If we had a photo album, this is probably what the pages from our Disney Trip would look like:

The Hoop Dee Doo Reviewwas a major high of our trip. I had been to the show twice before — once as a kid, and once when Braydon, my parents, and I went to Disney with Maria (she was 8 then, which means that was about 15 years ago! whoa!). It is super fun. But this time around took it to another level. This was Kyle and Owen’s first experience with live slap-stick comedy, and it would be a major understatement to say that they enjoyed it. They absolutely LOVED it. They thought everything was so totally over-the-top hilarious, and they laughed so hard that they had everyone around them laughing at them laughing. I swear, I spent more time watching my boys watch the show (and laugh ’till they almost peed their pants), than I did watching the show on the stage (and I wasn’t the only one– K & O kept every table around us, plus our waitstaff, entertained for the whole night). The meal was really good too– we were hungry that night, and the bbq ribs, fried chicken, and all the fixings seemed to really hit the spot! (The huge pitcher of beer for Braydon and me, and the endless soda and chocolate milk for the boys and Meera, helped too!) This is the best part of Disney: the focus on having a genuinely really good time together. As soon as the show ended, one of the cast members got off the stage and made a bee-line to the back of the room straight to our table. I couldn’t imagine what she was doing, but when she got to us it turned out that she simply just wanted to meet our kids. She hugged them and chatted it up with them, then asked if we wanted a photo with her (who would say “no”?). The kids were thrilled (Meera had adored her throughout the show, and K & O had little boy crushes on her). I was once again pretty blown away by the special attention. We left on Cloud 9. And then — thrill of thrills for the boys!!! — we rode a Disney ferry, across the lake, in the pitch dark, to get back to our room for the night. That Hoop Dee Doo Review night was magical.

Other highlights:

The jumping fountains at Epcot.The bambinos could have spent a whole day just playing at those jumping fountains. Braydon and I sat on a bench and watched them play for almost an hour. It is one of my best memories of the trip. And luckily I knew enough to have brought an extra set of clothes for them everywhere we went (oh, I know these three waaay toooo welllll).

Haitian friends everywhere we went. At Disney all of the employes (“Cast Members”) wear name tags that identify where they are from. Kyle and Owen quickly caught onto this, and also quickly realized how many Haitians work at Walt Disney World. Every time they spotted someone from Haiti they stopped to talk with them. “We’re from Haiti too!” Some of these stops lasted just a few seconds, many of them turned into lengthy full-blown conversations, and some of them became whole-life-story and profound-words-given-and-received. (One of them resulted in the Cast Member giving us 10 Fast Pass tickets to any rides of our choice, and then personally escorting us straight into the very front of the line for Peter Pan’s Flight). The Haitians were all eager to give Kyle and Owen lots of words of wisdom. They also were apt to drill one specific piece of advice/admonition into Kyle and Owen over and over and over — “RESPECT YOUR MOTHER!” This thrilled me to no end– In part because any mother would love to hear this advice given to her son (obvi!), and in part because I felt so honored to have these Haitians honor me simply by calling (and not questioning) me as their boys’ (yes, their boys) mother. The Haitian connection that Kyle and Owen have with others from Haiti is so deep and strong. Braydon, Meera, and I are outside of it. But I love watching my boys connect through it with others. It was a major highlight of our trip.

Everest.The boys’ favorite ride. They rode it many times. Braydon and I have a hard time stomaching it. And Meera was too short to ride it. We finally let K & O ride it on their own– dropping them off at the end of the line, and picking them up where the ride let out.

Big Thunder Mountain. Meera’s favorite ride (she takes after her two parents). We rode it many times as a family of five. Fun!!!

Presents. There is so much stuff to buy at Disney. People go crazy there, just buying stuff. We are so lucky that our kids don’t ask for much and are super appreciative when we do buy them something. On the last day, when K & O were riding Space Mountain (again!) with their Papi, I took Meera into a toy store and told her she could pick out anything she wanted. She picked two princesses and I bought them for her on the spot. She acted like I had just given her a trip to Disney (!!)… 😉 …the staff working in the store were so blown away by Meera’s appreciativeness that they pulled her aside and gave her all sorts of extras for free– a hand-printed princess pin, a bunch of stickers, etc. It was all very sweet. As soon as we got out of the store, Meera asked me to take a picture of her with the new dolls. She set them on the sidewalk just so, and posed with them, making sure I took the photo exactly as she wanted. It was really precious. We then found a bench where we were able to sit and unpackage the dolls. Meera set them on the bench and asked to take a picture with my camera. The photo she took of her princesses on the bench is below. For about 30 minutes, right there, in the center of the Magic Kingdom, Meera was lost in her own world with those two dolls. It is random, but the whole scene was such a memorable highlight for me of Meera, at age 4, at Disney.

