We spent the first day of our trip at the beach, on the Maine coast, with my sister Stina and her family. We spent the day together at the same beach we used to go to as kids — Moody Beach, right in/near Wells/Ogunquit Maine. It was a gorgeous day, and the first full summer-day-at-the-beach on the New England coast that K, O, and M have ever spent. Stina packed up a great picnic lunch for us all, we built a huge sand castle, and had tons of fun in the sand and surf.
For the next 10 days, or so, we are going to be taking a break from blogging. We will catch up later!
These were life-size body tracings. We had a LOT of fun doing them! Meera, especially, got the biggest kick out of it!
There’s nothing like the sprinkler on a hazy-hot-and-humid afternoon. Summer is barreling forward at record-speed. How is July almost over? I feel like it barely started. Lucky for us, we have the Summer-Checklist (the Family Fun To-Do List) taped onto the refrigerator, reminding us of what we’ve already done and have yet to do. We checked off another biggie this weekend: Catch fireflies at night. This was put on the list by Owen. I knew that it meant more to him than simply to catch fireflies. Last year we had a memorable and magical summer night (hi Leslie if you’re reading!) that I knew was really at the heart of Owen’s line-item on our list; I just knew that what he really wanted was to have that night again this summer… complete with catching fireflies and all. Saturday night we made it happen. It was the “Fancy Haiti Dinner” (steak frites) — exactly the same* — as last year, except this year we let Meera stay up for it.
*For the record I just have to make note that the only difference in the dinner this year was the dessert. I made a new dessert and it instantly became all three J-M kids’ new favorite dessert in the whole wide world. It was crazy how much they loved it. Sweet-Cream with Blackberries. (My current favorite foodie blog is Pioneer Woman and I’ve been making a lot of her recipes for the past few months… if you’re looking for an amazing summer dessert, try this! Seriously!).
After dinner we caught fireflies in the yard.
Then we put Meera to bed and to make a special night even more special, the boys got to stay up even later and use up the rest of the sparklers from the 4th of July. It was a full-moon hot summer night.
Sunday was a lazy day at home just our family. No birthday parties, no get-togethers, no errands or projects to complete. Late afternoon involved a trip to DQ and rainbow sprinkles for some of us.
~~~
Sidenote: I got an iPad. The boys are freakishly obsessively in-love with playing with it.
For the record, I just have to note that the only difference between this year’s
Speaking of grocery shopping (post below)…
The other day K, O, and I were driving home from the grocery store. It is only about a 12 minute drive, and usually we drive the straightest route possible. But one thing that the boys have long loved to do is to explore “new” roads that intertwine in and around our normal routes. This is something they’ve learned from their Papi. Braydon loves to do this too. It basically involves taking the “long cut” (as they call it) –as opposed to the short cut– home. The other day I obliged them when they asked to take a “long cut” and we veered off onto the first new road that we came upon. It turned out that within just a couple of minutes of driving, the road we were on turned into a gorgeous winding country road. It was a beautiful summer day and this new route felt glorious. There were beautiful horse farms everywhere you looked. Suddenly, we came upon two horseback riders. As we got closer, I stopped the car and turned off the engine. The riders came right up to us, and with the car windows down the boys were able to actually pet the horses right from the back seat. They asked a whole slew of questions about horses, horseback riding, etc, etc, etc, and the riders were happy to chat with us for quite a while. Then we headed on our way home. The whole thing only lasted a few minutes, but it was really magically spontaneous, and a good reminder of the beauty of being in the moment.
