My Voice

I sit here crying because I can't sing.  Sounds pathetic but I can't sing and it really upsets me.  It's breaking my heart.  Why?  Because I'm worried that I've gone too far with my involvement with OWS and the 99% School.  Have I jeopardized my health long term?  I worry.

Just 21 days ago, Rivka messaged me, Jesi and Stacey with the idea of going down to Occupy Wall Street with our kids to "expose" them to democracy in process.  She had approached Naomi, our principal with the idea of taking the 4th/5th class on a field trip to OWS to learn.  Wisely, Naomi suggested that she invite a few families to go together and have the children come back and report to the whole school their thoughts and observations.  And that's when one message from Rivka changed my life.

What started out with a few families agreeing to go down to OWS together evolved into a new strand of the OWS movement.  It was a simple plan, just go by ourselves but noooo, we had to invite the whole school.  OK - that was manageable.  While posting the event on FaceBook, one of our teacher's son who was engaged in OWS suggested that I post the event on the OWS FaceBook page.  Well, that's when it started to take off.  I realized that this was possibly going to be bigger than I imagined and so to be prepared, I met with Rivka to figure out some strategies to prepare us in the event this was  something bigger than we anticipated.  Within 30 minutes on a Friday afternoon at school, we came up with the name, "The 99% School" and description for who we were and why we exist - that's all on our FaceBook page in case you're interested - and created a FaceBook page.  The next morning, I realized that I wanted to protect my personal life (really, my email account) and keep that separate and so created a gmail account - the99percentschool@gmail.com.  All this the weekend before our first event.

Well, let's say that one 2 hour event, "Un-Columbus Day @ Occupy Wall Street" has radically changed my life.  From those 2 hours, we became a media sensation - our image was up in so many media publications and shows, it's staggering to think about.  I still have people, 3 weeks later, telling me they saw me on TV.  This was never anticipated.  This, I was never prepared for.


Much has happened in 3 weeks and I tremble at what else is to come.  Having blogged this was good for me because I just realized why I had to lose my voice.  I lost it so I can lift up the voices of the children of the world who have been silenced, dismissed and overlooked for too long.  I believe theirs is the voice that needs to be at the center of the movement because theirs is the voice anyone and everyone can hear.  Theirs is a message that's pure.  One of my favorites is "My school taught us to be fair.  Are you?"  No need for a panel of experts, fancy charts or even a history lesson to understand what is being said.  Theirs is a message understood by all of humanity - every single person on this earth understands that phrase.  It doesn't matter if you live in a fancy house or are homeless.  Doesn't matter if you went to school or not.  Doesn't matter if you're black, brown, yellow, red, white or even purple for that matter if that does exist somewhere on this planet.  It's simple.  It's pure.  It's what all of creation desires - fairness.

I feel better.  I feel lighter and not so upset that I've lost a part of my voice.  Yea, I was dramatic at the beginning of this blog.  I do have a raspy speaking voice but selfishly, I was really upset that I lost my singing voice.  I love to sing and am upset that I can't carry a single tune.  Now I just have to find someone to lead sing-a-long today at our next event at 3 today, "What Does Global Action Look Like?"  Anyone?  If I don't find someone here, I have faith that I could get someone to volunteer at the event today.  Yeah, it sounds crazy that I haven't figured out every single detail for today but leading a sing-a-long?  That's easy - we all know how to sing.  Maybe I'll just ask the kids to do it.  I'm not worried. 

I Made Him Cry

Yup.  I made my baby cry yesterday morning.  He sat on the floor and bawled like a baby - mouth open wide, tears flowing down his face.  He broke my heart.  All I could do was get on the floor and want to cry with him.  He was late for school and it was both our faults - feels more like mine since I am the adult after all and he still needs me to keep him on schedule.  Our lives at home have been upended by Occupy Wall Street.  Mommy, me, got involved - waaaay involved.  There have been long term plans in place for me to go back "out" into the world.  I am completely serious about pursuing my Ph.D. in Theology and get excited at the mere thought of that.  But that wasn't happening for another 15 months.  There was time to work towards that.  Occupy Wall Street and the 99% School is a surprise - it doesn't feel so good at times but then there are moments that remind me (and family) this is a good thing.  We have to see it through and we have to do it together as a family.

