Megan turned seven yesterday with a large piece of chocolate cake and a big dollop of ice cream! I'm so proud of what my little Goose has become and I can't wait to see what the coming year will bring! Happy Birthday, Megan!
Monday, May 7, 2012
Happy Birthday!
I take great pride in rattling off my kids' ages...last year they were 2,4,6,8 (with 4 being our missing one). This year they are 3,5,7,9. Except there is always a problem between the end of Feb (when all the other kids have had their birthdays!) and the beginning of May. Because for that short time, Megan hasn't changed over yet. Well, folks, yesterday it became official! I can now say my kids are 3,5,7 and 9. (Of course, there is the baby now, too...so that throws it all off...but I digress!)
Megan turned seven yesterday with a large piece of chocolate cake and a big dollop of ice cream! I'm so proud of what my little Goose has become and I can't wait to see what the coming year will bring! Happy Birthday, Megan!
Megan turned seven yesterday with a large piece of chocolate cake and a big dollop of ice cream! I'm so proud of what my little Goose has become and I can't wait to see what the coming year will bring! Happy Birthday, Megan!
Friday, April 13, 2012
It's A Goose!
Before Amy died, I made her several promises. One I wrote about here. Some others have taken me longer to fulfill. The two I'll mention in this post are 1) she wanted me to put some of her ashes in Lower Lake at Mt. Holyoke College (picture above) and 2) she didn't want us all sitting around crying when we talked of her. She wanted to be remembered with smiles or not at all. I easily promised the first of these, but was unsure if I could pull off the second. Turns out, these two promises are related....
When I first met Amy, we were firsties at Mt. Holyoke College. We lived right next door to each other in a dorm down on the lake. Now, in the lake there lived a sizable population of ducks. All of the ducks were mallards, except one. There was one white duck in the lake. Once, fairly early on in our first year, I was talking to Amy about something and she mentioned the swan in Lower Lake.
"What swan?" I asked.
"The white bird," she said, "the swan!"
"Amy, that isn't a swan," I replied, "It's a duck!"
After several retorts in which she insisted it was a swan, I explained that it was a domestic duck living among the mallards and that yes, normally ducks are brown (as she always thought they were), but that domestic ducks were actually white. It took some convincing, but she finally realized her mistake and we joked about it. For the rest of our time together, the punch line for every joke became, "It's a duck!" Anything we couldn't identify we would shrug and say, "It's a duck!" For graduation, I gave her a picture of the duck and I had the frame engraved with (you guessed it!) It's A Duck.
About 5 or 6 years ago, there was an article in the MHC Alumnae Quarterly about how this white duck that lived down on Lower Lake had died. It was very sad! Amy called me immediately and we laughed, sharing our memories of this duck that lived in our lake.
This is the story I shared with Erin as we went to MHC this past Friday to fulfill promise number 1 above. As we walked across the bridge to the lake, I was sharing the story and pointing out to Erin where we had lived and what fun things Amy and I had done in college. Taking Amy's ashes out of my bag, we gathered on the edge of the lake as I opened the box they are in. I was fighting back tears (breaking that second promise) as I reached in for some ashes. All of a sudden, this HUGE white bird comes charging out of the bushes and ATTACKS us! I'm NOT kidding! It came right at us, hissing and spitting and making a really ugly honking noise! It was a big-a@# GOOSE! Not knowing what to do, I flung one small handful of Amy's ashes into the lake, grabbed my child and stumbled up the small hill towards the dorm. Erin and I stood there looking at each other. We spent the next several minutes trying to put the ashes into the lake--Erin would go to one side and distract the duck and when it went after her, I would put in more ashes. When I approached the lake, it would turn away from her and come after me. Then Erin would get its attention again while I backed off and then when it went for her, I could go down to the edge again. Finally, when we had gotten enough of her ashes into the lake, we backed off for good. Geese are VERY territorial and, frankly, quite mean!! Erin and I were laughing as we were doing this and, as we crossed back over the bridge to the main part of campus, Erin said, "I don't know were Auntie Amy is right now, but I'm pretty sure she is laughing!"