Owen & Kyle Grocery Shopping, July 2010
I’ve been taking these boys grocery shopping with me for the past (almost) six years. Don’t get me wrong— it is also true that for the past (almost) six years I have actively and aggressively AVOIDED taking these boys grocery shopping with me. There have been phases — long phases — (honestly, much of the past six years) — where I would do pretty much anything to get to the grocery store without them. The fact is, they have been more than two handfuls in the grocery store. Anyone who has ever tried to do serious grocery shopping with rambunctious and precocious and super-self-confident and active and curious and mischievous and spirited twin boys under the age of six knows what I’m talking about: it is nearly impossible. I have, on many more than one occasion, broken down crying in the middle of the supermarket. The occasions that I’ve gotten through unfazed have been extraordinarily rare. They want to do everything, touch everything, push the cart, get in the cart, get out of the cart, slam the cart into anything physically possible to slam it into. They talk to everyone they see. They have a zillion questions about everything. They are fascinated with the lobsters (seafood department); they are obsessed with asking for cookies (bakery department); they are fixated on the music-playing-greeting-cards; and they are enamored with those weigh-your-own-and-sticker-your-own computer things in the produce department. They want to climb into the freezers and see their breath. They want to count how many brands of toothpaste are on the shelf. They want to chat-it-up with the folks at the deli counter. They want to read the ingredient lists on just about every item in the store. They love the baggers in the check out line and want to “help” them bag our stuff. And they are just — seriously — very, very high energy. It is like a double-wide-tornado has hit the place and they are barreling through there like two little maniacs. They have just been really, really hard to handle. And it makes real grocery shopping (I mean anything more than a quick in-and-out grab-an-item-or-two-and-go food shopping trip) next to impossible. Anyone who has been grocery shopping with me and them over these years knows what I’m talking about [hello MorMor!!!!!!!!]. For most of the past six years, whenever I’ve come home from grocery shopping with them, Braydon has been flabbergasted. “You took them both with you???” He has often asked in utter disbelief. I have — for the most part — rolled my eyes and then vented to him for a solid 10 minutes about how I will “NEVER” do it again. In addition, I usually have at least one insane story to tell, and numerous other observations, challenges, and/or notes-to-self to report upon after any food shopping trip with them. I love these boys. With a passion. But, seriously, grocery shopping with them has been TOUGH.
For the record: I have always been fully aware and completely grateful for the remarkable fact that they virtually never— ever— ask for anything at all —- and never have — I mean nothing at all —- while we grocery shop. For that I have always been truly thankful. The rest of their grocery shopping selves, however, leaves a lot to be desired. It has been, simply, a major challenge to food shop with them. I could split them up (they are always much better when separated) and I’ve done that during periods of time in the past years (i.e., taken one with me one week, and then taken the other one the next week), but it never seems to stick (partly because it is just pragmatically hard to figure out how to have childcare coverage for one while I take the other, and partly because they both want to go so badly). Since Meera joined the mix the whole challenge has been even that much more challenging.
I’ve gone back-and-forth about it in my mind over the years. On one hand, why bother bringing them? I mean, they have plenty of life to live and plenty of time to figure out (or not) how to grocery shop. No biggie. Why put myself through torture? On the other hand, I have always been pulled toward bringing them grocery shopping. For one thing, they love it (which is shocking, since I spend at least half the time yelling at them, threatening them, and shooting them the hairy eyeball). But, go figure (?), they really, really do love grocery shopping. And I figure, for how long will my boys want to do that with me??? I also (as ridiculous as this probably sounds) have always wanted to bring them up food shopping so that they are fully prepared when it is time for them to do it on their own someday. I am, after-all, trying to raise up progressive liberated manly men. They should know how to grocery shop — and I want it to be in them from the start… not taught to them frantically in some crash-course the night before they’re leaving for college. Seriously, I want my boys to have gone grocery shopping their whole lives. And, of course, there is the time factor. I mean, I grocery shop once a week — and it takes a couple of hours for the whole entire round-trip all-included she-bang. That is two hours that they could spend with me, or without me, and whenever humanly possible I will always choose the with me over the without me. So, there it is.
And, here comes the noteworthy point that this has all been leading to….