When asked what I do, I say that I'm a full-time stay-at-home mom.  I use that title because that's how the general population has labeled my job.  I never planned on being in this position.  I never even thought I'd have children.  But here I am - 11+ years of being a full-time stay-at-home mom.  I'm not complaining about the job.  Just wish there was a better way to describe what I do.

Folks assume this is a leisurely job.  There are assumptions that we stay at home, eat bon bons, go to lunch with the ladies.  Never think that our lives are full, very full - at times, too full.  Someone recently said that I had too much time on my hand.  Well, let me shatter that impression of the full-time stay-at-home mom.

Full-time.  That's incorrect.  When I hear full-time, that means 35 hours a week.  I know that for a fact because I did at one time get a paycheck for the 35 hours of work I produced each week.  Well, as all parents know, we never stop working.  Whether or not you're employed outside the home, you're always a parent.  That's a 24 hour/7 days a week job.  You never shed that position.  It's stuck to you so tight sometimes, you wish you could shake it off.  There are times when I feel like screaming if I hear that word one more time - mommy.  It's exhausting and more often than not you don't set the terms, they are set for you.  They are set for you by a creature who needs more time to understand why you're about to lose it.  They need your nurturing exactly the same moment you need to step away.  It's a hard job.  It's a conflicted job.  But you know what?  It's the best job I've ever had.  I wouldn't trade a single moment - good and bad - for any other job in the world.

Stay-at-home.  That I laugh at.  There are days I am not home.  I get so busy with pick-up, drop-off of the boys - a meeting here, a meeting there - and oh let's not even think about those field trips.  Not only are you out of the house but now you have to deal with additional children you never even birthed.  The only reason I'm home and actually had time to start on this blog yesterday is because K is home sick.  Otherwise I would have been at Occupy Wall Street figuring out next steps for the 99% School.  Before I even spent time with K at home, in the morning, I got Z ready for school and dropped him off at school, and visited a friend in the hospital.  And this was all before 11am.  Days when I get to stay-at-home are rare and too far between.  I do wish this part of my job could be true.  My life would be calmer but also probably more boring.

My job doesn't bring home a paycheck.  I don't add to the bank account in any tangible way.  My contributions are intangible.  By volunteering at school, I've been able to hone my organizing skills and actually get out of the house to be around other adults.  By lunching with the ladies, I release stress and have the good laughs required to keep me healthy and sane.  By staying at home with the boys, I'm able to give them the nurturing they so badly need.  This is especially true with Z - read my blog last summer, "Letting Go" for that story.  I just saw a story about a Dragon Mom.  I'm not her but I get her - Z was born with serious developmental delays and we were never sure about his future.  It warms my heart that he can now articulate his dreams for himself.  And this only came about because I made the hard choice to stay at home and give up a career I absolutely loved.  What did I do with my time?  I fought with everything I had for our child with no expectation of any returns at all - it's pure unconditional love.  In our case, our story has a happy ending.  Every tear I've shed, every fight I've fought, every ego I've stroked to get him what he needed has been completely worth it.

Now I bring that passion to the 99% School.  Friends are concerned and remind me to take care of myself.  I have - actually went away this past weekend with a good friend.  It was good and I will continue to seek those moments.  I promise.  I won't let myself completely fall apart because as a girlfriend reminded me - what good will I be to anyone (esp. my family) if I get sick.

Getting back to the crying child.  Our family is in a state of transition - at moments it feels like chaos.  I wish we had had more time to be in this place today.  K actually noticed this morning that I was all of the sudden so busy.  I've got a full day ahead today.  I'm grateful that I'm a type A personality.  The days already planned and I hope to stick with the plan but only God knows.  Oh oh.  Just remembered my last blog.  How do you make God laugh?  Tell her your plans.  Ok God, this isn't a plan set in stone, I'll leave room in there for you to do your thing.  Well, (sigh) here I go.

Making God Laugh

Joke:  How do you make God laugh? 

