This past weekend was the J-M’s 8th annual trip to our “Haiti Reunion.” This is a gathering of Pennsylvania-area Haitian Adoptive Families. This group has been gathering every summer for the past 11 years, and it has become a life-source and anchor for many of us.
Our first trip to the Haiti Reunion, Kyle and Owen had just turned three (post is here). I can remember feeling like the “newbies” to the group, but more so feeling something newly awesome for us as a Haitian Adoptive Family: we were 2.5 years into being a family, and for the first time ever we felt complete, 100% unconditional acceptance. These people instantaneously knew us, understood us, “got it,” and loved us for it. And vice-versa: we felt an incredible open-armed embracing love for each and every one of these families. It was an amazing, indescribable, feeling, and we knew — that very first year — that we’d do everything humanly possible to prioritize this trip, and to make it each and every year following. We have (see posts here).
The days leading up to the reunion, the excitement builds. For our kids, this is almost like the lead-up to Christmas, or to a major vacation. They are bursting at the seams with excitement. But unlike other major holidays or trips, there is a calm centeredness at the core of them in anticipation of this one. Emotions are running high, stuff is bubbling up to the surface, but it is somehow felt differently. There is a knowing anticipation that we’ll be met with a soft safety net upon our arrival.
It is a little tradition in our family that I always give them new “Haiti t-shirts” the morning of the reunion. Even Meera, who generally refuses to wear something as rudimentary as a basic t-shirt, gets excited to wear it. These three — truly — could not be more happy that, after 12 months of waiting since the last one, this year’s Haiti Reunion has finally come.
Arriving at the reunion is like walking into the warmest, most understanding, most accepting, most knowing, most unconditionally loving, hug imaginable. I’m sure this is virtually impossible for people external to this to understand, but really, it is like that. We see each other once a year (maybe twice at the most some years), but there is no hesitation going into it, and from the look and feel of it you would think we just saw each other yesterday. There is a powerful, unspoken, knowing, understanding that is indescribably awesome to experience.
The kids pick up just wherever they last left off. They interact with ease, in a way that is unlike any other interaction I’ve ever observed between children. They’ve known each other for most of their lives (some of them for their entire lives). And their parents savor every minute of the time spent in this easy place that is the Haiti Reunion. The parents, too, interact in a way I’ve never witnessed or experienced outside of this special time each year. There is something about being around others who are just like you in the most fundamental way: the way your family was created, who your family is, your make-up, your character, your identity… there is something about being around others who are just like you in that way that is truly profoundly special — especially when, for just about all of the other 364 days of the year, you are the only one like you anywhere around. Suddenly, we are “normalized”; suddenly, we are the majority; suddenly nobody is trying to figure us out — because everyone knows us, like really, really knows us, in the most important way of all, they’ve got us all figured out. There is something spectacular about being amongst kindred spirits when typically you are marginal. It is amazing! When you’re so deprived of feeling at ease and truly comfortable, then feeling at ease and truly comfortable feels dreamy-splendidly-warm-and-fuzzily-good.
For Kyle and Owen, the Haiti Reunion is like a little slice of heaven. I can only imagine what it is like to feel what they feel on that day. But I believe that it is a profoundly important feeling for a Haitian-American Adoptee to be able to feel. To be 100% comfortable in your own skin; to be around others who are just like you; to not have to tell your story (unless you want to, and even then, only to people who intuitively understand your story as well as you do— if not better). I believe it is soul-strengthening for them. And I see the results: I see that their soul heals a little bit at the Haiti Reunion, and braces itself for the year to come. I can see them soak it up, re-charge, and rejuvenate. It is a beautiful thing to see.
Bonus for K & O: every single one of the Haitian boys (and most of the girls too), with zero exception, regardless of age, is uber-over-the-top-ridiculously-athletically gifted. So, they get to run, and play, and climb, and kick, and be athletically superior — with other athletically superior kids — all day long, without reserve. They don’t have to hold back, or worry about perception, or consider the implications. They can just be. That — the chance to just be — just as you are — with all of your gifts and all of your challenges right at the surface — that, alone, is well worth the trip. Double bonus: they can talk about Haiti, and adoption, and anything/everything else related to it, if and when they want to (or not talk about it too, as is often the case)… with other kids who fully understand where they are coming from. Suddenly, if even for a day, being Haitian, having been adopted, having a birthmother, having white parents, having once lived in an orphanage… those things are suddenly the complete normative experience. Imagine!