Basketball in the Magic Kingdom. Kyle and Owen, on the other hand, want for nothing. Seriously, they virtually never ask for anything. They are probably the only two kids in Disney World who go for days without ever asking for a thing. Even if offered to them, they’ll usually turn it down. Crazy kids. They did, however, one day spot small Disney World basketballs for sale. And that was something they couldn’t pass up! They proceeded to dribble those balls all over the Magic Kingdom like little basketball loving maniacs. It gave me such a chuckle… you can take the boys out of basketball, but you can’t take the basketball out of the boys…

Living It. There are so many spaces to just be and enjoy at Disney. If you let yourself not rush to try to get to everything (which is a challenge for us, but we were really conscientiously trying to give ourselves the luxury of living it and not rushing through it)… it is just so pleasant and charming and enjoyable. Our kids are so good at taking time to smell the roses… we are learning from them. A major high was just living it.

Next up: Family Bonding (a Post of Pics)

Two major highlights for all five of us: princesses & parades.

This was my first time at Disney with a Princess Lover (Meera). It really changes the experience of Disney (or, at least, it did for me). I used to think that all those people who “chased princesses,” waiting in lines for hours for a 2 minute meet-and-greet, prioritizing the photos and autographs above so many other possible experiences, were just absolutely nutso. I still kinda think that, except now I kinda get it.

For Meera, at age 4, these were the REAL princesses. These are her superheroes. This is a major part of her world. It was such a complete thrill and delight for her to meet them in real life. I cannot relate (I was never that kind of kid); Braydon cannot relate (he wasn’t either); and Kyle and Owen cannot relate (they aren’t at all). But, because we all love her 100%, we can totally go there — to that Princess Place — with Meera, if we have to. And for all of us — in a strange twist of the unexpected — it turned into a major highlight.

For Braydon and I it was the looks on their faces, their reactions, the thrill we could see in our kids’ eyes. And for Kyle and Owen, it was the fact that they too got all caught up in it (they have, after all, watched every single princess movie with their sister). What began as something they needed to do for their sister, turned into something fantastical for themselves. They got 100% swept away with the thrill of it all. When the trip was over, in fact, Owen unselfconsciously reported that his favorite moment of our Disney trip was “meeting the princesses.” And for Meera, it is obvious: the princesses are huge, and were a huge part of Disney for her.

In anticipation of the Princess Thing, I had planned for a Princess Breakfast, in hopes that we’d get it all done in one fell swoop (and avoid those hours in lines). Booking a Princess Breakfast was the best thing we could have done; it worked completely. And we had an awesome breakfast to boot. In addition to that breakfast we met a few other princesses around the parks too. We never waited in line long, or felt like we were sacrificing other grandiose activities. And now these photos with the princesses, and the memories they represent, are prized possessions of the three bambinos and their two parents.

I have to admit, we got a lot of special attention from the princesses. They lingered with our kids a lot longer than with others (yes, they are very good at giving every kid attention, but believe me, they gave some hefty extra time to the J-M kids… proof of that is the sheer fact that their handlers were often pushing them on to the next group and politely reminding them to ‘move along’ because they were spending way too much time with K,O,M). I am not aloof enough to think this is coincidence, or arrogant enough to think this is because my kids are so special; I am sure it is because our family is so different. In our five days at Walt Disney World, seeing literally thousands and thousands of families, we noticed only 4 other families there that looked anything like ours. The princesses would have to be blind to not see it. At times I felt awkward about the amount of time we got (thinking to myself, “ok! it is time to move on to the next kids!”), but I tried to let it be what it was, to let the princesses be in control, and remind myself that this is just a small token my kids can receive in exchange for having to be so different in the great big world. If the princesses want to shower my kids with special attention, for whatever reasons (maybe they are trained to notice and give extra attention? maybe they do it out of their own personal curiosity?)… I am not going to stand in their way.

And so, Braydon and I stood back, and watched, grinning, and snapped some photos along the way.

* * *

And then there are the parades. There is just nothing like a Disney parade! We are suckers for the Disney parades!!!

Coming up next: Hoop Dee Doo Review and Other Highlights!

I cannot imagine that anyone — regardless of age, background, political persuasion, or any other variable — could enter Walt Disney World and not be impressed with the magic of it all. To be an adult, and to know that this is a constructed reality, purposefully fabricated to be magical, intended to be uplifting, and to know that one man’s imagination sparked it, and hosts of thousands of “Imagineers” and “Cast Members” have concertedly — and continue to — perpetuate it… it is just plain mind-blowing and awe-inspiring. You can’t help but to be overcome with it, even if you don’t want to be. The only other place that Braydon and I have experienced something similar is Paris, France. When you go to Paris, you fall in love with it, even when you conscientiously don’t want to (I speak from firsthand experience on that one). Walt Disney World is pure magic.