Answer:   You tell God your plans.

Well, a year ago God was busting a gut on me. Don't know how S/he managed to not hurt herself laughing so much. Good thing she's God or else S/he could've done some serious damage with how much S/he laughed at me.

Look at my past blogs. Last summer I had a spiritual experience where I literally felt a bright light shine within me. I was called to do a PhD. Well, I seized the opportunity and ran with it - ran so fast that I only found trouble. I ran so fast that I didn’t just trip so to catch myself before I fell flat on my face. I ran so fast I slammed down on the ground so quick and hard, it took 8 months to recover. See my other blog for that story.

That all said, I'm learning to embrace God's time as my time.  It’s not letting go.  It’s letting God.  God’s time is truly magical and difficult to grasp.  To let God fully in is so hard for this control nut - it is not easy but I know it’s good and better yet, it’s magical.

Last fall I pushed myself to prepare for and apply to PhD programs with just 5 months.  Well, let’s say God got a good laugh out of that - it made me literally collapse.  God probably laughed like us parents do when we see our own children try to do something in such a ridiculous way.  I mean, be honest, all of us parents at some point let our children go down a doomed path – snickering, laughing but always supportive and ready to help them up once they learn their lesson.  Or maybe S/he didn’t because S/he is God after all and a lot more kinder than us humans.  Funny, but I hoped S/he did get a good laugh because I kind of deserve it, you know.

I was broken so I would slow down.  I’m humbled to be reminded that we’ve been gifted with a life span that gives us enough time to do all we (and God) dream.  Instead of 5 months, this time I’ll be taking 17 months to apply for PhD programs.  It’s actually going to be magical.  With this timeline, I’ll start my new school when Z starts his new middle school and graduate the same year K graduates high school.  With this timeline, I’ll be making special connections with my boys that I would’ve otherwise missed.  It makes me feel so good.  It’s going to happen.

I’ve struggled with the desire to work outside the home for the past 4 years.  Two years ago, I jumped on the opportunity to work as Parent Coordinator at our boys’ school.  The work was fulfilling and I loved it but it didn’t feel completely right.  For different reasons I had to resign after serving for only one academic year  – mostly because the workload was overwhelming me and stretched me too thin. 

This time, letting God be God has been more than rewarding.  It happened at our church’s 26^th anniversary service in September when the newly founded youth program was introduced.  As I looked at them across the room, I realized they needed a youth minister and that was me.  Twenty years ago, I served our parent church as their first youth minister and established a youth program.  How perfect and magical would it be that I would serve the offspring church as their first youth minister?  The workload and schedule really would fit with my lifestyle and other commitments.  To make this feel even more right was the realization that I would dedicate my youth ministry to Andy (look back at my “Two Brothers” blog for that story).  Andy was one of the first youths I had ever pastored and now he's gone.  I had been struggling how to remember him in a way that would nurture and sustain me.  This is it.  I look forward to receiving the call from my church.  Can’t wait.

Now there’s Z.  He really does have his own schedule and I believe that’s God’s schedule.  He’s lucky.  He’s young and doesn’t have the arrogance and rigidity that comes with age and life experience.  Children are blessed to be so open to God. 

His developmental schedule really never jived with what the world said was “normal.”  He did everything much later – eat, walk, talk, run, and so on and so on.  And he did it in his own way.  It’s so funny to think about how he never crawled as a baby.  Instead, he did what we called the butt skooch – while sitting he used his hand to push himself around until he could walk.  To be honest, this has affected his abdominal muscles not developing as well as they would have if he had crawled.  So what?  He did it and that’s what matters.  He’s taught this tiger mom to let things happen in their own time and way.  Not to push it because of what she’s been taught.  To have more faith and confidence in him (and God) that all things will come to fruition in his and God’s way.  I’m humbled by my child.  I thank God each day for giving me this gift – this child who makes me realize that the world’s standards are not always right.  We instead have to open ourselves up to different standards to realize the fullness of possibilities for all of creation.

Opening up to and embracing God fully has been magical.  The world is different.  It’s more beautiful and magical.  Now I am.  Thank God.

