This is an annual tradition for us (for past two years, click here)…
Menu (planned entirely per request of the big First Graders)
Blackened Tilapia & Blackened Shrimp
Brown Rice
Green Beans
and for dessert…
Fresh Peach Cake* with Whipped Cream
*If you’ve been reading this blog for long you might recall that Ina Garten’s Barefoot Contessa cookbooks are my absolute favorites. I made this Fresh Peach Cake from her How Easy Is That? cookbook for the first time yesterday for our Back To School Dinner dessert. It was fabulous! It isn’t too sweet (which is what we J-Ms like), and goes great with whipped cream (which is what two of us J-Ms really like; see photo directly above!). I highly recommend it. If you don’t have the cookbook, the recipe can also be found here: http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/fresh-peach-cake-recipe/index.html
Kyle & Owen’s First Day of 1st Grade, Meera’s First Day of Preschool
This summer we had the most spectacular summer babysitter. Thursday was Ryan’s last day – school is starting for her; school is starting for us; all good things must come to an end – and the bambinos were so upset to have their days with her come to a close. We had Ryan over for lunch on Friday to celebrate the end of a fantastic summer. When it was time for her to go, the three kids were so sad. Meera was actually crying and tried to lock herself inside Ryan’s car. Kyle and Owen constructed a pile of rocks and gravel at the end of the driveway hoping that Ryan would “get a flat tire and have to sleep over.” Ryan did manage to get out of our driveway and as she drove away and I held Meera (who was crying hysterically), Owen said, “Mommy, it is just so sad to have it end.” Over the course of the summer they bonded intensely with Ryan and came to genuinely love her. We all came to feel like she was part of the family. Although we’ll hopefully have a life-long connection with Ryan, it is still bittersweet to have this chapter end. Pictures taken after lunch on Friday afternoon:
I asked Ryan if she wanted to do a Guest Blogger Post for the blog, and was so happy when she said she’d do it. Here’s her post:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Ryan – September 5, 2011
This summer I had the true privilege of hanging out with the Johnson-McCormick family. When I first received the e-mail that Heather was looking for a babysitter I seriously thought about whether or not to apply. I am currently a graduate student and felt that my summers should be more academic, but to tell you the truth I was really looking for a little challenge, the opportunity to relax my mind, and the opportunity to have fun, thus, I thought babysitting would be perfect. I have been babysitting since I was 15 and thought that this was business as usual… as I quickly discovered babysitting Meera, Kyle and Owen was not business as usual. Although they did provide me with a challenge, my mind was never at rest, but at then end of it all, I had a tremendous amount of fun and an exciting two months with three amazing children.
During the two months that I hung out with Owen, Kyle and Meera I knew that we had a good time together, but I did not know it warranted a spot as a Guest blogger on the Johnson-McCormick blog. To be honest, I am a little stumped about what to write. Seeing that this blog serves as a memory of Kyle, Meera and Owen’s childhood I decided to use it as a platform to write them short messages about how they each helped to make this a great summer for me. For those who do not know them personally this may be difficult to follow, but for those who do, you will completely understand the messages and hopefully feel the emotion that I am trying to express.
Meera:
Thank you for being my biggest cheerleader. It was virtually impossible to be sad when you are around. From the scream of excitement when I walk through the door every morning, to the words of “more!,” “higher!” and “jump!” (with a slight southern twang) resonating in my ears when I went home, you are undeniably a ball of joy. Thank you for moving to the beat of your own drum, you couldn’t care less about trying to be one of the boys, you are a big girl princess (in all the good ways). Thank you for going against the societal grain and not wearing clothes, I think we made it through a whole week in which I never saw you in more than a diaper… and to that I say POWER ON! Meera you are a kind and gentle soul, as evident through the care that you give to your dolls and stuffed animals. You are genuinely affectionate and loving and your smile and laughter bounce off of everything. Thank you Meera for helping make this summer an awesome one for me, and my hope for you is that you continue to grow and blossom while keeping all the things that make you amazing.
