This morning, 8:17 a.m., “A Drumming Show”This morning, 8:17 a.m., “A Drumming Show”This morning, 8:17 a.m., “A Drumming Show”
This photo has been a long time coming. Jen, my college roommate, pictured in real life with my two boys. I can’t even express what it all means to me (although, I can say this: I know Jen will be so dismayed that I posted this terrible photo of her on this blog — in real life she is GORGEOUS and this photo is bad). But, I don’t even care. Because, seriously, this photo, to me, is priceless. And, to top it off (total coincidence), that quilt that they have on them (watching Finding Nemo Saturday night, by the way)… that quilt was on our dorm-room couch the whole time we were roommates. We had countless — countless — heart-to-heart coming-of-age soul-searching future-planning past-processing present-analyzing life-affirming growing-up-together conversations (not to speak of hang-over-nap-sessions) together under that quilt. And there they are– my boys and my Jen — under that quilt. It has been a long time coming.
We graduated from Colby 15 years ago (15 years ago??????), and both lived in Boston (so saw each other tons) during our early 20s. Then she went off to Stanford for grad school, and stayed, and it became tough (obviously, with us on two different sides of the country) to get together. Although we were still able to manage (she and her husband Anthony – who Braydon and I adore – would come East, or we’d go West, or I’d have a conference in San Fran, or she’d have to be in New England, or there would be a major life event — like our weddings — etc. And… then there was that time we four all met up in New Orleans for a crazy weekend together). And so it went, until we had kids. And then it all came to a screeching halt. And we’ve been lamenting it ever since. But — hallelujah! — Anthony got a huge-promotion-of-a-new-job and this summer they moved back East! And now they are a mere 3 hour drive away (which is NOTHING!) and this weekend we had our first of many get togethers. No, it is nothing like the old days (to state the obvious: there are five kids in the picture now)… but, it is like the best of friends should be: pure bliss. The past pulls us together, and the future is sprawled out ahead of us. I have a feeling we’ll be strong family friends for the long haul. The kind of family friends where our kids will grow up together. Which is, for me, a dream come true. And the five of ’em hit it off like we could only have wished for!
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These three (photo below — and click on any photo to enlarge) were like three peas in a pod. We barely saw them (except for mealtimes) the entire weekend. Seriously. We’ve already got stories to tell of their escapades — stories that will embarrass them flushed red when they are sixteen. We cannot wait to tell the tales!*
And these two… oh, these two… The Little Ladies (I’m now calling them)… they were born six weeks apart and they are soul sisters already. We decided, officially, this weekend: they will be college roommates. The only question remaining is, ‘which college?’ That is up for grabs, but we have a short list of some top notch schools that we’ll be considering in 17 short years. The only thing for certain is that they’ll do at least one semester of study abroad in Australia (Anthony, Jen’s husband, is Australian so they have family there to keep a close eye on The Little Ladies while they enjoy university Down Under). As you can see, they’ve already mastered the fine art of drinking together. So, they should be all set.*
Saturday morning the dads and the “big kids” took a trip to Ringing Rocks while the babies napped and the moms talked non-stop.*
While they weren’t napping, The Little Ladies were lovin’ life and just, basically, starting the bonding of their pre-college-roommate years. Doing stuff like generally hanging out, working on their skills in the fine arts, chillin’ at the pool, and working out together (this time around, the athletic endeavor of choice: horseback riding). You know, the same sorts of things they’ll do when they live together in college someday.*
Meanwhile, the Happy Threesome were playing inside and out, watching videos, holding hands, and just generally acting as though they have been best friends their whole lives.*
The highlight was a brief period of sun on Saturday afternoon, which we maximized poolside, with Braydon’s margaritas and chips and dips. The Little Ladies went a bit nutso with the bean dip.*
CHEERS to many more Slavin~J-M weekends!P.S.
Jen is a long-time blog reader and it has always been from afar, so this will be her first time reading a blog post here with her in it! That will be surreal, I’m sure. But it is, surely, the first of many. I love you Jen!xxoo
Can you believe she’s 37? I can’t! She seems like a really mature 22 year old hottie to me! And we’ve had a really fun day to boot. Our dear old friends Jen and Anthony are here (mostly coincidental, but what a great way to celebrate) and between our kids, their kids, the pool and some margaritas, it’s been a blast.This year, Kyle and Owen picked out their own gifts for mommy: Owen a purple stone funky necklace and Kyle a large lattice heart pendant necklace. Both of which Heather will wear – although neither of which we’re sure are actually are her style. But so endearingly cute.Heather got to have her favorite – carrot cake – with two loving boys assisting with the candle duty.Happy Birthday my sweet, gorgeous wife! We’re all so happy to celebrate you today!
