The other day, as I rushed past the piano on my way out of the house headed for work, I noticed this (above). I wish I had thought to get a photo of the whole thing (every white key was labeled on the entire piano), but I wasn’t thinking straight and only got this one close-up photo before I went to work cleaning it. To be honest, I am amazed that I had the wherewithal to grab the camera at all… all things considered. And I take great pride in the fact that I didn’t lose my mind completely upon discovering it in the first place. It turned out – lucky for all involved –  that the marker was not permanent, and was, in fact, one of those white-board-erasable markers (thank God!). With a little Windex it was easily removed and Owen was given a good de-briefing as to why it is not okay to write on pianos… even if you are in the process of trying to teach your twin brother how to play the 1812 Overture on the piano. Our housecleaner Pat (God bless her), and our summer babysitter Ryan (God bless her), both happened to be here at the time that this all went down. They both laughed and told me that their own impression of the situation was that Owen was “brilliant” for coming up with this idea. My impression was that he should know better than to act on this stroke of brilliance. But I was still able to laugh it off with the help of two strong women I trust (who each have a lot of experience with children, and in particular, with brash boys).

The reason I tell this story is this: I consider it probably my greatest asset as a Working Mother of three young kids that I am able to laugh such things off.

Because if I couldn’t laugh about it, I’d surely go crazy.

And I’m close to going crazy as is.

Life is just really crazy-making around here. I don’t just work, I have a fairly hefty career. And I don’t just have three young kids, I have three huge-personality-kids (two of which are wild-and-crazy-spirited-very-high-energy twin boys). And three times per year, like clockwork, the craziness rises to full tilt and comes very, very close to boiling over. There is an obvious pattern to the triannual insanity: the start of the fall semester, the end of the fall semester, and the end of the spring semester. These three crunch times in my own professional life just so happen to coincide perfectly with: the kids’ major transition from summer to the start of school, Christmas (i.e., the kids’ most intensely excitable time of year), and the kids’ major transition from the end of school to the start of summer (and, adding insult to injury, in our case, icing on the cake, also all three of our kids’ birthdays). Nice.

It isn’t pretty.

It is hard and gritty and downright ugly during these three times of year. Not that the rest of the year is easy by any stretch of the imagination. It isn’t. But these three times of year are gruesome. And right now we’re smack dab in the middle of one of them.

I think that unless you’ve been a working mother – and I mean, especially a mother who also has a demanding pressure-cooker competitive high-stakes self-driven sort of a career – that you really cannot even imagine what it is like to live this life. It is richer and more gratifying that I ever could have imagined. And it is harder and more painful than I ever, ever, ever expected.

I was led to believe that I could do it all. And yet I had no good role models of it being done in a way that I truly respected. I was told to go for it. And yet nobody I knew was really able to mentor me through it in any real way. I feel like I was mislead. I wish I had known the reality. I still probably would have made the same choices that I did (I don’t regret being a working mother), but I wish I could have gone into it with my eyes more wide open.

Which is a big part of why I keep blogging here… because I know for a fact (I receive the emails) that many, many young women (and men) are reading this right now and that many of them are graduate students, medical students, and law students and that many of them have absolutely no other real insight to the inside of lives like mine other than through crazy little blogs like this one. When I feel like I should quit the blog, I keep going in large part for those younger-versions-of-myself out there who I hope will go into their careers with a better sense of the truth of it.

