Mama Writes: Leaving Brooklyn in Order to Return

I love living in Brooklyn, but I never thought I would. I was raised all over the place and spent the latter part of my childhood in Portland, Oregon. I always assumed I would move back there, to the land of mountains and Ponderosas, of biking and hiking, but then my parents moved east while I was at Vassar, and I fell in love with an east coast boy. Meanwhile, my husband- who was raised on the Upper West Side- ended up falling in love with Oregon so much that we decided to get married out there, in part to introduce much of our east coast family to the wonders of the Pacific Northwest.

That was eight years ago. And we are still here, in brownstone Brooklyn, with a toddler and friendships and work and community and family all around. But the question is still unanswered- will we move? We ask ourselves in the dead of winter, hiking down Flatbush through snow drifts, and when it's 107 degrees outside and even Prospect Park offers no respite, but we also try to ask ourselves when we love our life here, when we've just had a leisurely brunch in the backyard of or spent a few blissful hours at the .

One of the main reasons I still entertain the thought of leaving is because one of the cornerstones of my childhood, in rural Vermont, even more rural Senegal, and yes, Portland, was that summertime was spent in the wild. We were let loose upon the lake, the bush, the meadows, and we didn't come inside until dark. It is hard to replicate this life for a Brooklyn kid- and I want it for myself, too- so, not having moved, our unconscious solution, for the past few summers, has been to leave.

Two summers ago, we left our life here for a month and stayed in my family's lake cabin in the woods of Northern Vermont. Last summer, we traveled hard- to a film shoot in LA, a wedding in Oregon, family in Washington State, and a memorial service in Ohio (not exactly "the wild," but also, not Brooklyn). This summer, we are making two big trips; the first, from which we just returned, to the cabin for a few weeks; the second, on which we are about to embark, to the oddball combination of Iceland and Italy.

We are lucky that our jobs and savings can allow for these trips, but as every summer has hit us, I've realized these "escapes" are actually integral to our ability to live in Brooklyn. They are the deal breaker. But why is that? As I said, I love my life in Brooklyn, and even as we dream of a buying a bungalow in Portland, we also can't truly imagine leaving this one blithely behind.

I think it may have something to do with having moved around a lot as a kid, and being raised by parents who imbued our familial life with a sense of adventure. As I've thought more about what I want to give my child, this characteristic often comes to mind. When I was three, my parents and I moved to an African village, far out in the bush. Now that I have a child of nearly the same age, I am impressed and amazed by their bravery, and though I don't think we'll be moving to Africa anytime soon (although I wouldn't rule it out), I'd like for my son to fall in love with the broader world. Maybe I'm insane for taking my two year old to Europe for a couple weeks, but we sure are going to have an adventure.

In the meantime, I'm a packing lunatic (just ask my husband). I want to take as few clothes as possible, so I am paring down to just the essentials, while at the same time, I have been collecting advice (and objects) suggested by the well-traveled families I know, the best ideas of how to keep a toddler occupied on long international flights, and in airports, and train stations, and foreign hotel rooms. I've got the Wonder Pets and Follow That Bird downloaded, a few new apps for the iPad, books, crayons, stickers, and more snacks than are humanly digestible. But a few of my friends' suggestions are farther afield (and so brilliant) that I can't keep them to myself:

- multi-colored craft puff balls in a plastic bag- you can count them, sort them, and if you lose em, there's always more

- a roll of scotch tape- usually forbidden, but now free game

- a tiny flashlight- so long as they are aware of the “not in the eyes” rule

- little woven finger traps- we're bringing a whole package so we can give out a few if we need to make friends

- and Chapstick. 'Nuff said.

Do you have any ideas for the perfect toddler travel item I should be taking with us? Please let me know. In the meantime, I'll be going through our clothes again, while my euphoric toddler whoops it up in his newly-returned-to-and-fallen-in-love-with bedroom, surrounded by his toys and art and play dough, in this intervening week between adventures.                                  

Maybe the reason we leave is simple: because it makes our return that much sweeter. I can already picture us on Labor Day Weekend: a stack of pancakes at , the thrill of the fountain in front of the , and hours upon hours of lounging in the Long Meadow, happy to be home.