We’ve turned off Anonymous Comments again folks. It is just too upsetting for us to allow the Anons. But we remain committed to blogging with as much honesty and truth as we can muster. Thank you for reading!
Dear Meera,
I cried hard when I left you to go to work this morning. You didn’t know I was crying. Partly because you were crying so hard yourself (you weren’t really noticing much except that I was walking out the door). And partly because I managed to get the door shut behind me before I broke down. I remember mornings like this when your brothers were your age– mornings when I’d cry deep wet tears when I’d have to leave them. I try to hold it together. For everyone’s sake. But your Papi sees me when it falls apart. Thankfully, he’s pretty good about hugging me and telling me that it is all going to be alright. But there is nothing that can dampen it: it is so hard for a Mama to leave her baby. Somehow, even though I’ve been at this now for more than four years, I still can’t seem to find a way to make it any easier on myself. Margie held you and your brothers distracted you and within a few seconds I could hear (from where I was standing in the garage, sobbing) that you weren’t crying anymore. So, I proceeded to cry enough for the two of us combined. And that is how I started my day. Less than two hours later I was up in front of a classroom of eager college students on their second day of class, lecturing about sociology, and trying to just grin-and-bear-it that the mascara I had painstakingly taken the time to apply this morning was long gone (wasted on the fistfuls of teary-wet crumpled-up-Kleenex now sitting in the cup holder of my car). And so, the school year has begun. For me at least. And it is back to the grind. Last year I had it easy– with maternity leave for the fall semester, and then my first semester back (with the excuse that it was my first semester back always there at the ready). But now, now there is no more buffer. And we’re right back in the thick of it. Except now we have you too. And it is always harder to leave a baby than it is to leave a bigger kid. At least it is for me. And somehow, Meera, because you’re so sweet and easy and full-of-grace, and maybe because I know too that you are my last baby, you are particularly hard for me to leave. And so I spend this day at work like I will so many — feeling emotionally exhausted before the day even begins; questioning why on earth I’m doing all of this; and generally feeling total psychic upheaval. This is no easy road to travel. But we’re on it together. And more than ever, for you my girl, and for your brothers, I feel that I must keep on putting one foot in front of the other. For as hard as this is to do, it is something that women like me must do. And though it isn’t a life for everyone, it is done for everyone, and I need to keep on keepin’ on. And I will. However, I’d be lying if I were to say that it is possible to push out of my mind all that I am missing during every hour of each of these days. And the tears spring quickly to my eyes if I let myself remember that I’m not the one feeding you your morning bottle, or lying you down for your nap, or watching you play and swim and learn and discover. And on days like this one– where I need to teach a graduate seminar that will run until 7:00 tonight, I won’t even be able to put you to bed. And that, my baby, is hard. I know, though, that we can’t give up. Because if we do, then you — my girl — will not have the chances that so many before us fought so hard to earn you and I. And so it goes. And we keep clinging to that hope that it will all be worth it in the end. I believe it will. I love you my baby girl.
Sincerely,
Mommy“For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.” –James Baldwin
The corn is getting high, and the apples are almost mature. Things are almost overgrown, but not quite. Driving down the road past the lush fields and trees, despite the hot, humid air, I feel the change coming. And it’s not entirely welcome. The autumn is so close; can we keep it at bay for an extra week or two this year? The summer is still hot, and we sweat when running around playing hard outside. We sweat when we go from car to house, to building to anywhere. But today was a little cooler, a little fresher. Driving down roads between walls of corn, you can almost see the combines ready to harvest.
