Tonight was our 5th Annual Summer “Haiti Dinner”!!!
We put Meera to bed early, made the traditional Haitian Steak Frites (what a labor of love!), and the four of us enjoyed a delicious and magical dinner together. This meal is always so amazing for us. Tonight was no exception. In fact, incredibly, it seems to get better every year (both the actual food, and the conversation). There is something so special about this night for us each year.
I remember thinking — when we were deciding to sell our old house — about this specific annual tradition. I can vividly remember thinking, “Oh my gosh!? What would it be like to have our Haiti Dinner someplace other than this house?!” It felt scary and foreign to me. And then I remember when we were in the process of renting this South Carolina Beach house… “Oh my! This would be where we’d have our Haiti Dinner. What would that be like?!”
Tonight we did it. It felt good and right and perfectly perfect. It was, in fact, I must admit, better than ever. We talked about it at dinner — when I confessed my original thoughts and anxieties about what it would be like to have our Haiti Dinner someplace other than the old house. We all agreed that it made no difference– if anything, it was the best this year– that it actually doesn’t matter one bit where we are, as long as we’re together doing it. We all four expressed hopes and dreams for the future, including many “Haiti Dinners” in the future… and where they take place doesn’t factor one bit into any of our visions.
Home is where the heart is. And, L’Union Fait La Force (“Unity Makes Strength.”)
I’m sure this kind of post seems sappy and over-the-top and pathetically-mushy-gushy-unreal-rainbows-and-sparkles to many. But I have to be honest in my portrayal of these things. And, honestly, this is how it is for us. Not always. But we do have our moments (good and bad, and the good — not the bad — most often show up on this blog). The day wasn’t perfect, we had lots of flaws and mishaps and stuff-to-work on. There were rough edges and issues. I lost my cool more than once when the bambinos were disobedient and disrespectful. I had my moments of questioning our existence and my sanity. But here, on the blog, I try to recount the best of our moments to remember — the anchors in our storm, and the very best versions of ourselves. Because these are the moments I want to string together in our memories as we stitch together our lives. This annual tradition is one of those moments.
A couple of minutes into our dinner, Owen asked us to take this picture, so we did (photo below). It isn’t always clear why they want a picture taken, but they ask often. And often those pictures show up on this blog. Tonight, Owen asked us to take the photo, and said something about how he wanted this picture on the blog so that everyone could see that he got to have a Perrier with dinner (a treat), after having had a ginger ale as his pre-dinner cocktail (another treat). He was proud of his two-carbonated-drink-evening. He was also, I think, feeling on top of the world– very proud of his Haitian heritage, and loving his steak. Here’s the pic:
For the back-story on this annual dinner for us, click here — CLICK!
This picture was taken out on the end of Harbor Island. It is a wide open space, a beach usually totally devoid of humans (but thriving with life), and it is one of the strangest and wildest and most jaw-dropping places I’ve ever experienced. We were out there one day and a couple was walking out there (rare to see anyone out there), so I asked them to take a picture for us. The bambinos and I have spent a lot of time out there over the past month. Interestingly enough, Braydon hasn’t even been out there yet. I’ve spent a ton of time alone with the kids this summer. Braydon’s been working a lot, and I have been taking a lot of time off.
Taking time off is hard for me. In the past 20 years the only time off I’ve taken has been sporadic vacations (never more than a week or 10 days), and my two family leaves (one semester when we adopted Kyle and Owen, and one semester when I gave birth to Meera). I have some deeply entrenched workaholic tendencies that I’m always trying to keep in check. And this summer has been a major challenge for me.
But now, as we approach our last week here, I am feeling better than ever. I look at this picture, above, and I see so clearly how important — and good — this summer has been for me, on so many levels.
I know that I will go back to work in a few weeks. I know that I will work hard, and it will be grueling, for the entire academic year. We will be living on campus, with all that goes with that. But this summer is revitalizing me even more than I could have ever hoped for. I feel so alive and in-tune. I feel so connected to my kids, my husband, and the world around me. I feel so refreshed. I am, right now, wishing I had figured this out years ago. Right now, if I could give advice to rising academics, I’d say this: do whatever you have to do to get tenure — and then, if you’re not totally dead by the time you get tenure, work your butt off during the academic year but start taking big chunks of each summer off. This doesn’t mean that we are truly “off” (most academics never are; we think about our work and brainstorm our research and percolate our ideas 100% of the time). My guess is that my ‘official’ work will be stronger than ever this coming year because of taking this time this summer.
