Oh, my boys,
the “What If?’s” are hard to shake.
Like waves, they just keep washing up, to the shore of my consciousness.
I try to lull myself to sleep, in the hull of the ship on this sea,
in the comfort of the here and now,
but they are endless.
Despite our best efforts to live in the moment,
and regardless of our intentions to live for the future,
the past is still right there behind us.
The “What If?’s”
Omnipresent,
fuzzy around the periphery.
The thick dusty grime, the dirty hot sun, the air thick with burning rubber,
in Cite Soleil.
The distended bellies, like rocks, sitting between your spine and my hip.
I pull you closer and I try to push it away,
but it –like Haiti– is always there.
We have to move forward, we have to be free, but still, there they are.
They happen in the smallest of moments.
And in the most profound.
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head
intentionally to shake them away.
It is too much to ponder.
The “What If?’s”
It is completely surreal.
But it is real.
It is in the little things —
the giddy grin I see when you first put on a pair of brand new shoes;
the arms outstretched in utter security when you lay there asleep in your bed;
the look of concentration as you wind your way through the maze.
Oh, my boys,
you would never have had those shoes,
that security,
that space in your mind for pencils and Saturday morning moments.
Oh, my boys,
I cannot even think it,
how different the mazes would have been.
Oh, my babies,
it shakes me to the core.
The “What If?’s”
and the tremendous juxtapositions
of what is and what might have been.
And the truth of what will never be for
oh so many.
Owen & KyleWe can’t talk about our boys being from Haiti without talking about the fact that they are black. So, here goes the first post for Haiti Week~~~
Braydon and I talk about this all the time– the fact that people (even white people!) think that little black kids (especially babies! and even boys!) are so very, very, very “cute”… (“ohhhhhhh! they are A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E!!!”/”wouldn’t you just LOOOOOOOOOOVE to have eyelashes like that?!”/”Oh gosh, is it o.k. for me to admit it-?!-seriously-?!I-just-think-black-babies-are-sooooo-much-cuter-than-other-babies!!!!!!!!!!!”/squeal/giggle/squeeze the cheeks/tousle the hair)… but those very same people (especially white people) come to view those very same black kids (especially boys) as Predators. With a capital P. Not-So-Cute. With a capital N-S-C. ‘When will it happen,’ we wonder, ‘that our black boys will lose their cutie-ness in the eyes of their larger world?’ We know it will happen. Actually, we know that it is happening. (already they look so much older than they are). And it sends shivers up our spines. We talk about it (often) with the black people in our lives. “It will be when they hit puberty!” many have said. “It will be sooner than you think,” others warn. “It will happen as soon as they turn 10,” a good friend said, “I swear,” he told me, “10 is some sort of turning point, it will be as soon as they hit 10.” (A lot of people, as it turns out, say 10.) And then there was a series of deep conversations that Braydon had with one of his colleagues awhile back. She swore, based on her own experience as a black mother of black boys, that “it happens as soon as they lose a tooth.” That tooth thing was a new one to us. But she was so convincing that we’ve been fearing and dreading the Tooth Fairy ever since. (which is tough, since Kyle and Owen are extraordinarily excited –and just cannot wait– for the glorious day that they lose their first tooth… to the point that they regularly try to convince us that their teeth are loose… and we worry that they’ll tug and pull on their teeth so much in their efforts to convince themselves that they are loose, that they will make them loose). Anyway, you get my point: it is going to happen, and it is going to happen sooner than we’d like (because, of course, what we’d like is for the world to just go on forever thinking that our beautiful black boys are just that– beautiful black boys). So, like everybody else who is or has ever been a parent, we see time moving way too quickly, and we see our little babies-toddlers-pre-schoolers-little-boys being taken away from us way too fast, and we see the Big Boys that are taking their place appearing much too often. But, unlike parents of kids who aren’t black boys, we have this whole immense other layer of sadness-concern-dread-fear-and-loathing weighing on us as we watch them grow. We know what the future will bring. And there is a huge dimension of it that we desperately wish we could postpone. Forever. Because we just desperately wish that the parents of the little white girls who now ask them to go to their birthday parties would be just as thrilled ten years from now about their daughters asking our sons to go out on dates or to the prom. And we just desperately wish that their teachers, who now think that they are “sweet rambunctious little boys” would not turn on us later, thinking instead that they “trouble makers” with “behavioral problems.” And we just desperately wish that our boys would never be followed around in a store, suspected of shoplifting, pressured to get out. And we just desperately wish that people would never subconsciously (or consciously?) move out of their way –conceiving of them as Thugs– on the sidewalk or in the elevator or in the lobby or wherever. And we just desperately wish that our boys would never have trouble hailing a cab. Or getting help from the police if they needed it. Or convincing somebody that they are just as legitimate as anyone else in whatever way they need to be seen as legitimate. And yet, we know, that no matter what we do, it is all bound to happen. There is a structure in place. It is ominous and looming. Regardless of who is President. And all we can really do is prepare them for it. Prepare them for the fact that no matter how high up they get, no matter how expensive their suit will be, no matter how drop-dead-gorgeous they become, they will still be, after all, Black Men. If you haven’t been reading about it yet, you really should be:
David Wall Rice from The TakeAway
and if you have just a little more time, you should really read this too:
Jimi Izrael from The Root
and if you are interested in all this, then this is a must-see:
Cornel West and Carl Dix on Democracy Now!