Drumroll please…
This summer I’ve been making it a point to bring them grocery shopping with me. I have a routine where I’ve been going on Monday afternoons. Given the way my summer routine is rolling, it just happens to work out that I can relatively easily pick them up from Margie and take them food shopping with me while Meera is napping at home. It has become a weekly routine for us three this summer. And, I need to make a note that FOR THE PAST MONTH THEY HAVE BEEN TRULY A PLEASURE AND A JOY TO SHOP WITH. Yes, it is true. So very blissfully wonderfully true: K & O have been awesome to grocery shop with. And that is huge. I mean, HUGE!, especially considering our sordid history with this. They seem to have turned some sort of corner right around age six. And while it would still be a lot easier to shop without them than with them (or, at a minimum, split them up), they have actually been quite a lovely duo to shop with, and — believe it or not — actually quite helpful. They each take one of the smaller sized carts; they push them around relatively civilly; they load them up with the items from our list; and they put everything onto the conveyor in the check-out line when it is time to pay up. They even help bag when we don’t have a bagger in our lane. And (and this still shocks even myself) they are trustworthy in the parking lot (that one is a biggie). I’m not holding my breath or counting on this sticking forever— but my hopes are high and I’d probably wager quite a bit at this point on my boys’ grocery shopping future potential and promise.
This is a huge deal — huge huge deal — here in J-M-land. And while some of this is surely developmental (something about turning six?), I’m (legitimately or not) giving myself a huge pat on the back for this one, because, quite honestly, I consider this to be one of my greatest life accomplishments to-date. No joke.
~
We are halfway through what is by far our best summer ever. We are savoring every juicy bite of watermelon, every splash in the pool, every morning of laying around in Mommy and Papi’s bed with the sun streaming in watching Curious George and Mickey Mouse Playhouse and talking about how happy we are that we don’t have to rush-rush-rush to catch the bus. Mommy is taking a lot of time off — maximizing every bit of that hard-earned tenure. Papi is working hard to slow it down a bit. Kyle and Owen are never bored, even though there is not much at all scheduled in for the bulk of most days. Meera is in-love with having her brothers home with her. Bedtime is more like 8 instead of 7, and often even later. There are toads to hold, fireflies to catch, and there is football to play in the back yard. We’re eating blueberries by the quart-full and drinking lemonade (and iced coffee!) by the gallon. We’re in the midst of a record heat wave. And even though we know these days are numbered, right now it feels like we’re smack in the middle of endless summer. Summer is at its ripest right now.
Not a day goes by that we aren’t fully grateful for all that we have in this life that we’re living. Summer makes it even easier to feel the decadent beauty of it all. And on days like today (the one-year anniversary of this), that gratefulness feels especially acute.
Summer is halfway over. But I — forever and always the one to see the glass as half full — prefer to think of it as half-the-summer-is-still-to-come.
This past weekend was our annual Haiti Reunion. This, seriously, feels like a family reunion. But like a very, very, very special family’s reunion. I cannot describe how much this annual gathering means to us. This was our fourth year going, and we would not miss this weekend for the world. There is no “highlight” to speak of because the whole entire thing is one big highlight. There is just nothing like seeing what happens when a bunch of Haitian adoptive families get together. This year we had 17 families, 74 people, — our biggest yet. There were a few new families, in large part because of kids who have come home since the earthquake. This reunion was more meaningful than ever. Kyle and Owen love this reunion weekend. I mean, they really, really, really love it. It is almost like they just savor every single second of it. What was really striking to me this year, though, was the importance of this reunion for Meera. While in the past I had always thought of it as something we did for Kyle and Owen and Braydon and I, now I am more fully realizing how truly important this is for Meera too. It was an incredible, incredible weekend. As it always is. But it always, somehow, feels even better than the year before.
We arrived at our hotel on Friday evening in time for a swim. Here they are ready to head to the pool:
We got a good night’s sleep and were very excited the next morning!~~
Arrival at the reunion is like arriving to sink into a group of your oldest, bestest, most favorite friends in the whole world. People you share deep connections with — connections that go way beyond what any words could ever describe. Just look at Owen’s face:
And for Kyle and Owen, not a minute is spared before it is straight into sports, sports, and more sports. There is absolutely nothing like watching a bunch of Haitian-American boys play soccer together. No kidding: I would not get in the middle of it if you paid me a million dollars. These boys are hard-core. K & O love every single solitary second of it. They are all drenched in sweat by 5 minutes in, but they go and go and go and go all day long.