It really is.  Today I sit here amazed by what letting God has done for me.  I sit here as a daughter, sister, wife, mother, community activist, friend and - more amazed and humbled.  Funny but I hope S/he won’t stop laughing at my expense, just want her to laugh because I’m being silly. 

Nothing to share...

  

Those were the last words I got from a dear friend.  That hurts.  Really hurts.

Last words are powerful because they are the ones dwelt on at the end of any interaction.  Think about it.  How often are we careful about those last words?  Even in casual relationships.  Sometimes when you really want the relationship to end, you deliberately end with a firm GOODBYE – that slams the door shut.  When someone is in need, you end with a LATER so they know it’s open ended and the door is still open.  What about when you know that someone is entering a dangerous situation?  I’ve used VAYA CON DIOS. And what about at the end of a job interview?  I LOOK FORWARD TO HEARING FROM YOU.  So many last words I could think of.  You know them just as well.

Last words have been a sticky point between K and I.  He is a stubborn, strong boy who always tries to have the last word with me when we argue.  I’m working on it and I think he is, too.  But man, oh man, it’s hard.  In our case, I know it has to do with control.  He is the child and he can’t stand (and is resisting) the notion that adults are the ones in “control.”  I try to explain it’s not about control but it’s about guidance.  Adults have lived longer so we have just a little more information and experience to share and he really does need to trust in that.  But he’s going through that phase of life where he’s trying to be more independent.  I’ll just have to weather this storm and hope neither of us is seriously hurt in the process.

Last words are powerful because they could really be the last words you share with that person.  I mean, one of us could be hit by a bus the next instant and that’s it.  There is no following up on those last words.  So be careful.  Don’t let those last words haunt you for the rest of your life.  Because they will, especially if they are the wrong ones.  Even the little wrong ones stay with you.

Nothing to share…  I know these aren’t final words between me and my friend but damn it, they’re the last ones shared between us for now and I can’t help dwell on them.  Nothing to share…  It seems so cold because in any good relationship, there is always something to share – even if it’s a crumb.  Oh well, it’s probably my turn to respond but I’m not ready.  My friend will just have to wait.  Hope I have better, kinder last words for him and everyone else whom I cherish.

Listen to Your Mother and other Life Lessons

K started middle school this year.  It’s amazing how much he’s learned in just 1 week and I’m not talking about lessons from books but more importantly, from life itself.

DAY 1 – Thursday, 9/8/2011

IT’S OK TO BE NERVOUS.  He was so nervous on his first day of school.  Who can blame him?  Middle school is a big change from elementary school.  Of course his stomach felt bad in the morning but he was better once I told him it was his nerves and that all was going good.  And it was.

DAY 2 – Friday, 9/9/2011

DON’T BE LATE.  Not even by a minute.  On the second day of school, Friday, his brother was dragging his feet at home and we left 5 minutes later than planned.  Well, that didn’t bode well for K.  School starts at 8 promptly and that’s when he finally made it up to his 5^th floor homeroom.  He was inside the classroom at 8 but his teacher didn’t look up at the clock at 8:01 and marked him late.  Poor kid.  Hates having anything negative put on him – especially when it’s his brother’s fault.  Only day 2 of school and he already got a lateness recorded.

DAY 3 – Monday, 9/12/2011

PREPARE.  On the way to school on Monday, he realized he left his wallet and cell phone at home.  No time to go back since he already knew how strict his homeroom teacher was about being prompt.  Oh well, no money and no phone.  Boy  was he glad that A had gotten a new cellphone over the weekend.  At least they had that covered.

GO THE WAY YOU KNOW.  That is until you learn alternate routes.  K now walks to school with his friend and classmate from CPE II, A.  It’s wonderful and freeing for both boys that they are being entrusted to walk to school by themselves.  Honestly, for us parents, we wait with bated breath to see them at the end of the day.

