The boys are settled in, and now we wait

I still don’t have access to Em-i-lis on any computer so remain stuck typing on my phone. It’s extremely annoying, but alas. At least I know where my children are, and I know they’re safe and well cared for.

Our trip to Maine to move them into camp couldn’t have been lovelier. We flew to Portland, ate a lobster roll (they had chicken fingers, y’all. Sigh.), and drove to Belgrade where we checked into a darling inn, met another camper Ol’s age, took a dip in the lake, ate a truly delicious meal, lit sparklers, and tried to get the kids and their unbridled enthusiasm to bed. 

lobster rolls and clam chowder at Miller Bros seafood

Camp is on a small island, and the first boat from shore wasn’t leaving until 1p. Up early, we did everything possible to pass the time, as the kids were champing at the bit to “get there.” I started to wonder if their glee would wane at all- would goodbyes actually be not so bad?

After pastries, chess,  coffee, a quick visit to Colby College, a walk through Waterville (home of Colby), lunch, and a practice drive to the dock, we returned to the dock 45 minutes early. 

It was a perfect, glorious day. The boys ran around with the friend they’d made the evening before. They met some new kids and dipped their toes in the water. Finally, it was our turn. 

The camp sits in an idyllic, bucolic place. Everything feels crisp and clean and pure. There is no cell reception. Indeed the only electricity is in the dining hall’s kitchen. Open-sided, raised tents and hammocks dot the land. The gathering hall/library/game room is the stuff of dreams. Hogwarts meets summer camp.

We made the boys’ beds, toured camp, met other families, and started to feel a touch nervous. I don’t know that either J or O had really thought about what it actually means to not see or talk to us for six weeks. I had, which had resulted in not a few tears over the week leading up to the adventure. But thus are the lovely truths of both childhood and adulthood, and ultimately we met in the middle and cried it all out. 

Forcing ourselves to gently break our embraces and kiss the boys and encourage them to go exploring with two of the outstanding counselors we met was almost painful. The boat ride back to the mainland was somber, and I waved until the boys were but specks on the horizon. 

Later, via the Facebook parent page for camp, I heard from the mom of one of Ol’s tentmates that when she moved her son in, Ol seemed happy and excited. That did my and Tom’s hearts so good.

We both have a great feeling about this summer, about the ways the boys will grow and become more independent, and also the ways we will.  

The 18 hours T and I spent in Portland after leaving Belgrade was a great start. I plan to share that soon- the food is off the charts delish.

Keep your fingers crossed we get a letter soon! 

Father’s Day

I’m writing this via my phone as I’m locked out of my blog everywhere else (long, exceedingly annoying story), so please forgive any typos or incoherence. 

We had a lovely Father’s Day celebrating Tom and talking to my dear father and getting good time with T’s dad at the beach last week. And yet the whole day was tinged with a decidedly black cast by the fact that the Trump administration has torn more than 2,000 kids from their parents at the Mexico-US border as they staggered across seeking asylum. They have a legal right to do so, and we have a moral obligation to offer safety, and yet, we are treating them as less than human, as burdensome garbage. 

People don’t leave their homes unless they really have to. Unless they’re terrified or being abused or endangered or are deeply desperate due to poverty or violence or the like.

Today, able to hug and love the children that made us parents, we took the boys to a protest at the White House on behalf of the #KeepFamiliesTogether movement. It was all I could think to do in the face of the rage and impotence I felt and continue to feel.

The stories coming from the border are horrible. An infant ripped from its mother’s breast while feeding, taken away, the mother not told where. Who is feeding that baby now? With what? How?

We see photographs of sobbing toddlers, kids with sheets of foil as blankets, behind chain-link walls. Cages of sorts. We are told they get one hour outside a day, that the folks who staff the detention center are not allowed to hug or comfort them.

We read reports about strangers caring for the younger kids in their cells, teaching others how to change diapers.  

We hear lies about family separation being law. It is NOT law.  