On the other hand, I’m worried that I’ll — as a good friend hypothesized to me this morning — perhaps get “sea sick” in the attempt to vacillate between the two worlds of summer and school year, wide open spaces and the fishbowl of living on campus, the south and the north, the time “off” and the time “on.” As he said to me: will it be too much of a “rapid oscillation between two extremes”? I don’t know. It is scary. And I’m anxious about it.
I’m not prone to seasickness. At least not the actual on-the-water type. We will have to wait and see what happens. For now, I will do my best to make the most of this last week on Harbor Island.
My friend also suggested that rather than getting seasick, maybe I’ll feel it more like bungee jumping or roller coaster riding (both of which I like!). We shall see.
above: at Magnolia Plantation — Kyle jumping on a joggling board, Magnolia’s signature Long White Bridge, a historic marker sign
We spent yesterday at Magnolia Plantation. One thing that we knew, for sure, when embarking on this trip this summer, was that we wanted to visit a plantation. There are many of them open to the public in and around the Lowcountry. Braydon and I had visited plantations years ago, before the bambinos were in our life. So we knew what to expect, and we knew how intense it would be to tour one with our (interracial, adoptive, black-white) family. The other times we’ve visited the Lowcountry with our family, we knew we were not yet all ready for a plantation. But this time we knew that we were. So, Braydon did his (extensive) research [he is very good at that], and chose Magnolia. And yesterday was the day.
As white parents raising black boys we are very cognizant of our responsibility in educating them on black history. It is complicated, and challenging — to say the least. Kyle is, and has always been, much more intellectually interested than Owen. At this point, at age 9, Kyle is extremely interested — and is willing, and able (emotionally and psychologically), to take on an incredible amount of information, no matter how intensive and grueling that information is to process. He is like a sponge for it, and he just can never seem to get enough. He will probe and probe and probe and wants only the most brutally honest, historically factual, truth. Most people would be shocked (and some would probably be appalled) at the depth and level at which we are discussing incredibly complex topics with Kyle: Africa, slavery, U.S. History, Haitian History, the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, the Civil Rights Movement, black history. These are some of Kyle’s favorite topics. Owen, on the other hand, usually chooses to opt out of these conversations.He likes — and wants to know — some, and he probably knows a lot more than most kids his age. But, at least for now, he has little desire to dig deep into what is usually a very challenging topic for us all. He doesn’t want, and/or knows he can’t handle, too much information. And that is o.k.
So, when planning our trip to Magnolia Plantation, Braydon and I strategized very purposefully. We started the day exploring the grounds, seeing one very basic slave cabin, and visiting the farm/petting zoo area. Then we all did the tour of “The Plantation House.” We lucked out with a great tour guide — an older African-American woman who immediately took great interest in, and care for, our three kids (the only kids in a group of about 30) during her spinning of the information on our tour. She answered Kyle’s (many) questions with patience and grace, she let Owen go behind the fenced off areas more than once, and she pinched Meera’s cheeks repeatedly telling her how beautiful she is. She was a wonderful tour guide.
When that tour was done, Owen was clear that he was done. He was saturated, and we wanted to be careful not to push him, and this was exactly what we had anticipated, so we moved forward with our plan: Braydon took Owen and Meera to play and explore the gardens, riverfront, and woodsy trails. And I took Kyle to proceed with the more intensive parts of the plantation. Because Kyle, of course, was barely just getting started and was pushing hard for more, more, more, more, and more.
Kyle and I spent the rest of the time digging deep into the African-American, and slave, history of the plantation. One of the reasons Braydon chose Magnolia was because of the option to add on the “From Slavery to Freedom” tour to the basic admission. It was perfect for Kyle. He could have spent hours and hours and hours on the African-American history part.
On the From Slavery to Freedom tour, Kyle and I were immersed in the history of southern U.S. slavery, plantation and slave life, and we got to see — firsthand — some of the original slave cabins on the plantation. It is an incredibly interesting, and incredibly challenging experience. We learned so much.
And, of course, the plantation is gorgeous too — with its historic plethora of gardens and its mystic-looking majestic oaks dripping with Spanish moss everywhere you look.