You’d sort of expect that our boys would have the time-of-their-lives at this reunion. After all, they are the original Haitians in our family; they are the adoptees. But what might be surprising is how absolutely critically pillar-like this experience is for Meera each year too. In the beginning I thought we were going for Kyle and Owen, but over time I’ve come to realize that we are going for us all. Meera, just as fundamentally as her brothers do, loves and needs this reunion each year. She needs to see that she is not alone, that her family is not the only one, that her brothers are not the only brothers like them, that she is loved and adored by these families just as much as her Haitian-born-brothers are. She needs to see — through seeing others, and being seen by others — that this is a whole-family thing. And it is critical for her to experience the feeling of “normalcy” — just as much as for her brothers — because she is, after all, marginal almost all the time too. At the Haiti Reunion she is immersed in an environment where everyone “gets it” without her having to explain it. I have to say: Meera is just as into this annual event as Kyle and Owen are. She is all in, 100%, and her soul is fed by it in a profoundly important way. Meera loves the Haiti Reunion.
This year there was a pond at the campground where the Haiti Reunion was held. Many of the kids spent much of the day catching tadpoles, and frogs, and all sorts of creatures. One of the beautiful things about this reunion is the abundance of purely unstructured time for the kids. There is really no agenda, and that is such a wonderful thing for them all to experience together. Owen was just one of lots of kids who got really excited about the critter-catching.
You know, there is just so much I could write about the Haiti Reunion. And there is so much I’ve already written about it in years past. This year, one thing that really struck me was how much our kids are growing up, how many of them are now full-fledged teenagers (kids who were 6 the first year we went, are now 14!), and how — despite how special and unusual they are — in so many ways, they are also “typical American teenagers.” I was struck this year by how much the use of technology was at play. Just like so many kids their age, this group of kids are now taking photos with their phones, playing with their gadgets, and experimenting with all-things-digital. This just layers in another way for them to connect. And I hope that over time this evolving technology will allow for them to stay connected beyond the annual reunion. I had always wondered what would happen to the reunion (and at the reunion) as these kids grew into teenager-hood… well, now we are beginning to see.
Of course, even the little ones are “connected” much more than they were when we started going 8 years ago! ~
But regardless of whatever we do at the reunion, and how it may (or may not) shift and evolve over time, it remains above all a time of fellowship — real fellowship — and it always includes sharing food together. Something about eating together is always key to good fellowship. Something about eating Haitian food together at the Haiti Reunion just takes that good fellowship up a few notches!
Haiti… always in our hearts.
We J-M’s love, and need, this Haiti Reunion each year. This morning I wrote a ‘thank you’ email to Monica, the incredible woman who spear-heads and organizes this event for us each year. In that note I wrote the following, and I want to put it here too because it is so true, and because I hope that someday Kyle and Owen and Meera will read this and understand this:
The Haiti Reunion is not just a highlight of our year, but it is an anchor in the awesome-but-stormy journey of life as a Haiti-adoptive-family. There is just nothing like having a day to be completely at ease around people who all “get it” and know what we’ve been through, what we’re going through, and what is lying down the road for us. There is so much joy and good in our family, and there is also so much struggle and pain in it. It is impossible for me to articulate how much it means to us all —all five of us— to be around others who truly deeply understand that, and still accept us unconditionally and fully.
To our Haiti Family: we love you so dearly and so fully and so unconditionally. We’d never even know you if it weren’t for our special and unusual forever-families, but because of that, we are unusually-and-forever-bonded. We’ve got your back forever and ever and ever. Hugs — until we see you again — love, Heather (for the J-Ms)
(post 2 of 2 here)
Our friend Rhonda Wampler always takes beautiful photos at the Haiti Reunion each year. She’s a talented professional photographer. This year she agreed to let me post some of her photos from this past weekend here. I love how she takes photos of the same experience, but with a different angle (and with so much more skill!). I think these photos are exquisite! Visit her Facebook page — Images by Rhonda — by clicking here.
Meera had a fabulous first week of her 6-year-old summer. She loved art camp! Upon getting home from her final day yesterday afternoon, she did an “Art Show” for Kyle, Owen, and me. We had to sit through 20 minutes of detailed lecture/performance/explanation of her (many) pieces from the week. She produced a plethora of art!
