wobbles + portals
We move through portals, so why wouldn’t our magical beings?
Chris and Eider just headed out the door and down to Montpelier for Eider to take his driver’s test. Fingers crossed for that guy. He has been sixteen for just about 2 months and the timing feels right. It is funny how that works. He needed to wait a tick. Maple waited longer but that made perfect sense too. The thing about getting your license is that suddenly, you have the practical and legal capacity to drive away. The impending departure accelerates. Not to mention how we immediately go from driving our kiddo all over tarnation to not driving them at all. And as much as that was completely exhausting it was also time spent together and there is very little I would ever be inclined to trade that for.
I am getting sappy already, and I am only getting started. Just warming up. But alas, not really. I said to Chris recently: Can you believe that we are about to enter our third decade of parenting?? And after a moment’s consideration, he replied simply: Yes. Yes, I can believe it. We are too deep into a certain kind of fatigue, physical as well as emotional, that maybe you can only get to after years of pouring love and care and time and every last drop of limited resources into human beings who, in turn, owe us absolutely nothing. We are worn down in a very particular way.
But I wouldn’t change a thing. Even as I sit here, perpetually devastated by the truth of Eider’s ticking timeline. At the end of his sophomore year, the ramp-up/count-down for his launch had begun in earnest. I can’t deny it, even though, I assure you, I am trying. It was so compartmentalized for Maple for so long that digging into it now with our second is a particular devastation. A deeper insult. And of course, many things inform it. The love and the bond with each kid is so unique and I know I have spewed about this countless times over the years, but everyone should be so blessed as to have such an easy, uncomplicated love as I experience with Eider. No constraints, very little, if any paradox, and just boundless waves of adoration.
Also, it bears mentioning that I hate myself for jumping the gun here. I did it with Moo, too, and I just wish I could be different. No luck yet. I do my very best to be present, but I start missing them, longing for them, even before they leave. I don’t know if it is a protective mechanism or just some primal fault in my wiring but here I am, arms full and heart aching all at once. I want to learn. I long to learn. How to manage my connection to my own compulsion toward time travel in a way that is less full of the immediate awareness of loss. Can’t I just be in the fullness? The hay-day of today, which, let’s be honest is the very fucking top of the mountain.
Freddy has been writing a book this past week. I am his scribe, but the story and the words are all his. It is pretty awesome. He is doing a great job of developing characters and carrying the narrative thread. He has been adding illustrations here and there as well, and I am blown away by his ability to dial in perspective while also making developmental and stylistic leaps in real time. His creativity is so cool. He has also written and recorded several songs that support his story arc and just yesterday began to dig into some video production with support from Chris and his iPhone. I am giddy any time one of my kids gets all gung-ho on an idea or project and this development has a lot of my attention. Plus, it turns out I could always use a heck a lot more practice when it comes to the balance of non-attachment and open-armed support. I’m not sure I am improving at this pursuit; you’d have to ask my kids, but I am certainly increasingly more accustomed to occupying this space.
Freddy lost his very first tooth on Saturday morning. With its neighbor loose next door and the two big bottoms already breaking skin and pushing through behind. He isn’t a fan of wiggling, neither were Moo or Eid, but just letting it wobble until it dangles by a thread and the slightest disruption sets it free. That first one is so upsetting. Fortunately, he has lots of contact with kids just enough older than he to have lost a few but not so old as to be callous to the process. They were lovely for him. Acknowledging the difficulty of that first tooth while simultaneously modeling confidence in the overall process. Nevertheless, big crocodile tears were shed with a not-so-slight upset regarding the little bit of blood that marked the baby tooth’s departure. It’s a lot to take in. And I think, in his own way, he is aware of the event’s significance within the framework of his childhood. It is a passage. A portal between little and big. This is how we do it.
He lost his tooth the morning before Easter and so there was some discussion regarding the logistics of both the tooth fairy and the easter bunny making their way into the house on the very same night. He seems to have it sorted that because the bunny’s work is mostly downstairs and the fairy’s was upstairs in his sleeping space, they would arrive via their own distinct portals. We move through portals, so why wouldn’t our magical beings? Downstairs portal for the bun and upstairs portal for the tooth fairy. Obviously.
That night, after all of the magic had been made and I was finishing up my nightly ablutions, I looked at myself in the mirror and considered, for the millionth time, the portal of my body. How is it possible that my singular human form has functioned as a vessel for so much more than just this one person? It is the strangest and most basic truth of my life. I have grown to the size of an entire planet only to be split open and rendered for my milk time and again. I have repeatedly made something that is not mine, does not belong to me, and yet is my ultimate creative act. How on earth is any of this possible? It is strange, is it not? To grow lives other than our own. To be at once so invested and so utterly irrelevant.
Ok I don’t actually believe that. Parents and caregivers are not irrelevant. We are essential. So much about who we are can make or break the ease of the entire equation. I know that. I myself have defied some odds. But I also know that just because I have done a pretty ok job at my task by no means grants me rights to any outcome. That continues to be true. And staying aware of that truth is both the gift and the tragedy.
That’s enough for now, don’t you think? Even though I really do have so much more to say. About the kids. About Maple. Most certainly about Chris and everything I continue to learn, bearing witness to him. So, hopefully more soon. Thanks, as ever, for sharing the ride. I appreciate you.
(It must be time to wrap it up anyway cuz Chris just texted to say we have another licensed driver in the fam. Well done, Bear. You can drive me anywhere.)