Last week I had to go on a work trip to a conference in Las Vegas. Because of the timing of things, it just so happened that the same morning that I needed to catch an early flight, Braydon also had to be out of the house at the crack of dawn for an important meeting a couple hours away. If my mom lived nearby, I’d just call her in for this little challenge and she would have been there in a heartbeat. But… like many MWCs (Moms With Careers), I have absolutely no family or really-oldie-but-goodie-type friends anywhere near me (I have them in my life, they just live far away). We decided our first choice strategy would be to ask Zahir to help us. Swallowing our pride (it is hard for us to ask for help), we asked (via text message because that’s how he rolls). And he, being the incredible person that he is, texted back in two seconds flats: “I’ve got you covered.” We’ve worked hard to develop relationships like ours with Zahir, but still we thank our lucky stars for him in our life. So, on Friday morning, Braydon left the house at 5:45am, Zahir arrived at 6:30, and I was headed to the airport before 7am. Technically, this all sounds well and good. Except that I had to jet off, leaving my kids for four days, for a work trip in Nevada, while a babysitter got them their waffles and tried to reassure them that everything was going to be o.k. I had a lump in my throat the entire morning, and could have cried at any moment if I let myself (but I couldn’t let myself – FYI: mascara running and work meetings don’t mix), just thinking of the scene in my home that morning. Meera, her sweet 3-year-old-self, being a brave big girl about Mommy’s “work trip”; Kyle and Owen, sleepy eyed and bed-headed, drowsy and cuddly, telling me that they wish I didn’t have to go; Zahir calmly telling me “It’s under control” and me knowing that it was, but wishing that the whole thing could have been different. In what way different? I don’t exactly know… just different. Just easier.

There are strategies that we have in place to try to buffer this as much as possible, things we have learned to do that help us through these times, and ways of coping that we’re using for the sake of our whole family. (For example, during these times we go even more out of our way than usual to rely extra heavily on other, saner, less affected people to keep our kids as contented as possible – such as having Ryan work a few more hours; we do things we know are centering and calming for our family – such as purposefully schedule time for activities that soothe us – such as pool time and bike rides and time reading books; we plan meals of comfort food – macaroni and cheese!; we work even harder than usual to ensure our kids get enough sleep; etc.). Still—no matter how hard we try—it just plain sucks each and every time that we go through these phases.

It is so hard. It is so tempting to quit. It is daunting to think of keeping going. But the work – both the work at work, and the work at home – is too important to just throw in the towel. And so, I keep chugging along at trying to do the work really well (both the work at work, and the work at home), and hoping for the best.

About three times a year I get really down about it. And right about now I’m really struggling. It feels like we’re in the fast lane moving way too fast (especially with three young kids buckled into the back). And the crunch is one thing for us to take upon ourselves, but it is another when the sweat of it (inevitably, unavoidably) seeps onto our kids – kids who never asked for this or made the decisions that led to this.

Don’t worry, I’m not throwing any pity party for my kids. I know they are, and will be, fine (I really, really do know that – and if you knew them you’d know that too). And I’m not feeling sorry for myself (I’m really not!). I’m just saying: this is our reality. Especially three times a year.

I don’t think that sharing this will discourage young people from pursuing lives that involve dual-career families. I really do believe that people with a deep passion for the work they want to do will do it, regardless of the struggles and challenges it entails. And so I share this in part to give what I didn’t get: a little glimpse into what it is really like. And there is a part of me that wonders if 20 or 30 years from now I’ll even remember all this (will lots of it be just a big blur?), and so… I also share this in part just in case one of my three are wondering for themselves and reading this someday.

Even (especially?) during the crunch times I try to remember something near and dear to my heart, something that really keeps me going: that every individual has the right to have their personal potential unconstrained. And so, we speed on in the far left lane, looking for that slower stretch on the horizon. It will come soon, and then I’ll catch my breath. In the meantime… onward! (and yowzas!)

photo of Meera taken the other day by Ryan when they went to a paint-your-own-pottery-place (and by the way— the piggy bank princess crown that she chose to paint came home yesterday and it is just BEAUTY-full!)

Growing up, Heather had long blond hair that her mother braided. I have seen many pictures of her with two adorable braids and a cute little smile. Behind the scenes there was a lot of interesting brushing of hair to get those braids to look that way…. But beyond cuteness.

With Kyle and Owen, before they had locs we did braids. Or more accurately, Heather did and I supported. We both did twists and did a lot lot lot of twisting. Although Heather rightfully claims ownership over doing their locs, we both redo them with the latch hooks.

However, when it comes to little girl, golden wavy hair…. Not so much practice for me, as evidenced by the photo. But Meera wanted a braid. Just one, with no pony tail on top (thankfully, since that was not in the cards anyway). That braid lasted until our attempted nap time today.

