I Know What They’re Saying – Just Sayin’

I can remember a few times from my youth when I was truly embarrassed by my Mom.  I can also remember vividly the rantings of my Dad when he would inadvertently become a listener to “my” music via radio or television.  This of course would be the music that WASN’T polkas, or country/western (not to be confused with “today’s country music”).  Once during a television performance (don’t ask me what show) by a particular group of 5 siblings, my Dad, rather than just getting up to change the channel or better yet leaving to room until their song was over since, ya’ know, you’re up now anyway, commented “Do you even know what they’re SAYING?!?!?!” and I said “Yes.”  “Well what would that be?”, he demanded and under such pressure all I could think of to answer was “OOOOH!”  In all fairness, there are a lot of ‘oooohs’ in their music, just sayin’.

Well, yesterday while out with two of my children getting school shoes and waiting (and waiting, and waiting) for customer service at the store, a song from one of my favorite groups in my early adulthood came on.  I began to sway a little and if I’m honest, move my arms in a somewhat noticeable way.  Yes, I was dancing but not like at a rave or anything; more the Mom-esque shifting of weight from one side to the other with the occasional swooping hand and/or arm motion.  If you knew the song/band it would all make total sense, but that remains anonymous as I’m not promoting anything.  Suffice it to say, a band from across the pond, early Eighties (but still recording today) with messages full of angst/melancholy.  To hear it being played at a national chain department store was weird, but I was happy for the distraction.

One of my children turns to the other and says “Have you ever heard this song? I mean really!?”  to which the sibling replies “No.  And doesn’t Mom do the most embarrassing things!?”  “Yea, I mean really!  Do you even know what they’re SAYING?!?!?!?!“

What else was there to do?  I began to sing along, meaning lyrics not just emotional sounds.  After all, they did ask and I did know what they were saying.  Just sayin’.

Halloween Infinity

Halloween can mean many things to many people.  For me, it was always an eagerly anticipated annual holiday – what with the costumes and candy, school party and town parade and (of course) the trick-or-treating . . . and more candy.  But fate would intervene and give me another reason to celebrate this holiday with fervor for the rest of my days.  Actually, two reasons.

My younger set of twins, originally pegged to arrive during the Thanksgiving season, held out long enough to make their early arrival on Halloween.  I joked that year that my costume was to be ‘dressed in my intestine’ (yes, in reference to their means of arrival into the world outside of my body).  Iky, but accurate.

So the early – actually pre-dawn – hours of 10/31/11 were full of excitement from the birthday Halloweenies regarding the upcoming events of “their” day.  Said one, “I never thought this day would come.  I mean, I just can’t believe I made it to Eight!  Time goes so fast . . .(sigh)”.  At this, I looked at this particular child and wanted to inquire about the perils, tribulations, struggles and other woes they (apparently) felt they needed to overcome, navigate or otherwise survive in order to accomplish turning Eight.  “I can’t believe I made it. . .” – pshaw!  And pondering the rapid passing of time!  That’s akin to when any of my kids, at even younger ages than they still all are, would tell me about something with a sentence which began “I remember when I was little . . .” and be referring to an event that took place roughly 6-10 months before!

At the same time, they’re right.  Time does go so – very – fast.  And their gestation, arrival and early years were rife with a larger quotient of hurdles than (not all but) a great many other babies.  Some of these were easier to leave behind than others; daily struggles remain for one of them more so than the other.  But a blessing they have been.  And that fact I have the honor to carry with me forever.

So just as I now have a more respectably legitimate reason to continue to celebrate Halloween, I find it symbolic that this year they were, indeed, Eight. 

8.  Infinity standing up.

September 11, 2011

I – like many people – feel different about today.  It’s not merely a date, not merely an anniversary, not merely a memory.  It’s so much more than any simple category or classification, at least for me, and I don’t even consider myself to be one of the thousands of people who had a more tangible link (read: family member, colleague, boss, etc.) to the aftermath of emotions to continue to live with and move forward without.  Yes, I had people I knew – neighbors, people who resided in the same building, one of whom I would cat-sit for, but no one who I had deep or emotional ties with.  But today, I feel (if it’s possible) even more sadness than 10 years ago.

I don’t speak much, if at all, about the what and where I was when I learned what was happening that bright morning 10 years ago.  I know that perhaps one reason I may feel more incomprehensible sadness now as opposed to then was the sense of shock that permeated those minutes, hours and early days until the reality of what was really happening was pieced together.  That and the emotional tug of war I had with the terrible events on the one hand and on the other the very recent double blessing of my older set of twins, just 7 weeks and 2 days old when the planes struck.

