Saturday, September 20, 2008

Starting the rounds




I've been up since 6:30am... no matter that it's a weekend. After taking the last of the soccer gear, (countless pairs of black socks and black shorts) out of the dryer, I begin to fill water bottles. I just dropped Kaleigh off at the highschool to catch the bus to her varsity game, over an hour away. Fitz and I will spend the day tag teaming, getting the rest of the crew to their various games in various towns. I have boy duty today... Charlie's game is about 40 minutes away, and we lucked out... Pipo and E.J.'s game is on the way home, just off the highway. Fitz will be doing TigerCub duty with Tommy and trekking Margaret to the next town over. And so go our Saturdays.

Why do we do it? We both work hard all week, why spend what could be a rare day off shuffling from one field to another, rushing them all from one game to the next? It would be easy to say we love it, but I'll admit there are those mornings we definitely don't. It would be easy to say the kids love it, and I am pretty sure they do. But the reality is, this is one piece of the puzzle of living in a large family.

I want my kids to be able to do anything they want. But the reality is, 7 kids on a teachers salary doesn't put us in that position. And it's not just money... it's time. If 7 kids were doing 7 different activities, there just wouldn't be time enough in the day, or the week to get them all where they need to be. Soccer is such a great sport... it allows them to be with friends, develop skills, stay fit, learn teamwork and determination... but most of all, it's inexpensive and convenient. Many of them practice on the same field. The schedule is organized with families of multiple children in mind... the games are all staggered throughout the day.

And with that thought... I will load up the van. Game on!

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Vertical





Emma is loving second grade and learning all kinds of new things. Apparently, the new word she has learned is "Vertical". And in only the way that 7 year old minds can work, this morning she said "I'm going to find everything that's vertical. What's vertical? Telephone poles are vertical!" Do you know how many telephone poles we pass on our ride to school? 8,472 of them. I know, because that is exactly how many times Emma shouted "VERTICAL!" on our way to school this morning.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

First day of ?



For 11 years now, I have been a stay at home mom. None of our kids have gone to preschool, so they were home full time until kindergarten. Tommy had his first day of kindergarten last week, and there were no tears, not even a misty eye here. It was exhilarating driving away that morning... knowing I had done a good job, shown all my little chicks their wings and taught them to fly.

Pipo and E.J.'s school had not started yet though, so I was still home with them. Today, the boys went off to school with Fitz and I drove the other 5 off to their respective schools, and after a quick doctor's appointment for Kaleigh, I came home to an empty house. After 11 years, I wondered what emotions would be going through my head at this moment. The strongest one was the most unexpected. Not joy, not exhilaration, not sadness, or wistfulness... it was depression. I sit here now wondering who I am all of a sudden. For all these years I have fully embraced the role of "mom". It was who I was.

Now I am fully aware that I am still a mom, but for 6 hours a day now I need to redefine myself. I will be substitute teaching this year, and I know once I get started, I will feel once more like the teacher I was many years ago. But today I have no role... no purpose. It's a hard feeling to sit here with.

I am beyond excited to see who my kids are turning out to be. No sadness here about days gone by, no more babies. But who am I turning out to be? What have these 11 years given me? Who is going to show me my wings?

People always told me I would probably cry when my youngest went off to school. I always laughed at that, and said "no, not me!" But they were right. I just had no idea why I would be crying. It's not the loss of the babies and toddlers... it's the loss of myself.


* * * * * * * *

And on that note, I am going to pirate a cartoon of my brother's... I only wish it was this easy...



Thanks Jim.

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Hunger



We had stopped home for just the night last week, before catching our flight for the West Coast. Fitz had cleaned out the refrigerator while we were away,and it was completely empty so we ordered some pizza for dinner. When it arrived (our usual 2 large cheese, one large meatball) I called the kids up to eat. Pipo was absorbed in the television, and did not come up right away. When he did, the meatball pizza, his favorite, was gone. He came to me very unhappy. I was in the middle of sorting clothes and packing for 9, and had no patience for crying over lack of meatballs. There was plenty of cheese pizza left. I sent him outside to Fitz, who was doing schoolwork on his laptop out on the porch. I continued with my packing, and eventually sent all the other kids up to bed. When Fitz came in later, he told me that Pipo had cried outside for over an hour about that meatball pizza.

My initial reaction was impatience and anger. We were doing all this work to take a great trip, and treated the kids to pizza to make things easier, and this is his reaction? Then Fitz told me another part of the story. When we had arrived home that night, Pipo did the first thing he always does... he went and opened the refrigerator. I didn't think much of it at the time. I knew it was empty, and I told the kids that we would be getting pizza. We didn't need to shop because we would be gone for the week.

Now though, I thought about exactly what this meant to our son. Every time he comes home form anywhere, he looks in the refrigerator. Fitz does this too, and I thought it was just a 'guy thing'. But for Pipo, the need to look in that refrigerator is so much greater. He spent so much of his young life hungry, and he needs to know that there is food available. Even 2 and a half years down the road, he still doesn't always trust that the food will be there.