These two had an incredibly sport-filled week — the first week of their 10-year-old summer. Each day: 7 hours of intense basketball, a 1-hour-break for a quick shower and to refuel (food), then 2-3 hours of baseball practice for the All-Star Team. Whoa. It was a lot, even for these sports fanatics. But they survived and thrived. Basketball camp ended early yesterday afternoon, so they had a couple of extra hours to unwind before going to baseball (photo above). Their team lost their first All-Star game last night, but all is well. Oh, and as predicted, they consumed a ridiculous amount of food this week!
This one is for all the academics (especially female grad students) out there—
Dear friends from the academy,
Summer is often thought of as the “cram time” for academics’ “real work” (i.e. scholarship/publishing). Without the distraction of teaching and service, we — at least theoretically — are supposed to be able to focus fully on our research and writing.
Ok, seriously? Whoever had that idea was not a mother.
Summer was not designed for a “Mama PhD” to be working. Lucky for me, I have two weeks of my kids in camp. I need to cram as much as I humanly can into these two weeks. Because after that I intend to take full advantage of tenure for the month of July. And I refuse to feel guilty about that. Because I worked more than enough 18-hour days in the past 9 months to make up for it.
That’s the flip side: for all the politics and the publish-or-perish pressure, we also have tenure which gives us unparalleled freedom and flexibility. So, I will not complain.
But I will say this: if you happen to be writing your first book right now, or anytime soon, try to keep in mind something that nobody ever alerted me to (and something that never, ever even crossed my mind when I was writing mine) — mentally prepare yourself that you might just have to go back to it someday. If you are fortunate enough to get asked to do a second edition, you’ll have the terrible misfortune of actually have to revise your book… yet again. Oh dear God, please help me through the next two weeks!
Much love from your friend in the struggle,
hbj
The South Side Bandits, ready to play.
We’ve been in Little League post-season play-offs these past couple of weeks. K & O’s team — the South Side Bandits — won the district championship last year for the 9-10 year old division. And thus, they had high hopes for this year. They made it all the way to last night — the final championship game. It came down to South Side (Bethlehem) vs. Mountainville (Allentown). If you’re from anywhere around here, or are even familiar with the scene in the Lehigh Valley, then you know that’s a big deal: Bethlehem vs. Allentown in a Little League Championship is no small thing. It was a nail-biter of a game. The president of the district had hired a special “neutral ump” just for the occassion — and both sides (parents/fans) were urged to keep themselves contained (the two sides’ fan bases don’t have a very good history of being able to keep a lid on it). Tensions were running high, and there were some intense moments on and off the field. In the end, Mountainville won. But South Side came out standing tall and we were very proud of our boys.
Little League is one area of life in which Braydon and I do not take pictures. This are a couple of reasons for that. For one thing, we’re so wrapped up in the actual experience that we don’t have time for photos (we really do love watching the boys play! and it is easy to get very enmeshed in it). But it is mostly because within the culture that is our life during baseball season it would be very awkward, and would actually feel totally inappropriate, to pull out our big expensive camera and start photographing. At South Side Little League folks just aren’t whipping out Nikons. In fact, they aren’t taking pictures, with anything, of anything, at all, ever. So it would just seem wrong for us — of all people — to do it. Even after two years of full immersion in the life of South Side Little League, we are foreigners in a foreign land, and outsiders within. As a result, we have very few pictures, and all of the pictures that we do have are snapshots with our iPhones.
Despite that, a few of our iPhone snapshots seem to capture — for me — much of the essence of our baseball life. It is impossible for me to know if these pictures are evocative and representative to just us, or if they would be to the outside world as well (do they only paint the picture for me because I know the landscape? or do they speak to others too?). Here are the few that we have ~
above: First practice of the season. The season starts early for South Side — basically, as soon as the snow melts. Games begin in April, and there are usually 2 per week (sometimes 3). Away games are within a 30-minute radius of South Bethlehem. As long as it isn’t pouring rain, or heavy snow, there is practice, usually 3-4 times per week — 5:00-8:00ish (or when it is too dark to see) on weeknights, and sometimes Saturday mornings too. Throughout the entire spring and early summer we need to keep our calendar free for weeknights 5-8pm, and all day Saturday. You never know when there will (or will not) be practice, so you have to always be prepared for there to be practice. This schedule is a huge challenge to our family — actually, for our particular family this is probably the biggest challenge of all for us regarding baseball season. As a dual-career couple it is almost impossible to keep up with it, and it requires a ridiculous amount of planning and coordination.
