on my desk: a list

-pile of Whole Foods coupons
-two different pairs of headphones for my mp3 lectures
-Lenten issue of The Word Among Us
-recipe for white bean and kale soup
-Amy Su's lime green, extra large Baggu in its zip case
-pack of Chinese New Year paper
-green Filofax from college that I am trying to implement again

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.

Sometimes, Just for a Minute

The answer to whether or not I wish I were pregnant. Our baby is going to be three in a few months. We have a diaper-free existence. I am able to discuss books and films with my kids, ethics, faith. I can go rock-climbing with them. We can all go for a pedaling bike ride down the street. I can use the sleek, two-tiered shopping cart rather than the plastic faux-truck monstrosity. Everyone can get their own pre-dawn bowl of cereal. We have all worked very hard to get to this point. Most days, I am full steam ahead-ready for chapter-books and the gritty challenges of individuation. And for goodness sake, I have had four babies. I have had my universal quota of babies.

But then you have days like Sunday. If a Baptism service at St. Vincent's doesn't convert you, then it will at least soften your heart. And if it doesn't soften your heart, then it will at least make you stop birth-control. This baby they baptized was so lovely. The traditional, all nude little baby. The milky little mouth, the chubby fists, the innocent gaze. The robed priest, the beaming parents. The sung Litany of Saints. Anyway, it was what Anne Lamott would call "a religious bus station"-- reliefs of Biblical scenes, the carved Stations of the Cross, saints in stained glass, and on top of that, the singing! And then the procession-- the baby's dad leads the procession around the church, presenting the newly-baptized baby. We all sing, people cheer and whistle. There isn't a dry eye in the place. I felt this distinct pang of regret at being done. I longed for a baby at that moment.

But then yesterday, I got all my perspective back. I went to my Step class at the Y. When I saw the pregnant woman come in, I got her a step and a few risers. I looked at her and selfishly, I thought, "Gosh, is that what I looked like?" The swollen, darkened lips, the widened nose, oh God, the waddle! She was next to me, so I watched her. My heart went out to her--scenes of her losing her balance, wanting to ask them to slow down the tempo for this poor woman who was struggling to keep up. It actually became incredibly distracting to watch her. And you know me, I love pregnancy and I would admit to being a birth junkie all the way! But I saw this woman, in her second trimester and all of its implications, and I felt very clearly content.

This is weird but the best part, the part that snapped me back into my reality was when the first few notes of "Good Vibrations" by Marky Mark came on. I was able to detach from my wistful trance and totally be in my own body. My own body, not a vessel for anyone, just me.

slow patient motion

On Monday, Geoff was still on break. He and I found ourselves home with our Calliope, who was on her second day battling a virus. After seeing the boys off, I changed sheets and drank my coffee. Then I brought Clara to school and went to the Y for a run. It was as if I was in frenetic-buzz mode. Coming home, I stumble-slide into the laundry room to re-dose Calliope. The scene I find stops me in my tracks:

It is Geoff folding laundry and listening to Brahms violin and piano concerti. Calliope is on our bed wrapping her fingers in yarn, fastidiously. The whole thing seems as if in slow-motion. The dryer is rumbling. Calliope tells me that Dad showed her the purple sky. And on her cheek Geoff has painted a butterfly.

It is Tuesday night and our girl is so much better. Due less to pharmaceuticals and far more to face-paint, yarn, and the touch of a wonder-working papa.

Tennis Whites

My brother, Mike, had this friend, Nate. In fourth grade, Nate's family brought Mike to New York City to see the Knicks. If that weren't enough, they stayed at the Four Seasons. (That particular year, had been the year cemented forever that my Mike was no longer my exclusive play-mate. Being in the same school for the first time, I could see that his fourth grade world was far away from my own.) But If THAT weren't enough, Mike and his friend had their OWN hotel room. I, being in first grade, had never heard of any kids getting a separate room! To my kid-mind, It was indulgent to the point of audacity bordering on unsafe!