I have found that over the past couple days that something interesting has happened to me and to our kids. I have let go of much of my work stress in a way I don’t often do and my kids are responding to me in a way that they don’t often to.

There is a lesson here clearly and one I feel I’ve learned before, although not well enough. It’s not just spending time with our kids. It not just having fun with them. It’s not just being the parent at the end of the day.

It’s also picking up the mess they leave behind every waking moment. It’s dealing with “I’m hungry” as they climb into bed. It’s determining when to give time out for talking back, for hitting, or being nasty (yes they do that).

It’s having them know that you’re there, them trusting that and calling you when they need you and when they don’t.

It’s giving a hug when Meera wakes up this morning and says “I miss mommy”.

It’s being proud of Owen for reading even when you’re pissed off that he is bouncing up and down while reading.

It’s letting Kyle talk and hearing him despite the fact that he’s talking about some concoction that you can’t even understand what he’s saying or what it means.

It’s about braiding your daughter’s hair, even when that just makes it look worse.

Heather is out of town at a conference this weekend and I am home with everyone. Although we work hard to have an equal relationship, sadly, it’s not. The home stuff is tipped very much, if not fully on to Heather’s plate (and the financial management on mine) We can talk all day long (and do and have and will) about how this happens, why it is, why and how it’s wrong and what we can and can’t do about it. And in the course of that, the kids have to be fed, bathed, clothed, planned for, disciplined and all the other myriad things that have to be done.

All this is to say, that it’s a bigger deal for our family when Heather travels than when I travel. In many ways.

But we are doing well here. We had a great day and while it’s clear all three kids and the husband are missing mommy/Heather, we had fun, got along great and even managed to fit in a trip to get ice cream.

Unfortunately, my camera acumen suffered tremendously today, and all I captured was this…

Coming down the slide from the Castle Playground in Doylestown today. The boys found some other boys to play tag with, Meera played hide and seek with me (and for some unknown reason, while running around inside the castle playground, insisted on calling me “daddy”, which was kinda funny and odd), while I somehow managed to fit myself through the maze inside this structure, which is really a ton of fun.

Tomorrow is bike riding and grocery store, which is sure to be interesting. I have forgotten (or maybe I never really knew) what it’s like to be fully responsible for these three and it’s tough. But it’s also really great and satisfying. Granted, I don’t have to worry about planning anything, so that makes it a whole world easier, and it’s only of the weekend, and it makes me realize more of what Heather is contending with on a daily basis (and by extension many career mothers I believe) and I still appreciate a sense of feeling like a more empowered parent, which is good.

Please don’t rain tomorrow….

Today we listed 40 things we love about Braydon/Papi. We could have easily listed 400.

…big post coming soon!

To all our dear readers: We’ll be MIA from the blogosphere for the next 10 days. Catch ya later, the J-Ms

First baseball, then soccer. Next up: basketball! Today is Kyle and Owen’s last day of Lehigh’s week long, intensive, summer basketball camp for boys. Do you see the photo above? I took it yesterday when I picked them up from basketball camp. It is a photo of two boys IN HEAVEN.

This was Kyle and Owen’s first exposure to playing real basketball. They had played around with shooting hoops, we had gone to Lehigh basketball games, and of course they idolize their babysitter Zahir (who sometimes plays basketball with them in our driveway or on campus). But K & O had never actually officially played the game before this week. After 7 hour days of nothing but basketball, basketball, and more basketball, it is safe to say that these boys are now fully basketball immersed. And loving it. Loving it to the point that…

…this is big…

…I am willing to go on record here and now to say this: If I had to put a wager on it today, forced to guess which sport these two boys will really hone in on, my guess would be basketball. Owen especially. I think he’s found his game. And I don’t say that lightly. That is huge. Because once they decide what they want, these boys do it. Believe me. So, I – for one – am going to be carefully and as nonchalantly as possible keeping my eyes on my two boys on the basketball court.

