Fixing the Wheels

In case you hadn’t heard, yesterday the temperature reached 102 degrees by 3 p.m. in Central Park, breaking the record high of 101 degrees for the day set in 1999. There’s a record I did not need to be a part of, I assure you. The good news is, I have discovered a 7-Eleven in the middle of New York City where I can buy a Slurpee. It seems funny doesn’t it? Something so suburban in the middle of the epitome of urban. When I have time (which is usually never) on my way to the bus at after work, my new favorite treat is to stop off for 28 ounces of really bad for me frozen high fructose corn syrup fun. So refreshing.

In other news, we had a quiet Fourth of July weekend. We skipped the town parade this year. Too. Flipping. Hot. Also, the kids are getting too old to want to sit that long but are still too young (and untrustworthy) to not wander off. It wouldn’t be a relaxing time for anyone.

I don’t know where it comes from, but I have this driving, bordering on obsessive desire to make sure the kids have lots! Of! Fun! on the weekends. Maybe it’s because I don’t get to see them that much during the week. And also, much of the time I do spend with them during the week it feels like we are just getting one thing finished to get to another. And rushing. Hurrying all the way. Hurrying to eat breakfast so we can get dressed so we can get to school so we can get picked up and eat dinner and take a bath and get to bed on time and…tired? Yes. I know I am. And I know they are.

That’s why it’s important to slow down on the weekends. Hello, obvious, right? But really, I need to give myself (and them) permission to just Be. I’ve come to the point where I relish Saturday mornings (even if they do start a little earlier than they need to—I’m looking at you Leo). Side note: Would someone please explain to me the phenomena known as I have to literally extricate my kid from bed during the week but come the weekend it’s hello 5:30 a.m. wake-up call? To be fair, Leo has started at least sleeping until 6 a.m. Most weekends.

And really, our kids are just plain happy to be home on the weekends. They rarely want to go anywhere. They play with their Little People and tea sets and puzzles like they’ve never played with them before. They relish pajamas until noon (or with the recent weather it’s been more like underwear) and cheese pizza in front of “Finding Nemo” at 6 p.m. Or better yet, Leo’s favorite: “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” Witness Leo watching that show in full belly laugh mode and just try to be in a bad mood.

Need more proof that kids really don’t need all that much to have fun, or that fun truly does come in unexpected places? A few weeks ago, on a drive back from a day trip to a music festival, we got a flat tire. Not fun. At all. The kids were asleep when we realized what had happened and when they woke up we were pulling into the insufferably hot garage of a Sears tire center in an unfamiliar New Jersey town. Ellie sported her little furrowed brow and demanded to know what was going on. I explained that the wheel on our car was broken, and had to be fixed, that it was sort of like when she was sick and had to go to the doctor. We were at the doctor for wheels! Yes, that was it!

Leo, just hours before the flat tire.

And the whole time we were at Sears I was disappointed that our blissful Saturday had to end the way it had. I felt bad that the kids had to miss out on a precious (and increasingly rare) afternoon car nap. I was annoyed that we would get home later than planned.

But then one of the Sears tire guys bought Leo a Sprite from the vending machine in the waiting area. And someone gave Erin the remote to the television in said waiting area and the kids ended up watching Ni Hao while our new tires were installed. And Leo and Ellie sat on the sticky plastic bench sharing their soda and swinging their little bare legs. A couple of random dads, also waiting for their cars joined us, staring up at the bright colored cartoon like it was an old, dear friend. I noted the irony—they’d stolen away from the house, maybe relieved to get away from their kids for an hour or two and here they were, at Sears, watching Nick Jr.

The next morning, on the way to school, I asked Ellie what her favorite part of the weekend was. I expected her to tell me about the snow cone she had at the music festival, or going swimming in the backyard pool. But no.

“My favorite part was…”

She paused as if to really consider it.

“Fixing the wheels!”