On Monday, things were not going smoothly in the morning.  We were already running 5 minutes late because Z was again being a slug and K had to pull together school supplies for the day from the bags in the car I had been too lazy to bring up to the apartment.  It was a little frantic and so I agreed to drive K and A part of the way to school.  So after a few blocks I pull over and told them to get out and start walking.  Well, their school is west of where we were but A (the navigator for now since he knows the route and neighborhood) starts going east.  I kind of panicked and shouted out the window that they were going the wrong way.  A tells me that he knows the way which happens to be only 1 route and that’s why they were headed east.  Well, I sat there watching them in my rear view mirror.  Being the overprotective mom, I followed them.  Yeah, I followed them in my car for the 6 blocks it took them to get to school.  I just needed to make myself feel better.  The most hysterical part was that just when I was about to leave them alone, the car behind me honks (because I was going so slowly) and the boys catch me.

PAY ATTENTION TO THE LEADER.  As they were approaching a corner, A started to turn right but K was paying no mind.  Little A – who’s about 4 inches shorter and 50 pounds lighter – reaches out to grab his friend and swing him around the corner.  K said later that he thought they were going straight and A didn’t give him a heads up about where they were going.

PAY ATTENTION TO THE RULES.  There are 2 things about clothes he always hated.  First, he HATES collars.  It was bad news for him when the school uniform code required either a short/long sleeve polo or button down shirt.  Second, he NEVER EVER tucks in his shirt.  Oh well, too bad.  School dress code calls for shirts to be tucked in.  For the next 7 years, he’ll have to deal with 2 of the things he hated most about clothes. 

After being reminded of the school dress code on the first day of school that shirts had to be tucked in, K did this just before he walked into the building.  On Monday, his homeroom teacher noticed his shirt was not completely tucked in and told him to step out of the room and fix his shirt and then return to the classroom.  He complied but upon returning to the classroom he had to stand in line behind students who was being marked late for coming in that 1 or more minutes late to class.  Lucky for him, he didn’t get marked late because technically he was not properly prepared for school and could have been marked late.  Let’s say that since then, he tucks his shirt in at home before he leaves so he doesn’t have to worry about following the school dress code.

WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING.  Monday night conversation about dinner.

                K:  Mommy, can I have soup for dinner?

                Me:  Why?

                K:  Because my mouth hurts.

                Me:  Why?

                K:  Because I ran into a wall.

                Me:  How?

                K:  I was walking backwards talking to a friend and I turned around and

                      hit my face on the wall.

                Me:  hysterically laughing

DAY 4 – Tuesday, 9/13/2011

STAND UP TO BULLIES but don’t be cruel.  He stood up to a student who was harassing him or another student – don’t remember which and that’s not the point of this anecdote.  It’s what he said to this student that makes me both proud and ashamed of him.  He stood up to the bully – which is good.  It’s what he said that causes me shame.  The boy was overweight and K pointed out that he had man-boobs.  Yes, hysterical but too cruel for me.  I told him that he had crossed the line.  Yes, the boy needed to be put down but not embarrassed.  He had crossed a fine line in standing up to the bully and needed to be more thoughtful and mature when encountered with the same situation.  I’m sure the occasion will rise up again and he will do much better.

DAY 5 – Wednesday, 9/14/2011

RUN AWAY WHEN FACED WITH DANGER.  On the way to school, a big(probably a teenager) kid came up to them and asked them if they wanted crack.  Smartly, they ran.  They say they ran for 5 blocks but I don’t think it was 5 blocks but at that point even 1 block would feel like 5.  Good move fellas.  Run away from trouble.

LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER.  Around 4:30 – after what seemed a reasonable amount of time to unwind from the school day – I suggested he start homework.  No response.  Around 5, I started digging around his backpack to see what was in there.  Concerned, I again suggested he start homework. 

                K:  I’ll do it at 6:30, after dinner.

                Me:  Really?  Dinner isn’t being scheduled around you.  You figure out 

                        your homework around when I make dinner.

               

Well, we can safely guess he didn’t start homework until after 7.  He started and then around 8 checked his class schedule for the next day to discover that the Spanish homework he thought he could put off was due the next day.  Let’s say, he went into panic mode.  When I left to make a call, he was stressing out over how much Spanish homework there was to do.  When I returned at 10, I was glad to see him passed out in bed.

