BAMBINOS
We have a few big rules for living in the dorm with our family — One of them is: No Going Into Student Apartments. We often have students into our apartment, but our rule is that we don’t go into their apartments. There are always exceptions, and the bambinos sometimes do spend time in students’ apartments — but only IF they are invited by the students, and only IF that invitation is 100% initiated only by the students themselves (i.e., the bambinos are not allowed to ask to be invited in), and only IF they get permission from Mommy or Papi first. But we don’t have an open door policy… and that is for everyone’s protection, and in everyone’s best interest, for loads of reasons.
I, personally, try to not ever go into students’ apartments. This is mainly because I don’t want to run the risk of seeing something I shouldn’t see (and then being obligated to report it). I also, for the most part, just don’t want to see what they have going on in there— major generalization, I know, but it is true: many of the apartments — boys’ apartments especially — are so filthy that I cringe even seeing into them as I walk by an open door. I’d rather just not come face-to-face in any intimate way with it.
Our time with student residents is spent in our apartment, in the lounges, outside on the lawn, or — mainly — hanging out and congregating and chit-chatting in the hall. The hall is where everything happens.
So, I rarely see the inside of students’ apartments— even those in my own building.
The other day, though, Dash made a mad dash into the apartment of four male students who live in our building. Dash does this sometimes, and students seem to get a big kick out of it (in fact, they often egg him on), but it really annoys me and I get aggravated with Dash when it happens. (Dash loves to try to find food/crumbs/all-sorts-of-interesting-things in these apartments… and these apartments are often just chock-full-of-interesting-doggie-delights for him to find.) Usually I can get him back right away, but this time, he just wouldn’t come to me when I was calling him out (there were lots of fun crumbs all over this particular apartment’s floor). So, as a last resort, I ended up going into the apartment to get Dash. I got him, picked him up (the students were laughing and loving all this drama), and I was turning to leave when I saw their refrigerator.
I had to stop and look. The entire fridge was covered in various pieces of artwork by Meera. It was like one big collection of paintings/drawings/colorings that Meera had given them over the course of the year. The only other things on the fridge were a couple of magnets and a photo of Kyle, Owen, and Meera from Halloween.
I was really struck by it. I had these really heart-melting feelings… these guys have this stuff on their fridge. Not at all in a weird way, just in a totally sweet way. These are cool, smart, nice, athletic, very high-achieving, male Lehigh students. I don’t even know how to explain it… but it is so amazing, and it must just be so highly unusual, to have a fridge like this in an apartment like that. It looked the the fridge of a doting parent, or a loving uncle, or proud grandparent, or best-friend-of-the-family maybe. But the fridge of a bunch of guys who live in a dorm with a professor’s family….?
I said, “Oh my gosh, guys, your fridge is covered with Meera’s artwork?!” It had literally almost taken my breath away. Here I am, a professor, seeing this. “Oh, yeah!” they said proudly. I said, “Oh my gosh, you’ve kept all of it this whole year?” They said, “Of course! We love that stuff!” They seemed surprised that I was surprised.
I asked if I could take a picture because I just know that nobody would believe me without the actual proof.
It was —I don’t know— I don’t know how to describe what it was — it was just so captivating, so delightful, so adorable and refreshing… It was the cutest, sweetest, funniest thing I had seen in a long, long time.
I am now starting the recovery process after an unexpected 5-day string of days at home with the bambinos. Between the weekend, then the MLK holiday, and then two snow days, it has been a long-haul of unplanned-for downtime. We had purposefully planned a “do nothing” long weekend, but the added two days tacked onto the end really pushed us (well, mainly me) over the edge.
Due to a major work event that Braydon had going on, the past 48 hours has involved me taking it for the team, canceling basically everything on my calendar in order to be home with the kiddos, and doing it entirely on my own. Our family doesn’t do very well cooped up inside all day, let alone cooped up inside all day with lots of unforeseen unstructured time on our hands. And there is not much more blood-pressure-raising for me than trying to hold down the home-front while also plugging away at my laptop in a desperate attempt to keep the home-and-work balls all up in the air. I can do home. And I can do work. But I really struggle with doing them both at once on a snow day.
Here are my Top Ten Moments from this little stretch of bleak midwinter—
That moment when…
- …that phone call came at 5:45am Tuesday saying that school was cancelled… the sinking knowing feeling of the ramifications and ripple effect of those calls are hard to describe… and then… ditto and deja vu all over again for Wednesday morning… All I could think was, “Holy heck! How on earth am I going to get through this?!”