And you just know that these boys — while fiercely competitive with each other on the grass or field or court — love each other too, with just as much passion.
And while some girls do partake in the athletic endeavors (and I give those girls a ton of credit for jumping into that fray!), many of them just play and play and play and play all day long. Their energy is no lesser, just different. And they love each other so. There is a lot of hand-holding and baby-carrying and chit-chatting that goes on. And it is all good.
Meal times bring us all together. The parents linger and chat (and there is much to chat about). The kids eat and run. Everybody enjoys every bit (and bite) of it.
After lunch it is pool time. This is not your everyday pool experience! These kids love the water. Every one of them!
Here’s my favorite picture from the reunion~~ TWINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Good friends’ 4-year-old boys came home this year. It was a joy to meet them.
And some other fav’s:
They played basketball until they couldn’t see any more.
And then they went nuts in the dark with glow sticks!
We didn’t leave until 10:30. It was the three bambinos’ longest day ever. Like, ever, in their entire lives. Meera — who thoroughly enjoyed every second of the reunion (but did not nap, and was going going going all day and night) — let us have it that night. From 2:30am on, she was up all night, inconsolably exhausted and miserable (although I’m sure she’d do the whole reunion all again in a heartbeat if given the chance). And the next day the three were more tired than we’ve ever seen them. They lazed in the hotel room watching cartoons. We have never seen them quite like this.
A quick visit in the hotel lobby with some new favorite friends (hi Lancers! long time blog readers and first time meet-in-real-life-ers!!!)…
photo credit: the Lancers
…and then we were off, heading home. Meera looked like this for almost the entire drive:
And the boys vegged out with the iPhones, delirious with deep happiness and deep exhaustion.
We arrived home to a lazy late afternoon and early bedtimes for all. The reunion will surely be a highlight of our whole year. We are already counting the day’s till Haiti Reunion 2011.
Pepperoni Pizza and a Bowl of Cherries
When we lived in Boston during graduate school, we had dinner every Wednesday night with our best friend Beth. We’d rotate week-by-week between our two apartments. Sometimes we’d invite other friends to join us, sometimes it would be just us, and our “Wednesday Night Dinner” was always special. Many a glass of wine and 20-something-meaning-of-life-conversations were had! We did it for six years. And then graduate school ended, Braydon and I moved for my Lehigh job, Beth went on to seminary, and we have missed our Wednesday Night Dinners ever since. We dream of one day living close together again and getting back to our old routine. Hopefully some day that dream will come true. In the meantime I find myself reminiscing dreamily of those Wednesday nights. Very often when we’d go to Beth’s house she’d make pizza. She had worked in a gourmet pizza shop during college and she wasn’t afraid to get creative. Early on she figured out a SUPER trick: buying the pizza dough from a nearby pizza place. Not only did this cut out a huge step — thereby making the pizza making so much simpler — but very often the pizza dough from a good pizza parlor was a lot better than any we could ever hand-make. The trick stuck. After Braydon and I moved from Boston we went several years with hardly ever making our own pizza. Honestly, it made me miss Beth too much to do it. Plus, we could get amazing pizza in our new region of the country (NY/NJ/and even eastern-PA has some awesome pizza!). But recently I’ve started making “homemade” pizza more often. I call this Cheater Pizza because — like Beth — I’m no fool, and I buy the dough at our local pizza shop. Most people don’t even realize it, but if you go into a pizza place and ask for a dough ball they’ll almost always sell you one for a buck or two (usually even at chain pizza places). This makes pizza making incredibly easy, quick, and fun.