The next day he tells me about his bath – which was the last thing he did before going to sleep.  As he sat/laid down in the tub, he realized he was slipping (from falling asleep).  In other words, he almost drowned.  A new rule has been implemented – K is not allowed to take baths on school nights.  And we are keeping a closer eye on him as he adjusts to a new rhythm in life.

Seeking Closure

It’s 9/13.  I thought I’d be done with 9/11 but it’s not over.  Mayor Bloomberg pleaded with the world to stop referring to the site of the 9/11 as Ground Zero, refer to it as the 9/11 Memorial.  The 9/11 Memorial was finally opened on 9/11 and families were the first ones to visit these hallowed grounds.  There is now physical space where we can pay our respects to those who died that fateful day.  The news has been full of images – mostly sad and poignant.  My friend, James will be visiting the 9/11 Memorial on Thursday.  I wish I could go myself but the pain is too raw.  I want to visit Andy’s name and pay my respects but I can’t get myself to stand where he died – not yet.  So to connect with Andy, I asked James to make a rubbing of his name for me.  He will.  I wait with bated breath because I look forward to and dread holding Andy’s name.

With the opening of the 9/11 Memorial there was a hope that the world could move closer to finding a way to put to rest 9/11. I thought I’d find closure on 9/11 with these events but it’s not over.  I think it’s the start of something I can’t put my finger on – something so uncertain, unclear, I'm afraid.

On Sunday, 9/11 I erected a 9/11 memorial of my own in my building’s lobby to help me and others continue to heal.  I created a space with the help of so many others – Carlos, Jaime, Ry-An, Rudy, Max, Jack – to reflect, remember and heal.  I thought it would take just 2 hours to erect the memorial, I was so wrong.  It took 5 hours.  This memorial is more incredible than I could have ever imagined it to be.  I give thanks to all who lent a hand to create this incredible space.

My hopes for this memorial are not just for me but also for my community to reflect, remember and heal from 9/11.  Slowly it’s growing - flowers, newspapers have already been bought to the space.  I haven’t added my own personal reflection or expression of 9/11 yet.  I thought my contribution of actually putting up this memorial would be enough but it isn’t.  I’m searching for a way - and pray and hope - that I will find a way to find closure for myself.  Maybe that’s where I’m fooling myself.  There is no closure to 9/11.  There is no way to end remembering 9/11.  Instead, I need to figure out how to live with it forever.  

I’m grateful to my building’s management for permission to keep this memorial up until Sunday, 9/18.  It gives me and others more time to figure out how to honor and remember 9/11.  I’m organizing a ceremony that will include dismantling this memorial because to be honest, I can’t do it by myself.  I need the community to take the pieces down.  I need support and assistance to take down something that I can’t forget, something I won’t find closure to.

Two Brothers on 9/11

dedicated to Billy and Andy

Isaac & Ishmael

It happened on a day quite clear
A day when fear came to call
It shook us all

Two brothers standing side by side
Precious souls inside begin to fall

Who would have known our lives would change
Once and for all

When Isaac fell Ishmael cried
He had no choice but to fall, too

What would you say if i told you
We were made that much stronger after all?

When Isaac fell Ishmael cried
He had no choice but to fall, too

What would you say if i told you
We were made that much stronger?
We were made that much stronger
So we can love each other after all.

Jeff Jeudy feat. The Soulfolk Experience.
Copyright 2009, Used by permission.
http://www.myspace.com/thesoulfolkexperience

What a beautiful song. I was moved and touched by the beauty of the rhythm and words when I encountered this piece of music - melodic and strong in word and rhythm. It’s a song about two brothers. But something didn’t sit right about this song and when I learned what this song was about, I knew what was wrong for me. It’s a song about 9/11.

The lyrics explain themselves once you understand the context. It’s beautiful, poignant and oh….so….painful….. Love and hate this song. Love its beauty. Hate the inspiration.