Each day I went a few minutes early to watch them play before pick-up. They amaze me. They are scrappy. They are eager. They are fast. They are like miniature basketball stars. I don’t know how they picked up so much so fast, but they did. They shoot. Swoosh. They are fun to watch.

Yesterday when I went to pick them up, Kyle said to me, “Mommy, who is LeBron James?” I said, “I am pretty sure he’s a really famous professional basketball player.” He said, “Oh.” Then he ran off to fill up his gatorade bottle. A while later he said, “Mommy, you know what? You know what they call us at basketball camp? They call me and Owen ‘The Twin LeBron James’” “Oh.” I said, and kept my thoughts to myself.

This is a great game for them. It is about as fast-paced as it gets. And that works well for my bottomless-pit-of-energy, non-stop, can’t-wear-them-out boys. And it should not go unnoted how much more racially diverse basketball is compared to other big-time sports. Specifically, a lot of black kids play basketball—and Kyle and Owen notice—and Kyle and Owen love that. They loved it that the majority of their coaches this week were young black men (they expressed this clearly and often). And they loved feeling great about themselves as black boys on the b-ball court. One of their new Basketball Camp friends, who is black, came up to me yesterday and asked me what I use on K & O’s hair to make it smell so good— he wanted me to tell his mom what it was and where to buy it!— this is a great example of little things that make a big difference in the daily life and self-confidence of black kids adopted into white families living in predominantly white communities; this stuff matters.).

My boys have loved every dimension of this week of basketball heaven. And I’ve loved watching them love it. You heard it here first: this mixture (K & O + basketball) is one to watch.

K & O heading off for first day of basketball camp…

…and they’re off!

…and at it!

…and loving it!

As I said in this post (click), this is K & O’s Summer of Sports. And geeeez are we ever immersed in sports this summer. The floodgates have opened and we’re just swimming in sports! (no pun intended.) For the past six weeks Kyle and Owen have been fully participating (and I mean eagerly, incredibly-enthusiastically, whole-heartedly, blood-sweat-and-tears fully participating) in our local summer soccer league. They lucked out with getting great coaches and great teammates. They also lucked out with great weather (although it has been very hot for the past six weeks, they only had one game canceled due to rain).

For these past six weeks, every Monday and Wednesday night, the Johnson-McCormick Party of Five has descended upon the soccer fields for the boys’ games. (In this league they practice for 15 minutes and then play for 45 minutes, twice per week; awesome set up for little kids who just want to play play play soccer soccer soccer!). Mommy has cheered her heart out, Papi has soaked up every summer-loving-second, Meera has chewed gum (her special treat on soccer nights for putting up with all this madness: gum), and Kyle and Owen have played their hearts out. We set out upon this whole thing thinking that Braydon and I would take turns taking the boys to soccer and getting Meera to bed, but the whole family ended up loving the whole dang thing so much that we all attended every single game.

It was so fun. For all of us.

The “Orange Lava” (as the boys’ team named themselves), turned out to be a really good soccer team! They were undefeated this season! And Kyle and Owen (no surprise here), turned out to be really good soccer players! There was only one game in which Kyle did not score— he scored at least one goal (usually two or three) in every single game except that one. Owen didn’t score in the first three games, but scored at least on goal in every game from that point on. Owen also turned out to be a really good goalie! Between Kyle, Owen, and their new BFF Caleb (new friend they met through this soccer; the three of them instantly became three peas in a pod; and they were a force to be reckoned with on the soccer field, leading their team through their undefeated season), the Orange Lava pretty much totally dominated every single team that they encountered; most nights the score averaged around 5 to 1, with Orange Lava just crushing the other team.

Kyle and Owen loved every single minute of Summer Soccer. I held out week after week, resisting signing them up for Fall Soccer, despite their coaches’ and other parents’ urgings to me to sign them up. It just feels like such a big commitment to agree to this kind of schedule when school is in session. But, like I predicted in the earlier post, now that this ball is rolling there is no stopping it. (no pun intended.) Ultimately I ended up signing them up for Fall Soccer (of course)… so we’ll get the rest of August “off” and then we’ll be back at it on the soccer fields (Mommy cheering my heart out, Papi soaking up every fall-loving-second, Meera chewing gum, Kyle and Owen playing their hearts out) for September and October. I have a feeling we’ll quite possibly be “back to the soccer fields” every fall for at least the next ten years or so.