above: Post-game, at the Mountainville snack stand. There is a standing tradition that when Allentown and Bethlehem play each other in a big game, the home team gives the opposing team’s players free hotdogs after the game.
above: South Side Little League Opening Ceremonies 2014. Try-outs are intense, and then most of the teams (definitely beginning with the 9-10 year old age group) do cuts in the first few weeks of practice to weed out the weaker players (they are sent down to the younger teams, not cut out entirely). It is very cut throat, and this was completely shocking to me when we first started. Opening Ceremonies are held only once the teams are totally established and uniforms have been given out. Most of the coaches played for these same teams when they were kids. And many of their fathers and friends’ fathers (and/or uncles and cousins) coached them. It is all kept “in house” and is a very tight knit community. In the photo above you can see the home fields of South Side Little League (the ceremony was held on the 9-10 & 11-12 field; there is also a smaller field for the younger players and a larger field for the older players). You can see the train (tracks) running along the perimeter, and if you look closely you can see the road/highway just on the edge. South Side is completely self-sufficient and maintains it’s own fields. South Side folks often talk about the inequality of baseball-field-maintenance in the area — they are 100% convinced that the surrounding towns/neighborhoods receive better funding and better services for the maintenance of their fields and programs. I have not done the research to know for sure what is going on with that. But I have no reason to suspect that the South Side folks aren’t 100% correct.
above: Kyle at bat, at the home field.
above: Owen at bat, at an opponent’s field.
above: The chalkboard outside the snack stand announces the one and only fundraiser of the season. Braydon and I are consistently shocked by how little fundraising is done, and by how few local businesses and organizations financially support South Side Little League. We have spent many hours hearing the history of why this is. The story seems to have many different versions as told by many different people. The bottom line is that South Side Little League has an extremely limited operating budget and is running on a shoestring (to say the least).
above: A highlight of Kyle’s season — during this game he hit a big home run, and then, in another inning, another home run — with the bases loaded (his first grand slam ever). Braydon snapped the photo as Kyle was coming into the dugout after the grand slam.
above: A highlight of Owen’s season — this was just last night, in the final championship game. Owen’s been used as the closing pitcher for the past several games. This photo was taken during his first inning pitching — we were losing and the goal was to try to hold them. He pitched a 1-2-3 inning — striking out the first three batters up, all in a row. Despite the fact that South Side ended up losing, that inning was a high of the game for the team (and the fans!), and definitely a personal high for Owen.
above: Meera, God love her, has to sit through all of this. Baseball games are “soooo loooong,” and “soooo booooring” (her words) for most of the little sisters, and many of them are sitting through hours and hours of practices on top of the games (at South Side Little League nobody ever drops off their kid; it is fully expected that family members — and preferably the entire family — will be present for all practices and all games throughout the entire season). This all adds up to many hours, many nights a week, all spring long, for all involved. Poor Meera! One of the rewards is that we always say “yes” when the ice cream truck pulls in. And if she happens to be playing with other littles at the moment, then we spring for them too.
above: Owen eats a pastelillo from the snack stand before a game (it cracks me up that he holds his gum in his other hand, which he’ll pop back in when he’s done with his snack). Like all the other teams’ snack stands, the South Side snack stand has hotdogs, potato chips, sunflower seeds, etc. But for special games they sometimes have “the good stuff” too: fresh, from-scratch, homemade tacos (oh my gosh! the best tacos you’ll ever eat!) — or, like at Saturday’s game — pastelillos (the Puerto Rican version of empanadas/pastelitos, stuffed with spicy ground beef) and canoas de platanos maduros (sweet fried plantains stuffed with meat and cheese). We love it all.
