Home again, part 1
My old bedroom is now an office. The yellow and white bamboo trimmed furniture had been replaced by an enormous desk and a day bed over a decade ago. My girlie posters and pictures disappeared and an eclectic mix of nautical pictures, Japanese prints, and some abstract art filled their place. Still, it's home.
San Antonio feels like home here despite the many changes that have taken place since we left. The new houses that have gone up in my old neighborhood, the synagogue expansion, the transformation of a four lane road into a seven lane highway, the new, hip vegetarian kosher restaurant, unfamiliar, but not uncharacteristic. Change is the only constant here. Families come and go, buildings pop up like welcome weeds, the city stretches and expands, the growing pains barely noticeable anymore. I miss it all terribly.
The last couple of weeks have been a jolt of activity. After a fairly predictable summer getting the kids ready for camp, dropping them off at camp, going for a walk somewhere interesting, picking the kids up from camp, and on and on like a well-oiled, but slightly imbalanced machine, we're finally throwing schedules to the wind.
I got a head start on the adventures last weekend when I flew to New York for my little cousin's wedding. It was the first time in ages I had been away from my children, but Granma Thuthin, her boyfriend, and her doggy came to my husband's rescue. They drove in the day I left to help my husband manage. I left them membership cards to the zoo and a couple of museums, with the hopes of getting everybody out of the house.
Predictably, they didn't go anywhere. My husband took the opportunity to catch up on all of the manly fix-it-up projects that had been left by the wayside. He reassembled the girls' bunk bed, now that we deemed our toddler sufficiently grown up to not cause herself too much damage climbing up and down. He assembled a new set of drawers for my son's room, and a TV stand for the living room. He cleaned up, organized, and took our wild apartment by the horns, taming the stubborn beast. Granma Thuthin and her entourage had to be content with short walks and visits to the park. I felt a bit of consternation for them, but it was nice to come back to a less chaotic home.
In the meantime, I flew into LaGuardia, and was greeted at the airport by my mom. My sister's house looked like the set of a modeling TV reality show. My niece was in the process of picking out a gown for the wedding, and I got dragged into the action. "Here." My sister efficiently handed me a silvery-blue fishtail tiered gown that was too long and too plunging for my staid sensibilities. But she was not to be deterred. "You look fabulous in it!" I looked at the gown I had intended to wear, along with the newly made shrug and matching hat, and grumbled to myself, all that time and money for nothing. My sister set to work cutting off the bottom tier of the dress while I tried to figure out how to use it for a head scarf. I cut off a corner of the scarf to sew on the front to raise the decolletage to a reasonable level. I felt ridiculous.
Early the next morning I went with my mother to get my hair cut for the wedding. I came prepared with an envelope and plastic baggie to gather up my ponytail and mail it off to locks of love. My hair just barely reached the required ten inches, but I couldn't wait another minute to lop it off. I craved the freedom of a quick shower. Later that day I indulged myself with a pedicure. I was punch drunk on freedom from parenting life.
I wasn't entirely free from family life, but that was the idea. The wedding was a blast. My parents, my grandmother, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews. cousins and sisters converged on Jersey City to see our little cousin married off in style. I missed out on the rehearsal dinner and the ceremony because of Shabbat, but I made it for the reception and the Sunday morning brunch. As disappointing as it was to miss seeing my little cousin beaming under the chuppah with his beautiful bride, I was relieved to have an excuse not to smudge my mascara. That wedding was destined to be a tear-jerker.
I watched my sisters and mom dress, fuss over hair and make-up, and trade ball gowns back and forth. I was stuck waiting for Shabbat to end before I could attend to my own dolling-up. Once they left, I headed back to my room and ruminated over the two gowns I brought; the one I originally intended to wear, and the one three generations of picky fashionistas deemed proper. The decision was made easy for me when I saw a middle aged woman saunter by in the same gown my sister insisted I wear. Grow a backbone. I admonished myself, and put on the gown I brought.
The reception was amazing. I walked into the reception hall long after the ceremony was over and my cousin was betrothed. Boxes of house slippers in all sizes for the ladies, stood invitingly by the entrance. All of us women removed our perilously high bone-crunching stilettos and slipped our tootsies into pure heaven. We found our family tables tucked in a romantic corner, and began to boogie the night away. It was one of the most warm, relaxed, and fun weddings I had been to in a while. Everyone smiled from ear-to-ear to be brought together by such a joyful occasion. Even my grandmother and her cousin busted a few moves - from their seats.
On Sunday morning we packed our bags and headed to the brunch. I was unanimously volunteered by my family to give a welcome spiel. My recently rediscovered backbone wilted as I grudgingly agreed, everyone else pleading stage fright. My words of welcome sprinkled with some words of Torah, delivered, we made it out of the restaurant, and to the airport. My raucous reprieve from parenting was officially over, and I couldn't wait to get back to my kids.
I got back Sunday night, and awoke the following morning to a bustling household. One husband, a mother-in-law, a boyfriend, three kids and a dog greeted me with big smiles. We hustled around packing, cleaning, feeding animals and children, and slowly the house cleared out. Granma Thuthin and her entourage left before noon, heading back to Minnesota. We continued to pack and clean for a Tuesday morning departure, when my husband got a look on his face I recognized. "Let's start the drive tonight!" He boldly suggested. What else were we going to do?