- …Owen spilled a whole, brand-new, previously-unopened, full jug of milk all over the kitchen, and then, as it was dripping all over the counter and down onto the floor, tried to convince me that it would be perfectly reasonable for him to lick it up (!!!) so that it “won’t be wasted!” (Oh, dear God!)
- …Meera spilled her entire, brand new, box of 96 Crayola crayons — yes, a ninety-six pack — all over the family room, and then announced to me with total sincerity, as I began to help her collect the crayons from all over the coffee table and the floor, that they had to go back into the original box “exactly in order!” (Oh, dear God!)
- …Kyle used the f-word… yes, the f-word (I could not believe it!!!!)… twice… yes, twice!… and I had to send him to his room, and then reprimand him harshly… and when I asked him if he even knew what that word means, he explained to me in no uncertain terms that it means “another word for funky, you know, like strange” (Oh, dear God!)
- …I psyched myself up, rallied, and told the bambinos that we were going to go outside to “enjoy the snow!” and “go sledding!”… but when we got out there, it was so frigid cold and blustery and windy, and the windchill factor was so extreme, that I become truly convinced that we were all going to get frostbite on our faces, and I pretty promptly announced that we had to go back in… and then I realized… that… the entire operation of getting them into-and-out-of their snow gear took easily twice as much time as the time spent actually in the snow.
- …I hit that saturation point after a few too many emails and texts and voicemails from female colleagues/working mothers (all in correspondence related to my massive project of attempting-to-reschedule-all-calendared-events-for the-past-two-days) mentioned things along the lines of, “I don’t know how you do it because I could NEVER do it without my mother!” and “It is days like today that I’m most grateful to have my mom right here!” and “I am just so grateful I’ve got my mother to pick up my slack, or else I’d be a goner!”… and I seriously thought I was going to die a long slow painful death of career-mama-on-a-snow-day-with-no-extended-family-around-to-fall-back-on… and I had to swallow hard to be a big girl (and remind myself of the truth: that I’m not jealous of them, I’m just envious of them)… and I used all my might to not fall apart right then and there.
- …I discovered that Dash had partially destroyed Meera’s beloved Tooth Fairy gift — a tiny Polly Pocket toy (that she had just got — from her first lost tooth — just this morning), and I had to work extremely hard to keep from crying pitiful tears of utter resignation, as I Duct Taped the thing back together with the world’s tiniest slices of Duct Tape on the world’s tiniest plastic Polly Pocket backpack… all before I had even had my first cup of coffee.
- …in the middle of playing yet another round of Chutes and Ladders (we played it a God-awful number of times), I had the brilliant realization that I had made a terribly horrible mistake: Chutes and Ladders most definitely should have gone into the massive “To Donate” pile in the midst of our move a year-and-a-half-ago… because… if only it had… then the kids would probably have never even realized it was gone, and I wouldn’t have to be playing this God-awful game (a game that I’ve always hated) yet again… oh, and I should have gotten rid of the game Fibber too (another one I hate, and which we played a God-awful number of times over the past two days).
- …I finally broke down crying, a sobbing hot mess, on Tuesday night, after the kids were finally in bed… because I was finally sitting under a blanket on the couch, bleary eyed and in some sort of state of exhaustive shock, having just taken my first sip of wine, only to see the lengthy list of school cancellations hitting for the next day all over Facebook.
- …I was cleaning up the spin-art project… and realized that — just like so many of these things — the set-up and the clean-up take a lot more time than the actual spinning-of-the-art.
But, then there was tonight, when I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, and the kids and I were eating Chinese delivery and watching the (ridiculous) movie Mulan II, and I thought to myself, “Holy heck! I actually got through this?!”
And there were many other moments too. Lots and lots of them, when things went really swell. Moments when I was supremely grateful for a career that affords tremendous flexibility, and a safe secure home with loads of heat and hot water, and three healthy happy (albeit very rambunctious) kids. The list above is a bunch of pathetic First World Problems. That is for sure. Another thing that is for sure is this: I know I’ll look back on these days and wish I could do them all over again — not as a way to re-do things to make up for regrets (hopefully), but rather to have the chance to do them again because of how purely sweetly special these God-awful days actually are. I want to remember the good and the bad all wrapped up together.
Today Meera lost her first tooth!
It had been loose for a long time. And the topic of much conversation and commotion for a long time. And her brothers had been wanting to pull it out for a long time. But she wouldn’t let them.
Today was a snow day (no school). The morning was just getting rolling, Braydon was already off at work, Kyle and Owen were lounging around on the couch, and I was having coffee in the kitchen. Suddenly Meera appeared, jumping up and down, screaming: “I pulled out my own tooth! I pulled out my own tooth! I pulled out my own tooth!” She was ecstatic. I could not believe she had done it. But sure enough, she had the tiny baby tooth in her hand.