above: The Bandits’ gear. Each player brings their own glove and bat (if they have one; sometimes they share bats if all the kids don’t have their own). But the four batting helmets are shared amongst them. The kids’ gloves and bats are valued possessions and are treated as such. I really love and appreciate how the coaches and kids carefully line up the bats and helmets in the dugout before each game, and keep them that way throughout. The equipment is valued and treated with care from the top-down. This is in contrast to our previous experience, with Upper Bucks Little League (K & O played for Durham before we moved to campus), which was a very affluent, very white area. In Durham Little League every player had to have his own glove and bat, but also his own batting helmet, and most had multiple bats and many other baseball accessories. The equipment was usually strewn about and few (if any) players or coaches took care to keep any of it tidy.
above: The Team Photo. Top = 2013, Bottom = 2014. The head coach took these with his phone camera, and doctored them up with the ‘frame,’ proudly texting this to the parents. Whereas lots of teams have professional team photos taken each year, we have this — and honest to God, it is my opinion: this is way, way better.
* * * * *
South Side Little League is, for us, a full immersion experience. It is a world that we’d never have access to if it weren’t for our boys’ love of baseball. I’m also pretty sure that we would not have access to it if our boys weren’t so good at baseball.
For those who aren’t familiar, Bethlehem is like so many cities in the United States: totally segregated by race and class. The “North Side” (literally, on the north side of the Lehigh River) is relatively wealthy and white. The “South Side” is relatively poor and brown. And, like many college towns, this is all complicated by the fact that Lehigh University sits smack in the middle of South Side. There is a long, troubling history of “town-gown” relationship problems between the university and the community in which it is located. Today, most Lehigh faculty live in North Bethlehem or further out in the sprawling suburbs of the area. Very few faculty live in South Bethlehem (I could probably count them on one hand), and none of them currently have school-aged kids. The South Bethlehem public schools are known to serve predominantly poor and Hispanic kids, and are also known to be — like so many urban public schools — underfunded, under-resourced, and under-served.
Technically, because we live on Lehigh’s campus, our residential address zip code is 18015 — South Side Bethlehem. Despite the fact that this is the neighborhood in which we reside, we enter what is, for us, a completely foreign world when we enter the world of South Side Little League. There are about 80 boys who play for South Side. Most of them are 3rd generation South Side boys; their fathers and grandfathers played for South Side too. As far as I can tell, we are the only non-Hispanic family; the only non ESL family; K & O are the only black non-Hispanic boys; Meera, Braydon, and I are the only white parents/sibling.
Most (probably all) of the families are low-income, and I’m sure many of them are technically well below the poverty line. Spanish is spoken in the home for most. Most parents hold relatively low levels of education and work in low-paying (or minimum wage) occupations. Some of them work for Lehigh (a major employer in South Bethlehem) doing groundskeeping and janitorial services.
At South Side, our family sticks out like a sore thumb, both socio-econoically and racially. But once it was known how Kyle and Owen could contribute, we were welcomed (tentatively at first, and then warmly over time) into the community that has become our community too during baseball season. I’m convinced that it is only because of what Kyle and Owen offer (great athleticism) that we are able to “pass” over the line that is race-and-class in order to be able to enter the world that is South Side Little League.
A majority of the South Side Little League families are Puerto Rican. Baseball is big for them. And Little League is hardcore. These families are serious about their baseball; boys start playing pitch-and-catch with their fathers very young; they start t-ball at age 3 or 4; and they play baseball year-round in the yards and streets of their neighborhoods. For many South Side families, baseball isn’t just a love and it isn’t just a major part of their culture, it is also seen as the ticket out for their sons. While they place a big emphasis on education for their daughters, these families place a huge emphasis on baseball for their sons. (Interestingly, South Side has no softball for girls and baseball is, for them, considered an entirely male sport.) I’ve had many South Side parents tell me of their dreams for their sons — dreams of making it to college on a baseball scholarship, or —even better— making it to the MLB. They speak with complete seriousness of their visions of their sons buying them a house someday, buying them a nice car, and “taking care of them” in the future. So, baseball is not just fun and games for these families and their boys. It is an investment — maybe their biggest investment — an investment of money, energy, and a huge amount of time — in their sons and in the future.
Because of all this, a good portion of these families’ year revolves around the boys’ practices and games. During baseball season everything else seems to be secondary. I’ve heard many times of moms skipping baby showers or even weddings in order to not miss their son’s baseball game. Dads plan their work schedules around the baseball schedule. Extended family regularly come out for the games. People are committed. Taking it seriously and being committed are very important. Parents (or kids) who aren’t taking it seriously enough, or who appear to not be committed enough, are frowned upon, gossiped about, and — ultimately, at times — pushed out. South Side Little League is not for the faint of heart.