Henry Louis Gates, Jr.
…welcome toHAITIWEEKon the J-M Family Blog!!!!!!!!!Over the coming week we’re going to post things that are somehow, someway related (if even only somewhat obscurely) to the big, big topic of Haiti. There are a whole bunch of Haiti-related thoughts bouncing around in our minds (and our conversations) around here lately. So for the next week we’re going to blog exclusively about some of that stuff.
A note up front~~~ Folks, we are declaring this Haiti Week on our blog for no other reason but that we just want to. If you haven’t figured it out already, let me spell it out for you: this blog is all about us us us us us. The purpose is not to educate anyone about Haiti (there are lots of other sites out there that can do that, just google it and see!). And we are definitely not, by any stretch of the imagination, experts on Haiti (far from it!). It is just that Haiti is, simply, weighing heavily on our thoughts and on our hearts, all (all!) the (the!) time (time!)… and has been for 5 1/2 years now. This is a week for us to just take a tiny bit of time to process some of what we’ve been thinking about recently — for ourselves, and as a record for our kids someday — and if you want to read along, then you’re welcome to come along for the ride! However… please… keep in mind that some of the stuff we’ll be writing about is very sensitive for us and for our two precious Haitian-American kids. As always, we’ll be censoring what we write for all of the reasons that we do that. But we still feel vulnerable. So, if you have questions or comments, please do leave them here– but please also refrain from expecting more of us than we can give.
Three Cheers to Haiti Week!
Sound the trumpets and bang the drums! MorFar came through the surgery with flying colors! It has been a long day– especially for Braydon, very very especially for MorMor, and most most most especially for MorFar– but all is good. The surgery went perfectly smooth, and the first few hours of recovery are behind him. The latest report from Braydon is that my Dad is cracking jokes with the nursing staff and keeping everyone in the best of spirits… as is, always, his way.
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Thank God for the medical care that we have available to us. As privileged people we cannot rest in being ever grateful for the layers upon layers of opportunity, access, and power that we have. May we have the strength and determination to use our resources to create better inroads for all people. Every person has the right to have their personal potential unconstrained. May we always be mindful that with great privilege comes great responsibility.
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Thank you to all who have sent up prayers and good thoughts in the universe tonight. It is much appreciated and it is truly felt.
MorFar & Meera on the 4th of July
My family has had a tough year. That’s the understatement of the year. Just over a year ago my cousin Karen (my parents’ god daughter) was diagnosed with colon cancer; right at the same I gave birth to Meera via emergency c-section; 12 weeks later Karen died of colon cancer; 6 weeks after that her brother–my other cousin–took his own life; soon after my sister went through a separation from her long time partner (my niece’s father); and then my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It has all been a lot. And for a lot of reasons it has been especially a lot for my parents. But it is what it is. And here we are.
Today my dad is having surgery to remove his prostate. This is the treatment option that he and my mom chose. I am so thankful to him for being willing to do this for all of us — with this route he is guaranteed to be “cancer free” by the end of the day. We will breathe a deep sigh of relief to know that it is no longer in his body. And then we’ll do whatever we need to do to support his full recovery.
Up until now we have been a very healthy bunch, with no major health crises, and my father –in particular– has always been extremely healthy. He’s a rock to many. And nobody is accustomed to seeing him in any way vulnerable. My parents have a million friends and loved ones (literally… that is who they are… if you know them, you know that about them)… and that fact made Braydon feel even more honored when they chose him — out of everyone — to be the one person there with them at the hospital today and tonight. He is the right person to play this role for so many reasons.
Today, if you’re reading this blog, please send up prayers and hopes and thoughts and positive meditations that my dad gets through this all o.k., that my mom has the strength and fortitude to get through it too, and that Braydon can give them the solace and peace that they need during the moments that they need them.
MorFar is the best. And we need him around for a long, long time. Prayers and good vibes are much appreciated right now as we walk this part of our path. Thanks for reading, ~hbj
Meera at age 13 months– The good, the bad, and the ugly.