She’s very excited for tonight… full of hopeful anticipation for her first visit from the Tooth Fairy!
Meera’s first lost tooth — a big milestone for our big girl.
Yet another snow day today. No school. We’ve had way too many in December and January. I’d love snow days. If I didn’t have an actual career that I’m trying to manage. Holy heck.
Anyway— the bambinos have been working hard for the past couple of weeks to earn a treat. The treat of their choosing (they came up with this) was Swedish Butterhorns (this has been something we’ve only had on Christmas at MorMor’s house, so it would be a big huge deal to make these at home). The deal was they’d have to work together to do 50 good deeds (i.e., treating each other well, and going above and beyond in obeying our family rules). If noticed by Mommy or Papi, a deed would earn one popsicle stick put into a cup. But a popsicle stick can always be removed for any dastardly deed too!
Well, they earned it! 50 popsicle sticks in the cup — and a big batch of Swedish Butterhorns were baked. It just so happened that this treat coincided with a snow day today. So they got to not only revel in their earnings, but eat them while watching My Little Pony. Kuddos to the bambinos!
p.s. Look at Dash! He sat there so patiently, being so good, just desperately wanting one of those butterhorns. In the end, he earned 1/2 of one. Which made him almost as happy and proud as the bambinos.
Lehigh’s campus is known for the outdoor art sculptures permanently installed all over it. The entire campus is basically a huge sculpture garden. But most people — including many Lehigh folks — have no idea about the sculpture garden that is the Alferd Packard Memorial Garden. This is a student sculpture garden (no famous artists’ installations here — at least, they aren’t famous yet), and much of the art uses up-cycled trash and/or makes a social/political statement. It is tucked away deep in the woods, only accessible by pathways off the beaten track, and rarely does it have visitors.
Our family, however, visits it quite a bit. It is one of Meera’s favorite places on campus. And lucky for us, we can reach it by a trail that runs through the woods connecting Sayre to the sculpture garden. It is a long hike for a five year old (we think it is probably more than a mile each way, although we haven’t measured it), along a path that is actually a mountain biking trail (one of many that zig-zag and criss-cross throughout the hundreds of acres of woodland on South Mountain that make up a large portion of Lehigh’s campus). But the woods are full of adventures and explorations and amazing finds (like the incredible wintertime mushrooms we discovered on this trip). It is a great Sunday outing for us, especially since it requires no car whatsoever!
This is a big day for us each year. We take it seriously; we honor this day; we try to truly take time out to reflect upon the life and symbol of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He is a role model that we hold up. And there are a lot of other role models that we hold up too. I try to remind the bambinos of how far we’ve come, and how far we have to go. Each year the day becomes a bit more somber, as they grow older and more capable of handling the more painful information and hearing the challenge which is laid out before them.
Today we spent the morning at the bambinos’ school, participating in a tribute celebration. The focus of the event was “Unsung Heroes: People Behind the Civil Rights Movement,” and we all did a lot of thinking about that topic. (It was a fantastic experience for all five of us.) One truth that we all came away with was the reminder of the reality of the daily grind of the struggle for social justice. Progress is often marked by the ‘I Have a Dream’ speech, and other momentous markers in time, but in truth progress is pushed forward only because of the constant, grueling, uphill battle, being fought in the trenches of everyday life, by individuals walking the walk and talking the talk, all the time. It is 5-year-olds on the playground, it is 9-year-olds in the lunchroom, it is 40-somethings in classrooms and boardrooms, it is all of us out there in the world and at home — it is all of this and a whole lot more which stands at the core of hope.
“Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable… Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals.” ~Martin Luther King, Jr.
I think it is important for us to celebrate how far we’ve come, and also be somber in our reflection of all still to be done, as we pay tribute on this day.
And today I just want to acknowledge that we, as a family, are living out loud as part of our individual commitment to not being silenced. This blog puts us out there, and through that we’re often reminded of what we’re up against. At the same time, this blog — in the most basic sense — is proof in and of itself of just how far we’ve come. I want to just say that I understand all that, and I ‘get it’; I take it seriously, and I am humbled by it; and I appreciate our many, many loyal readers all over the world. Happy MLK Day to everyone who reads here!
This is the story we tell when we go to Joe’s Shanghai.
