Monday, July 21, 2014

Grace and Beauty: Kiera E.

She has blond hair, and a wide, friendly smile.  The colors and lines of her figure are beautiful, and her clothing is always neat and stylish.  Every summer, she packs her husband, five children, and three dogs into cars and airplanes, and transports them hundreds of miles up the east coast.  Her children are also beautiful and stylish.  Over the years, friends and acquaintances have not hesitated to express their admiration for Kiera and her five perfect children.  

I, too, admire the lovely smiles of Kiera and her family.  I am also impressed by the ease with which she tackles the day to day management of such a large life. My own family is far smaller, with fewer responsibilities beyond caring for our children.  While most days we manage to find happiness and nourishment, we do so without the aplum of Kiera E.  We make it to the beach, but our feet are bare and our clothes are wrinkled.  We forget to pack lunch and so we eat strawberries and drink milk for lunch.  Kiera and her family give me hope that one day, my little men and I might also be organized.  

***


We sit, side by side, in beach chairs.  Her oldest daughter cradles Jaime, while Kiera holds Cameron.  By the water, Tristan holds the hand of another of Kiera's daughters, who is gently guiding him toward the shallows; keeping him safe and content.  Two more of her children, a girl and a boy, bound up, and announce that they're going to the snack bar.  The boy, who is only seven, asks what he can get us.  His sister suggests an ice cream for Tristan, if that's ok with me. It is. While the children run to fetch us iced teas and ice creams, I talk to Kiera, and seek her comfort and guidance on some of life's challenges.  With an open heart, she willingly shares her thoughts and experiences.

This scene occurs several times a week lately, and it is during these moments that Kiera E. truly inspires.  She is endlessly committed to spiritual growth and kindness; traits which she encourages in her children.  My life is very full, and most of the time, when I give, it is to my children.  Kiera's life is far fuller, and yet she and her children find the opportunity and strength to give to everyone they meet.  It is my hope that her grace and beauty will rub off onto me and my little men, and that we, too, may find the strength and courage to live our lives in service to others.  


Monday, July 14, 2014

Grace and Beauty: Leslie C


Sounds of laughter filtered through the open windows of our nursery.  Neighborhood children were enjoying the stretch of the summer sunlight into evening hours, as I tucked my children into bed for the night.  Our neighborhood is small, and I easily recognized the voices.  With Jaime in my arms, I leaned the rocking chair toward the window, and watched a very pretty little girl with freckles, and a giant bow in her hair, drag a puppy along the sidewalk. 

"Come on!" She said to the dog, with exasperation, encouragement, and love in her voice.  Her friends stood by, waiting, until finally the little girl, who is Leslie C's daughter, decided to adjust her tactic, and asked her friends to go get her brother.  A few moments later, he appeared, and together they lugged the obstinate puppy home.  I smiled at the sight of the two siblings working together, and said a little prayer that my three children would grow to be as kind and loving to one another as the C's children.  

A few hours later, Cameron woke, screaming, because he had soaked through his diaper.  I pulled him out of bed, and began a fruitless search for a clean sheet.  I looked at the pile of laundry spilling out of the bathroom closet, and sighed in defeat.  I lugged out the pack n play, and set it up in our bedroom.  I changed my son and set him in it.  We all slept fitfully in our unfamiliar surroundings.  

At first light, we surrendered and started our day.  I was exhausted, and Cameron was cranky.  I decided that the boys and I would hide away inside, in our pajamas all day long.  I excused us from life on account of my having so many small children to look after; of course things like laundry fall by the wayside, and sometimes that means lazy days.  I grabbed some leftover pizza for my breakfast, and tossed Tristan a banana and sippy cup of milk.  As we munched, Tristan played with his toys, and the twins rolled around on the floor.  I sleepily perused Facebook.   An update from the Groovy Gator, Leslie C's children's boutique, caught my eye.  A group of cheerful children, clad in adorable, bright-colored clothing hung around a lifeguard chair.  The status announced that the shop was open, and ready for shoppers. 

