Little Kids, Big City: Tales from a Real House in New York City (With Lessons on Life and Love for Your Own Concrete Jungle) (25 page)

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Authors: Alex McCord,Simon van Kempen

BOOK: Little Kids, Big City: Tales from a Real House in New York City (With Lessons on Life and Love for Your Own Concrete Jungle)
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5.
Bored Now… Buh-Bye.
Although Johan is by far the wiliest both boys often turn into escape artists when they
ve had enough shooting or waiting around Whether it’s at home or out and about in the city young kids don’t like to sit still just out of shot We don’t have 24/7 childcare and when we’re shooting at home on the weekends it’s just the crew and us. After about 10 minutes, if we can’t find the kids we check the crew van to see whether François has learned to drive yet and how many toy boats and swords Johan has made out of that black aluminum foil they use for light filters. A bonus we hadn’t counted on is that now that François is big enough for a body mic the sound guys can hear what he’s up to and track him I can’t wait until they mike up Johan too!
4. Confidence Will Get You Everywhere. At a photo shoot Johan was being fussed over by a group of stylists and makeup artists Someone told him “Johan you are so cute!” Johan smiled and said in a complete deadpan “I’m not cute I’m gorgeous”
3. They Know How to Push Your Buttons We took the boys to a Christmas party in one of those over the top wonderland holiday stores where everything is gorgeous and expensive While taking photos with Santa and his helpers six year old François leaned over and whispered “That elf is going to
get it”
Needless to say I was on elf watch for the rest of the party
2.
They Become Allies
At a photo shoot with lots of children one three year old girl had clearly had enough and wasn’t cooperating Johan started tickling her while François said to the photographer “She needs a break or else she’s going to start crying and that’s going to stress me out”
1.
When the Camera Rolls… François Rolls
When François was four, we filmed a brunch in the Hamptons with friends of ours It was late afternoon and hot and the boys really wanted no part of sitting at the table and eating It was painful for everyone involved After we survived the meal François took a walk with our friend Murray Murray asked him how he liked filming, to which our little bugger replied, “Murray when the camera rolls François rolls”
 
 
Chapter 16
 
The Light at the End of the Tunnel
 
Evidence of Self-Sufficiency
 
Alex
This is the chapter of hope. Sometimes when I want to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge because I think that the kids are never going to understand me, that things will never be easier, that they will wind up killing themselves before they can grow up to take on the city, something great will happen and I’ll remember what we’re working toward.
Right now we’re in the trenches. We have young children who can be unreasonable, demanding, who relentlessly bug us and keep us from doing everything we want to do, or at least from doing it at the pace we’d prefer. There are many times when I’ve wanted to cry in frustration when it takes one and half hours to leave the house for the park (a five-block walk) due to capricious and exacting toddlers. If we can survive without killing them, however, there’s a payoff that is already beginning to show itself.
One early weekend morning in August, after an unusually great night’s sleep, I’m gently prodded awake by Simon, who suggests I boot up the computer and get some work done (I’d been complaining the day before that I wasn’t being productive). The boys wake up as well, even though I’m being quiet as a mouse. They have a sixth sense for any sort of movement, I think. My best intention to work is then thwarted for half an hour until Simon mercifully takes the boys away for breakfast. In the interim I’ve managed to take my computer off the shelf and plug it in, put batteries into Operation and give a lesson in how to play it, remind the boys that they can’t walk around with moon sand, diffuse two tantrums and answer all sorts of entertaining questions, such as, “Why can’t I brush my private parts with my toothbrush? Why can I not color in the apple on the lid of your computer? Why doesn’t Daddy like it when I scream in his ear?”
Sometimes answering illogical questions gets really, really frustrating. I’m the type of person who likes to tell someone to do something one time, explain where necessary and come back to see the task has been done. I don’t like endless discussion, but with young children it’s a way of life. Simon and I have to constantly check our frustration levels. In one 24-hour period while traveling with the family, I probably spent one full hour discussing why magic markers cannot be carried around with the caps off, particularly in a hotel suite with white couches and walls. You would think it’s not necessary to explain that napkins on laps keep your clothes clean, but it does in fact take a spoonful of spaghetti spilled on a white shirt to drive that point home.
 