Kyle:
Thank you for being sweet. I know boys don’t like that word, but what I am trying to say is thank you for being thoughtful, selfless and considerate. Kyle, you are not only an amazing athlete, but also an amazing person. Thank you for making sure that whatever we did, we did it together. I truly admire the way you value, respect and protect your brother and sister. Your actions demonstrate your enormous heart and the strong bond your family shares. Thank you for doing your best to try to keep me in shape by constantly making me play some type of sport outside, although I was designated pitcher who barely moved 5 steps most of the time…you tried. Thank you for helping in the kitchen. I could always count on you to assist me in finding whatever I needed. This is to Kyle and Owen both: thank you for taking such good care of my dog Sammy and exhausting him whenever he came over for a swim. Kyle, I see you growing up to be an amazing young man, one that is smart, kind and talented. Thank you for hanging out with me, and teaching me all about driveway baseball.
Owen:
Thank you for being a prince charming in the making. Thank you for always complimenting my hair and nails. Thank you for always making me feel like, in your own words, an “amazing woman.” Thank you for being considerate of your brother and sister, and thank you for ensuring Meera was happy so that I would not have to deal with a temper tantrum (I’m specifically referring to you writing Meera’s name all over her body like tattoos with purple marker). Owen, thank you for displaying energy and happiness in every movement. Thank you for making me smile, most of the time, and frown occasionally. Thank you for the hugs of forgive and forget and the hugs of pure joy. Owen I am 100% sure that you will develop into an amazing man. You have the gifts of leadership, boldness and intelligence, which when coupled create magic. I look forward to the day when I see your name in bright lights…thanks for an amazing summer!
Heather and Braydon:
Thank you for entrusting me with your kids. Thank you for never freaking out about paint on the floor, in their hair or on their clothes. Thank you for not stressing about missed naps or too much sugar. Thank you for making me feel so comfortable in your home, and most importantly, thank you for hiring me. Heather and Braydon you have three amazing amazing amazing kids…thank you for allowing me to spend my summer with them.
Of course I do not know how to conclude this entry so I will end by saying, when I left the Johnson-McCormick house on Friday everybody said “thanks for the best summer ever” and my response was awww thank you. What I should have said was Thank you for an incredible summer and thank you for helping me to remember why kids are so awesome! See you later alligators, after while crocodiles.
Last week I took an afternoon off from work to take Kyle and Owen back-to-school shopping. This was a first for us— in past years there was no chance I would have gone school shopping with them. For one thing, they were totally disinterested in shopping of any sort and wouldn’t have wanted to go (but lately they’re starting to show –granted only the tiniest bit— slight interest in what they own/wear). For another thing, I wouldn’t have wanted to deal with the insanity-producing experience that surely would have been involved with attempting to do school shopping with my off-the-wall-rambunctious-two-balls-of-energy-twin-boys (but lately they’re starting to show –granted only the tiniest bit – signs of maturity and a little mellowing out). In the past it would have been so much better for everyone involved if I just did it myself. This year, though, I really wanted to give it a try, and I thought they might enjoy it, so off we went.
First stop: Staples for school supplies. Their teacher had sent them each a list of necessary items. They each got a cart and we went aisle-by-aisle until they had everything crossed off of their lists. About halfway through I was already thanking my lucky stars that I had brought them with me, because what they were picking out was not at all what I would have chosen for them. If given the choice of 3 or 4 types of pencils, they both, in a highly coordinated effort, deliberately chose the exact same pencils. If shown an entire wall of 3-ring-binders, they quickly and efficiently went into peaceful deliberations to determine which one color they would both choose. I attempted to get them to consider different choices – “since you like both notebooks, then how about one of you get the one with skateboards on it and the other gets the one with peace signs?!” But there was no convincing them. In the end, we walked out of Staples with two boys carrying two bags of school supplies containing identically matching items. No variation whatsoever on anything. And they were happy.
Second stop: Dicks Sporting Goods for the first-day-of-school outfits. I purposefully don’t buy fall/winter clothes until much later in the season (it is warm here deep into the fall, so they can still wear much of their summer clothes for the first part of the school year), but I want them to walk into school that very first day feeling like a million bucks, so a special spiffy new first-day-of-school outfit is always a must. I really wanted to try to get them to pick out their own outfits (something they had never done in a store, and something they almost always refuse to do even in their own closet). And I had determined that if I was going to let them pick out their own outfits, then I was really going to let them do it all the way; I vowed to myself that I would interfere as little as humanly possible no matter what happened.
