Our Boys

I can remember the day so clearly.  My best friend, Jen, had told me she was going to find out whether she was expecting a little boy or girl and that she’d let me know as soon as she left the doctor. I was at work and checked my phone a dozen times.  I finally texted her a pink heart, a blue heart, and a question mark, unable to wait any longer.  After a bit she texted back a blue heart and then right after that she said, “I hope that you’re okay with it.”  And with that my heart broke a little.  Here she was on one of the most exciting days of her life and she was worried about my feelings; I hated myself a little for that.  I hated that I had let my grief push its way to the forefront of yet another amazing moment and it wasn’t even my moment.  I quickly responded, “OF COURSE it’s okay!” And truly, it was. But I would be lying if I didn’t say it hurt something awful too.   The hurt wasn’t born of jealously-not an ounce of that-but that our beautiful baby boys would never play together; that we would never take a picture of them together and look back at it in wonder that they’d ever been that little, as there is no doubt in my mind that Jen and I will grow old together.  

I love me some Oliver; we all do.  Sean gets such a kick out of him and Kennedy has loved him like her own baby brother from the moment she first held him.  And so I was feeling pretty sad that we didn’t get to make a vacation happen with them the way with did last summer and so I made plans to head to Boston for a day or two with Carter since K would be at gymnastics camp.  

So after Kennedy’s first week of camp we made a visit to Long Island.  It was filled with family, boat rides, and pool days.  It was great and needed but all of it was overshadowed by the fact that my baby boy looked at me, while I was putting on makeup to head to a bridal shower and said, “Mama.”  I swear to God I almost cried ever drop of mascara I’d just applied. To hear that sound come from the mouth of a little boy has been something my heart has been desperate to hear for the last three and a half years.  He is a snuggly, mushy little mama’s boy (which I mean in the most affectionate way) and he soothes my soul in ways I can’t begin to put into words. It was a great long weekend but it took its toll on the little girl and so we skipped camp this week.  

I went back and forth about bringing her with us but decided not to, which she was not thrilled with me about.  The thing is, it would make it a very different visit and I felt like I needed it to be low key and low maintenance, neither of which describes my fiery, wild-haired girl.  She was entertained by her grandparents and did just fine through FaceTime calls and some whining.  The little man and me?  We did just fine too.  

The second we arrived to Jen and I saw Oliver’s little face light up as he shouted over the pouring rain, “Hi Baby!” I was done.  Jen parked the car for me and I made my way up the stairs holding one boy in my arms and the hand of the other as he chatted to me.  The second we walked through the door Oliver directed us to sit on the floor and he talked Carter, showing off all of his bog boy moves.  Carter was enthralled by him, laughing and trying to mimic the sounds and clapping.  Separated by one year and one day, they had not yet met face to face as life just got in the way, but they acted like old friends instantly (except when poor Oliver got close enough for a fistful of hair from the Ultimate Hair-Puller). Watching them, my heart was literally fluttering.  Though in this scenario Oliver was the big boy and Carter the baby, my brain allowed my heart to remind me he would have been sandwiched between my boys in a different life and I smiled to myself thinking of the noise level with three and how they’d have been thick as thieves. Just like that, our boys were together.  And it was everything I needed it be all of these years.  

We had a great visit that ended too quickly but we had a little girl that missed us and wanted us (mostly “her baby”) back home and so we got one last picture of the little men together and headed back to New York.

We decided to add another big milestone to month ten for Carter and took him to get his first haircut. While the mullet has always made me laugh I find it less funny on the heads of my children and so I thought a good trim was in order.  I went off the suggestion of a friend and brought him to an honest-to-God Barber Shop in the town next door; the kind where the barber’s were sitting outside waiting for men in need of some grooming.  A guy that could have been Sean’s doppelgänger was “up” and instantly started talking to Carter, making him feel at ease and let him touch the buzzer and combs.  My big guy- my last baby- he never fussed or cried once.  And though every snip of his baby hair’s made me want to scream STOP!!  I knew it was really Time I wanted to stop and not this sweet man cutting his hair.  In a month and a half he will be One and I’m just not ready to be there yet. So he is still my baby.  My baby with a pretty damn cute ‘do. 

As if there just wasn’t enough emotion coursing through my veins as we got in the car Kennedy asked why we were taking Carter’s hair home in a bag.  I explained that we’d done the same for her and that I had a special box to put it in.  Naturally, her mind always loops in Jack when I say “my kids” and so she asked, “Did you keep Jackie’s hair too?”  I could barely breath but managed to squeak out “No” as the tears started welling up behind my sunglasses.  When she asked why, I couldn’t give her a good answer because I was too busy asking myself the same question Why?! Why didn’t I ask them for a lock of his hair? He'd had so much.  It was dark blond and it was beautiful and I suddenly wanted to touch it more than anything in the world.  Grief is funny that way; it comes out at unexpected times and swallows you up.  And so, as I do whenever my heart calls out for Jack, I did my best to take in every second of time with his baby brother and sister, believing that he lives through them.