Before bringing Pipo home, I read everything I could find on adopting older children. There has been much written about food issues, and I myself had taught Russian orphans who had food stealing and hoarding issues. We prepared ourselves for this, and when Pipo arrived, we treated him as the 'new baby' in the house, feeding on demand. I cooked a lot of spaghetti and hot dogs those first few months. We talked to the school about it, sent in lots of snacks and assured him that he could take breaks to eat any time he wanted. it definitely worked, and we never saw any of the major food issues that we had read about.

This pizza incident brought home the fact though, that early food deprivation scars run deep. As Pipo has gotten older, more stories about Haiti come out. He has told us that being so sick wasn't always bad, because at least in the hospital he knew he would get food. At home with his grandmother he couldn't always count on that. I look back at those early pictures of him and see the distended belly, and it breaks my heart to realize how malnourished he was. And I know now, that checking the refrigerator is not a habit... it is a deep internal need that all the love and assurance in the world won't erase.

We bring children into our hearts and homes, and at times we think all our love and affection, and the 'things' we can give them will eventually "fix" all those wounds. But some wounds run so very deep. Some will always be with them. We can do our best to ease them, and help them cope with them, but we will never erase them. The past is something that can't be erased.

* * * * * *

On the same note, please join me in praying for Haiti. The damage cause by hurricane Gustav has just made things so much worse for the people there. Roads have been washed out, crops destroyed and people who have suffered hunger most of their lives are now in an even more desperate situation.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Back from beyond

Another month has past without a new post, but not for lack of things to write about. Simply for lack of time to write. All told we ended up spending close to 6 weeks at camp this summer, which the kids couldn't have been happier about. At the end, it was incredibly difficult to leave. How do you say goodbye to a place you have come to call home? How do you say goodbye to people you have lived with, laughed with, cried with for such a stretch of time? How do you say goodbye to those same people who have loved and cared for your children as their own? We are just thankful to know what a huge place Windsor Mountain has become in our hearts and that it will stay a major part of our summers in years to come.

We left camp to spend another wonderful week on Cape Cod with family and friends, and then ended our summer with an enormous bang, flying out to the West Coast for the wedding of Shannon, our oldest niece. All 9 of us on a plane, it was quite an experience. The wedding was amazing, held at a gorgeous vineyard outside of Portland, OR. But after the wedding, we spent a few days in one of the most beautiful places I've seen... Manzanita. What a perfect way to end a perfect summer. All 9 of us together, with bonfires on the beach, long lazy breakfasts, and fulfilling Charlie's life long dream, learning to surf!

I have so much in my head, I will try to be posting more in the near future. But as soon as the plane landed in Logan, we were back to reality... school, soccer and all the scheduling that goes with it. So for now, we will look back at the pictures, and remember the magic.



Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Summer



It's been almost a month since I've posted, almost a month since I have been home. Our 10 days at camp stretched into 2 weeks, which quickly became 3. We drove straight from camp to the Cape for a few days of R&R before we head back to camp this weekend. I have been splitting my time at camp between the HMO (infirmary) and the kitchen. My time in the kitchen is worthy of an entire post of it's own, and when I have the time and energy in the next few days, I'll do just that.

But the busyness of my days has kept me way from my camera, and I haven't been able to capture the pure magic this summer has been for our kids. I haven't been able to capture the way they have been consumed by independence, even little Tommy running off in the morning at the sound of the bell, eager to start a new day. Or the way E.J. has broken out of his shell, volunteering for a 3 day trip to rural Maine to perform original plays at local libraries. Or how Margaret was so determined to improve her swimming that she took swim class every rotation and was able to pass through two levels. Or how Pipo impressed all the boys from Spain with his header goal in the last minutes of the soccer game. Or how Charlie took a short break from playing sports each and every period to sign up for Japanese lessons (or could it have been because of the cute little 8yo Japanese camper?) Or how Emma immersed herself so much into the girls side of camp she was surrounded by teary friends on the day we left.

I am sad I wasn't behind my camera to capture all these moments, but I know in my heart that my trusty old Canon wouldn't have done them justice. Even the most advanced of cameras can't capture the magic we have seen in the last month. We will head back to camp this weekend, and I will try to break free of my duties a bit and snap a few pictures, but the magic that can't be captured will live on in the hearts of all my kids. They are truly having a summer out of childhood fantasies.

Although we haven't seen Kaleigh in almost a month as well, I am sure that she is experiencing just as much if not more of the magic that the rest of us are. We spoke with her on Saturday, and it was clear that this has been the trip of a lifetime for her. As much as we miss her, I am incredibly thankful that she had this opportunity, and we can't wait to see her next week!

Time

Tomhand_10

There is nothing that magnifies the passage of time

Like that of a youngest child

Every time he holds my hand

I fear it will be the last