I don’t actually get a winter break, but my fifth-grader does. Any mom knows that when her kids are on vacation her list of job requirements increases exponentially. It’s true that vacation mornings are blissfully full of not getting out of pajamas and not getting to the bus and our afternoons are equally as blissfully spent not doing homework and our evenings are delightfully spent not getting to bed on time. Somehow though, I take it upon myself to provide activities to entertain him – at least enough to keep him from his (current) chosen obsession with a computer game that I’m not entirely thrilled about.

So yesterday I loaded them (and the surprising amount of stuff that a ten-year-old and an eighteen-month-old and their mama require for an overnight visit) into the car and drove to my parents’.

We spent the afternoon at the Metropolotian Museum of Art.

I wish I could tell you which exhibit we enjoyed the most but the truth is that The Older Boy and I spent most of the time running after The Younger Boy.

To watch him toddle at top speed through rooms filled with ancient artifacts was amusing.

As is traditional in my family, we spent a good amount of time eating. First at The Museum and next at my parents’ apartment where we watched the sunset over Central Park.

It’s always a little strange to visit my hometown. I’m transported back to my teenage years and nothing has changed and then someone yells “MAMA” and it’s twenty-five years later.

The City never moves, yet it remains in constant motion. Everything is where I remember it, but the view is entirely different. I imagine it’s this way for anyone visiting the place they grew up.

There’s another road-trip on tap for tomorrow and a review of my new sewing machine in the queue.

Stay tuned.

Thanks for visiting.