It should go without saying that the whole day was a pretty profound experience. One of the things that draws us to the Lowcountry is the accessibility to Africana history, Gullah/Geechee culture, and the roots of black American life. The history here is not in the past. It is right at the surface, ripe and open to possibility. It is a wealth of opportunity for exploring, experiencing, and learning.
p.s. We just happened to go to Magnolia Plantation on their “Ladybug Day.” This is a day, once a year, when they release 70,000 ladybugs into their gardens as part of a strategy for keeping their horticulture healthy. They gave small containers of ladybugs to some children yesterday — Meera included — to release wherever they chose throughout the plantation. Meera had great fun doing this!
Our dear friends the Slavins came to visit this week. They drove down and spent Sunday-Thursday with us in South Carolina. 2 families; 6 kids; 1 beach house; lots of fun.
Visiting the Lowcountry is like visiting another land. There is so much to explore. And for kids, especially, it is a really magical, distant, mysterious place. There is an endless wealth of new things to look at and learn about. Life — of all sorts — is teeming everywhere. The air feels different. The food tastes different. The sounds are different. And even the light looks different. Coming from “up north,” you feel like you’ve been transported to some unfamiliar place that is calm and easy, yet rugged and jolting all at the same time. You can’t help but get swept up in it, even if just a little bit. And it is fun to be able to do that with each other.
We have a tradition of spending New Year’s Eve with the Slavins. But we don’t usually get the chance to spend more time than that together each year. So, it was very special to have this time together, in a whole different place for us all, and to be able to string a few days together as a group of 10 in the sunny southern summer (as opposed to our snowy northern New Years Eves).
Jen and I were college roommates. Our kids all know that about us. I think they know there is something really different and special about our friendship– something that goes beyond time, distance, and years of change. We are deep-down, long-term, in-it-for-the-long-haul friends. I love that about us. We’ve embraced each other’s husbands and kids. And we’ve embraced each other’s evolutions over the past two decades. We don’t sit around reminiscing about our college days (at least not much), we are — truly — in the here and now.
Meera took these pictures — Jen and me drinking iced coffee on the beach one afternoon. These pictures are sooo unflattering (!! something about the angle?! Or, God forbid?!, do we really look this way as we embark on our 20th-college-reunion-year?!). (Let me apologize to you for posting these Jen, and please, let me assure you publicly here: IN REAL LIFE you are a hot Mama!)… But still, despite how truly unflattering they are, I love these photos. Because they show us as seen through the eyes of one of our 5-year-old daughters. And we’re looking pretty good through those eyes! We can only hope that our kids have such great college roommates as we did. We can only hope our kids make life-long friends that stick it out with them through thick and thin. This is real life friendship.
Highlights of the week (in addition to creme brûlée iced coffee on the beach with one of my best friends in the whole wide world) include:
Lots of time on Hunting Island beach; boogie boarding; collecting sharks teeth; diving for sand dollars; catching fish and crabs in the beach tide pools; lots of meals together; a dinner out with a table for ten; dance parties in the beach house; golf cart expeditions; alligators, turtles, fiddler crabs, hermit crabs, blue crabs, snakes, “dogfish sharks”, fish; first ginger ales! cheers!; visits to the Hunting Island Marsh Boardwalk, the Hunting Island Nature Center, The Penn Center, The Red Piano Too Art Gallery; a night out for Jen & Anthony and a great night in with all six kids for Heather & Braydon; a ridiculous amount of art production from the little girls; bonding over the barbie/grill; the kids playing playing playing; the adults talking talking talking; a lot of downtime together.
The best part of the past week was being able to have fun with our kids. It was such fun for our kids. But it was also such fun for us. It was fun to do it all together.
Next time we’re going to do a super-high-end luxury all-inclusive resort with a day spa (I’m making that executive decision! LOL! oh-my-goodness-6-kids-is-a-lot-of-work!!! the food alone!!!!!! let alone the lugging of all the beach stuff!! plus… we can’t fit all ten of us in one car– not even Braydon’s Loser Cruiser Minivan.). But… I wouldn’t have given up the past week for anything.
Thank you Slavins. Thank you for making the very long drive (with an 8 year old, 5 year old, and 1 year old!!!!!!!). Thank you for spending your vacation time with us. Thank you for friendship that withstands time and space and six kids and everything else. Thank you for the laughs. Thank you. We love you five. xo, ~the five J-Ms
Kyle loves blueberry muffins. They are definitely one of his favorite foods — if not his favorite (it is sort of neck-and-neck between blueberry muffins and a grilled, medium-rare, sirloin strip steak). He doesn’t like candy at all. He generally doesn’t like cookies, cakes, or sweets of any kind. But he loves blueberry muffins.
And he is pretty much a blueberry muffin connoisseur. Not just any old blueberry muffin will do.
