at bedtime.

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Once we returned to Brooklyn, we all took naps. Then we went to our happy place, Brooklyn Crab.

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Afterwards, ice cream.

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Then today, the last day of the long weekend, was the low point. We decided to ride our bikes to Sunset Park to play, have a picnic, and listen to a free concert at Greenwood Cemetery.

Look! Isn’t this lovely? The view! The happy, eating children!

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In reality, I was hit in the face by a lightsaber more than once, and my children were pretty much deaf to just about anything I said to them. Also, the playground we had planned on playing on had been demolished since the last time we were there two years ago.

Then, at the concert, the children were horrible. No one listened (to the music or us). Julian kept harassing his brother. Arthur kept walking all over us, literally. When I wanted to take Arthur to the bathroom, he fell down a couple of stairs, and as I hugged him to comfort him, he bit me in the shoulder with full force. I cried from the shock, the pain, the defeat. When we returned from the restroom, Jeff was rushing towards us with a screaming Julian, two backpacks, and a picnic blanket that was folded in a huge hurry. He said, “We’re leaving.” It’s only funny, because while I was away with Arthur I had come to the same conclusion.

A lady paused to comment on my husband and screaming son that she was sure he was going to grow up “to be a fine young man” – and it was just the thing to push me over the edge. Thanks, lady. Be careful or I will drop both children off at your doorstep and they can bite your shoulder and be a pest all they want. You’re welcome.

We rode home bitter and silent. The children had many, if not all, privileges removed. We fed them leftovers, are planning on an early bedtime, and look forward to eating take-out and watching Game of Thrones. The good thing about all this? We have each other.

P.S. Memorial day last year and the year before.

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