So that night, less than 24 hours after I returned from New Jersey, we began our drive home to an ever-changing, always home, Texas.
To be continued...
San Antonio feels like home here despite the many changes that have taken place since we left. The new houses that have gone up in my old neighborhood, the synagogue expansion, the transformation of a four lane road into a seven lane highway, the new, hip vegetarian kosher restaurant, unfamiliar, but not uncharacteristic. Change is the only constant here. Families come and go, buildings pop up like welcome weeds, the city stretches and expands, the growing pains barely noticeable anymore. I miss it all terribly.
The last couple of weeks have been a jolt of activity. After a fairly predictable summer getting the kids ready for camp, dropping them off at camp, going for a walk somewhere interesting, picking the kids up from camp, and on and on like a well-oiled, but slightly imbalanced machine, we're finally throwing schedules to the wind.
I got a head start on the adventures last weekend when I flew to New York for my little cousin's wedding. It was the first time in ages I had been away from my children, but Granma Thuthin, her boyfriend, and her doggy came to my husband's rescue. They drove in the day I left to help my husband manage. I left them membership cards to the zoo and a couple of museums, with the hopes of getting everybody out of the house.
Predictably, they didn't go anywhere. My husband took the opportunity to catch up on all of the manly fix-it-up projects that had been left by the wayside. He reassembled the girls' bunk bed, now that we deemed our toddler sufficiently grown up to not cause herself too much damage climbing up and down. He assembled a new set of drawers for my son's room, and a TV stand for the living room. He cleaned up, organized, and took our wild apartment by the horns, taming the stubborn beast. Granma Thuthin and her entourage had to be content with short walks and visits to the park. I felt a bit of consternation for them, but it was nice to come back to a less chaotic home.
In the meantime, I flew into LaGuardia, and was greeted at the airport by my mom. My sister's house looked like the set of a modeling TV reality show. My niece was in the process of picking out a gown for the wedding, and I got dragged into the action. "Here." My sister efficiently handed me a silvery-blue fishtail tiered gown that was too long and too plunging for my staid sensibilities. But she was not to be deterred. "You look fabulous in it!" I looked at the gown I had intended to wear, along with the newly made shrug and matching hat, and grumbled to myself, all that time and money for nothing. My sister set to work cutting off the bottom tier of the dress while I tried to figure out how to use it for a head scarf. I cut off a corner of the scarf to sew on the front to raise the decolletage to a reasonable level. I felt ridiculous.
Early the next morning I went with my mother to get my hair cut for the wedding. I came prepared with an envelope and plastic baggie to gather up my ponytail and mail it off to locks of love. My hair just barely reached the required ten inches, but I couldn't wait another minute to lop it off. I craved the freedom of a quick shower. Later that day I indulged myself with a pedicure. I was punch drunk on freedom from parenting life.
I wasn't entirely free from family life, but that was the idea. The wedding was a blast. My parents, my grandmother, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews. cousins and sisters converged on Jersey City to see our little cousin married off in style. I missed out on the rehearsal dinner and the ceremony because of Shabbat, but I made it for the reception and the Sunday morning brunch. As disappointing as it was to miss seeing my little cousin beaming under the chuppah with his beautiful bride, I was relieved to have an excuse not to smudge my mascara. That wedding was destined to be a tear-jerker.
I watched my sisters and mom dress, fuss over hair and make-up, and trade ball gowns back and forth. I was stuck waiting for Shabbat to end before I could attend to my own dolling-up. Once they left, I headed back to my room and ruminated over the two gowns I brought; the one I originally intended to wear, and the one three generations of picky fashionistas deemed proper. The decision was made easy for me when I saw a middle aged woman saunter by in the same gown my sister insisted I wear. Grow a backbone. I admonished myself, and put on the gown I brought.
The reception was amazing. I walked into the reception hall long after the ceremony was over and my cousin was betrothed. Boxes of house slippers in all sizes for the ladies, stood invitingly by the entrance. All of us women removed our perilously high bone-crunching stilettos and slipped our tootsies into pure heaven. We found our family tables tucked in a romantic corner, and began to boogie the night away. It was one of the most warm, relaxed, and fun weddings I had been to in a while. Everyone smiled from ear-to-ear to be brought together by such a joyful occasion. Even my grandmother and her cousin busted a few moves - from their seats.
On Sunday morning we packed our bags and headed to the brunch. I was unanimously volunteered by my family to give a welcome spiel. My recently rediscovered backbone wilted as I grudgingly agreed, everyone else pleading stage fright. My words of welcome sprinkled with some words of Torah, delivered, we made it out of the restaurant, and to the airport. My raucous reprieve from parenting was officially over, and I couldn't wait to get back to my kids.
I got back Sunday night, and awoke the following morning to a bustling household. One husband, a mother-in-law, a boyfriend, three kids and a dog greeted me with big smiles. We hustled around packing, cleaning, feeding animals and children, and slowly the house cleared out. Granma Thuthin and her entourage left before noon, heading back to Minnesota. We continued to pack and clean for a Tuesday morning departure, when my husband got a look on his face I recognized. "Let's start the drive tonight!" He boldly suggested. What else were we going to do?
So that night, less than 24 hours after I returned from New Jersey, we began our drive home to an ever-changing, always home, Texas.
To be continued...
posted by law school widow at 9:42 AM
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