Making Pepperoni Pizza
Kyle, Owen, and Meera love pizza. We still buy pizza a lot. But we also can have a really good time making “homemade” pizza together at home. The bambinos’ favorites are plain cheese or cheese and pepperoni. I buy a really good jar of gourmet pizza sauce from the grocery store, we slather it on all over the spread out dough (so as to avoid making any ‘crust’ on the edges of the pizza… because they “don’t like” the “crust part”), then sprinkle on grated mozzarella and pepperoni, and we are good to go. All you need to make awesome homemade pizza is a good pizza stone. We heat ours up in the oven to 450-500 degrees. Then we put the stretched out pizza dough right on it, top with the ingredients, then place back in the hot oven to bake. Cooking it this way, it only takes about 5-10 minutes for the pizza to be ready. Just long enough to set the table, toss a salad, and pour our drinks.
Making BBQ Chicken Pizza
Over the past couple of months we’ve taken some pictures of our pizza and pizza making. A favorite is BBQ Chicken Pizza. Over a layer of BBQ sauce we throw on diced leftover chicken, slices fresh mozzerella, and fresh sliced red onion. This stuff is awesome.
BBQ Chicken Pizza Done
The best part about doing pizza this way is that while Braydon and the bambinos run out to buy the dough ball I have a few minutes to heat up the pizza stone and prep the ingredients. When they walk in the door we can get right to the fun part– assembling the pizza. It is all lickety-split.
Prepping for Brie, Almond, & Green Apple Pizza
This is one of our favorite “Beth Pizzas”: brie cheese, slivered almonds, and sliced green apple. You bake the pizza with just the brie and almonds, and then right when it comes out of the oven you put the cold, crisp, tart, fresh apples on there. Seriously, if you’ve never had brie pizza, try it. It is to die for. Eating it brings back so many good memories of eating pizza in Beth’s kitchen in her apartment in Brookline.
Brie, Almond, & Green Apple Pizza Done
A new favorite of ours is pizza with balsamic vinegar drizzled on it. You can drizzle it on before or after the baking, but we prefer it to be done before so that it gets baked right in. K & O (Owen especially) love pretty much anything with balsamic vinegar on it.
Chicken, Caramelized Onion, Monterey Jack, Balsamic Vinegar
In this case we had some leftover grilled chicken breast. But I’ve often used rotisserie chicken from the grocery store. Easy.
Chicken, Caramelized Onion, Monterey Jack, Balsamic Vinegar Pizza Done
There are tons of great pizza ideas out there. And Beth used to make some incredible ones (like a potato pizza that was out of this world!). Three more of our other favorites are:
- pesto, mozzarella, roasted red pepper
- alfredo sauce, cooked shrimp, parmesan, and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice
- “Mexican”: salsa, ground beef or chicken, fresh chopped tomatoes, cheddar
This is pizza making at it’s super easiest best and it is very fun to do. I highly recommend this to all you graduate students, medical students, and law students who are reading! Tell me if you try it!!!
I also highly recommend this to families with young kids. I have this thing about wanting my kids to know how some of their favorite “treat” foods (that we usually only buy or eat in restaurants) are made. I have made a point to cook some of these things with them so that they “get it” that it is all created somehow someway by someone. We’ve made doughnuts together, french fries together, popsicles together, etc. Pizza is on that list. I want them to know how it is done so that they never think that you can just pay a few bucks and —ta da!!!— something magically appears. No… somebody —an actual person— had to make that out of real ingredients (or at least somebody could make it — and used to make it — even if now a machine might often be involved). It is really awesome for kids to make things that they love to eat, and to understand how some of their favorite “junk foods” are created… however, nobody is going to enjoy any of it if we’re stressed about stuff like kneading dough and waiting all day long for it to rise and then dealing with a flour-covered wreck-of-a-kitchen. Yes, I know, I know, pizza dough is actually not hard at all to make. (and yes, I have made it with K & O, so they do know you don’t just buy it at Sal’s Pizza Parlor). But really– buying a dough ball for a dollar makes the whole thing soooo much more fun and stress-free. It makes it actually possible to whip it up quick on a busy weeknight or after we come home from a weekend outing. It is a great idea for kids’ parties too: make your own pizza! (just cheat and buy the dough balls! your life will be so much easier!) And with a salad, or a bowl of fruit, this really can be a dinner to celebrate!