The end of the season came with trophies for the players of The Orange Lava. For the record: these are K & O’s first ever trophies. You would have thought you had just given them a check for a million bucks each, the way they reacted upon receiving these new-most-valuable-possessions. Seriously, they (especially Kyle) were so thrilled to get a trophy. They now have them proudly displayed on a special shelf in their bedroom where Meera can’t reach them.

Also for the record I should note a couple of cute/funny/interesting things. The boys were, sadly/pathetically/disturbingly what clearly appeared to be two of only way too few non-white players in the league. But notably, rather than attempt to shrink into the crowd of whiteness, they instead made themselves stand out even further by insisting on wearing matching orange headbands to each and every game. The “headbands” were actually pieces of fabric cut out from the sleeve of their coaches’ soccer t-shirts (the pieces of fabric were going to be thrown away, but K & O grabbed them for headbands instead, and then proceeded to very proudly wear them for the entire season). They rocked the look so profoundly that, from what it appears, anyone and everyone who saw them seemed to think they were even more cool/awesome/super-starrish than ever. Interesting stuff. Very interesting stuff.

Also: for the first couple of games their coaches could not, for the life of them, tell them apart. It was creating some serious complications on and off the field. I took it upon myself to write “K” and “O” on the backs of their shirts in permanent marker. That solved that problem. With the “K” and “O” shirts, the confusion was gone, and it was smooth sailing for the rest of the season.

Never a dull moment, on or off the field, that is for sure. Summer soccer is done, but this story is surely not over. We have got some serious sports-loving athletes on our hands with these two boys. What will come of it? We’re counting our blessings that we get to watch and see.

This First Friday represents the last of the first round of First Fridays for our us and the culmination of Heather’s spark of genius for something special for our close knit family. First it was Kyle and Heather, then Owen and Heather, then Meera and Heather.  Then Kyle and me, Owen and me and finally Meera and me.

There is something very special about this ritual we have, something I hope we do for a long time.  Heather and I were talking about it the other day – when we first met, she had thought she would want four kids (all adopted). But having three makes us realize how hard it is to give each one any dedicated 1-on-1 time.

That time is not just important for the kids to have with their parents, it’s equally important for the parents.  We get to see and experience them in a way that we normally don’t.  And seeing them – really seeing them in this way – and them knowing we’re seeing them, is really big.

Of course, with Meera at age 3, we don’t really need to do things like go to fancy restaurants or experience Bethlehem’s first Friday; she would be happy to do pretty much anything.  For our night, we decided to go to Fresh Market, have picnic and visit the Promenade Shops fountains. As we got out of the car to go to the store, Meera said “Papi, this is soooo awesome!”

And awesome it was – shopping was a riot – Meera “pushing” and my taking her direction on what we should and shouldn’t get.  I did have to draw the line at the M&M dispenser. Here is what we wound up with:

1. Lollipops (they are right there when the door opens, how you can you resist?)
2. Teriyaki chicken wings from the deli
3. Light cheese (I am not sure what kind it actually was – cow’s milk, small batch)
4. Herb encrusted salami
5. Fresh bread
6. Green grapes (she insisted on the green grapes)
7. Chocolate milk (guess who picked that) & Root Beer

At the fountains Meera hit the fountains like a crazy woman, playing, running back and forth and loving it. She had to prop bunny up in different places so he could “watch” her and several times I had to make a mental note where he was so that we didn’t lose him. Meera and I both went to town on the food and enjoyed it.

She finally said “Papi, I am done with the fountain” and it was time to call it a good night.

We’re so lucky to live in a place where there are a wide range of food markets including amazing places like Fresh Market, and fountains with clean water running freely for kids to play in.  I watch my daughter shop and play blissfully and am glad for it but also feeling sad that it’s such a privilege that we can have that bliss.