Dicks is their favorite store on the planet for any and everything, including clothes, and so there we went. We walked through the store to the youth section, me in the middle with the two of them on either side holding my two hands. It felt huge for me, like we were treading into significant new territory on our life journey together. When we got to the youth section I got down to their eye level and I explained the situation to them: “Boys, this is the area for kids. I want you to look around and see what you like for your first-day-of-school outfits. I really want you to choose your outfits yourselves— find something you love— anything you want! It just has to be short sleeved shirts and shorts because it will be warm out on your first day of school.” They took off perusing the racks. I started to look too. I was seeing gorgeous little golf shirts in beautiful colors and nice fabrics with matching khaki shorts with tiny Nike logos hidden on the hemlines. “Wow!” I thought to myself, “I should have been shopping at Dicks for them all along!” I could hear K & O a couple of racks over engrossed in excited chatter. It seemed to be going well! I pulled a seriously cute royal blue shirt off the rack, thinking I’d show it to them as an option, but stopped myself, quickly put the shirt back on the rack, and tried to mentally re-commit to being hands-off. “I need to try to let them do this themselves,” I thought. Right then I heard their voices: “Mommy! We found it!!!”
I spun around to face them. And there they were, faces beaming, eyes lit up, massive smiles, proudly holding up their choice outfits. I tried hard not to stumble upon my first sight of it; tried hard to keep a straight face and normal tone of voice. “Wow! Guys! That’s…. awesome.” The outfits were: identical. The colors were: fluorescent. The fabrics were: synthetic. The ‘style’ was: glaring, ‘I could not be more self-confident,’ in-your-face, ‘I-am-a-sportster-ROCKSTAR,’ look-at-me-look-at-me-look-at-me-now! In a nutshell: Nothing about the outfits was anything I’d ever have chosen for them. But, at the same time, everything about the outfits screamed KYLE AND OWEN. If anyone could pull this look off, it would be them. “Alright, then. Let’s try them on!” The dressing room experience was maniacal. They could not get enough of themselves in the mirrors. There was dancing, jumping, air-hoop-dunking, chest-thumping, and dramatic-shows-of-pretend-home-run-hitting and soccer-goal-scoring. In those outfits they were large and in charge. Fueled by the outfits they were even louder and prouder than usual (which is a lot). They filled up not just the dressing room, but the entire Dicks Sporting Goods with their two huge personas in identically matching neon athletic attire.
Tears sprung to Owen’s eyes when I told him he had to take off the outfit so that we could buy it. Kyle begged to wear it once we got home, but I told them they had to wait until the first day of school. At the register, an older woman was checking us out. K & O proudly told her that they had picked the clothes out themselves and they were going to wear them to their first day of first grade. She smiled at them and then winked at me. She said, “Even if it isn’t what you would have chosen, you’ll be so glad you did this.” I know she’s right.
And so we walked out of there with two boys carrying two bags of back-to-school-clothes containing identically matching outfits. Outfits I’d never have chosen. A huge step forward. And a lot of food for thought.
Now, a few days later, I think what strikes me the most is that the outfits K & O chose are about as conspicuous as it gets. And as a white adoptive mother of twin black (and additionally, gorgeous and self-confident) sons, I spend a lot of time thinking about our conspicuousness and attempting, at times, to make our family as inconspicuous as possible. What seems remarkable to me is how loud the outfits K & O chose are.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about being conspicuous. For several weeks now I’ve had a big blog post rattling around in my head about my experiences of us being a conspicuous adoptive family. And then a few days ago I read a blog post that articulated so many of the same thoughts I’ve had on the subject. So, instead of re-writing my own (similar) version of it, I thought that instead I’d just link to it. So… if you have some time, and you’re curious, you should definitely read this blog post (click here for link) from Claudia at My Fascinating Life. It pretty much precisely sums up most of my own perspective.
con·spic·u·ous Adjective/kənˈspikyo͞oəs/
1. Standing out so as to be clearly visible.
2. Attracting notice or attention
Over the past few months Kyle has lost two teeth— one that Owen pulled out for him (they have a tendency to pull each other’s loose teeth out), and one that came out while eating his lunch at school last spring. He’s been saving both of these teeth, stored safely in the Tooth Fairy Pillow, waiting and waiting and waiting for all these months for Owen to lose a tooth. They insist on holding out for the Tooth Fairy until they have at least one tooth each in the pillow. I have no idea how (or why) they came up with this policy for themselves, but it is their hard-and-fast rule at this point. Owen’s front teeth have been slightly wiggly for quite a while now. But for the last two weeks or so his front left tooth has been driving us all crazy. He has been playing around with it in his mouth incessantly, and has been adamant that he does not want Kyle to pull this one out. I had told him that if the tooth wasn’t out by the time school starts that I was going to pull it out – no questions asked – because I couldn’t allow him to go to school being so distracted by that tooth. Finally, yesterday, while we were at the pool, it came out. None of us are quite sure how—but none of us really care, because finally the tooth is out (huge relief to us all). He was so excited and couldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirror. Right away he brought his tooth upstairs and tucked it into the tooth fairy pillow with Kyle’s 2 teeth. They decided that tonight is the night that they’ll leave them for the Tooth Fairy. They are very curious as to what will happen— what does the Tooth Fairy leave for 3 teeth?! We don’t know! But we’re soon to find out!