* * *
One time, not so long ago, Mommy and Papi got married. It was Saturday, September 15th, 2001. And just a few days before that — on Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, something very horrible had happened in the United States. It was “9-11” and it was when the airplanes crashed the twin towers in New York City. Papi was right there, going to work that day, and saw horrible things happen. And many of our friends were there too. But lucky for us, nobody we loved died or was injured. Except, the tragedy was, many, many, many people died and many lives and families were devastated. In the town where we lived in New Jersey, very many people died. It was a heartbreaking time where we lived, and in our whole country. It was also a heartbreaking time to get married — that weekend the airports were still shut down, so lots of our friends — some of our very closest friends — could not make it to our wedding. It was really sad. Especially for Mommy.
The next week — it was the first weekend after the Saturday that we were married — we were back in our house in New Jersey, where we lived then. On t.v., the mayor of New York City announced to the whole country that New York, New York was “open for business,” and he asked that people “come back to New York.” And so Mommy and Papi decided to do what he was asking.
We took the train into the city to spend the day. It was hard to see the New York City how it was then. There was smoke and ash everywhere, and the whole place was practically deserted, and there was a terrible mournful smell and feeling in the air. It felt like a very unfamiliar version of The Big Apple. We went out for coffee, and browsed some shops, and bought tickets to see a Broadway show (42nd Street — it was awesome!), and we decided we’d go out for lunch before the play began. We wanted to eat in Chinatown, but had never found a restaurant there that we loved. We asked a Chinese man, in a subway station, for a recommendation. “Something real, not touristy,” we said. “Someplace authentic, someplace you’d go with your family,” we said. He looked at us very skeptically. “Are you sure?” He asked. “Yes, we’re sure,” we said. So he told us: “Go to Joe’s Shanghai. Get the soup dumplings.” He gave Papi the address and we headed straight there.
We were seated at a big round table, way in the back. At first, it was just the two of us at the table. But within 10 minutes, the table was filled with six other people — all firefighters, all covered in thick ash and dust, all smelling like a sickly smoke. We were stunned. We knew right away they were working at the 9-11 site. And sure enough, they started talking about it to us, telling us a bit of their stories, explaining to us about a little bit of what was going on at “Ground Zero.” And it was heart wrenching and incredibly inspiring to have lunch with those firefighters that day at Joe’s Shanghai.
We all ordered soup dumplings and there were many steamer baskets of the gorgeous little dumplings all around the table. We ate soup dumplings and talked some of the time, and also ate soup dumplings and were quiet some of the time. We all marveled at how amazingly good those soup dumplings tasted. I felt like I had never had anything so delicious in my entire life. The service was impeccable. And other than us and the firemen, everyone in the whole restaurant was Chinese.
That was when we first fell in love with Joe’s Shanghai.
And we started going to Joe’s Shanghai every chance we got.
It wasn’t long after that we started daydreaming of starting a family, and we’d often talk about the kind of life that we wanted to have, and we’d laugh about how we couldn’t wait to take our kids to Joe’s Shanghai, and places like it.
And soon, Kyle and Owen came home, and our family life got started. We first took K & O to Joe’s Shanghai when they were babies (before we even started the blog; when they weren’t even 2 yet; it was one of the first restaurants they went to). Our three bambinos have been eating soup dumplings at Joe’s Shanghai their whole lives. It is one of our happiest and most favorite things to do as a family.
* * *
Today we went into the city. It was so cold, and there was snow and slush everywhere.
We made our way to Pell Street and it was our 2nd shortest wait ever at Joe’s Shanghai (the first shortest wait was the day Papi and Mommy first went; the second shortest wait was today — only 15 minutes! — it is usually at least 50!).
Within 2 minutes of sitting down, we had what we went for. The soup dumplings. Today we had 5 baskets of them! Our new record!
Plus our other two favorites: the String Beans, and the Shanghai Flat Noodles.
After, we did what we always do: we browsed the vendors on the sidewalk (we bought Meera a Chinese fan and a plastic baby doll; Kyle and Owen announced that they have “outgrown wanting anything from the street shops” — which is just fine with us). We browse on our way to our favorite Bubble Tea shop — we always have to get the Chinese Boba (tapioca ball tea)! It was winter, so we got it hot. In the summer, we get it cold. And today, something new! Kyle eyed someone eating something that looked good. Mommy found out what it was — Chinese Mantou — fried sweet buns with condensed milk for dipping. We got some to go, and it was an instant dessert hit for us all — K & O especially. And so, a new tradition begins — Mantou on the street, with our bubble tea, after Soup Dumplings at Joe’s Shanghai.
“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” ~J.R.R. Tolkien
After 13 days of pretty much straight traveling, it is a welcome relief to be home. I can say with full confidence that after 16 months of living on campus, the campus is now truly and fully our home. It feels like home now, completely.
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