Yeah, she is! Leave it to Amy to find such a creative way to help us fulfill the second promise!
Monday, April 2, 2012
It's a girl...
I haven't written about Jordan's birth yet because it had such profound implications to me and to our family. First of all, she is our final baby. We are done. I'm feeling more confident about putting that in writing because we are hopefully going to be taking steps soon to make that a permanent decision. We are done. I've had 7 pregnancies, 5 babies and 4 living kids in the past 10 years and I think my uterus is done. I know there are people out there whose uterus has done more (in some cases MUCH more), but I'm getting older and part of this choice is a somewhat selfish desire to get my body back to myself. Another part of it is our desire as a family to do more travel together and if we are always lugging an infant/toddler, that limits our choices to some extent. We are ready for the next phase of parenting (no diapers!).
But in addition to all the practical reasons to be done, we are feeling as if our family is as complete as it will be able to get. Going back a bit, I know I've written about this before, but when I was pregnant with Evan, I needed him to be a boy. Really and truly, he had to be different from his older, missing sister. The last thing I needed was for him to be a third girl and for people to say to me (or think to themselves) Well, at least Sophie has been replaced and you are all set! Evan's birth brought so much love and healing into our family, but he did NOT bring Sophie back. Duh! Fast forward three years to my husband and I walking around the block while I was in labor with Jordan. Chris and I were discussing an issue that had been an undercurrent during the whole pregnancy, but, for some reason, was the first time we spoke of it. "If this is a boy, will you still feel done?" he asked me. I couldn't answer that question. Neither could he. We would still be done, but would we still feel done? To be clear, if a boy was what had been working his way out of me at that moment, we would have been THRILLED! Evan would have been thrilled! Two older girls and two younger boys--it would have been PERFECT! But would we have felt done? Chris and I were walking down the street holding hands, about to be parents for the 5th time, facing a very difficult reality. If this baby was a boy, the bottom line was that we were never going to hold a baby girl in our arms again. The reality was that our last baby girl had died. Died...and that would never change. How could we feel complete with that reality?? We knew that boy or girl, this baby was going to be our last. And we knew that if it was a boy, we would really, truly be head over heals in love with him. AND, we knew we would have to struggle with this intense sense of loss all over again. Walking around the block with Chris, feeling mild contractions, it all swirled around us like a fog. Yes, we would be done, no, we would not feel complete...but in a different way than we currently don't feel complete...if that makes any sense.
Later that afternoon, an 8lb baby girl was placed on my chest. A baby girl. Can you believe it?? No, she absolutely did NOT bring Sophie back and she absolutely IS her own person and I will never, ever compare her to her lost sister. She is NOT a replacement. She is, however, the soul that completes our family of seven and the living being that completes our family of six. She is the baby girl we were meant to have at this time and in this space. She is the one who makes me feel landed and grounded in a way I haven't for the past 5+ years. Here I am, a mom of five making my way solidly through a world that will only ever see a mom of four. But, because of this little baby girl, I feel secure in our decision to be done. I can look back at where we were five years ago and feel truly, deeply sad for the woman (and the family) standing there, in that deep dark pit having lost an indescribably priceless treasure. I can see her, feel that sadness, and then turn around and face front. We are here, right now...because a baby girl was placed in my arms. Forward we go.