Cheers!
existential crisis: a stage of development at which an individual questions the very foundations of his or her life, whether their life has any meaning, purpose or value.
Last week Margie was on vacation. I took the week off to be home with K, O, and M. It was a week I was very much looking forward to. It was all that I knew it would be: the joy, suffering, elation, dread, relief, anxiety, fulfillment, boredom, connectedness, isolation, and never-ending-questioning that each of these sorts of weeks always is for me. I spend much of the time thinking, “See! This is how it would be if I was a stay-at-home-mom!” juxtaposed with, “This is nothing like what it would be if I were a stay-at-home-mom.” I become obsessed with daring myself to imagine what it would be like if I didn’t have my career in tow. I become uber-obsessed with the never-ending-excruciating-questioning of my most major life choices, philosophies, and foundations. And the experience of being home full-time with my kids for a week always ends with me on the couch with a glass of wine tearfully pondering the meaning/purpose/value of my very existence in life, and Braydon sitting in the chair with a glass of wine carefully analyzing my existential crisis. It is very cathartic and therapeutic and it always makes us both feel better but it almost never gets us anywhere. And then we get up the next morning and go to work. And the honest truth is, I don’t even know where I want to go with all of this— except— I know for sure— that I want to somehow find peace with it all. And I worry, greatly, that I never will. Which deeply disturbs me. Because I feel like I’m wasting way too much time emotionally and psychologically caught up in my tortured questioning of my very essence during this phase of my life. On one hand, I believe this sort of questioning and self-identity challenging is one of the most important quests in an individual’s life. On the other hand, I find it pathetic and repulsive that I have the privilege to indulge in this sort of higher-level-philosophical-meandering. I mean, shouldn’t I just be grateful for all that I have and be done with it? Shouldn’t I just be able to be happy with it just being what it is? But the problem is, every single day that I leave my kids to go to work I feel like I might cry and it takes at least five minutes down the road in the car before the lump in my throat subsides (and some days it never does). I miss (like, really, really miss) my kids when I’m away from them — even for an hour — and I hate not being there for every single second of their lives lived. I love making our house a home, making simple suppers into lovely dinners, running the show, and being Mama. And the other problem is that I feel (at least, enough of the time for it to matter) deeply committed, passionate-toward, and called-to the work (outside the home) that I do. It is almost embarrassing to even write that, and honestly, I don’t want to explain all of that right now (and I definitely don’t want to appear to be tooting my own horn)– but as any student who has ever taken a class with me, or as any person who has ever heard a public talk by me, or as anybody who has ever worked closely with me can attest– I actually have a gift for what I do. The work I get paid to do is work that I believe actually matters and needs to be done in the world. I can only explain it like this: In terms of my work, I believe — almost all of the time — that I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing in this world. The problem is that this work is wrapped up (and inextricably linked) with a demanding career that requires constant tending. And that takes me away from my kids. And that means we require childcare. Which subsequently results in me not being with them all the time. Which means — and this is the bottom line — I miss out. Yes, my kids miss out on me too. But I’m not so egotistical to think that that is too much of a problem. I know my kids are in part as awesome as they are because of the various important influential players in their life— and these people include their babysitters and nannies and teachers and other care-givers. My kids need Margie, and I want them to have her (all that she is; not “just nanny”) central in their lives. And I am a better mother when I get away from them, do meaningful work in the world outside of our home, and come back feeling like a relatively whole and internally fulfilled contributing member to the greater good. However... and this is a big ‘however’… I can’t seem to stop being haunted by the feeling that I’m missing out.
