Places They're Needed
I have begun graduate studies. The first of my two toe-dipping online classes has begun. I came downstairs to Geoff after listening to the first lecture, and I felt like I had spent those hours away from them. I have a very real trepidation that pouring my attention and time into these studies will sap me for Geoff and our kids.
I write this list as a reminder that the kids have places where they are needed-- things that require their undivided attention, needs only they can fill. And in doing these roles, they are strengthened, and it is a good thing for all of us. If I can remember this for them, I can remember this for me. Geoff's is so basic and concrete, even Calliope knows that because Dad teaches at Philly U, she is able to take swim lessons. But as for me and the kids, every apron-string tug hurts and grad school has begun to feel like the apron string is having to stretch.
Manny: In his classroom, his friend looks around the room waving origami. He spots Manny, "For the two-headed dog, what do I do after this?
Long pause, Manny walks over to him. "Here, you bisect this part here along the main axis, and then, oh, did you say that you wanted wings,too?" He nods and the two bed-headed first graders stand there absorbed in their paper folding.
Calliope: In the play room at the Y, her friend, Evelyn looks up from her place at the snack table. She sees Calliope come in and an enormous smile breaks across her face and the bagel piece drops. Crossing the floor, she hugs Calliope so long that they begin to sway together and then topple to the floor.
Clara: At nursery school drop off, our previous parting ritual had been that I greet her teachers, I crouch with her at her hook to help her with her slippers,take her to the rug for one Patricia Polacco story in my lap. A few friends join us. Then I say goodbye with one neck-hanging hug and a kiss. These days, she removes her coat and shoes and steps into her slippers with one movement. Then she beelines for the loft ladder. A friend hands her a scarf and says, "Kimono princess or cousin-mother." And like that, she enters play. Her attention is already moved on from me. She waves the wooden iron, the scarf worn Mary-like around her head, "Bring a gogurt when you see me!"
Benicio: For some reason, I see him more like Geoff. His moments of needing me are very explicit and brief. He will feel slighted and ask me to talk about it. Or he will say, "Mom, chase me and tickle me under the blanket when I'm not expecting it." But most other times, he is at school and he is of school. I observed him in the recess yard playing soccer, pretzels in one hand, other hand, pointing down-field. He pointed and gestured with his chin and his eyebrows like Babe Ruth calling his homer, then he booted the ball to that spot effortlessly toward goal.
They have their own places in the world. Yes, they do. It's okay to have mine.
I write this list as a reminder that the kids have places where they are needed-- things that require their undivided attention, needs only they can fill. And in doing these roles, they are strengthened, and it is a good thing for all of us. If I can remember this for them, I can remember this for me. Geoff's is so basic and concrete, even Calliope knows that because Dad teaches at Philly U, she is able to take swim lessons. But as for me and the kids, every apron-string tug hurts and grad school has begun to feel like the apron string is having to stretch.
Manny: In his classroom, his friend looks around the room waving origami. He spots Manny, "For the two-headed dog, what do I do after this?
Long pause, Manny walks over to him. "Here, you bisect this part here along the main axis, and then, oh, did you say that you wanted wings,too?" He nods and the two bed-headed first graders stand there absorbed in their paper folding.
Calliope: In the play room at the Y, her friend, Evelyn looks up from her place at the snack table. She sees Calliope come in and an enormous smile breaks across her face and the bagel piece drops. Crossing the floor, she hugs Calliope so long that they begin to sway together and then topple to the floor.
Clara: At nursery school drop off, our previous parting ritual had been that I greet her teachers, I crouch with her at her hook to help her with her slippers,take her to the rug for one Patricia Polacco story in my lap. A few friends join us. Then I say goodbye with one neck-hanging hug and a kiss. These days, she removes her coat and shoes and steps into her slippers with one movement. Then she beelines for the loft ladder. A friend hands her a scarf and says, "Kimono princess or cousin-mother." And like that, she enters play. Her attention is already moved on from me. She waves the wooden iron, the scarf worn Mary-like around her head, "Bring a gogurt when you see me!"
Benicio: For some reason, I see him more like Geoff. His moments of needing me are very explicit and brief. He will feel slighted and ask me to talk about it. Or he will say, "Mom, chase me and tickle me under the blanket when I'm not expecting it." But most other times, he is at school and he is of school. I observed him in the recess yard playing soccer, pretzels in one hand, other hand, pointing down-field. He pointed and gestured with his chin and his eyebrows like Babe Ruth calling his homer, then he booted the ball to that spot effortlessly toward goal.
They have their own places in the world. Yes, they do. It's okay to have mine.
posted by Maria at
6:07 AM
2 Comments:
When I see you blogging about moments that I didn't know about, I have two initial thoughts. First, I wonder why you didn't tell me about them right away, called me at school to relate these wonderful scenes. Second, I'm jealous that I didn't witness them firsthand. But when I reflect on the pleasure of hearing about them for the first time in your amazing writing, I find that it's well worth the wait.
Honey, the problem is that there are infinite moments that neither of us no about. We only get to witness a few. And if I don't write them down, neither of us will remember.
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home