So, this summer, I’ve worked hard to perfect a recipe for a super simple, “homemade,” blueberry muffin that will make Kyle a happy Muffin Man.
And folks, here it is. A great, easy, 5-minute (I swear!), ‘cheater,’ blueberry muffin recipe that results in what Kyle claims is the best blueberry muffin he’s ever had. (And trust me, he’s had many.)
* * *
Beach House Blueberry Muffins
- Buy a box of Krusteaz brand “Wild Blueberry” Muffin mix.
- Buy (or pick!) some fresh blueberries.
- Mix ingredients according to the directions on the box— with two exceptions: 1) Discard the tin/can of “wild blueberries.” Switch in, instead, about one cup of fresh blueberries. Note: do not over mix. Be sure to just barely combine the ingredients, and gently fold in the blueberries. 2) Add about one teaspoon cinnamon.
- Using 12 cupcake wrappers, placed in a muffin tin, evenly distribute the muffin mixture amongst a dozen muffin cups.
5. As a special little somethin’ somethin’ I place one blueberry at the center/top of each muffin. (This makes ‘em look real pretty when they’re baked!)
6. As another special little somethin’ somethin’ I sprinkle each with about a teaspoon or two of sugar. (This also makes ‘em look real pretty when they’re baked!)
7. Bake at 400 degrees for 16 minutes (no more! no less!). Take them out, and immediately take the muffins out of the tin. Place on plate, or wire rack, to cool for a minute or two (or five).
8. Share with your loved ones. Blueberry muffin lovers will love these!
9. They are awesome warm, straight out of the oven. They are also great the next day, and even the next (if they last that long).
Anyone whose ever known my boys, or even observed them from a distance, knows that they are go-go-go all-all-all the time. We joke that they “only have two speeds: a million miles an hour, or asleep” (we joke, but alas, it is 100% the Gospel Truth). They are, and have always been, off the walls– running, jumping, climbing, at full speed and at full volume, all day long, every single day. The only exception is when they are sick (or watching a movie). Truly.
So… it should be obvious why the above scene was a game-changer, life-changer, mind-altering, truth-defying moment.
I had them (all three of them) reading on the beach with me. Now, granted, I bribed them with ice cream. And I told them that if they didn’t do it, we’d have to go do our reading time “back at the beach house” (i.e., leave the beach), but still, it happened. And it wasn’t a horrible disaster, or misery for any of us, or anything like that. It was — even K & O admitted — “kinda ok” (Owen) and “actually very relaxing” (Kyle).
It only lasted about 15 minutes. And then they were back to running at full tilt, chasing waves at full speed, noise at maximum volume. But it was a beautiful and hope-inspiring and awe-filling 15 minutes.
A baby step, yes. But folks, this ushers in a whole new era.
I’m sure that if I’m lucky enough to have a day sometime far in the future when we’re all sitting on the beach reading together, I’ll fondly reminisce about the days when they were little and non-stop energy from the minute they woke up until the minute they fell asleep. So, I know that these things are bittersweet. But for that moment this week, reading on the beach with them for the first time ever, it was all sweet.
We have been seeing people fishing from the shore around Harbor Island the whole time we’ve been here. They catch all sorts of crazy things right from the beach. Kyle and Owen have been absolutely enthralled with it, and chomping at the bit to try it.
So, I broke down and decided to just go for it. The boys and I got up early today so I could take them out to buy the supplies. They were so excited they could hardly contain themselves. And then the bambinos and I spent the afternoon way out at the point of Harbor Island ocean fishing for the first time. (Which, basically, means the bambinos were fishing and I was non-stop untangling lines, fixing rods, and baiting hooks for the entire afternoon). We used shrimp as bait (it was recommended as best for “beginners”… which we MOST DEFINITELY are).
Kyle’s dream was to catch a string ray. And his dream came true!
We had lots of lots of nibbles, bites, and near-catches, but nobody else actually caught anything (well, Meera caught a hermit crab… which doesn’t really count… but she was very proud of it). The boys had an absolute blast. It was a very, very good day for them. Meera could take it or leave it. I’d prefer to leave it (although, knowing how much K & O love it, I’m happy enough to take it — despite the fact that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get the shrimp smell off my fingertips. Now that right there is true love.).
I don’t know if they’ll remember much of these crazy things that we do. So here’s a post to remind them– if they ever look at this– of the day we did our first ocean fishing. We saw only a handful of people all afternoon. It was a pretty amazing day.
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