Endless Summer

I feel myself grasping onto the last few days of summer…just one more swim, a quick hike, that picnic we never got around to…the final card game around the kitchen table while we listen to crickets outside. I am sure we can fit in a trip to the U-Pick-Berry farm and squeeze in another walk to the ice cream shop for an afternoon treat…

I am more uneasy than ever about parting ways with my boys for back-to-school. Every year now since my oldest was school age, I feel a little sick to my stomach as fall arrives and I feel like I am watching their childhood, like the blissful days of summer, disappear right before my very eyes. No more laying around in your PJs until noon, or swimming all day until your fingers look like Yoda's, no more laying on your back under the stars wondering if mom will let you sleep out back…no, it’s up and at ‘em, make your bed, pack your lunch, brush your teeth and for God’s sake, comb that hair! Mama will be right out to take you to school…no, I am not crying, I have something in my eye…

Dirty Little Secret

I broke down and took the boys to see G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra. The last time I was seriously following what G.I. Joe was up to was when he was fighting Ken for my Barbie’s affection. He had a wonderful adhesive beard that you could take on and off, depending on the time of day, or your mood. I really loved G.I. Joe best. Not only did he have facial hair, but he was a little rough around the edges….enough to drive a Mattel girl wild.

It is rated PG-13 and I know the parenting police will think I am a terrible mother for letting my young boys see it. In my defense, they had been sick all week and it seemed like such an innocent little outing, really. Besides, the way they commando around here, there is no scene we could watch that they haven’t already created on their own in the backyard. I know that gun and next-generation spy and military equipment play is not PC and I apologize in advance to my children for outing them to their friends’ mothers. Sorry, guys, mommy’s blog is more important than pretending all I let you watch is PBS.

The cool thing was that I knew all the characters—how many Dukes have I purchased over the last 5 years? I know for a fact that we have several Ripcords and Snake Eyes lying around, locked up by some bad guys in a Lego hideout. The plot was predictable and it was chase scene after chase scene…but what is summer without an action movie, Sour Patch candy and a soda?

http://www.gijoemovie.com/

Rock the boat...Don't tip the boat over

The boys loved the cruise--it was one big James Bond adventure. Not that we had any Secret Intelligence Service missions to carry out but the British accents, jackets at dinner, zipping around on boats and leaping down alley ways in foreign cities were all they needed.

Athens

Nafplio


Santorini

Kusadasi

Rhodes

Mykonos

Istanbul

The holiday was everything we hoped it would be—beautiful islands, charming towns, historical tours...it was amazing to see so much of what I crammed for the night before my art history final. Our guide in Istanbul kept giving us pop quizzes and would act surprised when we couldn't tell him things like how long the sultans ruled the Ottoman empire. I felt like telling him, hey, if my memory was that good, I wouldn't need my 9-year-old calculating currency exchange rates for me at every cafe and shop we visit!

Halfway Home

In transit—sitting in the British Airways Lounge in London, which, let me tell you, is a far cry from the Food Court in Istanbul. I am not sure if it’s the mood music, the plush carpet vs. the sticky linoleum that Sam is pretending to be swimming on, or the frothy cappuccino served in real china cups, but I am happy as a pig in… a blanket!

Steve grumbled that all marriages are better with airline clubs. I suspect he was referring to the pleasant mood which we are all in…but little does he know how correct he is…because there is much less of a chance I will run off with an uptight business man wrestling me for a better seat than the cute Rastafarians boozing it up in Istanbul at the bar at 7:30 this morning offering to buy me a beer…

If we took a holiday ...Took some time to celebrate

I am enjoying some quiet time on the last night of our European holiday. My husband, our two sons, my mom and I all took a cruise from Athens, Greece, through the islands and several ports in Turkey, and ended here in Istanbul. We just got back to the hotel after walking the streets during the first night of Ramadan…there were people, music and parties all over…

The trip was incredible. The only nerve-racking part was putting my mom into a Taksi last night. As the bellman loaded up her suitcases and I gave her a big hug, she all of the sudden seemed like a little girl that I was sending off with some driver who didn’t speak a lick of English in a very foreign city to an airport hotel all by herself…

Dear Allah, even though I drink, I do not pray 5 times a day, I only fast for secular reasons, and I will probably never make a pilgrimage to Mecca, I do, in fact, give money to the poor and I do believe there is a God, please keep my mother safe and get her back home in one piece. Thank you. P.S. If it isn’t too much trouble, could you also please make sure that I got a fair price on the rug I bought so my husband doesn’t get mad when he researches it, I would really appreciate it.

Boys' Club

There is a special tribe of us—moms who have only sons, no daughters. We are a group of women who survive our fate by slamming caffeine, gulping chardonnay, packing Neosporin and wearing running shoes, at all times. We spend an inordinate amount of time at the grocery store and in the Emergency Room.

We have a tight bond with the other moms-of-boys. We need friends who have also grown eyes in the back of their heads to hang out with. Moms of girls think we are just plain weird or that we have unruly, hyper children. We want to roll with women who don’t care that our biggest concern is preventing grievous bodily harm.

My friend, Lisa, Chief of the tribe, flew out last week with Nicholas and Matthew for a triple play date. We were missing our afternoons of fort building, Nerf gun wars & wrestling matches. We had a ball showing them Cornell campus (they ran the stairs and tackled each other endlessly on the football field), hiking (ponds teeming with turtles and frogs) and swimming (moms of boys can sit for hours poolside while the boys do everything but drown themselves right next to us)…

Some neighbors told me about other families with boys “just about” our sons’ ages here in Ithaca. They sort of gave me a knowing little smile when they saw my eyes light up. As soon as we are back from our trip that I am supposed to be packing for right now, we will look them up. Dear Lord: please let them be as cool and fun as the Hammels!