Seeing it through the eyes of a child adds a whole other layer to it. If you’re as lucky as me, and you got to go there as a child yourself, then you recall so easily what it was like to be there as a kid. And then you see you own kid there. And you can’t help but to be overwhelmed with it all.

Our three children have always been people who are right at the surface. You can easily engage them. They are open to the world. They connect to people and places freely and easily and quickly. Experiences are really deeply experienced by them. That is something I’ve always admired about my kids, and I try to learn from them how to be better at being in the world like that.

Life is lived to the fullest with the bambinos. So Disney — a very rich and full experiential place — is taken to the max with them. Being in the world of Walt Disney with Kyle, Owen, and Meera is magic in and of itself.

Here is Owen at Disney at age 8:

Here is Kyle at Disney at age 8:

Here is Meera at Disney at age 4:

Here are the J-Ms at Disney in 2013:

Up next: Princesses and Parades!

“If you do nothing unexpected, nothing unexpected happens.”~Fay Weldon

After much discussion and deliberation, one night, in early December, Braydon and I finally bit the bullet– we got the kids to bed, set up our laptops on the kitchen counter, and got to work booking our Disney trip. We picked the end of January to go, mainly because that is one of Disney World’s most least-busy times of year, and it also coincided nicely with our Adoption Day.

We vowed to each other that we would keep it a secret, and make it a total surprise, for the bambinos. That part of it — the secret of it, our conspiratorial plotting and planning, the wink winks and nod nods, the hiding of plane tickets and Disney mailings and To Do Lists, the only-us-knowing — all of that was, ultimately, just as fun for Braydon and I as Disney World was for the bambinos. I’m serious. We so, so, so loved surprising them with this trip! It will probably be one of the best gifts we ever give. And there’s not much I love more than thoughtful and generous gift giving.

We told very, very few people about our plans.

The nights leading up to our date of departure were crazy-fun! Braydon and I would get the kids to bed then stay up late with the prepping, packing, and planning. We were hiding everything in a corner of our basement storage area. We went up and down the stairs about a million times. All while the bambinos slept unknowingly. As any parent who has ever travelled with young kids knows, these sorts of trips involve a ton of organization, preparation, and packing. I love every minute of it. When I’m doing it, often at midnight, exhausted from a long day of work, and strung-out from all that needs to be done to get ready to leave for a week, I am smiling inside and consciously thinking: “Gosh, I am going to miss these days so much when they are grown up and off on their own.”

The day before was busy (we wrapped up work, finished last minute errands, and — amidst everything else — did an Adoption Day celebration for the boys at their school). All the while, Braydon and I were just bursting with excitement. That night we finished packing, loaded up the car (hiding everything under a quilt), and somehow in there I also managed to attend a 10-11pm Lehigh Gryphon meeting (!! so crazy! but something I like to do to stay in the loop as a Residential Fellow). We got to bed very late that night and hard a very hard time falling asleep because we were so excited!

And then the long-anticipated morning came. And everything went according to plan– We had turned off the boys’ alarm clock, and when they woke up we told them there was a school delay. We also told them that we had to go to the airport to pick up a friend who had been away on a trip. They went along with everything. And as we secretly snuck our five toothbrushes into the luggage and shoved the kids’ lovies into my bag on the sly, Braydon and I tried to not even look at each other for fear that we’d somehow accidentally let the secret slip in the 11th hour.

We arrived at the airport, parked the car, and told the kids to get out– explaining that we’d all go in to greet our friend. As soon as we got out of the car I pulled them together and told them: “Guess what?! We have a big surprise for you!”

“WE’RE GOING TO DISNEY!!!!!”

“We’re getting on an airplane and going to Walt Disney World today! Right now! We’re going to Disney!!”

If you’ve never done this for your kids, and you have the capacity to do it (which means you are — as we are — extremely privileged and fortunate), then I highly recommend that you do it ASAP. It was one of the best moments of my life — giving my kids that gift. Their reactions were everything I’d imagined them to be and utterly priceless. Just priceless.

What I got from that moment was worth every penny we’d saved and every minute we’d planned for that trip. And we hadn’t even left the airport parking lot yet.

It was awesome.

An hour later we hit a snafu (there are always snafus, right?!)… every flight was cancelled due to extreme fog. Flight cancelled. With no departure at any point in the next several hours. We were determined to get to Florida that day, so that we wouldn’t miss one of our 5 precious days in Disney. Braydon, who in recent years has become an absolute Master of Trouble Shooting, worked his magic and in no time had us re-booked on flights out of Newark, had us and our luggage all back in the car, and had us to our gate in the Newark airport just in time to catch the flight. The excitement of all of this unexpected re-arranging-of-plans just added to the thrill and adventure of it all. And we arrived in Orlando just one hour later than our original flight would have landed.

Coming up next: The Most Magical Place on Earth!

We just returned from a most fantastical trip to Walt Disney World!

