THE SAG HARBOR CARNIVAL

Last summer, Jason moved to a remote cabin in rural Canada to direct his first movie, and I moved to a remote cabin in Bridgehampton with Sid and Lazlo.

When I first heard that he was leaving, I assumed I’d simply continue without him. In that sense, parenting is a bit like the Oregon Trail. Jason's frostbite or broken axle didn’t preclude me from keeping calm and carrying myself to Europe. But I didn't keep calm. Ana, after learning that Europeans don’t believe in summer camp, I panicked.

I ran through countless scenarios in my mind, combing my memory for a time and place where I felt totally in control as a mother. There wasn’t one. From the moment I had a baby, I’d been supervised. Even that first night in the hospital with Sid, I remember a nurse swaddling him in her arms as I looked on longingly from my bed. I remember wanting to hold him so badly but feeling completely powerless. She seemed to be enjoying herself and I didn’t have the self-assurance to cut in.

I wish I were a Davey Crockett mom who knew how to fish, hunt, and send out smoke signals. Or, at the very least, a Betty Crocker mom who knew how to whisk and bake without setting off the smoke alarm. But I’m not, or at least I never have been. I wanted my summer curated by a professional. I wanted structure, instruction, and a camp counselor who wasn’t going to Canada. But he was. He did. And after the first two weeks, I had shingles…

Somewhere between spring break and the final few days of fourth grade, Sid told me he had a crush on this little girl, Nancy. ( Her real name isn’t Nancy. But how cool would it be if it was?!) Anyway, the crush wasn’t serious. Sid had no interest in calling this girl on the phone or even having a playdate unsupervised. It was just something he wanted her to know. He confided in me that on the last day of school, they made a pack to reveal the name of their crush.

“So?” “What happened?” I probed, eagerly.

“I didn’t tell her.”

“Why not?” I asked confused.

Sid shrugged his shoulders and turned away. “I got scared.” He admitted. “But I did tell her that if the school was on fire, she would be the one person I’d save.”

“What about your brother?!” I gasped.

“ BRO! It’s hypothetical!” He shook his head and stared at me with the unparalleled ennui of a ten-year-old talking to his mother, whom he calls Bro.

I spoke to Nancy’s mom who confirmed that Sid’s feelings were requited. She liked him too! Who wouldn’t? He was my son and he was perfect!

Nancy’s mom informed me that they too, would be in the Hamptons, but Nancy was unfortunately going to sleep away camp for the first three weeks. I told her to keep in touch, and we promised to make a plan with the kids once Nancy returned.

On our second to last weekend out East, I agreed to take the boys to the Sag Harbor Carnival along with my assistant Caroline, and my nanny, Erica. Remember that part earlier where I told you I was alone? Well, forget that now.

We planned to go Thursday but when the boys got off the bus, they were behaving like two cokehead Chuckie Dolls and promptly lost the privilege.

Friday was their last shot at whiplash and cotton candy. When four-thirty rolled around, they bounded off their bus, the best of friends.

Their performative brotherhood was so over the top that I started to fear they were the worst actors I’d ever met.

‘I love you, Laz.” Sid cooed.

“I love you, Sid.” Lazlo purred back.

When we arrived at the carnival, the place was packed with screaming tweens, funnel cakes, and shell-shocked parents holding newly acquired pet goldfish. Sid carried Lazlo on his back through the crowd like a silverback gorilla shepherding its infant through the Congo.

“We are going to do every single ride together.” He declared proudly, looking to me for more validation.

Lazlo was on cloud nine, like a co-dependent spouse, willingly suspending his disbelief to live out his deepest fantasy if only for one night.

It was still light out when we arrived. After a week of rain, the sky was clear and the breeze coming off the water was salty and warm. It was one of those nights in July when it felt like summer might last forever. Or perhaps it had, and I’d just been lost in some alternate universe. Was it 2024 or was it 1989? From where I was standing, either answer could be true. Classic rock blasted as a mini roller coaster whipped backward and forward on its tired-out tracks. The lights from the bumper cars glowed with 80s movie nostalgia, as we waited in line for wristbands. I gave Sid my phone and told him that if he got lost, I’d call him. Lazlo jumped up and down, impatiently waiting to measure himself against the height requirement placards, guarding the entrance to each ride. I scanned the line ahead, only stopping when my eyes fell on her.

With a pile of coffee-colored curls and covered in blue and green snow cones, there she was, Nancy, back from summer camp. When she recognized me, she froze like a deer hanging over a hedge fund mantle.

“Sid. Nancy’s here.” I said, delighted.

Sid looked up from my phone in disbelief. The blood drained from his face, and I felt his stomach drop out of his body. Mine did the same. I tried to stay present as I watched his breathless free-fall into total euphoria. Nancy quickly spun around and pretended to be talking to her girlfriends. Sid put my phone to his ear and pretended to be on an important work call. “Buy, Sell, Buy Sell!” I almost heard him say.

I felt outside myself, lost within him and lost without him- feeling blessed to have witnessed what would become a core memory of his childhood and also devastated by its significance. I remembered being his age. I remembered the first time another person made me feel dizzy with dopamine. It was 2024 and also 1989, all in one fleeting moment. I could hear the opening guitar riff from Dire Straits, “Money for Nothing,” as a hundred MTV television sets exploded in my mind. Everything was going to be different after this.