All Grown Up, So Far
 
Housekeeping with two exuberant young boys is like running an obstacle course uphill in the rain with one leg, a blindfold and heavy weights pulling at you. People with older children or no children used to look on the inside of our house in horror, and of course it was made worse by the fact that we bought a fixer-upper, which we renovated piece by piece. But seriously, who in their right mind would spend $10,000 on gorgeous sofas when kids will spill juice on them and jump up with their dirty shoes? As much as limestone bathroom vanities sound appealing, they would either be stained with toothpaste or assaulted by little fingers’ attempts to remove the evidence in about 10 seconds. Prior to our renovation I made the decision that I would rather keep old furniture around that we don’t particularly care about. Post-renovation, we tried to make our new purchases as environmentally friendly as possible, including eco-suede couches made out of recycled plastic bottles and repurposed wood. Regardless, I didn’t buy anything that wouldn’t react favorably to a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser Bath Scrubber, which I know is designed to rid of grime on tubs and toilets but often manages to sneak out of the bathroom and into our living room and other useful places. All our new furniture is easy to clean, as “green” as possible and great for use by messy, sticky, absolutely-lovable-even-when-they’re-infuriating boys.
Children will beat you into submission with their needs. They are relentless, guilelessly calculating and will stop at absolutely nothing to keep you from doing whatever it is that you want to or need to do. Sometimes you really just want to get that pot off the stove while you’re talking a client down off the cliff on your cell. At the same time you get to navigate an obstacle course of boys hanging on your legs, brandishing kitchen knives and the phone with which they want to call Grandma—conveniently forgetting that she is in Australia and it’s 3 a.m. there. You want to get some work done on your computer? Expect that they’ll stand over you, asking what you are doing and could they please draw something or type their names? And if you put on a DVD for them, they’ll still request assistance pressing play, adjusting the volume and choosing the language.
Children can also turn you (temporarily) against your spouse. You want to sit quietly and finish your cocktail? Nope, it’s your turn to run a lap around the restaurant’s garden with the kids. You want to take a shower? Not a chance, I want to check my e-mail and tag photos on Facebook. I have had a really rough day at the office and I need you to feed the children, put them to bed and leave me alone while I try and shake off this day. For this reason I’m glad we stopped at two. A friend of mine from college and his partner adopted a boy who is about the same age as Johan, and he told me once that he and his partner would both get vasectomies if it were necessary to ensure that there would be no more children in their family. I think that this is where many relationships go sour—Simon and I are lucky that the frustration of navigating parenthood has brought us closer together rather than wedging us apart. When times are rough with the kids it’s us against them, not each other.
Why would you ever have children if they are so profoundly irritating? While making you and your partner completely crazy, they are also the most lovable, delightful creatures in existence. How can you not look at the face of your three-year-old and be so happy you think your heart will burst when they say, “I love you, Mommy,” or “Daddy is my best friend.” We also remind ourselves how very, very lucky we are that we have two happy, healthy children. Life can change in an instant, and having a baby is not a guarantee of that baby growing into a child, a teenager or an adult. I felt that overwhelming sadness that seems like nausea when I heard that someone’s newborn baby died, or that a fifth-grader in a local school was killed in a bicycle accident. Times like those you can feel guilty that you have two amazing kids who have no major allergies or illnesses and who love each other and love us. We are lucky and we know it. Let’s go find a big piece of wood so I can knock on it.
They are alive, they are healthy and eventually they begin to “get it.” Somehow you begin to see a light at the end of the tunnel when they start to demonstrate self-sufficiency.
 
I’m in the bathroom getting ready. I hear two-year-old Johan crying. Just as I’m about to stop and investigate, the crying stops. Four-year-old François comes running in:
Alex: What happened?
François: Johan was thirsty I got up on the stepladder got him a juice box and he’s OK now
 
When François severed his tendon and had to have surgery, Johan came into the recovery room with us to see him and sat on the end of the gurney as his brother came out from under sedation. When the nurse and Simon and I gently called to François, Johan sweetly sang out, “François, wake up!” When our big boy did open his eyes, he smiled at his little brother and I melted. Though they are certainly capable of pounding each other to a pulp, they also clearly love each other and are each other’s best playmates. For this reason we’re so glad we had two so close in age.
At 10 a.m. on a Sunday at home:
Alex: Johan will you tell me a story?
Johan: OK Once upon a time there was a boy called Johan And he wasn’t a baby he was a boy And he went to his mom’s house but his mom wasn’t there the wild things were The one wild thing was Mommy and the other wild thing was Daddy and there was another wild thing that was François And then they made pancakes and they ate them with chocolate chips inside And then they ate gummy worms And then they went to the park and they splattered some goo on us Then we licked the goo and it was slime Mommy do you know that candy we had with slime? Where we dipped a stick into the salty thing and then into the goo? And Mommy do you know we eat candy goo? Caaaaandy goooooo Yum OK that’s it
 
After telling his story, Johan moved a little closer and half whispered conspiratorially… but not so low that Simon couldn’t hear from across the kitchen.
Johan: Mommy may I have some cotton candy?
Simon: No
Johan: No I’m not asking you I’m asking Mommy
Simon: Mommy’s answer will be the same as mine
Johan: Ummm Mommy may I have some cotton candy?
Alex: No
Johan: (Without missing a beat) OK can I have some money?
 
After lunchtime, he got his cotton candy. No money changed hands.

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