This song took on another meaning when I learned about two brothers whose lives were forever changed on 9/11. In 1989, I was a youth pastor to two incredible, lively, wonderful brothers in their younger, teenage, more carefree days – days that shaped them to be the men they were on 9/11. About three years ago, I ran into Billy (the older brother) at church. It was wonderful to see one of the youth group members I had nurtured all grown up. He was grown, with a scruffy face, some lines beginning to etch on his face and that’s what troubled me – he looked too old for his age. Something wasn’t right. But I didn’t let this stop me from being glad to reconnect with one of the students I had pastored some 20+ years earlier. I ran into him a couple of times and we casually chatted. Then it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen his younger brother, Andy and so I asked about him. Billy’s face took on a puzzled look, his eyes that were always clouded took on a darkness and that’s when he told me – Andy died on 9/11.

My heart fell and I cursed God. Yes, I cursed God. Because until that moment, I thanked God that I didn’t know anyone directly who had died that horrific day. Of course, that day has altered me forever but I didn’t carry the burden of mourning someone I personally knew every year on 9/11. I was getting off easy. Those whom I mourned for were strangers. It sounds twisted but it’s a privilege to mourn someone you don’t know directly – at least you can be sad from a distance. Not having been a part of their lives nor having them be a part of your life makes mourning/remembering someone a whoooole lot easier. Now that’s been changed.

Moving toward the 10th anniversary of one of the most horrific days in history is hard for me. It was bad enough as it was (I have my own 9/11 story and I hope to someday share it) but now it’s been made so much worse. For on that day for the rest of my life, I will remember these 2 special brothers. Knowing that Billy is forever changed and Andy is dead breaks my heart. I can clearly see their faces as teenagers in my mind. Both smiling, full of life, your typical teenagers – brothers standing side by side. Now this is replaced by the pained face of Billy standing alone. No brother by his side. Left behind to face the rest of his life alone. Brother without brother.

There are many prayers to be said on 9/11. Many tears will flow. Cries and howls will be lifted to the skies. Ceremonies will be held all over the world. I’m comforted the 10th anniversary of 9/11 happens to fall on a Sunday. I’ll be at church with my church community mourning and remembering together. I find comfort in knowing that this year – when the world marks this tragic day – I will be sitting in a safe, nurturing, supportive space where I can cry my heart out for 2 brothers.

A Blessing. A Gift.

Eleven years ago my life was forever changed.  I was blessed with one of the greatest gift given to this little planet called Earth.  K was born to us.

He’s amazing and I am humbled to call him my son.  Who knew that this woman who never had any intentions of having children would be entrusted with such a precious creature?  He came 5 weeks early.  We had ab.so.lute.ly nothing in the house – not even a diaper.  Baby showers were scheduled for September because so many of my friends and family would be out of town in August.  We were really caught off guard. I guess he was in such a rush to make his mark on this world that he didn’t care no preparations had been made. 

 

He has made a mark – forever changed the world in oh so many ways.  Mind you, I’ll be sharing some incredible stories and you may think wow, what an exceptional boy.  Yes, he is that but also keep in mind, he is very much your typical 11 year old boy full of attitude, lip and angst – I will read this blog when he really gets under my skin to remind myself that he is uh.ma.zing.

This summer has been full of life changing events for him (and the rest of us).  He did some incredible feats of wonder that we never anticipated.  

You know how we say some people are lifesavers?  (I always asked what flavor.  Ha ha.)  He really was.  A couple of weeks ago, he literally saved his little brother’s life.  We were at the beach and Z broke the cardinal rule – never go past your brother when you’re in the water.  Well, he did.  Thank goodness I was at the bathroom while all of this happened – I would’ve completely lost it.  My girlfriends were keeping an eye on the kids and could see Z was drifting away and possibly in trouble but neither were strong enough swimmers to help.  They were shouting and gesturing for him to come back to no avail.  K heard the commotion and sensed something was wrong with his brother.  He got to his little brother before lifeguards realized trouble was brewing and helped them.  K told me a couple of days after the near miss tragedy how he had to go under water (water was even too deep for him to touch) to hold his brother up above water.  Fortunately 2 lifeguards whipped out there quickly and bought them back to shore safely.  Tragedy was averted but this was too close.  I could’ve not lost just one of my boys but both.  Thank goodness K was there to save his brother. 

I’m so proud of him.  He’s actually getting tired of me saying this to him but how can I stop??

