I regret having let a couple of months pass without documenting the small things that truly do make up a couple of amazing little lives. But at the same time, it's just as hard to waste time (when I finally find some) on laments, vs. rushing to fill the gaps.
Today, I feel the sour taste of our upcoming big cross-country move. Today was Thanksgiving - and such a very, very good one. Watching the kids among family took away a lot of stress and almost eliminated the ongoing little wheels of daily worries in my head. The day went well - one of those (uncommon) days when everything works out just right; Jack takes a three-hour morning nap ahead of the party while I have a chance to cook without hurry and having to track down an almost-mobile enthusiastic 15-month-old. I've also reached a point within the last couple of weeks of not having time or energy to fret over irrelevant things and am actually finding it easier to relax when I can. So this afternoon was almost picture-perfect, with food and family and catching up and watching the kids act so well-adjusted and be so loved.
Among the daily noise, to distill a deep emotion is hard; but in step with the spirit of the holiday, I'd like to tell myself how grateful I am. I've ran ragged this last year; but even during the most difficult days, I can look back and know that I have not lost an ability to focus on a split moment of a day and feel gratitude and a wordless, ephemeral 'thank you' when I catch a sight of Maya's lit-up face; or when Jack breaks into one of his extra-goofy grins, so wide that he has to shut his eyes to allow the ecstasy onto the rest of his face; or a sweet, heartbreaking hug out of nowhere, the feel of Jack's cheek on my chest as he grows tired and tucks himself into me... I would readily volunteer that my life is far from perfect, but on days like this, I can't bring myself to dig up the usual familial junk, and instead truly want to just pack my heart tight with memories of light and laughter and the kids' smiles.
Jack's illness, like absolutely nothing else in my life, has, since its first moment of arrival, without mercy brought down a lesson of instant appreciation. For every moment gone right. For every unexpected act of kindness from my kids. For their strong love for each other, even at such a tender age. For the soft breathing I get when checking on them late at night. For how they mend their parents' grown-up relationship with all its undone pieces.
My kids confirm to me that my life ambition is not about proving myself or improving myself; it's about doing right, doing well no matter what the 'doing' is - managing multi-million dollar projects or cooking Jack's baby food late in the night. My kids give me my discipline and drive me to shed any preconceived notions about what or who I need to be. I am without a question a better person because of them.
My dear little ones: I'm short on words to let you know how infinite my sense of gratitude is for you. The gift of both of you feels just like grace... completely undeserved and utterly amazing. I pray for your health; for your faith; for your character; for your passion and interests; for your future families; for my relationship with you for the rest of our lives. I love you - such small words compared to how large I feel about you.
November 24, 2011
August 26, 2011
Simply Happy Birthday - my letter to Jack
My sweet little buddy:
Two days ago, we celebrated your first birthday.
In a traditional sense, it was not really much of a celebration! Life had you spend the day @ the school (although I did go cross-down the day before to make sure you little guys had your share of tiny chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting from Whole Foods...), and just as I was leaving the office to find the rest of you, my family, and celebrate, my car broke down in the parking lot and all of you had to spend your evening rescuing me. We attempted to atone for the non-celebration by letting you feed yourself some chocolate cake, which you happily did - and we hand-washed you afterwards.
However, I'm not disappointed in any turn of events on your birthday (somehow I also know that neither are you! Not yet anyway...). Simply for the fact that the main part of the day, the celebration singing high in my soul, drenching tears from my eyes all day was that YOU were with us - that this you, this tiny ball of life, were so happy and so blissfully ignorant of the reason for my high emotions.
I have relived your birthday, a year ago, almost to the minute, when away from you, in the middle of usual and mundane. The un-happening of the induction by the late morning from the night before; the decision to proceed with C-section; the whirlwind that followed and the miracle of hearing you @ 2:14 in the afternoon. I relived, also, all the days that were to come after your birth. The sharp, clean, sterile smell of Le Bonheur NICU; the undying shrill of multiple monitors, in your room and countless others; the quiet voice of Dr. Knott-Craig the day before the surgery; the endless wait during your open-heart and small frequent updates from the OR; the first sight of you after your surgery in CVICU, your little mouth open in your anesthesia sleep and unending lines and monitors; the soft waterfall 'whoosh' of your oxygen generator in the NICU... memories so present and fresh, and yet so far removed.
Through your Adventures of Jack, I have learned the painful vulnerability that will probably never leave. The ability to look at my children and fear. The heartbreak of thousands of parents faced with scenarios far worse than ours. The usual glamour and glitz of pregnancy and cute baby circuit shattered by the crossing of the threshold of a Children's Hospital.
Don't get me wrong, Jack-o. I look at you, I feel your small but vigorous strength, and I know you are an undeniable survivor.
Two days ago, we celebrated your first birthday.
In a traditional sense, it was not really much of a celebration! Life had you spend the day @ the school (although I did go cross-down the day before to make sure you little guys had your share of tiny chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting from Whole Foods...), and just as I was leaving the office to find the rest of you, my family, and celebrate, my car broke down in the parking lot and all of you had to spend your evening rescuing me. We attempted to atone for the non-celebration by letting you feed yourself some chocolate cake, which you happily did - and we hand-washed you afterwards.
However, I'm not disappointed in any turn of events on your birthday (somehow I also know that neither are you! Not yet anyway...). Simply for the fact that the main part of the day, the celebration singing high in my soul, drenching tears from my eyes all day was that YOU were with us - that this you, this tiny ball of life, were so happy and so blissfully ignorant of the reason for my high emotions.