When the bambinos were 6 (K & O) and 2 (M) we went to Disney (those posts starting here — click!). We had travelled quite a bit with our kids, but that trip took top place for them as a most favorite destination. We promised them then that we’d go back in two years– when they were 8 and 4.

There were many moments in the past couple of years when Braydon and I really were not sure how we were going to pull off the promised Disney trip. It isn’t just the money (although that’s a big thing— Disney is expensive!). It is also the time and energy that go into a trip like this, and most of all — for Braydon and me — it is the choosing of Disney over some other fabulous destination (we can only do so many trips, and there are so many places we want to go).

But we had promised them. For better or for worse, we had given them our word. And we aren’t ones to break our promises. We had to pull it off. And we did.

This past week we went to Walt Disney World when our kids were 8 and 4. We made it happen, and we did it all the way. This time around we were determined to give them the full Disney experience. It was rich and full and over-stimulating and exhausting and absolutely amazing and everything that Disney is cracked up to be.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime trip. It will only happen once: Disney when they are 8 and 4.

(Those ages are perfect for Disney as far as I am concerned.)

I have managed to narrow down our 1,000 photos to about 100. But instead of waiting to do one huge travel post, this time I’m going to make it easier on myself and post in bits and pieces over the next several days. If you are not our kids’ grandmother or grandfather, and/or if you are not an incredibly loyal/unusually-interested blog follower, and/or if you’re not a Disney fanatic, then you might just want to just skip the next several days of posts! Seriously, I’ll probably go a little overboard with the over-documentation of our fabulous Disney adventure. And I might get a little sappy and sentimental (Disney does that, and I’m still not fully down from my high). And I might post an over-abundance of photos of my kids having the time of their life. And I might be a little proud about the fact that we managed to pull this trip off, and a little weepy over how much the bambinos adored every single minute of it. It was an extraordinary experience from start to finish.

Coming up in the next post: The Bambinos Get Every Child’s Fantasy Surprise~ “We’re Going To Disney!!!”

First there were these two:

Then there was this one:

We are going somewhere special to celebrate our Adoptive Family!

Adoption Day 2013 is going to be super duper extra special for the J-Ms! We’ll be back in a while! 😉

January 31 is our Adoption Day. This year it is our 8th! One thing I’ve learned is that every year it is always the same: the days leading up to it are hyper-emotional for me. It is hard for me to let that be what it is— I tend to be someone whose knee-jerk reaction to emotional things revolving around events in my own life is to push them aside in an irrational attempt to accommodate other people (the logic in my own mind is typically: ‘yes, I’m experiencing this, but Person-X-Y-Z has it soooo much worse!’ or ‘yes, I’m experiencing this, but Person-A-B-C has it soooo much better!’… which leads to pushing aside my own true emotions in order to shift the focus to someone else… I’m very good at it). If you don’t know me extremely well, this may come as a surprise. But trust me on this one: this is my Classic Mode Of Operation.

With our adoption, though, I have consciously and purposefully tried to change that in myself. In becoming a mother something shifted in me and the emotions of it all were so overwhelming — and the importance of it all was so intense — that I deliberately worked to not force my own emotions to the side. For the past eight years, especially, I’ve been working on this. It is becoming easier and easier as the years progress. To the point where now, in my 8th year of mothering, I am actually pretty comfortable with admitting that our Adoption Day puts me 100%, full-on, completely, and utterly, over the edge. I am an emotional wreck and I’m not afraid to admit it.

There are so many emotions for all of us who are intricately linked with adoption in one way or another. There is loss and gain, love and pain, joy and devastation, beauty and horror, relief and grief, hope and desperation, and all of it is together at once, and it is so intense if you let it be. I am trying to let it be. But it is hard to do.

The only thing I know for sure is that after everything I’ve been through on our adoption journey — and knowing I’ll go through so much more in the years to come — I am still a true believer in the pure miracle of adoption. Yes, it is hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever done. But for many of us — lucky for me, I am one of them — it is the most beautiful and good and right thing we’ve ever done with our lives. I count myself the lucky one for having had the chance to experience all that it is. It is a wide range of emotions, that is for sure. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

We are so fortunate to have our kids at a school that identifies strongly as progressive. It was such a pleasure for me (particularly because it was initiated by them) to receive an email from Kyle and Owen’s teachers expressing that they wanted to make sure our Adoption Day was acknowledged and celebrated in whatever way we saw fit. I asked the boys this year, “What do you want to do — in school — for our Adoption Day?” and they responded quickly and easily with their true desires. It makes me so proud that my sons are able to say what they want for themselves, especially around an emotional and deeply personal event.

Here is what they wanted— they wanted to combine their two classes for one school Adoption Day Celebration; they wanted me to come in and read their Adoption Day book (must read here for backstory on that) to all of their friends; and they wanted a “big huge cake!” It was clear, simple, and very easy for me to implement. It was awesome.