But in addition to all the practical reasons to be done, we are feeling as if our family is as complete as it will be able to get. Going back a bit, I know I've written about this before, but when I was pregnant with Evan, I needed him to be a boy. Really and truly, he had to be different from his older, missing sister. The last thing I needed was for him to be a third girl and for people to say to me (or think to themselves) Well, at least Sophie has been replaced and you are all set! Evan's birth brought so much love and healing into our family, but he did NOT bring Sophie back. Duh! Fast forward three years to my husband and I walking around the block while I was in labor with Jordan. Chris and I were discussing an issue that had been an undercurrent during the whole pregnancy, but, for some reason, was the first time we spoke of it. "If this is a boy, will you still feel done?" he asked me. I couldn't answer that question. Neither could he. We would still be done, but would we still feel done? To be clear, if a boy was what had been working his way out of me at that moment, we would have been THRILLED! Evan would have been thrilled! Two older girls and two younger boys--it would have been PERFECT! But would we have felt done? Chris and I were walking down the street holding hands, about to be parents for the 5th time, facing a very difficult reality. If this baby was a boy, the bottom line was that we were never going to hold a baby girl in our arms again. The reality was that our last baby girl had died. Died...and that would never change. How could we feel complete with that reality?? We knew that boy or girl, this baby was going to be our last. And we knew that if it was a boy, we would really, truly be head over heals in love with him. AND, we knew we would have to struggle with this intense sense of loss all over again. Walking around the block with Chris, feeling mild contractions, it all swirled around us like a fog. Yes, we would be done, no, we would not feel complete...but in a different way than we currently don't feel complete...if that makes any sense.
Later that afternoon, an 8lb baby girl was placed on my chest. A baby girl. Can you believe it?? No, she absolutely did NOT bring Sophie back and she absolutely IS her own person and I will never, ever compare her to her lost sister. She is NOT a replacement. She is, however, the soul that completes our family of seven and the living being that completes our family of six. She is the baby girl we were meant to have at this time and in this space. She is the one who makes me feel landed and grounded in a way I haven't for the past 5+ years. Here I am, a mom of five making my way solidly through a world that will only ever see a mom of four. But, because of this little baby girl, I feel secure in our decision to be done. I can look back at where we were five years ago and feel truly, deeply sad for the woman (and the family) standing there, in that deep dark pit having lost an indescribably priceless treasure. I can see her, feel that sadness, and then turn around and face front. We are here, right now...because a baby girl was placed in my arms. Forward we go.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
The Slump
We are in a bit of a homeschooling slump right now. Well, a Radical Unschooler would call it "life" and a Regular Unschooler would call it a slump while a School-At-Homer would call it just plain lazy. (And, of course, there are a thousand choices in between each of the three above!) Anyway, whether it is because of the new baby or the traveling or the nice weather, it has been a while since we have really done something "productive." That isn't to say the kids haven't done anything--they have been to Grammy and Grampy's twice, gone to the Museum of Science in Boston, done a week of camp (swimming, rock climbing, hockey, soccer, ropes courses...), and continued with all their regular activities (chess club, science class, yoga, and a new comic book drawing class). And when I see it all written out like that, it seems like a lot. To be fair, we haven't been bored!
But I feel like we are in a slump. Erin seems to be resisting all attempts to move her academic progress forward and for some reason, Megan seems to be unable to complete any projects...even the ones that SHE has chosen to do! I'm not sure if I have to change my ways and become more Teacher with them and go through the fights that ensue whenever you have a student who isn't exactly motivated to learn something that may or may not interest them, or if I have to just go with it and give them a bit of a break. It is very tempting to go with that choice, but, like all homeschooling parents, I feel the pressure to keep up...though with what, I'm not sure. Erin is well ahead of her peers in typical academic subjects, so maybe with her I just feel the pressure to continue to move forward from her particular starting point. Megan is probably above average for her grade level, but definitely not so far ahead that standing still is an option for her. Or is it? Or should it be? The Unschooler in me just trusts that my kids will learn what they need to learn when they need to learn it. The MustFitIntoNormalSociety parent in me thinks they need to be doing projects to prove mastery of a specific subject at regular intervals throughout the school year. I'm not sure who to give in to at any given moment, so lately, I've been doing nothing (except having a baby and managing a household with four kids who all, for some reason, continue to need to be fed, clothed, etc.)
