Way back in August, I traveled to Boston to visit my dear friend Anneke, her husband Steve and then four-month old baby Mary Lou. Last year, in May, I took the trip with Manny in tow; he was still nursing and was fairly portable, it was free for him to fly as a “babe in arms,” and I couldn’t imagine leaving Gabriel with an almost two-year old toddler and a seven-month old baby. This year, I planned to take Manny with me, registering him as “in arms” (no longer a “babe,” at least to my mind) with the airline ahead of time and beginning arrangements with Anneke to find a car seat and pack ‘n’ play for Manny’s use during our visit.
However, just over a week before we were set to depart, I experienced a Manny Meltdown while homeward bound from a pool outing, during which I was gently reprimanded by a fellow passenger. This incident was preceded a just several days before by a Manny Meltdown following a trip to the zoo, in which he screamed on the bus because he dropped his sucker; that time, I was reprimanded by the driver. Both incidents, and especially the combination of incidents, left me a little shaken: How on earth was I supposed to travel in the confined space of an airplane for more than two hours with a toddler who screamed when tired and hated to sit still? Not to mention the fact that my lap was becoming non-existent with the growth of the third Sanchez child.
My wonderful husband, upon hearing my distress at the prospect of traveling with the Moo, hit upon a brilliant solution: Leave Manny home with him and Jonah. At first, I said, “No, there’s no way.” I actually looked forward to showing Manny off to Steve and An, to having him around Baby Lou, and to spending the weekend with just one child. It didn’t take long, though, for me to see the wisdom of my husband’s advice. Going child-free would mean that I could actually enjoy some adults-only time with my friends; I wouldn’t have to worry about Manny annoying the other passengers (as he undoubtedly would); and I could have “one last hurrah” before, well, it probably wouldn’t happen anymore. It would be like Magical Laura Saturday for three whole days! The turnaround from thinking, “That’s a nice offer, but it’s not going to happen” to “Hurrah! A trip by myself!” was the matter of only a few days.
Once on my way, it didn’t take long to realize what a treat it was to be traveling solo. I could sleep in; I worried only about my own naps and not toddler naps; and I could sit down to read or to chat with Steve and Anneke whenever they weren’t busy tending Baby Lou or their home and garden. While I did miss being able to show off how much Manny has grown over the past year, leaving him in Chicago was well worth whatever minor regrets I may have experienced about that. What’s more, Jonah and Manny were able to have three whole days of bonding time with just Dada, which was a treasure for all three of them. It’s lovely to be missed, as Gabriel told me I was, but I like being missed just enough to know that I was in their thoughts and not so much that the home couldn’t function without me. Bravo, Husband!
Monday, October 12, 2009
Boston, pt 2
The trip was wonderful. My visit last year prompted an interest in the beginning of the United States, as we visited Concord, the site of the first battle of the American Revolution. We were treated to an inspiring lecture on American exceptionalism by a real New England blueblood, who spent his time dressed in period clothing, demonstrating rifle-loading, and rousing the masses. (Steve’s comment on the way home was that he actually felt proud to be an American for the first time in ages.) This year we continued the American theme be visiting the national park that includes the birthplace of John Adams, his first home with Abigail (both located, almost strangely, at a busy, unattractive, commercial intersection in Quincy – the times, they have a-changed!), and Peacefield, the lovely (onetime) farm and estate that he and Abigail bought and expanded upon their return from Europe.
Here Anneke relaxes with Baby Lou on the front porch. Lou did great thru most of the tour, and then passed out on this horribly uncomfortable-looking wooden bench. She could easily be mistaken for a doll.
Peacefield was handed down thru four generations of Adams men, who all kept an eye toward maintaining the home (which makes sense especially because they lived there!). The last of these men, Brooks Adams, donated the land to his country and its people -- we should all be grateful. Below is the side of Peacefield, at right, with the greenery-covered stone and brick library on the left. The library is a work of art itself.
We relaxed in the gardens with lunch.
Me, An, and Baby Lou. I look like I'm wilting from the heat and humidity. I was.
My Sunday evening flight out of Boston allowed enough time to attend church service with the Stassons, lunch and a nap, and the world’s fastest coffee date with just Anneke, which was greatly cherished, as they are few and months or years between! What’s more, Anneke has been for the past several years my best friend.
I was somewhat of a late bloomer in college. Though I stayed in the dorms for my first three semesters, I wasn’t really what you’d call a “dorm activity” kind of girl. What’s more, I was dating someone during that year and a half, and I practically refused (still not sure why) to do my laundry at the dorms, opting instead to live at my parents’ house on the weekends (clearly, I had a lot of laundry that needed attention). I spent my fourth semester in Costa Rica on a non-Calvin program; my closest friends there attended school in Oregon and Illinois and Iowa and central Michigan, out of range of the “amazing college friends” bond that is fostered by seeing one another every day. I lived in a house with four and then five other girls my junior and senior years, but never really felt that I found my niche.
It wasn’t until Calvin’s January Interim term that I finally began to feel really and truly comfortable at Calvin, thanks in no small part to Anneke’s friendship. While we’d known each other for at least a few months prior to that January, sharing a room in a South Korean university’s dormitory and traveling the country with our class catalyzed a deep and lasting friendship, the kind I’d always wanted to experience in college. Returning to Calvin for the start of my last semester, I was in many ways different from the person I’d been before. My friendship with Anneke and with one other person actually gave me the self-confidence to be as outgoing as I can possibly be (difficult for me) and to actually relax.