I glanced at my three children.  I didn't need to go to the Groovy Gator, because their perfect beach-ready outfits were already hanging over a laundry basket; Leslie had brought them to us a few weeks earlier.  I thought about Leslie, and her beautiful, kind children.  She's raising three kids while running a business, and launching a clothing line.  Suddenly, my excuses seemed absurd.  I dropped the pizza and put on my bathing suit.  I dressed the kids in their Groovy outfits, and away we went.

A few hours later, when a friend of my mother's saw us at the beach, she asked me how I possibly did anything with three children so small, and so close in age. I responded with my usual line about having lots of help.  In my mind, I was thinking of the beauty and grace of the life of Leslie C. and how it made my own challenges and responsibilities seem so small, and inspired me to face life with enthusiasm and joy.  


Grace and Beauty

On any given day, I can be spotted transporting my three small children around Aquidneck Island.  We go to the beach, we visit relatives, and we run errands.  I wear one of the babies in an Ergo, and the other shares  a double BOB stroller with his big brother. The people we meet stare for a moment, while they reassure themselves that yes, this mother is vastly outnumbered by her babies.

"Well, you have your hands full, haven't you?" they say. "How on earth do you do it?"  
I respond with an oft-rehearsed line about loving motherhood, and accepting help from friends and family.

  I don't take the time to explain what I mean by help.  Much of it is given consciously and willingly; smiling friends and family who cuddle my babies and entertain my wild toddler, and who shower me with strength and support.  Sometimes, however, the help is not so obvious.  Some of my benefactors work as a role models, unaware that they are spreading strength and inspiration into my heart.

In an effort to better answer those who are curious about where I find the strength to care for my three little men, I've decided to write a series: "Grace and Beauty." Each post will honor a woman whose grace and beauty have filtered into my life, and transformed into courage and guidance.  I would like to say I will post weekly, but it may be that fate has other plans for me.  

Friday, July 11, 2014

A Day Like Any Other

It hasn't been too long since I've written, but a month has passed since I last published any thoughts.  The end of June and the beginning of July have been a series of disruptions ranging from sleepless nights and childhood fevers to the death of loved ones, and relapses into serious illness. Today was no different, and we endured both sleeplessness and tragic news.  Even so, each morning we rise, done our swimsuits, and head to the beach.  We have only three months in which to roam the sand, surrounded by loved ones; drenched in sunlight, wind and salty spray. Wasting one of these days in doors feels, to me, like a grave offense.

Last night, our son's brain endured a massive, painful transition.  Or, at least, this is what we imagine must have kept him awake until 4:40 in the morning, only to rise a few hours later, with a noticeably stronger grasp of language and vocabulary.

"Please bring the toenail clippers to me, Tristan; they are not a toy for children," I asked him, in the groggy and disoriented voice of one who hasn't had nearly enough sleep in several days.

He squinted at me for a moment, and then, in a thoughtful voice, said, "No."

"Tristan, you are going to hurt yourself, please bring me those clippers." 

This time he paused only briefly, and a note of jubilee entered his tone. "No," he said.

"Tristan, can you bring that to Bella?"  This would be my last attempt to persuade him to surrender the clippers willingly, and I was already moving toward him.  A glint of playful challenge entered his eyes, and he tucked his toy behind his back.

"No," he said, happily, backing away. 

As of now, I remain quicker and more flexible than him, and it was quite easy to snatch the toenail clippers out of his tiny hands.  He may have shrieked, but I don't remember.  I'm also unsure of what I did with the clippers, other than placing them somewhere out of reach.  These memories are among many that exhaustion has stolen from me. All I can really recall about the two hours that followed this exchange is a strong urge to sleep.  It's still with me.  The urge to play in the sand and splash in the waves was stronger.  The urge to write is stronger, now. So we went.

  My three little men filled their lungs with fresh, sea air, and stretched their faces into smiles and giggles.  They hopped in between cool shade and bright sunlight, and they ran along the edge of the ocean.  They were wrapped in a thousand hugs, and heard countless voices cover them in love.

Like so many days, recently, today was punctuated with difficulty and loss.  It was lived through the foggy, half-vision of fatigue.  It was colored by the deep hues of Aquidneck Island shores in July.

Tristan learned to defy me, and we went to the beach.  I will think of everything else tomorrow.