The bottom line is that I don't know what the right answer is. I do believe in Unschooling--truly and deeply. And one of the biggest bottom lines in this family is that I will NOT fight my children to learn anything. If I have to yell at them or beg them or bribe them, then they are not learning whatever it is I "need" them to learn at that time. I simply won't do it. AND, in addition to that belief is the feeling that I would like to see some more forward progress from them at some point. So round and round we go on this roller coaster called homeschooling. At times we are up and learning every minute of every day and at times we are down, floundering around trying to decide how to proceed. In the end, I hope my kids will have found joy in the ride. But if they wanted to sit down tomorrow and write a book report, just for fun, that would be okay too!
But I feel like we are in a slump. Erin seems to be resisting all attempts to move her academic progress forward and for some reason, Megan seems to be unable to complete any projects...even the ones that SHE has chosen to do! I'm not sure if I have to change my ways and become more Teacher with them and go through the fights that ensue whenever you have a student who isn't exactly motivated to learn something that may or may not interest them, or if I have to just go with it and give them a bit of a break. It is very tempting to go with that choice, but, like all homeschooling parents, I feel the pressure to keep up...though with what, I'm not sure. Erin is well ahead of her peers in typical academic subjects, so maybe with her I just feel the pressure to continue to move forward from her particular starting point. Megan is probably above average for her grade level, but definitely not so far ahead that standing still is an option for her. Or is it? Or should it be? The Unschooler in me just trusts that my kids will learn what they need to learn when they need to learn it. The MustFitIntoNormalSociety parent in me thinks they need to be doing projects to prove mastery of a specific subject at regular intervals throughout the school year. I'm not sure who to give in to at any given moment, so lately, I've been doing nothing (except having a baby and managing a household with four kids who all, for some reason, continue to need to be fed, clothed, etc.)
The bottom line is that I don't know what the right answer is. I do believe in Unschooling--truly and deeply. And one of the biggest bottom lines in this family is that I will NOT fight my children to learn anything. If I have to yell at them or beg them or bribe them, then they are not learning whatever it is I "need" them to learn at that time. I simply won't do it. AND, in addition to that belief is the feeling that I would like to see some more forward progress from them at some point. So round and round we go on this roller coaster called homeschooling. At times we are up and learning every minute of every day and at times we are down, floundering around trying to decide how to proceed. In the end, I hope my kids will have found joy in the ride. But if they wanted to sit down tomorrow and write a book report, just for fun, that would be okay too!
Megan being a beaver on a recent hike in Acadia.
Super Evan down by the river.
Erin about to go night fishing in the Keys.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Erin is NINE!
We have just returned from our awesome trip to FL, but before I post pictures of that, I need to throw out our last birthday post for February...
February 27th was Erin's 9th birthday...my baby girl, the one who started it all, the one who made me a mother for the first time, turned 9. NINE...as in almost ten...as in nearly in the double digits...as in WHERE ON EARTH DID THE TIME GO???
On Erin's birthday we flew to FL and went directly to a beach. Erin promptly removed her shoes and began to run down this incredibly long and beautiful stretch of beach, right next to the water and into the wind. She was feeling totally free and so happy. She ran and ran without looking back and she apparently had no fear about how far she was going or where she might end up. Arms open wide, sand and water splashing all around her, she just radiated the joy that she was feeling at that moment. It was a beautiful scene...made all the more amusing by the fact that her father had to run 400 yards down the beach after her before she even remembered to look back. We played at the beach for over an hour and then changed into dry clothes and waited until precisely 6:33pm so that Erin could officially begin life as a 9yo on the beach. The sunset was beautiful and we headed off to my brother's house for pizza and cake. While I'm sure that easing into the double digits will not be bump-free, I'm confident that this coming year will radiate with as much joy as Erin had when she was flying so freely down the beach. I'm so lucky to be watching her grow!
Erin and her friend Nick on a hike at Acadia. Photo credit to Nick's mother who is a FAR better photographer than I am!
February 27th was Erin's 9th birthday...my baby girl, the one who started it all, the one who made me a mother for the first time, turned 9. NINE...as in almost ten...as in nearly in the double digits...as in WHERE ON EARTH DID THE TIME GO???