Anneke stayed in Grand Rapids for about a year after graduation, and so she was with me thru the early days of my relationship with Gabriel, and thru the early stages of my conversion to the Orthodox Church. Just those two events almost define my life as it is now, and it’s very possible that no one had a clearer view into the inchoate stages of “My Life Now” than Anneke. At the same time, visiting her makes me revisit “My Life Then,” in college, when I thought of a Ph.D. (which she is now pursuing), when I was single, when I was attending a church that I now think of as only barely “a church.” I certainly don’t mourn the turns my life has taken; there is just a singular sensation in being with the one close friend whose friendship straddles these two parts of my life. And there is a certain bitter-sweetness in being with Anneke. I recall that she came to my extended family’s Thanksgiving dinner with me my senior year at Calvin. Afterwards, she told me that while she was happy to be with us for the time, it almost made her sad that she was missing that hominess with her own family. Perhaps that’s what I feel when I visit Anneke: I’m thrilled to be with her and to take part in her life, but it makes me miss her even more when we’re separated by a thousand miles. Besides my husband, I wouldn’t be surprised if Anneke is the person who most understands me, even though we lead different lives and filter each thru our own personalities and backgrounds and practices of Christianity. Having a dear friend like Anneke in close proximity is something with which I was blessed for a brief time in my life; I’m blessed still by her friendship, despite the miles.
Here Anneke relaxes with Baby Lou on the front porch. Lou did great thru most of the tour, and then passed out on this horribly uncomfortable-looking wooden bench. She could easily be mistaken for a doll.
Peacefield was handed down thru four generations of Adams men, who all kept an eye toward maintaining the home (which makes sense especially because they lived there!). The last of these men, Brooks Adams, donated the land to his country and its people -- we should all be grateful. Below is the side of Peacefield, at right, with the greenery-covered stone and brick library on the left. The library is a work of art itself.
We relaxed in the gardens with lunch.
Me, An, and Baby Lou. I look like I'm wilting from the heat and humidity. I was.
The four of us also engaged in that great American pastime, baseball spectating. One of Gabriel’s favorite major league pitchers, Tim Wakefield the knuckleballer, happened to be pitching a rehab start for the Boston Red Sox minor league team, the Pawtucket (Rhode Island) Red Sox. I almost felt guilty watching Wakefield pitch, knowing how much more my husband would appreciate it than I ever possibly could. A giant round of “fried dough” (yup, it is what it sounds like) with some powdered sugar helped to take the edge off. (I shared.) I took this picture on accident, thinking that I was taking a video. Lucky mistake!
My Sunday evening flight out of Boston allowed enough time to attend church service with the Stassons, lunch and a nap, and the world’s fastest coffee date with just Anneke, which was greatly cherished, as they are few and months or years between! What’s more, Anneke has been for the past several years my best friend.
I was somewhat of a late bloomer in college. Though I stayed in the dorms for my first three semesters, I wasn’t really what you’d call a “dorm activity” kind of girl. What’s more, I was dating someone during that year and a half, and I practically refused (still not sure why) to do my laundry at the dorms, opting instead to live at my parents’ house on the weekends (clearly, I had a lot of laundry that needed attention). I spent my fourth semester in Costa Rica on a non-Calvin program; my closest friends there attended school in Oregon and Illinois and Iowa and central Michigan, out of range of the “amazing college friends” bond that is fostered by seeing one another every day. I lived in a house with four and then five other girls my junior and senior years, but never really felt that I found my niche.
It wasn’t until Calvin’s January Interim term that I finally began to feel really and truly comfortable at Calvin, thanks in no small part to Anneke’s friendship. While we’d known each other for at least a few months prior to that January, sharing a room in a South Korean university’s dormitory and traveling the country with our class catalyzed a deep and lasting friendship, the kind I’d always wanted to experience in college. Returning to Calvin for the start of my last semester, I was in many ways different from the person I’d been before. My friendship with Anneke and with one other person actually gave me the self-confidence to be as outgoing as I can possibly be (difficult for me) and to actually relax.
Anneke stayed in Grand Rapids for about a year after graduation, and so she was with me thru the early days of my relationship with Gabriel, and thru the early stages of my conversion to the Orthodox Church. Just those two events almost define my life as it is now, and it’s very possible that no one had a clearer view into the inchoate stages of “My Life Now” than Anneke. At the same time, visiting her makes me revisit “My Life Then,” in college, when I thought of a Ph.D. (which she is now pursuing), when I was single, when I was attending a church that I now think of as only barely “a church.” I certainly don’t mourn the turns my life has taken; there is just a singular sensation in being with the one close friend whose friendship straddles these two parts of my life. And there is a certain bitter-sweetness in being with Anneke. I recall that she came to my extended family’s Thanksgiving dinner with me my senior year at Calvin. Afterwards, she told me that while she was happy to be with us for the time, it almost made her sad that she was missing that hominess with her own family. Perhaps that’s what I feel when I visit Anneke: I’m thrilled to be with her and to take part in her life, but it makes me miss her even more when we’re separated by a thousand miles. Besides my husband, I wouldn’t be surprised if Anneke is the person who most understands me, even though we lead different lives and filter each thru our own personalities and backgrounds and practices of Christianity. Having a dear friend like Anneke in close proximity is something with which I was blessed for a brief time in my life; I’m blessed still by her friendship, despite the miles.
Thank you, An. I love you!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Pup
Manny carelessly tossed Pup on the bathroom floor and left him there. I found the poor stray leaning on one haunch, propped on his foreleg, staring morosely at our cabinet, one ear perked up as he waited for his errant master to come back and reclaim him. Poor Pup can't actually walk by himself, you know.
Chubs in the tub
The boys may be eating popsicles because Manny got hurt (cold icy treats have been known to cure an ill or two in the past), or just because they asked for them. Letting the boys eat the treats in the bath solves the problem of sticky sugar water on table, floor and clothes, and it clearly produces some pretty cute photos.
Hammy Manny and Llama Drama.
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