The coaches are entirely volunteer. And what they do astounds me. I have been observing the Bandits coaches (there is one head coach and two assistant coaches) for two years now, and I am truly in awe. It isn’t just the hours they put in (which are countless), but it is also the devotion that they have to the sport, to the organization, and to each and every player, that amaze me. Many of the kids are from rough homes, many of the coaches have rough histories, and baseball season is rough in and of itself. The coaches are tough. But it is a hardcore form of tough love. To see these coaches devote themselves so fully to these kids — for no other reason but their own passion for the sport and the cause — is just truly unbelievable. Some of the kids have no dad in the picture, some are on really rocky roads with the dads they do have, and all of them need strong male role models (our boys included). The coaches take this entirely seriously. And they tow the line every day of the season. Even after two years of seeing it firsthand, I am still constantly trying to wrap my mind around it.
Our experience with South Side Little League has been unbelievably interesting to me. As a sociologist, I’ve felt from the start of it that I’m in some sort of strange surreal state which is hard to describe. On one hand, I feel like “just one of the moms” (I spend a lot of time talking with the other moms about the stuff that most moms talk about together: what to have for dinner, problems we’re having with our kids, news and stories from our days, etc.). On the other hand, I am most definitely not an insider in this world. I often feel like I’m doing field work — some sort of participant observation or deep ethnography. Over and over in subtle and not-so-subtle ways I’m reminded that I am not “really” a South Sider — I am a professor at Lehigh; I can’t speak Spanish fluently with them (they often break into Spanish when things get heated, or intense, or when they just don’t want to include me); I am white; and I did not grow up there. I’m an outsider.
But when it comes to the actual day-to-day of baseball season, what seems to matter most is simply who’s kid is up to bat, how many outs there are, and what inning we’re in. I cheer for every player and in return I delight in hearing the cheers for Kyle and Owen (who the South Side seem to absolutely adore). At the end of the game, and at the end of the season, we are a whole community who have sat together in the stands all season long. We’ve shared blankets in the frigid cold, we’ve shared umbrellas in the rain, we’ve shared ice and water sweating together in the heat. We’ve shared stories, we’ve shared heartaches, we’ve shared great moments of joy and delight in seeing each other’s kids hit great hits and make great plays. We’ve shared our younger kids’ snacks and toys with each other. And we’ve shared several months of day-in-day-out baseball. It is the real deal: we are forever bonded. I’ve got their back; they’ve got mine. This is the salt of the earth. There is not much better.
It has been hard for me over the past two years to figure out how to write about our experience with South Side Little League. I don’t want to over-expose what it is, or exploit it in any way. At the same time, I don’t want to gloss over it either. It has become a big part of our family identity, and it is an important part of who we are. In some ways, it would be almost easier if I was doing an ethnography on it— that would almost make our participation seem more logical and understandable to everyone involved. But, the thing is, I’m not. I’m just a mom of two of the players.
Kyle and Owen have been getting quite an education in baseball. They’ve become much better players (and they’ve also learned a lot of curse words in Spanish!). South Side Little League has given them a great baseball experience, and has taught them many life lessons— only a fraction of which are actually about baseball. And, perhaps most important, our whole family has been given the privilege of the full immersion experience that is South Side Little League. All five Johnson-McCormicks are different (better) people because of it.
above: A plate of amazing Puerto Rican food at a South Side Little League picnic.
above: My favorite little dude at South Side Little League. When the season started he was only a couple of weeks old. I’ve spent many hours holding this little man this spring. I will so miss him when Little League season is over (note: for the kids who are invited to join the district All-Star Team, which — for better or for worse, includes us — we now go into All-Star post-season play…. it feels like it will never end!).
Today marks Day 1 of Week 1 of Summer 2014. We are super excited — we have a most exciting summer planned!
This week is basketball camp for K&O. and art camp for M. Photo above is the bambinos this morning, right before they got in the car to go to their prospective camps. They chose their outfits very carefully this morning. I get a big kick out of what they choose to wear!
This will be Meera’s first time going to a summer day camp. She was giddy with excitement about going to art camp — all morning is “mask making,” and all afternoon is “painting and drawing.” I had coordinated this with the some of her friends’ parents, so that Meera and 3 of her best friends will be at the camp together this week. This is her idea of heavenly.