I made arrangements with their teachers, ordered a full-sheet-cake-size cake from our regular grocery store, and that was that. And today was the day. And it was one of the best little events in the lives of Kyle, Owen, and me. For real.

When I showed up with the cake all of the kids went wild. It doesn’t even matter if they like cake, just the idea of a big huge cake is enough to make a monumental impression. It means: a big huge deal celebration! I had made sure to ask the bakery department at our grocery store to put the words in bold print (not cursive) so the kids could easily read it. They read it. And they read it aloud over and over to each other: ” Celebrate Adoption! Adoption is Love!” I didn’t have to say a word, I just watched and listened to Owen and Kyle’s friends all ooooh and aaaaah over their Adoption Day cake.

I read the book. It is hard for me to read it — ever — without getting teary. I did a good job of not breaking down into sobs in front of all the first and second graders (K & O have combined 1&2 classrooms).

We all ate cake. I cut it and Kyle and Owen got to hand it out. And that was that. It was everything that Kyle and Owen wanted it to be. And then school was over, and we took the leftover cake home to give to our friends/neighbors/students in Sayre. It was — dare I say it?! — perfect. Perfectly exactly what my boys wanted… and, I guess, needed.

They needed to share that story and that celebration with the people in their lives who they spend every day at school with. In the same way that I need to share our story ( I blog it), they have their own ways of letting themselves be known. It is good.

They were beaming from start to finish, and I loved — and was able to truly feel — the beauty in their emotions. For them, at this point, adoption is complicated — yes — but more so it is simple: adoption is love. It is something to be celebrated.

They are not without truth, grief, sorrow, abandonment, questioning, always anchoring them. Yes, that is real. But — at least for now — it is even more real that adoption is to be celebrated. For all that it is good and hard and joy and pain, adoption is love.

Today was a really great day in the lives of my boys. I hope this post will help us remember it.

* * *

Dear Kyle and Owen, I tell you often that January 31st 2005 was the single best day of my life. It is entirely true. You made me a mom, in exactly the way I wanted to become one. You are my dream come true. Happy Adoption Day to us! xoxoxo ~Mommy P.S. For the past five months you’ve dressed in un-matching outfits everyday, but this morning you came out of your bedroom dressed, very purposefully, in identical outfits for the first time since August; I am so glad you have each other; Today you did something brave in telling your story — and you did it together — and I am so very very very proud of you both for it.

The week before this past one I was away for a couple of days on a work trip. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since. Actually, I haven’t been thinking much about the work trip itself (in my current phase of life, which seems to zoom at an exponentially-ever-increasingly fast pace, a work trip that took place 10 days ago is like ancient history and I have moved on), I have, though, been thinking about the reaction to the work trip. And in an interesting twist, it isn’t my own kids’ reactions that have me thinking, it is the reactions of the other “kids” in my life — the students we live with on campus.

I have posted about my feelings about work trips before (read here for just one of many examples). But to sum it up: it is a love-hate thing for me — the lump-in-the-throat sinking feeling of leaving my bambinos juxtaposed with the exhilarating thrill of having pure-sweet-glorious independence!

I look out my airplane window and think about all the things I’ll miss when I’m away and I wonder what on earth Braydon will feed them all for dinner and how they’ll possibly manage to function without me (miracle of miracles! they always seem to do just fine! lol!). As ridiculous as it is, I just miss them so much, even if I’m only gone for a night or two. But then, luxuriating in the beauty of Room-Service-For-One, eating whatever the heck I want for dinner (nobody to please but me!), watching whatever the heck I want on tv (note: ‘Say Yes to the Dress!’ is something Braydon would never go for), sipping a glass of wine and loving-every-beautiful-blessed-blissful-minute-of-total-and-complete-peace-and-quiet (nobody saying “Mommy! Mommy? Mommy,” every-other-second, no laundry, no backpacks or lunch boxes or sports’ bags to unpack and repack and unpack again… the list goes on)… to have a little tiny break from all of that… it is just awesome. Working Moms need work trips!

(On the way there I had a manuscript to read, but on the way home I could indulge in the rare treat of non-work-related pleasure reading. Again, there it is– the yin and the yang all wrapped up together in one nice little work trip package.)

I am smart enough to always bring home something for the bambinos. This time it was Delta airplanes for K & O and a pink poodle for M. I totally rocked the Work-Trip-Gifts this time! These gifts were big hits.

So, I’ve kind of got it down. I never have anything totally down, but I’ve got the whole work-trip-thing figured out for the most part. Except this time, I had to come home not just to my kids, but to a whole bunch of LU students who wanted to know where I had been. It prompted some very interesting conversations.