When Mikey returned from that weekend, I listened to my first description of crepes (Room service!). That you could have crepes filled with savory things like asparagus and cheese OR you could have them filled with sweets like fruit and chocolate. I sat there, mouth agape, and the hole that Mikey's weekend absence made grew to my heart where I just ached. This experience was important in learning how to individuate from my sibs, even though it was tough. I think we all thought it was wonderful that he got to experience those things. But these days, I think of how my parents must have felt-- that strange ambivalence-- go kid, go! Try everything, check out the world! But also, how humbling to have other people give your kid an experience that your circumstances could never allow.

Benicio has his own Nate now. Over Winter Break, all of us still in jammies at 11 am, Geoff remembered he permitted Benicio to share his friend's tennis lesson with him at the Cricket Club. Flustered, I ran upstairs to find clean soccer shorts and his Arthur Ashe T shirt. Benicio, who hates to be late, was stressed out, wanted to cancel. After a harrowing drive in the snow, Geoff made it to their house where they graciously welcomed Benicio. That's the part that kills you-- how mutual and unforced their affection is. Geoff says that Noah met Benicio at the door where they smiled, laughed and greeted by touching foreheads. He said Benicio disappeared into the enormous house.

I never imagined learning tolerance this way. If you can call it that. It may be more accurate to say learning about friendship. I am having to learn to grow up-- am I waiting for an offense? Must I hold on to this jealousy or do I want the friendship? In this case, these boys, want the friendship. Their affinity, their affection brings them together in such a sincere way, I think we all want to support that.

In the developmental stage of play-dating, there are children you have over because you are friends with the parents. But in this in-between stage now, the children's friendship necessitates the parental one. Admittedly, I didn't want to like these parents. And here's the reason: They have money and they spend it exactly as I would (were I to have any). Wow, that's a disturbing confession right there. I had to go into the other room and do Yoga breathing when I heard they were going to Jamaica for Thanksgiving. And when I heard Punta Cana for Spring Break, I excused myself to the refrigerator for fist biting. Geoff urges, "If we had the means and opportunity to do that, we would leap at that!" True, yes, it's true.

And furthermore: We can't help but love them. At Back to School Night, I was trying to avoid talking to the Dad because he has a steely Capitalistic game face. But when we sat at our respective sons' table spots (next to each other) he had brought me cider and a pumpkin muffin that he said I had to try because it was awesome ( I made them!). The Mama is my height and has the figure of someone who has her own tennis coach. And she has a doctorate from Penn. And when I first met her, having heard these things, I did NOT want to like her. But she sought me out at a picnic to hug me and tell me that her family was in love with Benicio. What can you say to that?

That tennis-date over break, it turns out, was one of Benicio's best. They had power bars for lunch. They did drills with a nationally-ranked pro. Followed by pretzels at the Club Bar (He loves to tell about that. Ask him.) And that tennis outfit, I dug out of the laundry? Benicio did not need it because Noah lent him tennis whites.

Oh So Quotable in 2010

donegal- a scary person or monster who comes out at night-- Calliope

"Dads are serious, handsome, wise and tall."-- Clara

"My New Year's Solution is to learn to take my own shower and to wake up earlier."-- Benicio

"My New Year's Solution is to be a better example, and to not hit."-- Clara

"Mine is to not hit and not bite people's eyes."-- Calliope

Our Winter Break wrapped up so fast. The weekend was spent at a family party for Geoff's side. Geoff and his cousins shared dad-isms, their trademark sayings that emphasize their age and papa-ness. For example, cousin Tony's favorite, "You're a hard-headed Pollock!" This is used in consolation for an injury but is also versatile as an expression of frustration. Geoff's classic one, after tying a shoe or securing a shelf: Sigh of accomplishment followed with, "That thing's not going anywhere."

Then Sunday, we furiously scrubbed lunchbags, took backpacks to have zippers repaired, soaked coats, paired gloves. The boys presented themselves on time for the 6:58 bus. We all breathed sighs of relief, another semester, a new year!