A few weekends ago, Mike and Mazzy went on the annual “Meeting of the Mikes” trip. If you don’t know about the Mikes trip, you can read about it here and here and here. It’s a family trip upstate with a bunch of Mike’s buddies from college. (Why do dads always call their college friends “buddies?”) Everyone stays in a cabin on a lake.
The first year, I went while pregnant with Harlow, got food poisoning from eating a hamburger at a stock car racetrack and spent an entire day locked in the only bathroom being shared by about twenty people. Even more horrifying, that bathroom was located right off the main living space, with the door opening so you would be standing in front of the television when you came out. Let’s just say— there was no way to hide what was going on in there.
I’ll also tell you that I spent the majority of my time on the toilet frantically googling what harm food poisoning could do to your unborn baby, as all super paranoid pregnant women would.
Harlow turned out just fine, thank god.
The next summer, I sent Mike and Mazzy on their own, since a shared cabin on a lake with very close sleeping quarters is no place for a newborn. I’m sure everyone was thrilled I stayed behind.
The summer after that, we all went together and had a really awesome time.
This summer, I had some important things going on that weekend, so I decided to take Harlow to city for a few days while Mike took Mazzy upstate for the Mike’s weekend.
Throughout the long weekend, Mike and I texted each other back and forth with pics. I would send him a photo of Harlow and I eating pancakes at a cafe in Nolita and he would send me back a photo of Mazzy and him roasting a pig on a spit. I would send him a pic of Harlow at a museum and he would send me back a photo of a Mazzy in front of a 30 foot bonfire that looked dangerously close to burning down the entire town. I would tell him that Harlow had just sang the entire Moana soundtrack and he would tell me that the kids just put on a performance of a show called “Beavcoon” which was about a half beaver/half raccoon who died in the swamp by their cabin.
Our weekends could not have been more different. And my response to almost every text was— PLEASE DON’T KILL MY DAUGHTER.
To better illustrate, here are some photo side-by-sides:
As you can see, Harlow started her day off right with a heaping plate of pancakes at a cafe, placed perfectly next to bud vase with sunny yellow flowers. She also smiled nicely for the camera. Mazzy and her friend are eating what looks like dry toast.
When I saw a graffiti wall in the East Village perfect for Instagram, Harlow jumped at the chance to #poselikeharlow in front of it. Mike’s idea of a photo op is whipping out his camera when it looks like his daughter is drowning in a lake.
While Harlow and I went shopping in the West Village (check out this wall of rainbow dishware!), Mike sat Mazzy in a raft, attached the raft to a boat with a rope and pulled it off the dock into the water at top speed.
Harlow and I went to the Whitney Museum in the Meatpacking District and strolled the rooftop sculpture garden. As for Mazzy… Hey, Mike! You think you want to give her a paddle?!
While Mazzy jumped off a diving board at the top of a boat about twenty feet above the water and plunged into what Mike described as “water too freezing for me to go in,” Harlow took a dip in an interactive art installation created by an artist from Argentina.
After we left the Whitney, Harlow and I strolled the Highline, taking a break at the stadium seating above 17th Street to watch the cars drive by underneath. Meanwhile, Mazzy and her crew hung out on the second story of the pontoon while their dads *no doubt* drank beers underneath.
After dinner at a Chinese restaurant (Harlow’s choice), Harlow and I stopped at Baked by Melissa to get mini cupcakes in six different flavors— red velvet, creme caramel, cookies and cream, peanut butter and jelly, cookie dough and double chocolate. We ate them outside on the steps in Union Square while watching street performers and the sun go down. That’s Mazzy and her friend eating chicken nuggets with ketchup on a paper plate. Not a vegetable to be found.
On the right, we have avocado toast with thinly sliced radish and alfalfa sprouts on top. On the left, we have a burnt pig on a spit sitting on the floor. Guess who ate which where.
The next night, I took Harlow for a special treat at Dylan’s Candy Shop. While we were there, she sampled edible bubbles and asked to pose in front of the candy wall, making sure to stand in the section that matched her dress. On the Mike trip, which had no fewer than six Mikes, they chose to split a grocery store sheet cake with one word iced on top: “Mike.”
I’m not sure what is going on in either photo. All I know is that Harlow’s play time involved a pad of paper, a pencil, wooden pastries on a tiered cake stand and clip-on earrings. Mazzy and her friend are doing something with sticks and a wet towel.
That’s Harlow sitting in a massage chair getting her very first pedicure while Mazzy lounges in a collapsible lawn chair in front of what I can only describe as A VERY LARGE FIRE. Think I’m kidding? Well, then…
The Alexander Calder exhibit at the Whitney was definitely exciting but I don’t think it was nearly as exciting as the five alarm fire that Mazzy had the privilege of witnessing. This photo doesn’t even do it justice. It was ten times as high and much more alarming over FaceTime. You know the crazy thing about that fire? The dads chose to set it themselves! “HOW FAR BACK IS MAZZY SITTING????” I texted Mike. “She’s fine,” Mike texted back. “THIS IS HOW PEOPLE BURN DOWN ENTIRE NEIGHBORHOODS,” I replied. “Don’t worry. We alerted the fire department before we set it,” Mike assured me. “THAT DOES NOT MAKE ME FEEL BETTER.”
While walking through the West Village, I had to take a picture of the rainbow crosswalk on Christopher Street. It was painted for the Pride Parade and this was the first time I was seeing it in person. How fantastic is that??? Mike must have found this old sports car equally fantastic because I found about 30 pictures of it in his camera roll. Mike— it’s not moving! It’s not like it’s going to pose differently after the 29th pic!
Harlow and I stopped at a toy store and she convinced me to buy a jar of purple Unicorn Snot, which is basically glitter gel. Mazzy didn’t bring home any souvenirs, but she does have a plethora of framable father/daughter selfies to chose from!
Although my photos might be a little more Insta-worthy and Mike’s photos prove that I absolutely do not have anything close to an Instagram husband, I think we both took full advantage of our one-on-one time with the girls.
I’d even venture to say that Mike and Mazzy’s trip looked like more fun than ours (albeit, a little more life threatening) and I’m excited for Harlow and I to join the Mikes as a complete family next summer.