I have relived your birthday, a year ago, almost to the minute, when away from you, in the middle of usual and mundane. The un-happening of the induction by the late morning from the night before; the decision to proceed with C-section; the whirlwind that followed and the miracle of hearing you @ 2:14 in the afternoon. I relived, also, all the days that were to come after your birth. The sharp, clean, sterile smell of Le Bonheur NICU; the undying shrill of multiple monitors, in your room and countless others; the quiet voice of Dr. Knott-Craig the day before the surgery; the endless wait during your open-heart and small frequent updates from the OR; the first sight of you after your surgery in CVICU, your little mouth open in your anesthesia sleep and unending lines and monitors; the soft waterfall 'whoosh' of your oxygen generator in the NICU... memories so present and fresh, and yet so far removed.
Through your Adventures of Jack, I have learned the painful vulnerability that will probably never leave. The ability to look at my children and fear. The heartbreak of thousands of parents faced with scenarios far worse than ours. The usual glamour and glitz of pregnancy and cute baby circuit shattered by the crossing of the threshold of a Children's Hospital.
Don't get me wrong, Jack-o. I look at you, I feel your small but vigorous strength, and I know you are an undeniable survivor.
August 20, 2011
Vin Diesel
Jack started going to our daycare on 7/25/11. Despite my almost disabling fear, he was not immediately struck with any number of various kiddo viruses, and my prayer is that it continues this way!
He does well in school (he's definitely having less trouble taking naps in school than did Maya when she first started - whether that's attributed to his more laid-back personality, or some changes in the Nursery II room since Maya was there, hard to tell). In a recent development, however, Allan has informed me that Jack has earned himself a nickname from his teachers. Of all things... Vin Diesel? Apparently our teachers believe Jack bears an uncanny resemblance to The Fast and The Furious hero.
This has prompted me to investigate Vin Diesel's official Facebook page (and seventeen hundren profile photos generously included there), after which I had to come to the conclusion that indeed, my little man's bold profile does indeed resemble Vin.
I hold out hope, however, that with appearance of *any* hair (any time now...) Jack will emerge as a star all his own...
He does well in school (he's definitely having less trouble taking naps in school than did Maya when she first started - whether that's attributed to his more laid-back personality, or some changes in the Nursery II room since Maya was there, hard to tell). In a recent development, however, Allan has informed me that Jack has earned himself a nickname from his teachers. Of all things... Vin Diesel? Apparently our teachers believe Jack bears an uncanny resemblance to The Fast and The Furious hero.
This has prompted me to investigate Vin Diesel's official Facebook page (and seventeen hundren profile photos generously included there), after which I had to come to the conclusion that indeed, my little man's bold profile does indeed resemble Vin.
I hold out hope, however, that with appearance of *any* hair (any time now...) Jack will emerge as a star all his own...
Jack makes two (in the bath)...
Jack's stellar sitting skills allowed recently for a sizeable step in reducing evening routine time - there are now two 'rubber duckies' in the batch each night. :) In my world, saving roughly twenty minutes on a daily basis counts for major brownie points.
I'll have those brownies now, thanks.
I'll have those brownies now, thanks.
July 31, 2011
July 29, 2011
But I want you now...
Sometimes my kids leave me speechless in the 'everything's right with the world' kind of way.
I called home late yesterday, from our office in Oregon, to check in. Allan said Maya wanted to talk to me, and handed her the phone... "Mama?" she said. "Are you here?" No, buddy, I'm not 'here' yet. "But I want you!" Oh, sweet buddy. I know. I'll be home tomorrow. "But I want you now! I see an airplane... Are you in the airplane?" It's not *my* airplane, buddy. I'll be back as soon as I can. "I miss you, Mama."
Blinking away tears, here.
Allan said she saw a helicopter while playing in the pool, and rushed the backyard, her little naked self, shouting "Mama is coming!". And repeated that for every plane she saw.
Today, she's hardly let me go, very sweet and affectionate. Seeing Jack-man was stupendous, too... boy, I want to can this feeling of elation and OK-ness...
I called home late yesterday, from our office in Oregon, to check in. Allan said Maya wanted to talk to me, and handed her the phone... "Mama?" she said. "Are you here?" No, buddy, I'm not 'here' yet. "But I want you!" Oh, sweet buddy. I know. I'll be home tomorrow. "But I want you now! I see an airplane... Are you in the airplane?" It's not *my* airplane, buddy. I'll be back as soon as I can. "I miss you, Mama."
Blinking away tears, here.
Allan said she saw a helicopter while playing in the pool, and rushed the backyard, her little naked self, shouting "Mama is coming!". And repeated that for every plane she saw.
Today, she's hardly let me go, very sweet and affectionate. Seeing Jack-man was stupendous, too... boy, I want to can this feeling of elation and OK-ness...
July 15, 2011
Brother, sister
A couple of days ago, I'm waking up Maya for school. She's *quite* sleepy, starting to work on the eye-opening process, and is as 'out' as they make them... suddenly through her fog, I get her first question of the morning, all raspy and sleepy: "Is Jack up?" Me: "No, buddy, he's still asleep." Intending to prove me wrong as early as he can, Jack loudly signals himself at that very moment. Maya sheds all her deep-sleep state, shoots straight out of bed and, running down the hall to his room, throws me "Mama, you stay there, I'll help Jack!".
That little boy's got one cool sister.
That little boy's got one cool sister.
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