I'll Take Manhattan

My husband grew up in Manhattan so I have been visiting the city for years. But when you visit as the member of an Upper East Side Jewish family, you don't do the typical tourist stuff. Sure, you eat out, you maybe catch a show, you shop a little, but mostly, you visit aging relatives, take walks through Central Park and argue.

This past week, I had a change of pace. I hit the city with a group of friends visiting from La Jolla and Toronto. One of my best friends who lives there guided us to the hip and fashionable things to do. And, thanks to Chrissa, we got a reservation at a hot new restaurant, The Grill, at the Standard Hotel (meat packing district). She also recommended a better way to see NYC than the double decker bus--the Circle Line Boat Cruise. It was an incredible way to learn about the city (on a hot summer day). The boats are new, not crowded, and the tour guide gives a pretty good overview of the city's history and all its famous buildings, landmarks and people. And they serve adult beverages.

Other highlights included shopping on 5th Avenue, drinks at the Four Seasons (east side, near Columbus Circle), brunch at Balthazar (SoHo), and a Broadway show (Jersey Boys)...we walked for miles, drank for hours and completely recharged our batteries. Taking time out to hang with the girls is key to my sanity. I am now refreshed and ready to referee, buy meal worms, pick up Nerf bullets and discuss the merits of sunscreen ad nauseam.

Part 3: Live free or die

The last leg of our summer road trip was to Manhattan, but our flight out of Bangor was canceled due to weather. There were no more confirmed seats available for another week, so we re-booked for the next day out of Portland.

Steve and Charlie made it out on the 11am flight. Sam and I were booked on the 11:40, but it was delayed so we headed to the waterfront and while we were monkeying around our fight took off, as scheduled! We got back to the airport to find a group of angry, confused people standing at the gate. The best were a mother and daughter from Kennebunkport, prepped out from head to toe, complete with monogrammed carry-on. The daughter yelled, “This is bullshit!” I guess even Muffy can be brought to crude behavior. The monitors still read, “Flight Delayed to 12:45”. Someone’s ass is grass.

I was told that the best they could offer me was a cab ride to Boston and a late night flight to New York City. I asked to be on the next flight out of there, on any connection, to get me home to Ithaca. The “most senior person” at the airport said there wasn’t anything available for days. I pulled out my computer and as I was booting up, I looked him straight in the eye and said, “I hope you are right. I hate to think what will happen if I find two seats out of this airport today.” It didn’t get me seats but he did look a little scared.

After sizing up the scene, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands. I got a refund for my U.S. Airways tickets and went over to the rental cars. There were lines at every counter with signs that read, “No cars available”. Sam can’t read but he can sense emotions. As I marched up to the National desk, he put his hand on mine and said, “Now, Mom, don’t get angry!” I went straight to the bald guy who looked intelligent and within 10 minutes, we had a car, nav system and full tank of gas. I know what the “override” button is for!

The best part of the whole experience was that Sam and I had a really great day driving back (8 hours). He did not complain once and was like a little bird, chirping and singing away in the backseat. It was sunny, we stopped for a leisurely lunch, saw lots of spectacular scenery—New England churches, harbor towns, farms and bikers! I was surprised at the number of motorcyclists without helmets. In California I call them “organ donors” but here I see people who are literal examples of the New Hampshire state motto, “Live free or die”. Words to live by.

Sam, my hero, on his "ship"

Part 2 of 3: Maine

Our extremely cool friends invited to us to stay at their family home in Maine—a gorgeous lake front property in Machias. They were gracious hosts…and we had such a memorable visit playing on (and in) the lake, hanging out, boiling innocent lobsters, and eating fresh blueberry pie that it felt like a Big Chill weekend, minus the single friend needing a favor from an old college buddy. Maureen and I usually end up talking all night, or at least until the wine runs out but this time we set a record--we were laughing so loud that her daughter was forced to come downstairs to tell us to knock it off.

We were also treated to a tour of Camp Eagle Wing, a classic New England sleep-away camp on the property next to theirs. Maureen’s oldest son is a CIT (Counselor in Training) there. Chick (preppy New England nickname for Charles), who owns and runs the camp, is an old family friend (Maureen worked for him growing up in Conneticut) and ended up sailing us all over the lake while giving each of the younger kids a sailing lesson... Of course every time he said “Prepare to Jibe”, and everyone chorused, “Ready to Jibe, Captain”, all Maureen and I wanted to do was break into song-- “Jibe talkin’” to the tune of the Bee Gees.

My entry wouldn’t be complete without saying what troopers the men were—they tirelessly gave the kids inner tube rides on the lake, boated and swam, and then, on the rainy day, while Maureen and I had coffee talk for 6 hours, Dean and Steve took the kids to get us all fresh lobster off the boat and later that day, after some old Fitch-Weber family traditions (naming the lobsters and racing them to see who will be cooked first), we sat down to a magnificent feast, complete with fresh corn on the cob so sweet Sam called it nature’s candy.

Finally, to make clear that Maureen and I are not the sit-on-the-dock, afraid-to-get-wet types, I should mention that we swam for an hour from the lakeshore, out to an island and back in dark water (read: cannot see what is swimming underneath you). Maureen and I felt like we had just swam the English Channel and were really proud of ourselves until Steve told us that he thought Maureen’s synchronized swimming demonstrations were pleas for help and he stood at attention the whole time on the dock with binoculars to make sure we weren’t drowning!

We had an incredible time and are thankful for such wonderful friends. An extra special hats off to Maureen’s mother who had the vision, wits and stamina to build “Camp Clyde” from the ground up—it is a magical place—thank you for sharing!