First, the good:
Um, seriously people– is it normal for babies to be able to eat with forks at age 13 months? She’s been doing this for a couple of weeks now. She eats with a fork. For real. What’s up with that? K & O didn’t do that ’till they were twice her age. And really, who am I kidding?– they still often “forget their manners” (they “left them in their pockets” they are fond of saying) and eat with their hands. This girl prefers the fork. ? Do I just have unreasonably low expectations because my only prior experience with mothering is with my two crazy little men? Or is this girl doing something out of the ordinary here? She uses a fork very well and with ease. She seems to actually prefer the fork to eating with her hands. She doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty (more on that under, “the ugly”), it is more that she prefers the challenge of the fork. And she’s pretty much mastered that challenge at this point. Not sure what to make of it. But it is all good.
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The bad:
At age 13 months we finally had to lower the crib down from the upper deck “newborn infant setting.” Yes, folks, she slept in it at the newborn level for the full first 13 months of her life. She just laid there and never even rolled over until she was well into her 11th month. I know, I know, it is bizarre. It wasn’t until this week– yes, this week— that she showed any signs of desiring to pull up. On Tuesday Margie told me that she thought we should lower the crib because she was going to pull up “any day now.” So, on Wednesday Braydon lowered the crib. And today (Thurs), when I went to get her after her afternoon non-nap (nap that she did not take because she was having too much fun in her crib for the first time ever)… this is what I found. Yup, standing there in all her glory. Our previously-perfect-sleeper screaming her head off because she couldn’t figure out for the life of her how to get herself back down. And at bedtime tonight she screamed, bloody murder, standing up over and over and over again (after I went in and laid her back down over and over and over again), for a full 1.5 hours before she finally fell asleep. Our good girl’s first bad behavior. The tide has turned. Of course, it couldn’t have lasted, but still… it is so monumentally sad. Anyway… back to the afternoon nap today… so I found her screaming, standing up in her crib, which is in itself so bad (because she was supposed to be sleeping), but making matters worse was that she had pulled the ponytail/elastic band out of her hair for the first time ever…. and…. the elastic band was nowhere to be found (I searched and searched and searched). Which leaves me to believe (because there is no other explanation) that she ate it. Nice. So, from this bad experience I learned three things: 1) Always take the elastic bands out before putting her down for a nap, and 2) Always listen to Margie [thank God we had], and 3) Meera’s got a bad streak after all. It was bound to happen. But still… couldn’t we just go on all bliss and innocence forever???
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Lastly, the ugly:
We’re convinced she gets this from Owen, but wherever it comes from, it is just plain ugly: her terribly, terribly messy-eating-ways. We did not think that there could possibly be any human being on the planet that was more messy at mealtime than our Owen. But, alas! There is Meera Grace. She rivals Owen in the messy eating department. A simple bagel and cream cheese results in extreme mess. And that, believe me, is just the very very tip of the messy-messy-iceburg. It is not pretty. Not pretty at all.
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So, there you have it: the good, the bad, and the ugly.
I keep a notebook on my desk next to my computer at home. On one of the pages I keep a list of things that I want to blog about. These aren’t day-to-day quick-and-easy what-we’re-up-to blog posts, they are ideas that I want to write about that will take more time than a quickie-upload-some-photos-and-be-done-with-it post. I just now counted the topics on that list– there are currently 28. And that is just what is jotted down there (doesn’t include all the stuff bouncing around in my head). Life is just moving way too fast. I hear about people who can’t think of what to write about on their blogs; people who struggle to come up with stuff. Around here, trust me, there is no lack of blogging material. In fact, the sheer bulk of blog material is totally overwhelming at times. Times like right now.
I’ve been doing this regularly since K & O were about 18 months old. If you have little kids who love pizza, and you aren’t doing this yet, start now!– it is a winner!!! K & O, and now Meera too, love “Baby Pizzas.” I make them in big batches (like, tonight, I made 3 dozen). You can do it however you like, of course, but I use whole-grain English Muffins, chunky veggie tomato sauce, and whole milk shredded mozzarella. I freeze them on sheet pans with wax paper beneath them (just like they are above); once they are frozen solid I then remove them from the sheet pans/wax paper and put bunches of them together into zip-loc bags and store in the freezer. Then they are ready to pull out at a moment’s notice for quick dinners, lunches, or snacks. While they are heating up in the toaster oven we can quickly put together a little side dish. Tonight Owen tossed baby greens and croutons in the boys’ favorite Caesar dressing.
Add a glass of milk, and voila! a really simple, relatively healthy supper that all three of the J-M bambinos LOVE. As always, I’d be thrilled for you to leave your comments — what are you doing lately for quick and easy kid-tested and parent-approved meals?
Oh, my boys,
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