Mainly the work-trip discussions with students centered on the bambinos’ gifts. For my first 48 hours home, Meera walked around everywhere with that pink poodle, showing it to anyone and everyone who would stop to look. “I got it from my mommy!” she’d say proudly, “she brought it for me from her work trip!” Students would then — most often — react by fondly recalling all the work trip gifts they had received when they were younger.

As you’d expect (most of the students are from upper-middle-class backgrounds), many of them grew up with dads who travelled for work. Some students talked about dads who traveled extensively and internationally. Others talked about dad who travelled infrequently and not-very-far. Some spoke of parents who never took work trips, but most had some experience with it. The big difference, though, was that it was always their dads. Not their moms. I haven’t heard from one student yet about a mom who travelled– always the dad. Some moms worked, but none travelled at all for work. And this raised questions for them (and for us): ‘What is it like to have a mom who travels for work? What would that have been like? What would it be like to someday be a mom who has to travel for work? What would it be like to have a wife who travels?’

I can relate. My mom never travelled for work, and honestly, I cannot even imagine it. I was so attached to the idea of her being a total rock solid 100% consistent always-present pillar-of-a-presence in my life… I cannot fathom a childhood that involved her going away on work trips. My dad travelled for work a ton. It was just how it was and for the most part (except for the occasional missed field hockey game or school event of some sort), I didn’t resent him for it or begrudge it. But I think it would have been really different if my mom had travelled for work too. And the students I talked with all thought that too— so, my work trip raised some big thoughts for a lot of us.

I know there are many mothers who travel much more extensively and frequently than I do for work. I respect them for the mind-bogglingly-complex-strategies they must employ to make that all mesh with their family life. I am lucky to have a job that requires what I feel is just the right amount of travel, and with a lot of flexibility for me to determine if/when/for-how-long I will go. But still… it raises questions.

The Lehigh students watched Meera love that poodle, and they watched Kyle and Owen fly those planes overhead running around outside in circles around us as we talked about work trips of the mommy variety.

The truth is, when I was growing up, it wasn’t just my own mom who didn’t go on work trips, it was all the moms around me. I knew of women who worked, and some who even had pretty big careers, but as far as I knew, they didn’t travel for work (maybe they did and I was just totally oblivious?). So, it is interesting for me to see not just my own kids, but now the Lehigh students too, see me do what I do. I know they notice. I know they think about it. And I’m thinking about it too.

MorFar has started a new phase of his career that will have him in Philadelphia frequently (read about it here). He made his first trip this week, and we planned for MorMor to visit us while MorFar was in Philly. So we saw MorFar on Monday and Thursday on his way in and out. Which was great. And we got MorMor for almost the whole week! Which was even greater.

It is ironic that we sold our big huge house, just an hour north of Philadelphia, with guest room and extra bathroom and lots of space for houseguests… just two months before my dad made this big career move. So here we are, in an 800-square-foot apartment, on campus, with zero houseguest space, and the chance to have my parents around now more than ever. Life is crazy.

We don’t regret it though. We are doing what is — there is no doubt in our minds — exactly what we are supposed to be doing right now. But it is a bummer that we can’t better accommodate my parents while they are here. So, as always, because it is my one and only life-long for-better-or-for-worse MODE OF OPERATION, we do our very best to make lemonade out of lemons.

We squeeze MorMor and MorFar into this crazy little life of ours as best we can. We are snug as a bug in a rug. And lucky for us, they roll with the punches.

MorMor spent a ton of quality time with the bambinos this week. There is so little we need to worry about now (cleaning, cooking, weeding, washing… all the things MorMor always helped us so much with in our old house… these things are minimal for us now!). The beauty of that is that now there’s nothing to do but really be together. And together we were this week.

{One night we even took MorMor to dinner in the dining hall! photo below!}

MorMor and MorFar left yesterday morning before the rest of us were even out of bed. We miss them.

This morning I spoke at an event at Lehigh commemorating the 50th anniversary year of MLK’s “I Have a Dream” speech. A few people from the university were asked to give a “reflection” on “The Dream.” Here’s what I said.

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.” ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

This is surely one of the most quoted sections of MLK’s 1963 “I Have a Dream” speech, and I, like many people, have thought about this idea countless times throughout my life.

Especially since becoming a mother.

Some of you may know that 8 years ago my husband and I adopted our twin sons from an orphanage in Haiti.

Like all moms, I am fiercely protective of my children.

And as a white mom, I am vigilant in constantly doing everything possible to make sure that my black sons are being thought of, and treated, fairly.

I find myself constantly wondering if my boys are being judged by the content of their character, rather than by the color of the skin.

Some of you may also know that 4 years ago, I gave birth to my third child– a blond haired, blue eyed, pale skinned girl.

It has come as a surprise, even to me, that since my daughter’s birth I have found myself thinking of MLK’s quote even more than ever.

I find myself constantly wondering: How much of what is happening, and will happen, in the life experience of my daughter, is the result of the color of her skin, rather than the content of her character?