We’re winding down our summer of sports around here. Last week Calvin came for the last swimming lesson of 2011, and he stayed afterwards for our annual celebratory meal together, wrapping up our fourth year (!!!) of swimming lessons with our beloved Calvin.
The funny thing about Calvin is that he’s not a swimming teacher, per se (he only teaches our kids), rather he is simply an awesome alum of collegiate-level swimming (nationally ranked NCAA). He was the captain of the Lehigh swim team and has been a competitive swimmer his whole life. So, it is only natural that he’s been teaching our kids not just swimming, but competitive racing swimming. The result is that our kids are doing things in the water that they’d probably never be doing with more “normal” swim lessons.
The boys, at the end of their 7-year-old summer, continue to amaze us with their skills in the pool. They do all the strokes beautifully, including the butterfly (my favorite to watch them do since in my mind that was always a stroke for only the most serious of swim racers). They are awesome divers, and are particularly adept at racing dives. They do beautiful flip turns inside the walls of the pool. They can swim the length of the pool underwater now (not just the width). And this summer they mastered the art of treading water. Their favorite thing to do is race each other (they go back and forth in terms of who wins).
Meera, at the end of her 3-year-old summer, and her first summer of swim lessons with Calvin, has surprised us with her love of the water and her daredevil antics in the pool. We had thought that Kyle and Owen were just super unusual in their agility in the pool, but Meera (crazily enough) seems to show many of the same traits (we’re still trying to wrap our minds around that). She’s not nearly as strong as Kyle and Owen were at her age, but she’s just as fearless. Which is kinda scary. At this point she is fully swimming (doggy paddle with strong kicking), can turn in any direction under water swimming, jumps off the edge of the pool into any depth, and has mastered the arts of both holding her breath under water (for long stretches of time) and blowing bubbles.
Our pool will stay open until the end of September, but our swimming time will decrease greatly once school starts, and swimming lessons are all done. We’ll miss our “Calvin Days”… until next summer!
First Friday now has a proven track record. 7 out of 7 times it has been a massive success in every possible way. Tonight was the special night for Kyle and me: The first Friday of September. I went out on a limb and veered way off track from our typical patterns of behavior – I took Kyle to Cracker Barrel. I had never been to a Cracker Barrel before. I knew their reputation to be “simple southern country food.” I also knew that you could potentially make a night of it there— playing checkers and sitting in rockers and browsing the “Country Store.” But this is not my kind of place. Normally I’d never choose the kind of food Cracker Barrel serves (for my entire adult life I’ve always chosen a little hole-in-the-wall ethnic restaurant over any “American” food and/or chain restaurant). And the fact is that over the past 15 years or so I’ve become quite a ‘foodie’ (semi-ashamed to admit that). Many of my closer friends (especially those who have been guests at my dinner parties) would probably chuckle at hearing me say that I spent Friday night at a Cracker Barrel, but they probably wouldn’t be totally shocked either (I’m always willing to try anything). Well, thanks to Cracker Barrel, Kyle and I had a splendid night on the town! We came home grinning ear-to-ear with happy satisfaction with an AWESOME First Friday mother-son date night. We made a whole night of it, and loved every bit of it. The food was great (both Kyle and I can appreciate a good thing, and the food we had was a good thing— honestly really simple, basic, good food!), the old fashioned peg game that we played at our table throughout dinner made for some real fun, our after-dinner checkers match (yes, while sitting in rockers) was downright delightful, and the Country Store gave way to some terrific gifts for Kyle to bring home to his brother and sister. Kyle was literally skipping out of the place as we left, with a huge smile across his face. And I felt like I had really connected one-on-one with my precious son… which makes me feel like the happiest, luckiest, most contented mama on earth. It was such a splendid night.
