Monday, July 18, 2016

This Weekend We

Last week, Sena was at sleep away camp for the third summer in a row, and Gus was at sailing camp during the day. So from 10-3, Arlo, Alamae, and I had the house to ourselves. And mostly we did stay home, except for the few hours I was able to convince Arlo to go to the pool with me, even if his big brother and sister weren't there. Arlo is never much for excursions of any sort, and he is even less amenable to them when there is no sibling pressure involved.

But finally, on Friday afternoon things started to move back towards normal. Gus took Arlo and me sailing as a part of his end of camp festivities, while Claire watched a pouting Alamae on the shore. The bay was calm and the sun was bright as Gus explained the terminology while he steered and guided me on how to control the sail. He was composed and handsome and so grown up. Watching my son do something I know nothing about was as humbling as it was beautiful. 

We had to rush from Gus's camp to go pick Sena up her's. Upon finding her among the friends she made for a week, she almost instantly informed me that next year she is staying for two sessions. She never bothers missing me while she's gone, a fact that I used to lament but have grown to be proud of. The truth is I hope that she stays strong and independent, and that she never minds hot, bug filled days.

Instead of taking her straight home, we drove to the pool for what we have decided is going to be our new Friday night tradition. Claire, Andrew, Tom and baby Jeffrey met us there, and we swam until dark, eating pizza on the lounge chairs, and drinking grapefruit crushes to the sounds of splashing and laughter.

Saturday was book club, and luckily for me, it was a close meeting that started early enough that I could sneak in some time before heading to work. Unfortunately, I can't even tell you what book we were supposed to read. For the first time ever, I didn't read it. And I left before anyone started to discuss it in earnest. What I did have time enough for was to see all my friends gathered, babies on hip. To eat a banh mi. To be told that since I was the bossiest one around, I should get everyone to sing happy birthday to Ben and Ruby. To watch dogs jump and kids swing. 

Monday, July 11, 2016

Us, Now

We are six. Ranging 34 years. Equally divided among genders. 

Two sets of greens eyes. Four sets of brown. Blond boys. Dark haired girls. One mom who desperately clings to her redheaded identity.

Just when I think that I understand who we are as a unit, things change. Personalities shift. Relationships realign. 

Gus and Sena bicker too much, but spend hours jumping off the diving board together. Arlo complains that Alamae pulls his hair, but encourages a gentle reprimand over any sort of punishment. "Teach her to be nice," he tells me. And then he eagerly accepts her apologetic hug.

I laugh at Tom's jokes. He makes me feel beautiful.

I worry that the neighbors hear me when I yell.

Dinner is at 6:15, just as it has been most of my life.   But sometimes I completely forget to feed my children lunch.


Tuesday, July 5, 2016

This Weekend We // 4th of July For Days

Three cook-outs in four days.

Fireworks and storms.

Jumping off the pier.

Venturing to the beach.

A couple in matching lemon outfits, bearing the most delicious lemon bars.

Most of the women from my sophomore suite.

Birthday cake with Tom's cousins, who happen to be the first people I ever knew who wrote a blog (AsianCajuns).

A whole family story-time.

Tequila and Fresca.

Brats and hamburgers.

Corn on the cob and watermelon.

Cleaning up before. Cleaning up after.

Too little sleep.

Bags upon bags of ice.

Swarms of kids running up and down the waterfront.

Traditions upheld.


Saturday, July 2, 2016

Sweet Pea, You Drive Me Crazy

I often joke that having my fourth child was promoting myself to incompetence. I could handle three. The fourth one made me hurried. Less graceful.

Sometimes she gets blamed. Dubbed more difficult than she likely deserves. In truth, she is heartbreakingly wonderful.

Her neck hugs. The way she waves her hand just twisting her wrist.  Her heavy head on my shoulder when she's sleepy.

Sometimes I look forward to when things get easier. When she doesn't cry "mame, mame, mame" in response to every need, wish or whim. But one day, when things get easier, you and I both know I'm going to miss that gap toothed, tan baby who beckoned me for her every need.