How much of what people think of her, and how she is treated, is shaped by white privilege?

Over the past 50 years many of us have been inspired by MLK and other great people in our lives to deeply question racism and to stand up against it.

But how often can any of us truly say that we deeply question white privilege and stand up against it?

My personal hope is that in the next 50 years we will put white privilege and the cumulative advantages of whiteness squarely on our radar.

I have a dream that one day my three little children will be judged by the content of their character, not by the color of their black and white skin.

Yesterday afternoon Meera got ready for me to take her to gymnastics. She dressed herself, chose her accessories, and was super proud of her final, polished, just-exactly-as-she-wanted it look. “I look just like you Mommy!” I had noticed (of course) that in a rare instance she had chosen to wear pants and sneakers instead of a dress and dressy shoes. But it took her pointed comment for me to look more closely and see what she had done. The scarf, the hair in a ponytail, the sweater over the leotard buttoned only once, the “bag” in hand packed up with all of her necessities. She was all pulled together and ready to go. “Oh my gosh!” I thought to myself, “She is a Mini Me.” I was amazed and overcome with thoughts and feelings.

That same night, when she was done with dinner but the rest of us four were still eating, she got herself ready for bed. She put on her favorite silky/shiny Tangled/Rupunzel pajamas, pulled her box of Barbies from out of her room to the kitchen floor, and played quietly while the rest of us chattered loudly about anything-and-everything-about-our-day. I looked down at her, all pink and frill, all Barbies and Ken, all quiet and to herself, all lost and enthralled in her own imaginary world, concentrating so hard on getting some glitzy outfit strapped on some crazy-bodied-Barbie, and I could not get over it: “Where did this kid come from?” I thought to myself, “She is so not me.” I was amazed and overcome with thoughts and feelings.

We have several hundred loyal blog readers. I think of them often. They read every post. From all around the world. And even though I don’t do give-aways, or advertisements, or do provocative things to pump up the readership, our readers have been reading for years. They make me feel like blogging is worth it. You know who you are.

This post’s for you.

* * *

Our past couple of weeks have been pretty tough. The holidays are wonderful (literally, wonder filled), but they are so disruptive. We are a family who thrives on routine and ritual — both in the yearly rhythms of our life, and in the rhythms of our day to day. While Christmas is an anchoring annual tradition that we cling to and adore, it also seriously breaks up our daily flow. It always — no matter what, regardless of how much we will it not to — it always shoves us out of our groove.

We get home after Christmas and New Year’s, the kids’ school starts back up, and we seem unglued. It happens every year. We are so accustomed to this, that we see it coming. We proactively try to keep it at bay; we are mindful of it; we strategize to beat it. But still, it comes.

We are off kilter. We can’t find our balance. We fight and fuss and feel sorry for ourselves. We wallow in the self-pity of the seemingly insurmountable challenges of our dual-career, 3-young-children, always-something, overwhelming life that we’ve created (and continue to choose) for ourselves. Kids are sick. Parents are sick. The backpacks come home filled with forms and homework and memos and things to add to the ever-growing-never-ending To Do List. It is cold outside. The humidifier can’t seem to make a dent in the boys’ ashy skin and too-dry hair. Meera’s ear infections crop back up. The basketball schedule is relentless. Work is hanging over us like a million burdens. Time moves too fast. Time moves too slow. Another year is upon us. It gets dark at 4:30pm. The alarm goes off and nobody gets up. We’re cranky. We’re short-tempered. We do stuff just to piss each other off.

It is January. It is February. We dream of escaping to white beaches and red-hot sun and lime daiquiris. But there are no plans for that on the horizon.

We sink into a pity party of pathetic self-indulgence. All of us. It seems as gray as the sky is gray. And the sky is very, very gray, much of the time.

* * *

After a bad day yesterday (read between the lines: it was a bad day), Braydon and I slumped down together on the couch immediately upon finally getting the kids to bed. The moment couldn’t come soon enough — it was one of those days where we were counting the hours ‘till bedtime since noon, and beating ourselves up for doing it. It was Saturday. An “S Day” — no school, no work — it is supposed to be fun. Instead it was the crescendo of a long string of terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days.

We sat there discussing in great detail just how horrible we are at being parents. Just how much we’d love to simply throw in the towel and call it quits on the whole thing and escape forever to some far-off place as ex-pats on a mission to permanently get away from it all. We went through the blow-by-blow of all the things we’d done wrong that day, that week, that month; the nasty things our kids had said and done to each other and to us; the tears; the bad decisions; the hours we’d spent yelling and disciplining and saying “no” instead of “yes”; the things we wished we’d done differently; the worries we have for the future.

And then we talked about how this felt so familiar. So very familiar. What is this? This familiar rut of being out of our groove and so pathetically down in the dumps?