This is Kyle and Owen’s fourth year of going to Lehigh’s basketball camp — i.e., “Heaven on Earth” (their words). This is probably their favorite week of the year. I know from prior experience that they will eat more in this week than in any other week of the entire year. Like, exponentially more. So, upon dropping them off this morning, I went straight to the grocery store to prepare myself for what is to come in the next five days.
Just for the record, I want to note a few of the purchases I made — I think (hope?!) that someday I will look back and laugh at this (because right now our grocery bills are hardly a laughing matter… particularly the bill this week!). 2 bunches bananas; 2 dozen eggs; 2 gallons milk, a 24-pack of frozen waffles; gobs and gobs and gobs of fruit and veggies; 3 pounds of cold cuts from the deli (turkey, roast beef, salami); a ridiculous amount of cheese (including a 2 pound block of extra sharp cheddar); 2 boxes of pasta; 8 hamburger patties; 2 packages of hot dogs; 2 pounds chicken breast; 2 pounds of tortellini; 2 bags tortilla chips; 1 dozen assorted greek yogurts; a crazy number of boxes of mac-n-cheese; 2 packages chicken nuggets; 2 boxes of cereal; I could go on and on and on…. Oh, and did I mention?— Meera will eat very little of this; we will eat out for dinner at least two nights this week (due to baseball games); oh… and…. did I also mention?—lunch is provided at basketball camp. Heaven help me.
above ~ May 28, 2008, 10:43pm. St. Luke’s Hospital, Bethlehem, PA. Meera’s Birth.
below ~ February 3, 2005, 5:00pm. Hotel Montana, Port au Prince, Haiti. The Eve of Our Homecoming with Owen and Kyle.
The two best experiences of my life: 1) adopting Kyle and Owen [our meeting them, the orphanage, and the week in Haiti to finish their adoption and get them home], and 2) giving birth to Meera [a 26-hour-Pitocin-induced-labor that ended in an emergency c-section — read Meera’s birth story here]. Both of these Top Two Experiences were only possible because of the unified power of me and my life-partner, my soul-mate, my co-parent, my best-friend, my Braydon. It was through those two experiences that I saw the core of who he is. And trust me: it is a good, good, solid, solid core. The best core I know. This guy is the rich center of my very rich life. Happy Father’s Day Braydon!
above ~ Today, Father’s Day 2014, 7:38pm. A gorgeous June evening on campus at Lehigh University; we’re the only ones around (students are gone for the summer), and it is as if we are living in our own beautiful vast deserted park; we’re just home from the movie Malificent— which we LOVED!— during which Meera and Braydon talked, analyzing every detail of her #1 most favorite story, through the entire movie; before the movie we had Braydon’s choice — Thai food lunch outside, with his favorite Thai lychee tea — where we relished in the delight of watching our twin boys eat tofu summer rolls wrapped with rice paper and dipped in peanut sauce, potstickers with thai chili sauce, chicken satay, pad thai, and red curry; we’re dog-sitting Ryan’s dog this weekend and he’s catching bubbles from Meera; Owen is about to ride his bike down a set of stairs; we’re having a glass of wine; enjoying a moment sitting together in Adirondack chairs absorbing this rich life that we’ve created. Thank you Braydon ~ for all that you do to keep our axis spinning.
Today Dash turned 1 year old! He got to have a long walk in the woods with me this morning (which is his absolute favorite thing in the world to do), a little bit of leftover bacon and sausage from the kids’ breakfast, and tonight he had vanilla custard from Rita’s (brought home to him after Kyle and Owen’s baseball game). He was a happy pup today! (Owen announced that as of today we now need to call him “pup” not “puppy.”) He is such a happy pup everyday! We so lucked out with this dog!
Dash has brought so much joy and love and groundedness to our family. But especially to me. He is most definitely “my” dog — totally bonded with me — which was really unexpected, but which has also been very welcomed. He helps to lighten and brighten my days; he keeps me company; and he keeps me on my toes. Just when my youngest went off to kindergarten, this pup entered our scene and became my closest companion in the day-to-day-of-the-daily-grind. I never expected I’d fall so head-over-heels for a puppy! But I did for Dash.
Happy Birthday to our little fluffernutter!
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