A & B

B Running After A

A & B

Lunch Break!!

Me & the Quiet Car

Solitude

 

Today, I'm in Bethesda for a conference. Last night I put the kids to bed, kissed Michael goodbye and boarded a train. We do this train ride often - from New York to DC. But this time was different.

 

It was quiet.

 

I love being a mamma. It's just the best thing ever. I love the hugs and kisses and, in all honesty, the neediness. I love being loved. I love caring for my family. I love giving to A, B and M, anticipating their needs and creating a happy home for them. That doesn't mean it isn't exhausting, and difficult, and hard. But it's the best.

 

That said, I guess I didn't realize how badly I needed this time alone. I have spent the entire day avoiding my work and spending as much time sitting quietly, taking care of myself, as possible. I went for a walk during our morning break. I walked around a strip mall during lunch, then sat with the Wall Street Journal and a sandwich before our next session began. As soon as the last session ended, I bolted for a yoga studio 15 minutes from the hotel and took a 90-minute hot, sweaty yoga class.

 

And it has been so, so good.

 

 

As soon as I entered the yoga studio, I felt myself ask, "Why is it so hard to find the time for this?" Why is it so hard for us to eek out time for ourselves, away from the family, without rushing from one thing to the next? The demands on our time these days far surpass the number of hours in a day. But that can't be an excuse. Because nothing in our situation is going to change in the next few years. We won't all the sudden have 30 hours in a day, or have a baby who can entertain himself. There is nothing in the equation of our demanding lives that will offer up a few hours a week to listen to our bodies and minds to give us the space to care for who we are.

 

I've had - and continue to have - all kinds of strategies and dreams in my head about how to make this happen. Michael and I could each have one night a week when we don't have to be home for dinner. We could trade off early mornings in the office, or at the gym. I could find some sort of Alice-and-me yoga class.

 

All these options are viable, but so hard to manage in the chaos of our lives. But I'm holding on to these resolutions, praying that we can find some time for both of us to have this space. I know Michael needs it as much as I do.

Kids

Family

Barrow Discovers Sand!

Clouds & Beaches

Minnie

Minnie, Michael's grandmother, died this week. She was 86, and had been in poor health for a while. It was expected, and remains insanely sad. We are experiencing her death as a loss - not necessarily unjust, as she had lived a long and meaningful life, but her absence will be profound.

(Will be. I'm not yet willing to admit that it already is.)

Minnie and I clicked immediately. I've been thinking about why that was, why she was so good to me and why I loved her dearly. Why we were connected almost instantly? I think, above all, it was because she knew how much I loved her grandson.

Minnie loved to tell me about how, when Michael was little, he had beautiful, long eyelashes (which thankfully Alice inherited) and sweet blonde ringlets; how, at parties when other people wanted to hold him, she refused to share him. She loved him intensely and immediately.

We had a special goodbye. Michael and I were visiting with her. She, laying in her bed, was not completely coherent. She was saying something about our family, listing our names in a type of mantra. And then, as we were about to say goodbye, she had a moment of clarity and said to me, "It's been fun. Thank you. I love you." I gave her a series of kisses, because I didn't have it in me to say goodbye. And then I told her we loved her so much. And we left.

Since she's left us, I've been saying to her, "I'll take care of him. I'll take care of him. I'll take care of him."

I'll take care of him, Minnie. We love you. It has been fun.

Where We Are

Oh my little loves! My sweet Bear Bear, my sweet Goose! We had an amazing weekend - our first hiking trip as a family to Bear Mountain, sponsored in part by Grandma and Grandpa who are lending us their car for the month. We've been taking advantage - a trip to Bethlehem, to Bear Mountain, and next weekend to Rehoboth. It's been great having a so much quality family time, and we've all been happy about it.

Some things we want to remember about this time in our lives:

Alice, on our hike yesterday, Daddy taught you how to read the trail blazes. You immediately took charge. You said, "I'll be the leader, Daddy, and you can be the Helper Leader." You love to be a Baby Elephant. This can be exhausting, but it's important and healthy and all that goodness. You're still so good at being complementary, telling people how they have a pretty shirt or nice shoes. Today you told me, "Shoes don't make me beautiful. I make me beautiful." You adore merry-go-rounds.

Barrow, you are all smiles. All smiles. You are just a totally happy little man. You love your sweet sister, and can't stand to be alone. You are as happy as happy can be. You don't get nearly enough sleep, and can never get enough food. You literally jump up and down at the chance to eat something. Alice loves to make you laugh -- tonight at bedtime she rubbed her head into your belly to make you laugh over and over and over.

We love you both more than anything every!!

Love,
Mommy

Family!

The Village

Here is what it is taking us to make it through this week:

- Michael

- Me

- Our Nanny

- My Mom

- Our Cleaning Lady

- Our Babysitter

The demands on our time are insane this week. Thankfully, we have a village of loved ones who can help. 

Straight from Facebook

Today we went to the Bertrand Delacroix Gallery in Chelsea to see Frederico Infante's work, "Little Girl Red," inspired by our muse Alice. We had the good fortune of running into the artist himself, and he and the gallery staff were incredible. The painting is already sold and I'm so thankful we had the chance to see our girl immortalized in this way --- it was a really moving experience. What a life. 

Big Kids

Mornings

Wake up at 5:30 because Barrow needs a new diaper and a snack. Cuddle and put the little one back in bed. Work until 7:15. Hop into the shower and clean myself up. Finish in the bathroom and discover Alice on the couch, waiting patiently to read a book, or have a snack, or cuddle. Prepare and serve breakfast for us. Barrow wakes and joins us, usually sitting on the kitchen floor. Michael usually gets ready as we dine. Pack up lunches and get dressed for work. Realize I played with the kids too long and stress about getting out the door. Kiss Barrow, Alice and Michael goodbye. Tell everyone to have a good day. Walk out the door, hearing Alice yell, "Have a good day, Mamma! Love you!"

The Weekend in Pictures

A & B

Community

Last week, I decided to wean Barrow. I'm still tormented by this decision - Barrow seems to be allergic to something I've been eating, and since eliminating milk, soy and eggs didn't make his symptoms disappear, the doctors said it was time to let go. I question this decision at every feeding, and likely won't ever make peace with it. But one thing happened this week to help me begin to let go: I gifted my stockpile of frozen breast milk.

After experiencing the challenge of working with Alice and nursing her for a year, I was pretty aggressive at building up a store of frozen milk for Barrow before I went back to work. Consequently I had about 300 oz. frozen in our fridge.

All of which the doctor said I couldn't use for Barrow.

I couldn't bear to see that "liquid gold" go to waste, so I sent a post on one of our parent listserves offering up the supply to anyone who needed it. I doubted I would have any takers, but I was wrong. A woman who had a double mastectomy and is expecting a baby girl in June took my offer.

She came to our house on Tuesday night, excited to be picking up one of her first supplies for the baby. We were both nervous, not really sure of the protocol for this kind of exchange. And then, almost from out of nowhere, it was emotional and meaningful beyond words. She said thank you. I didn't know what to say. We hugged. She told us she would tell us when her baby arrives. I offered more, as I have more as we wean. And then - in a flurry - she left.

I've been so moved by this experience. The community of women. That this is how it should be - women helping women. The idea that another baby will be nourished from my body. That there are women who love their babies as much as I do who never have the chance to nurse. That I've been so lucky to take this for granted. That, in this day when charity is almost always removed from the people you want to help, to be in touch with someone so deeply. That, in a situation where you often feel so utterly helpless, you can actually help. It's been profound.

I'm so grateful.