Writer’s block

It’s been a hectic week for Housegoeshome and my brain is feeling a bit fried from all the blogging. (I may also have a teensy, tiny hangover … OK, a big one.) So I’m slacking off and running another old New York blog. With cute pics. I was drawn to it because Husband and I have been discussing our fantasy holiday to New York (on our way to Charleston for a wedding) and what we’d do there. Husband reckons we should go to an art gallery that’s up the Hudson River and I’m like “Seriously? We have three days in New York [it’s a short fantasy holiday, we can’t leave the kids for too long] and you want us to spend one of them faffing around going upstate?”

In the whole 10 months we lived in New York, we only went upstate once. Which is more than many New Yorkers do in 10 years.

This is what I wrote:

“I’d been dreaming of a day trip out of New York before the weather turned lethally cold, so I asked some of the other pre-school mums if they had any suggestions.

They looked at me blankly for a moment. Then one replied that she preferred to remain within a 10 block radius of her apartment building (luckily she lives near Central Park), another suggested Coney Island; and a third ventured that Philadephia was nice.

They weren’t quite the answers I was hoping for. I had something a little more rural in mind. Something leafy, no-fuss and fun for the whole family.

A Russian mum/student living on our floor proposed hiring a car and driving to a farm in New Jersey for the day. It sounded idyllic – hayrides, fruit picking, animals to feed – until I investigated how much a rental car would cost and almost had heart failure.

So I started searching train lines and came up with Cold Spring. Cold Spring is a little town full of cafes, antiques and craft shops, around 90 minutes from our apartment on the Metro North line. Getting there costs just $15 for a return ticket (kids under five free!) on a scenic train line that hugs the Hudson River.

It turned out to be the perfect choice. The views were gorgeous – the banks of the river were crowded with trees displaying their autumn leaves and we had lots of fun stickybeaking at quaint little cottages and West PointMilitaryAcademy from the window of the train.

Cold Spring itself was sweet and uncomplicated. We trailed up and down the main street, peered in all the shop windows; tossed some leaves in the park; had lunch in a café; then wandered down to the river to do some pretend fishing with tree fronds before hopping on the train back home.

As an added bonus, I even spotted a Target store on the ride home and put it on my budget shopping to-do list.

We marvelled at the fact most Manhattan dweller we’ve spoken to have never even heard of Cold Spring. They’re missing out.

We came back to earth with a thud on Monday morning for parent-teacher conference day at pre-school. The two-year-old’s session was pretty straightforward, there’s not much you can say about a toddler – she’s happy, friendly, good appetite …

However, the meeting about our four-year-old was a different matter. She’s hitting all her development milestones and enjoying all the activities, but she hasn’t made any friends. She prefers to play alone and isn’t “reaching out” to anyone in the class. They’ve suggested setting up some playdates and given a list of possible targets.

I gather that the normal venue for a playdate is a park, but I suspect Sprog 1 would just wander off and do her own thing. I need to corral her with the prospective playmate so she can’t escape.

I’ve decided to start cold-calling other mums to invite their kids over for afternoon tea. I even bought a packet cake mix at the corner store this morning – red velvet (I was a little dazzled by the concept of a red cake, what’s that all about? Chemicals, I suspect) – so I can do a little baking.

I’m a bit gun-shy about baking off my own bat after putting too much baking soda in a batch of Anzac biscuits and feeding them to a poor, unsuspecting family from Minnesota, who politely choked the bitter offerings down.

If I’m really lucky, one of the playdaters might be a Polly Pocket fan, which would take some of the pressure off my inadequate imaginary play skills. Well, at least for afternoon.

And hopefully Sprog 1 will “click” with one of the kids. I’ve seen the way her face lights up when she plays with a child on her wavelength (anything that involves pretending to be an animal is a big hit). I’d love to see that happen again.

In the meantime, Sprog 2 is doing her best to step into the breach, leading Sprog 1 around the apartment as her “doggie”. Watching their bond grow is one of the big bonuses of our time in New York. They might fight like two cats in a bag sometimes, but they get closer every day.”

PS Sprog 1 still likes pretending she’s an animal, the Polly Pockets are getting a renewed workout in the playroom and the Sprogs are best friends (when they’re not fighting like two cats in a bag) … the more things change, the more they stay the same …