We’re cycling through to the next phase of our year, into school, into fall, into crazy calendars and nutty planning, into yet another wave of our selves and our children growing up, growing into being ourselves, into being who they will be. And it’s not entirely welcome. Let’s keep it at bay for one more year. Can we do that? Can we keep this moment, this single moment, this one time only moment just a little longer?It seems that each day brings a new challenge, something that in hindsight we should have seen coming. Something that had we been only a little more attuned to the needs of our family, that we would have seen. Something we could have been more prepared for. Something, that while not life changing, could have been done a little differently. It’s so many things. It’s that Kyle and Owen will be riding the bus for the first time this year. It’s that Meera will have to adjust to a quiet house. We’ll have to adjust our schedules, our perceptions, our understanding of where we’re going and where we will be. It’s their first taste of Gazpacho. It’s that our children, all three, play together after dinner, by themselves for the first time. It’s knowing that this moment, this single moment in time is precious, is changing before our eyes. And it’s not entirely, not really completely, maybe almost, but we feel ambivalently; not welcome.And each night, after we work a bit, maybe have a glass of wine, after the day is finally done, and the stresses are finally somewhat at bay, after we’ve forgotten a little about who others expect us to be and remember a little more about who we are that we stop. Some the breath.That we go and take a quick glance at our sleeping, growing, changing children, our changing selves, our shifting world. And we feel the Earth moving beneath us, feel time moving perceptibly forward and have the same sense that countless, loving, lucky parents through out time feel when their children are safe, fed and home sleeping.We are thankful to be blessed as we are now.I’ve trimmed the boys’ locs twice before. Last year around Thanksgiving, and the year before around Thanksgiving. They say that they want their locs long (the longer the better; they love being able to wear them in a ponytail, and they absolutely love the look of black men with long locs), but, really, in reality, they need them short. I want to oblige their long-loc desires. But the rational sane mother that I am tells me otherwise… they are very active (subtle code for WILD and CRAY-Z) little boys who swim in the pool all summer long (one word: chlorine), play in the sandbox 12 months of the year (dumping sand on their heads), roll in the grass/snow, and jump in the puddles (every.kind.of.puddle.imaginable.). They need short hair. And Kyle– the little perfectionist (verging on obsessive compulsive) personality that he is… well… his hair starts to bug him the minute it gets into his eyes or onto his face. And I can’t stand watching him constantly trying to push it away from his forhead. I got it into my head that I wanted to trim before Thanksgiving this year– preferably before the start of school– and when I suggested we trim their locs they (and Braydon too) were surprisingly receptive to the idea. They are adament about keeping their locs (“forever!!!!!! and ever! and ever!!!”), but they aren’t opposed to trimming them. And so, today, during Meera’s nap, we did it. This is a whole thing folks (for those of you who don’t know black hair, believe me, it is a big thing). We washed, re-twisted, and trimmed… all in the time it took K & O to watch ‘Finding Nemo’. Braydon and I consider this a major achievement. As soon as we were done, we took the pictures below. As you can see by the looks on their faces, the boys are thrilled with the results (as are we parents). We went out to lunch after-the-fact and at one point I noticed a black woman with gorgeous natural hair (braids) admiring the boys’ hair from a distance (always a big ego boost for a white mom of black kids). Then, a couple minutes later, as we walked past her, she gave the boys huge smiles and said, enthusiastically, “I like your dreds!” Owen shouted, “thanks!” and kept going, but Kyle stopped and turned around to face her (he happened to be holding my hand, so I too turned toward her). She repeated herself, “I like your dreds!” He said, “Thank you very much! Actually, I just got a haircut this morning. My MOMMY did it.” She looked at me, smiled hugely, and said, “Wow. Well, it looks GOOD!” And then Kyle skipped off (literally– skipped). And later he said to me, “Mom, did you notice that black lady liked my hair? I think she thought it looked GORGEOUS!” Honestly, this whole hair thing is such a huge part of our life. It is a lot of work, but it is soooooooooooo woooooooooooooooorth ittttttttttttttttttttttttttt.
Self Portrait, by Zoe, Owen, Kyle —
taken with one of the 245 tokens that they (with a little help from Christian & Luis) loved-every-minute-of on this muggy cloudy summer afternoon. Yes, you read that right: 245 tokens. Those 245 tokens made 5 kids very happy (and 1 baby very entertained). And perhaps most importantly, those 245 tokens bought us 4 adults who paid for them approximately 2.25 hours of only semi-interrupted chatting. And thanks to Lori (who brought $-saving-coupons), it didn’t break the bank. Even if it had, though, I gotta tell ya: what those tokens gave us = priceless.
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