Braydon poured some wine and we sat there with our iPads, researching ourselves, scrutinizing our blog. And there it was— January 2011, January 2010, February 2009, February 2008, January 2007… Oh wow. So, there it is. A pattern so clear it stings with its smack in the face. The January-February-Funk. Laid out before our very eyes we saw the proof of our own routine: a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad deep-in-the-dark-of-winter annual J-M Family Funk.

So, there it was. And there we were.

* * *

We’re nothing if not determined, ambitious, and willful in spite of ourselves.

We determined right then and there that we’d try to beat this thing. At least get the upper hand on it.

So by the time we went to bed we had a plan in place for Sunday — another coveted “S Day” — no school, no work — it was going to be fun. Or, at least, not horrible.

* * *

Something reliable. Yes, that’s right. It has to be something we know works.

And so today we headed for Peace Valley with a stop at the tried-and-true Tabora Farm on the way. “We’re going on a winter walk and winter picnic today!” we told the kids. And off we went.

Within just minutes of our arrival Kyle and Owen were skipping rocks on the water.

How many times have I watched this scene unfold? Countless are the times I’ve seen the cathartic impact of throwing-of-rocks-into-water for my boys. All three of them.

There was dense fog everywhere. It was in the low 40s and wet. Everything was gray. It was the middle of January. Right in the depths of our funk. But there was a determination about us, and Peace Valley didn’t need much convincing to shift our centers. Little by little we started to raise our chins up a bit and put a little spark in our step. There was beauty — pure gray beauty — all around us. Everywhere we looked we could see that right there, in the dense fog, was — mysteriously — the familiar beauty that we know so well, but that is also an endless open exploration.

When the time was right we found the perfect picnic spot. We laid our blanket out on the dock and spread out our treats. Our Tabora take-out menu for the day was: hot tomato soup, fresh-baked bread and butter, fried chicken, roasted vegetable panini, Haitian Chicken Salad (yes, this is one of the many reasons we love this place; they have “Haitian Chicken Salad” on the menu), and Tabora’s famous from-scratch cookies. A picnic, on a dock, in the raw damp gray of mid-Janaury, this is the kind of thing that can turn the J-Ms around.

And turn around we did. It wasn’t long before the souls were stirred and the chins were up and the spark was abundantly right there at the surface.

After lunch we packed the little red wagon back up, complete with Meera and her bunnies. The boys scootered ‘till their hearts’ content. And Braydon and I walked and talked about plans for summer and beaches and sun-kissed kids and grilling outside with rum punch in hand as the ice melts and the cup gets covered in big droplets of condensation.  

Soon enough we were not talking about summer, but instead about the thickness of the fog, the dampness of the air, the birds in the sky, the beauty of January in Pennsylvania.

We stopped for hot chocolate. We had packed it from home in our trusty thermos— my Popop’s old thermos. It was a good moment for our family.

And we had risen above it. By then it was crystal clear.

There was time on the swings before we left.

And then we went home. Our souls soothed.

On the drive home we let the kids watch Curious George on the DVD player (something we usually only reserve for long car trips, but since this was just over an hour, we figured we could give ourselves a break and it could qualify). I handed them a big bag of Cheetos— a rare treat. And as we drove I told Braydon about how moments like this — our bambinos in the back seat, chattering with-and-to-and-about George, fistfuls of neon-orange-Cheetos in hand and mouth as they devoured the whole bag — moments like this make my heart sing. When it is behind us, this is what I’ll miss most about this life we’ve created — our precious three kids, squeezed into the back seat, damp and muddy and covered in Cheetos crumbs, cheeks glowing and hearts full at the end of an absolutely stunningly wonderful day, us in the front seat, driving home, souls re-connected, life glued back together, a sense that yes— we can do this!— yes!— we’ve got this! — yes, we can totally rock this dual-career young-family crazy thing of ours that we’ve got going. Sort of. But sort of is good enough.

* * *

Tonight, after the kids were in bed, our home peaceful and content from a truly great day, we marveled in the miracle of just what a difference 24 hours can make.

And I finally felt like I had it in me to blog.

We’ve got a few weeks ahead of us that surely won’t be easy. And the road ahead is completely unknown (we fear our blessings being snatched away from us at any moment). But for now, here we are. And we are so, so thankful.

So, tomorrow the kids will go to school. Papi will go to work. Mommy’s spring semester will officially begin (and oh my gosh, looking at my calendar right now, I am guaranteed of nothing except of just how very full it will be). It is continually overwhelming. But we’ve always got our tried-and-true soul-soothers (Peace Valley as just one of them) tucked away for the grayest, dampest, darkest of days in the depths of our January-February Funk.

May we always be so lucky to have such a simple thing make such a difference.

I hope this post brings lightness and reassurance to you all out there who can relate.

Thanks for reading y’all! ~Heather