We hear that NOT ONE Republican senator has signed on to co-sponsor Senator Feinstein’s Keep Familes Together Act, and so it languishes, as do the children, the babies in detention camps in our own country.  One father killed himself last week just after being forcibly separated from his children; he couldn’t stand it. 

A tent city has been proposed. In Tornillo, TX. A TENT CITY! In America! Is no one in the disgraceful White House with a heart? Does no one wonder what traumatizing people might reap? On our souls? On our safety?

And so we made another protest sign, filled a bottle with ice and water, and parked ourselves in front of the White House. 

When will we reach bottom? When will any Republican running for re-election grow a pair and scream “ENOUGH!” At what cost does this hate and bigotry and destructive  nationalism come? I fear we don’t even know yet. 

Rise up, call your senators and congressional reps, donate to organizations helping at the border, be kind. Keeping families safe and together shouldn’t be political or partisan.

This morning, before I called my dad, I told my boys about a Father’s Day decades ago. Dad was attending an Episcopal church then, and I went with him that morning. A parishioner named John was there, bereft and lonely. Dad invited him home for lunch with us, no head’s up to Mom, and at our table there was room and plenty and love.

I hope that someday this country can actually be great. Can actually offer the promise of hope and dreams and opportunity and love. We're falling so short right now. I am ashamed and sorry and scared.

Today was so stupid, aka almost the end of school plus ridiculous

Today was absurd, and I don't mean that in a good way. It was stupid and frustrating and really unnecessary on this, the penultimate day of this school year.

Jack has been home sick for two days. Our air conditioner has been broken for nearly two weeks (merciful being wherever you might roam, it has been unseasonably cool here), and about three weeks ago, the water commission sent out a team to finally install the larger and new main that was, if you recall via the post Integrity, sprung on us as a requirement for moving forward with and completing our kitchen renovation. 

The team jackhammered into the street and sidewalk in their desired location only to find a previously unmarked by live gas line buried within. Then, they did the same destruction a few feet down and seemed to meet with success, promising that the shoddy asphalt fill jobs in all the holes were temporary fixes.  

Recently, our trusted plumbers got the go-ahead to connect the new line to our house, and so today, they started. I made them promise to avoid my beloved fig tree, and they worked around it beautifully, digging an abyss so long and deep that Mike Mulligan would be proud. It really stressed the shit out of me to see so much of my yard backhoed into a pile -Tom works so dang hard on his grass- and really, a day without water, not least with a sick kid at home, will give you a profound appreciation for water-on-demand.

Nine hours and three inspections and a new hole in my basement wall and the fire alarms all going off because of the soldering and the toilets now full later, we got the go-ahead to fill in the abyss.

And then they switched the water back on and THE DAMN PIPES OFF THE NEW METER INSTALLED BY THE DAMN WATER COMMISSION'S SUB-CONTRACT TEAM WHO DOES NOT NEED ANY INSPECTION OF THEIR WORK began to leak. TO LEAK!!!! Are you flipping kidding me? The water commission folks blamed it on our plumbers even though the leak was in the meter pit which even I know is off limits to anyone EXCEPT employees of, wait for it, the water commission.

Meanwhile, some guy, another subcontractor from the water commission, came with a circle saw and began slicing into the streets outside. Do they not think it's best to make sure the job is completely done before repairing all streets and sidewalks?

This has legit been the dumbest experience. This is why people only-somewhat-in-jest call Maryland "the People's Republic of Maryland" and proceed to turn Republican. Mary, mother of lords. We did get to flush our toilets tonight and shower but everyone comes back tomorrow, the last day of school, to (hopefully) finish things up.

At some point we'll get a new damn air conditioner, and at some point I have to pack for our annual family beach week which involves a more than 7-hour drive on Saturday. I admit that I am not excited about that drive IN.ANY.WAY. Also, Jack is grounded from screens so that's an extra bonus to enhance the in-car family dynamics. 

I'm over today. And tomorrow, preemptively. But I do love the friends my boys have, so in the meantime, I’ll take these smiles.