On Erin's birthday we flew to FL and went directly to a beach. Erin promptly removed her shoes and began to run down this incredibly long and beautiful stretch of beach, right next to the water and into the wind. She was feeling totally free and so happy. She ran and ran without looking back and she apparently had no fear about how far she was going or where she might end up. Arms open wide, sand and water splashing all around her, she just radiated the joy that she was feeling at that moment. It was a beautiful scene...made all the more amusing by the fact that her father had to run 400 yards down the beach after her before she even remembered to look back. We played at the beach for over an hour and then changed into dry clothes and waited until precisely 6:33pm so that Erin could officially begin life as a 9yo on the beach. The sunset was beautiful and we headed off to my brother's house for pizza and cake. While I'm sure that easing into the double digits will not be bump-free, I'm confident that this coming year will radiate with as much joy as Erin had when she was flying so freely down the beach. I'm so lucky to be watching her grow!
Erin and her friend Nick on a hike at Acadia. Photo credit to Nick's mother who is a FAR better photographer than I am!Sunday, February 26, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Amy
I've been trying, for some time now, to put up a post about Amy. February 12th marked one year that we have been without her presence in our lives and I'm having a hard time putting that into words. In the past year I have NOT deleted her number from my phone, deleted her address from my address book, or taken her off my email list. I don't know why. In the past year I HAVE woken up from a dead sleep to sob uncontrollably about how much I miss her, reconnected with old college friends to talk about her, seen the last Harry Potter film without her, and named a beautiful baby girl after her. I do know why I've done all those things....
Amy,
One year has gone by in which I didn't hear your voice, see your smile, or feel your touch. One year of birthdays that you didn't get to celebrate with us, one year of milestones that you didn't get to hear about, one year of jokes and accomplishments that my kids didn't get to tell you about. I could be all spiritual about it and say things like how I know you are in a better place, how I'm happy that you are no longer in pain and how everything happens for a reason...but I just don't feel those things. I miss you so much that it overwhelms me at times and I just wish you were here.
A friend of mine recently sent me a message that commented on how she admires how I live my life with gratitude and how, despite the losses our family has sustained over the past few years, we continue to move forward with joy. I guess today, I'm just not feeling that.
And so I'm off to embark on another year with you. Another year of milestones, birthdays, holidays and just plain ol' regular days...all without your smile. I know that I need to remember how lucky I am to have had you in my life for the short time I did. I know I will continue to hear your voice in the crashing of the ocean waves, see your smile in the stars, and feel your presence in every unexpected penny. And while I know, truly know, that your spirit is watching over us, while I can feel your love supporting us in tough times and wrapping around us in good times, and while I continue to find pennies in unexpected places, I still, still, find myself wishing more than anything that you were here (yes, I know I've already said that!).
I love you, Amy, and I miss you. There isn't much else to say.
Amy,
One year has gone by in which I didn't hear your voice, see your smile, or feel your touch. One year of birthdays that you didn't get to celebrate with us, one year of milestones that you didn't get to hear about, one year of jokes and accomplishments that my kids didn't get to tell you about. I could be all spiritual about it and say things like how I know you are in a better place, how I'm happy that you are no longer in pain and how everything happens for a reason...but I just don't feel those things. I miss you so much that it overwhelms me at times and I just wish you were here.
A friend of mine recently sent me a message that commented on how she admires how I live my life with gratitude and how, despite the losses our family has sustained over the past few years, we continue to move forward with joy. I guess today, I'm just not feeling that.
And so I'm off to embark on another year with you. Another year of milestones, birthdays, holidays and just plain ol' regular days...all without your smile. I know that I need to remember how lucky I am to have had you in my life for the short time I did. I know I will continue to hear your voice in the crashing of the ocean waves, see your smile in the stars, and feel your presence in every unexpected penny. And while I know, truly know, that your spirit is watching over us, while I can feel your love supporting us in tough times and wrapping around us in good times, and while I continue to find pennies in unexpected places, I still, still, find myself wishing more than anything that you were here (yes, I know I've already said that!).
I love you, Amy, and I miss you. There isn't much else to say.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