Preamble: I want to say thank you to those of you who sent supportive comments and emails my way in response to my last blog post. One thing I have learned in my past 4+ years of blogging is this: when it comes to my blog I just can’t win— if I post too much of the ‘good/happy,’ then people are all over me for being “too positive” (they accuse me of lying, sugar-coating, superficially-thinking), and if I post too much (or, in my case basically any) of the ‘bad/sad,’ then people are all over me for being “too negative” (they accuse me of whining, not appreciating how good I have it, too-deeply-thinking). I just can’t win. It is frustrating. But for some reason (not entirely clear to me), I feel compelled to keep on going with this old blog, and so, at least for now, I do.
Although, at times – like the past several days – I just don’t have it in me to blog. We’re spiraling forward at mock speed right now at the J-M household. This post will be an attempt to play a tiny bit of catch-up, but it will barely scrape the surface of everything going on around here. Here goes…
Hurricane Irene came and went, and we were lucky that we got through it with relative ease. A (probably the) highlight of the hurricane for us: we taught K & O to play Uno, and during Meera’s naps the four of us played many rounds together. My 39th birthday also came and went, and we were lucky that we got through that with relative ease too. This picture (below) is just perfection as far as I’m concerned; I think it perfectly depicts my life right now as I turn the corner of my 39th year— it is like a perfect visual summation of my entire being at this particular moment of my life. And here’s the truth: I have yet to look at this picture without having a smile creep across my face. Because, the honest truth is, deep down inside I know that what this picture represents is exactly as it should be. For right now it is perfectly right that I be smack dab behind my bambinos. And that’s where I am. Behind them. Even as they blow the candles out on my cake (and then each eat a sugar-frosting carrot off the top). (For the record: they opened my presents for me too— including the presents that they gave me. Also for the record: and I wouldn’t want it any other way.)
For my birthday Kyle and Owen gave me what truly is one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. It is a book that they made with Ryan. They’ve been working on it together for a couple of weeks, and seriously— it is a masterpiece. It is a book that tells my life story up to my 39th year. It is packed with information about me, and I was (and still am) absolutely stunned by how well my boys know me and how much they know about me. The gift touched me so deeply and I was/am in awe of them for doing it for me (and Ryan for helping them do it).
My other favorite birthday gift was from Meera— on my birthday I asked her, and she agreed (as a gift to me—no joke!), to wear overalls and a t-shirt. This is huge and I cannot express how cute I think she is in overalls—and how much I wish she’d wear stuff like this more often. For now I’m just basking in the glory of a once-every-39-years chance to see my girl in an outfit of entirely my choosing. 😉
The big news is that I’ve officially determined that the bambinos are sufficiently bored with summer. This was my goal of course: that their summer be such that by the end they are sufficiently bored with it. Goal achieved. I am a big believer in the idea that boredom breeds imagination. It is when “water workshops” and “long runways” start showing up around here that I know we’re in good shape.
The bambinos have had a good summer. They’ve had just the right amount of structured activities to anchor the huge amounts of free/unstructured time that we’ve purposefully planned in. Standing here, at the last week of our summer, I can confidently say that they are all summered out. In the best possible way.
They’ve had a summer’s worth of “iced chocolate milk”…
and at least a whole summer’s worth of tree climbing…
…plenty of time to just sit around, occupying themselves, playing, and playing and playing and playing…
…and more than their fair share of summer eating (I am soooo summered out of their summer eating—the non-stop “I’m hungry” seems to increase exponentially in the summer and I’m so tired of the extensive food production). At the same time, I’m sure there will be a day not too far in the future when I’ll be missing these days of platter-making (I make these platters at least a few times a week for them and each and every time they get excited and thank me profusely).
Bottom line: they are ready for school to start. All three of them. All five of us actually. We are counting down the days now. It is exactly as it should be as far as I’m concerned— summer should run so deep that we are just chomping at the bit for school to start at the end of it. Even still, it is only right that we try to squeeze the last bits of what we can out of these last days of summertime. Trips for ice cream. Whole days in bathing suits. Staying up late to watch the Red Sox. Seriously… this is what gloriously sumptuous summers should be like. I’m so grateful that we can find ways to give our kids a taste of it.
[Photo above taken just a couple of minutes ago—the boys up late watching Red Sox vs. Yankees at Fenway Park. Folding laundry. All three of them. A sight to behold.]
And so, here we are, on the verge of another school year winding right up, trying our hardest to wind down our summer in a way that does it justice.
“To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie –
True Poems flee.”
~Emily Dickinson
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.
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