Anyone who has had a child (1 or more, individually or as a litter)  knows – even though we try to forget – those early weeks of zombie-sleep-deprived-exhausted-crying-physical-torture bliss.  The “I love you so much I’m going to explode, really I could just stare at you until I grow roots and with each passing second have multiplied my love for you by a million-bazillion times, seriously . . . . but why won’t you sleep?!!”  So suffice it to say, my emotional state to BEGIN with was a tad compromised what with the nursing (x2), changing (x2) and “please go to sleep, please go to sleep, please go to sleeeeeep” novenas.  So perhaps all those feelings from the event sunk in but there just wasn’t enough room for me to process the immense sadness at that time.

But I took 3 of the 4 children with me to Church this morning (1 was with their dad) and I didn’t even try to pretend that I was going to be able to make it through a full Mass.  I timed our visit to between Masses, I wanted as empty Church as possible.  I still dressed the kids and I for Mass and explained to them that they would wear America’s colors as a sign of respect.  We walked over to Church like our own little 4th of July parade and into the dark and silent Church.  I told them they would all get to light a candle, but only after we said prayers and then they would pray again after lighting the candles.  They were fine with this, except the youngest who thought that today would be a “great” day to stay for all of Mass because they believed if today was all about 9/11, then they would have lots of firefighters in attendance. (But that’s another story).

When I knelt down to pray, I was stunned to hear my mind completely silent to me.  I just couldn’t think.  My mind would let me see memories but when I went to offer up words, my mind would go blank.  I wasn’t being hard-hearted – my heart felt so full it was heavy and ached and I chastised myself for not piecing together some prayers for those lost and those living with the loss.  I finally managed a simple request “Please heal us all Lord” and sent that off with my tears.  The kids did their candles and read the prayer card left in the back of the Church for the purpose of remembering today.

I wish it didn’t feel so empty, so hollow, so sad.  I hope it won’t always feel like this.  I won’t forget, but I do wish for a sense of peace.

Surviving Double Double Digits

I’ve tried – really tried – to remember the exact sensation that came over me when I turned 10.  The metamorphosis between the simple existence of a single digit age across the great chasm into a new horizon, arriving in the land of double digits.  It must have been such a wonderful experience that the memory is locked deep inside some happy place, or is being enchanted by some charm, or perhaps is password protected somehow because I cannot remember it.  Nothing.  Nada.

A few days ago, my older set of twins marched boldly across from the ones column to the tens column.  The memory of that journey – collectively and individually – is still fresh in their minds and mine.  But in the event that it too succumbs to the numbing of their newfound old-er age, here is a record of some of their day.

Godmommy M. visiting, rising early to get to swim team practice and, once in the pool, Mommy running over to the corner deli to pick up ice cream sandwiches for the surprise after practice is over.  Two friends from school arrive and wait to call out after we’re out of the water and leaving the pool area with some swim team friends.  Happiness, joy, hugs – small gifts exchanged.  Nearly completely melted ice cream sandwiches are handed out.  Then it’s into the playground to run in the sprinklers — it’s already over 90 degrees in the City and still being ”new” 10-year-olds, today this doesn’t seem like a baby game.  We’re now a group of 7 friends splashing through the sprinklers and playing tag, climbing and swinging – soaking up childhood.

Later in the day, there would be presents and cards exchanged between each other and from family members.  While not cordial, your parents were mostly civil around each other.  We left the next morning for a weekend Upstate to try to extend the celebration.

I can’t say that either of you declared a discernible moment of feeling “10″, if there was a timer from long ago that signaled, internally, the activation of another dial on your clocks.  Mathematically, I know it will take you 10 times as long to get to the next number column – a celebration that I certainly won’t be running to get ice cream for!   I wish there was something spectacular that I could have provided for you both to make this new decade exceptional, or at least exceptionally memorable.  I wrote you each letters in your cards.  I tried to explain how much I love you, how much I wish to get things right for you.  I don’t want to do stuff “for” you, I just don’t want to mess up how you look upon yourselves and see the world.  I want to be a source of a good example for you, yet I know there are choices that I hope you don’t make (even though I did). 

Think carefully – speak kindly – live honestly – trust conditionally so that you can love immeasurably.  Honor, cherish, appreciate, acknowledge, believe — make your choices based upon what you know to be true and listen to your moral compass when acquiring new truths.  You are two of the hardest and best things I will ever know and I am lucky to be “so old” as to see you turn 10.

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