I know what I’m missing out on because I’m close enough to my children, and spend enough time with them, to be fully aware. I know all the tiny details and nuances and moments that I’m not there for. And I hate that. I also know the work of being home, and I am thankful to be able to get away from that for awhile each time I head out to my office. Honestly, it is a mixed bag. But it is a very complicated, messy, jumbled-up, fuzzy, and more-and-more-showing-the-wear-and-tear mixed bag. I’m not delusional enough to think that I’m alone in this. I know that I’m not. But that doesn’t help make it any easier on me. Whether I am or not, I continually feel like I’m a stranger in a strange land, pioneering some new frontier, and flying in uncharted territory. The demands of work and home just are not getting any easier. The quest for that elusive “balance” just seems more and more daunting as each week, month, and year unfolds. None of this resembles in any way what I thought it would be. None of this is anything that I (or we) were prepared for. None of this is easy to explain or understand. It is what it is. But it is not easy. And, to be frank, I really think that it is something that only someone who has ‘been there done that’ (or, even better, is there and is doing it) can even somewhat relate to in any real way.
I go off, and I come back. I’m at home, and then I’m at work. And everywhere I am, I feel this deep nagging angst. The existential crisis continues. And continues. And continues. And just when I think that I might be rounding the corner, I realize that I’m not– that the corner is not there to round and nobody seems to have any answers for me. Either that, or, this corner is oh-so-very-very-sharp and nothing that anybody could ever say or do would make it any rounder.
So, at lunchtime on Friday of last week I asked the boys what they would like for lunch. Normally I give them 2 or 3 simple options (peanut butter and jelly sandwich? turkey and cheese sandwich? or yogurt?) and they choose one of them and that is that. But I left it wide open and just asked them what they’d like. Kyle piped right up and the sweet little thing said (and I have no idea how he came up with this because I haven’t done this in a long, long time– like maybe over a year), “Can you make us heart shaped sandwiches? You know, the ones that you press into hearts with cookie cutters to tell us that you love us?” It wasn’t what I had expected them to request, but once it was requested there was no turning back. So, of course, I did it. I painstakingly made their bologna and cheese into lovely little hearts and presented them their plates oozing with love and sweetness and telling them how much I love them to infinity and beyond. And the three of them sat on the couch and ate their little hearts out while watching a video — and the boys asked for seconds and believe-it-or-not I even actually did the whole thing again and made them another round — and — they were in mommy-at-home-heaven. And I sat there with them, eating the cookie-cutter-remnants of the crusty cut-off pieces of their sandwiches, and watching them eat their lunch and all I could think was, “I wish I could do this everyday.” I know that these heartwiches are completely pathetic in so many ways and on so many levels. (It is semi-humiliating to even admit that I made them and I’m sure plenty of folks out there would enjoy having a heyday scowling at my Martha-Stewart-Esque-Heartwich-Ridiculousness.) And yet they represent a lot too. They say, “mommy loves you so much that she’ll take the time to cut out these precious little sandwiches for you”; they say, “I love these kids so dang much that I’ll do this ridiculous thing for them”; they say, “there is time for this” and/or “mommy has made time for this”; and, amongst many other things too, they say, “there is nothing in the world more important than this right here and right now.” There is good and bad, right and wrong all wrapped up in that. No child should feel entitled to such things on a too regular basis. We all need to know that we aren’t the center of the universe. However, there is absolutely nothing wrong with filling them up with a little uncensored love-fest every now and then.
So, if I were home full-time, I would be tempted to make heart-shaped sandwiches everyday. I would be ridiculous (I know I would). If I do what I do now — with a whole career in tow — it is scary to think of what I’d be doing if my time was entirely devoted to my kids and home. I know myself well enough to know the pitfalls that I’d encounter and the problems I’d create. My kids would not be who they are. Braydon would probably hate me. I’d surely hate myself. Still, none of that makes it any easier to kiss them goodbye in the morning, knowing that Margie will be playing Candy Land with Kyle and Owen, and putting Meera down for her nap, and making my three precious ones their lunches (lunches that are never as good as “Mommy Lunches”). Nothing about that is easy. Nothing.
And so it goes. And, as anyone who has ever gone through this knows, this post barely even scrapes the surface of it.
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