My summer vacation is winding down with my return to work starting in August.  Time off never feels like enough but there has been some pretty good moments to carry my through until our beach vacation down south the end of August.  Until then, I will soak in the sun and the chaos.  You do the same, my friends. 

Behind the Curtain

The Wizard of Oz knew what was up.  He had this whole land of everything beautiful and shiny, with all of these happy little people singing-it looked like a good setup albeit there was a witch hanging around making things messy here and there.  Now it’s only at the end that we see “The Great and Powerful Oz” for what he was, this bumbling, fumbling, frazzled guy behind the curtain trying to keep up the charade that he had all of his shit under control, a.k.a. he was just the parent of Oz.  Things behind the curtain didn’t look as pretty and his tough guy act melted away pretty quickly but it was real, man.  I had nine glorious days off from work for February break full of family visits, and friends, and plenty of behind the curtain moments. 

My cousin and his family rolled into town the first weekend for their yearly visit; I think we are on year five now.  We packed in a lot of fun stuff, which was well received by all of the kids, which, trust me, is a huge deal.  There was swimming, slides, sledding, and horses and a ton of smiles.  It was easy to revel in how much fun they were having and smile along with them.  Don’t be fooled by this rosy picture I’ve painted for you, friends.  Behind the curtain there were plenty of meltdowns, bickering, empty mom-threats, tears, time-outs, and words spoken through gritted parent-teeth.  The good far outweighed the bad and it was another visit that makes you look forward to the next one.

We tried to lay low for the few days we had in between the visit and the trip we had planned to go out to Boston to see our friends.  Of course plans being what they are, I ended up cleaning the whole house, top to bottom-floor trim and all, with the exception of our bedroom, which is like a vortex of disorder in an otherwise pretty orderly place. This was all in preparation for an interview with the local newspaper about Jack’s Herd and Jack’s story.  I was equal parts nervous and excited but I felt like the house looked good and we even managed to make it outside to enjoy the gorgeous, freak weather we got in February in the northeast.  Kindergarten paperwork showed up for Kennedy and I died a little.  As I snapped a picture of it to send to Sean, when I went back to look at it and saw her playing in the background, drawing on the driveway in chalk it was clear I am the only one that isn’t ready for this- my little one is not so little anymore.  The interview went great, until the photographer that came along wanted a picture that required us to be at the computer in our room and just like that, the curtain was pulled back and the chaos was exposed.  We were able to laugh it off, but my God that was mortifying.

Friday we made our way to our favorite city to see one of our favorite families.  We’ve always loved spending time with Jen and Andrew but now their little guy Oliver is just icing on the cake.  You could just mush him for days- those cheeks were made for kisses.  Every time Kennedy would groan, “He is adawww-wable,” we would laugh but whole-heartedly agree.  We again soaked up the still amazingly warm weather going to the parks sans coats-willing Mother Nature to give us more. We went to Disney on Ice’s “Dare to Dream” with the little lady, and since we’ve seen about 5 of these shows and consider ourselves connoisseurs of character themed ice-capades, I feel confident in telling you this was a good one.  As we made our way to our seats somehow was managed to sit in the right row but the wrong end.  We didn’t realize it until 15 minutes in.  We were right at the end of the “stage” and so every time the performers came in or out we could see them behind the curtain, quite literally.  So my kid would excitedly scream the characters name before they even came out for everyone else to see.  As I looked around I realized we were the only people that were that far over that didn’t work at the arena and so we check the seats against the tickets and made our way to our much better, closer to center-stage seats.  The excitement on her face literally made my eyes fill with tears (and this made me feel like my mother-in-law) and I’m pretty sure Sean’s eyes filled with tears as he repeatedly shelled out money for a light-up wand, cotton candy and the ridiculous Dory hat that came with it and everything else Kennedy “needed”-but when she genuinely thanked him and kissed his cheek I knew she could have gotten way more out of the guy.  It was a great weekend but behind the curtain there was four-year-old sassiness that was awfully embarrassing at times, a painful moment where a well-meaning stranger inquired about my kids and how many I had, and how old they were where I had to figure out how I could avoid the awkwardness and tears and yet still do right by Jack, and running through the park as the warm sky finally gave way to rain that Kennedy yelled at and blamed Sean for.

It’s messy behind the curtain, people.  The curtain comes in all different shapes: a smile, perfect Instagram photos that leave out the tears and refused “cheeses”, the clean house but terribly messy bedroom.  It’s ok to keep the curtain pulled but just don’t forget that after the wizard was exposed for what he was: an overwhelmed, exhausted guy just trying to keep the show going- he was able to slow down and breathe and actually get the job done. 

We’ve got a lot going on behind the curtain over here these days but that’s for another time.