Earlier this summer, after exhausting days of preparation for his (and his classmate’s) graduation ceremony and prom, I did an unimaginable thing.  I accidently left K on the streets of Washington Heights.  After dropping off friends at 161^st Street and Amsterdam, I noticed the trunk was open.  I stopped and he got out to close it.  He then opened the rear door to get in and I said, “Oh, now you’re too good for the front seat?”  I heard the door slam and took off.  I didn’t look back and drove home.  After parking in the garage, I told K to get out of the car.  Nothing.  I panicked and looked in the trunk to see if he was playing a joke on me.  Nothing.  My heart was racing.  I didn’t even stop to call D and tell him what was going on.  I whipped out of that garage so quick.  I had only left him out there for 10 minutes but that was not good – for you see, K has never wandered the neighborhood by himself.  He was familiar with the lay of the land but he never had to do it on his own.  I went back to the spot where I saw him last and drove around shouting his name.  I took what I thought would be the route he took home but nothing.  I finally pulled over and called D.  All he could say (and rightfully so) was, “F***!”  He left the apt. to go look for him.  We were in a serious panic.  Our 10 year old who has never been without a companion was now wandering the streets of Washington Heights alone.  I felt so guilty and horrible.  As I was talking to police officers, giving them information and details of what had happened, D called to say he just got home.  So relieved but still so panicked – I needed to hold my baby.  I rushed home to find him in the bath completely traumatized.  He thought I had done this on purpose.  I apologized profusely and told him that though I may mess around with him, I would never, ever go this far.  I would never put his life in jeopardy.  I could finally breathe but only partially because it was time to clean up the mess I had made.  It took a couple of weeks but we’re all better now.  Since then we’ve made a walking trips around the neighborhood about safe routes and talked about what to do in case you’re in trouble, etc.  We were going to do this anyhow to prepare for middle school and just because he’s growing up but this wasn’t exactly the way I wanted it to happen.  Nonetheless, he’s stronger for this and has grown from it.  I learned to stop messing around with my boys so much and to be a better mother.

His summer of incredible feats doesn’t end here.

Just 10 days ago I got word that a friend’s mother-in-law had passed away.  She passed away on her granddaughter’s, A’s birthday.  K went to kindergarten with A and I shared with him what had happened.  Grandma was already sick with cancer and the family knew she could die any day.  On A’s birthday the family went to visit her in the hospital.  Grandma’s husband had thoughtfully bought cupcakes to celebrate A’s birthday.  They lit the candles, sang Happy Birthday, A made a wish and blew out the candles.  It was then Grandma drew her last breath.  K could see how shook up I was by this.  Sweetly he said, “But mommy, she died celebrating A’s birthday.”  How beautiful and mature.  My child showed me beauty in the midst of tragedy and made me feel so much better.

Well, this story doesn’t end there.  So knowing that a party was scheduled at the same time, I ask K if he could go to the funeral – he wouldn’t miss the party, we would just be late.  I told him there was absolutely no pressure, just shared that I thought it’d be good if A could have one of her friends there.  I told him to go think about it, there was absolutely no pressure for him to go.  With no hesitation his next words were, “OK mommy.  What will I wear?”

He was ever so gracious at the funeral.  His first was his great-grandmother when he was 9 months old and now it was for his friend he went.  He didn’t have to go but he chose to go.  I know his presence made a difference to A.  He even gave her a card.  So humbled by him.

My baby is growing up and I know he’ll continue to amaze me.  For the first time I cried for joy and pride.  I made an absolute blubbering fool of myself.  On his first day of middle school orientation last week, parents were asked to come for a brief introduction.  After saying hello and how are you, they asked everyone to make a tunnel through which the students would join us.  As parents, family and friends cheered, I lost it.  Cried like a baby.  My heart couldn’t hold in the joy and pride I was feeling.  

My tiny premature baby who only weighed 6 lbs and 4 ounces – so small that his daddy could cup him in his hand - is now almost as tall as me and weighs 130 lbs.  He’s growing up.  He continues to amaze me.  Can’t wait to see what he does next.