Sunday, October 17, 2010

Apocalypse Now

Last Monday was an evening of note. Besides the fact that I exercised for the first time since the school year began, we had a CRAZY hail storm. It had been lightening throughout my 45 minute spin class and when I came outside the ground was wet, so I figured the storm had passed. But then, out of nowhere (just like the Brooklyn tornado of 2010 a month ago) it was torrentially raining, thundering like death was upon us, and quarter-sized hail started pouring out of the sky.

Adam and I went to the front window to get a better view of the circumstances against the streetlights and it was pure madness. It looked like a river was running down our street and I worried that it would overflow the curb height and seep into our ground floor apt. The ground was pure white with hail. The rain was sideways. Right as we questioned as to if it was tornado #2 and if we should grab the kids and get into the cellar, Alexandra stumbled into the room, woken by the booming thunder. She quickly became fascinated with the hail and Adam opened the window and grabbed her a few pieces. She cross-referenced the hail storm the next morning in her Eyewitness book on weather. Smart girl.

But the hail storm brought me back to my childhood and the time we had a crazy hail storm in Sterling, Virginia and my religious mother thought it was the beginning of the apocalypse. She was on our mustard yellow phone that matched our kitchen appliances, staring out into the backyard with her free arm waving in the air praising Christ and speaking in tongues, praying with a fellow born-again Christian over the phone lines. Christ didn't appear on a cloud that day to whisk them off to heaven and the end of ages did not start, but the hail storm (it was golfball-sized hail and quite impressive) did dent the aluminum siding on all the houses in our suburban subdivision and everyone got vinyl siding after that. Our house went from green to yellow.

I hadn't thought of that hail storm of my childhood and my mother's constant insistence that the Christ was coming back *NOW* lately. Since I lost my religion around the age of 18 most conversations regarding the apocalypse revolve around how I'm going to endure the seven years of trial and tribulation since I no longer believe in Christ as my personal Lord and savior. My last conversation with my mom on this topic was when I was home several years ago and she told me the combination to the garage and where she stashes her mad money and jewelry. She also mentioned that Jim (my step-dad's) grandfather clock was worth a few thousand dollars in case I had to barter with Satan for my life at any point. She was not kidding.

My mom still lives in that state of constant waiting; she fully believes that Christ will come back and she hopes that it will be in her lifetime. I, on the other hand, just enjoy a good display of extreme weather. But, in case the next hail storm is accompanied by a surprise disappearance of all Christian peoples from the planet Earth, someone give me a ring. I have a stash of cash and diamonds awaiting us in NC, along with a badass grandfather clock that I'm sure Satan has his eye on.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Strange Sadness

I'm up at Teachers College today, desperately trying to work on my dissertation revisions that have been hiding in my closet (no lie) since the school year started. I'm sitting in the library, a place I never visit since having two kids, and pretending that I'm an academic when my brain just keeps traipsing into thoughtful digressions wondering what my kids are doing right now with the babysitter we hired for the day because their daycare is closed.

Caffeinated as usual, a trip to the bathroom just hit me and when I walked into the ladies restroom I got this overwhelming sense of sadness like I do every time I have walked into this bathroom since May of 2006. It was in that bathroom that I noticed the blood that had started the day I turned 12 weeks pregnant with our first pregnancy. As I stared at the reddish/brown on my underwear in the middle bathroom stall (I still remember which one it was) that evening, I tried to convince myself that it was okay, but I knew inside that something was very, very wrong.

For some strange reason, that bathroom still makes me super sad. I now have two healthy, beautiful children after two uncomplicated pregnancies and wonderful births, but there is something about walking through that bathroom door that brings back the emotions of fear, loss, and disappointment that that miscarriage brought into my life. It seems silly to feel that sense of longing and loss still, four years later, especially after having had two babies, but for some reason it's still there. And palpable. I don't know why.

My days at Teachers College are hopefully limited. I was told this morning that I'm using my last semester of personal exemption this Fall and that if I don't defend this Spring then I'll have to start paying the ongoing fee to be matriculated but not graduated. That's not going to happen. My days revisiting this bathroom that remind me of my miscarriage are limited, then, too. In some ways it's a sacred space to me, but it's one I'll be happy never to visit again.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Our Big Fat Gay Wedding

We attended our first gay wedding this weekend. This was Alexandra's second wedding this summer, and she looked forward to both Jen & Mary's and Sam & Maddy's with great anticipation. She was excited to wear a dress, to dance, to eat cake, and to go on "vacation" with us and have adventures. All week leading up to the wedding she kept asking, "Are we going to the wedding today?" and making statements like "Jen & Mary are going to be so so so pretty in their dresses!" Never once did it even occur to her that Jen & Mary's desire to marry each other was anything to bat an eyelash about.

There is something so amazing about that innocence and her lack of understanding that many folks do not think that Jen & Mary should have the rights and benefits that come with the legalization of their union. To Alexandra, the fact that our neighbors and friends were in love and wanted to get married was no different than mommy or daddy getting married or from the wedding she attended in August. She just wanted details on the car we were renting to get there, what type of cake there would be, and the color of Jen's dress and Mary's suit (after I explained to her that I had never seen Mary in a dress and that some girls didn't like/want to wear dresses, she easily accepted that Mary would wear a suit). The fact that Jen & Mary are both girls? No big deal.

The wedding was beautiful and, no surprise here, just like every union of two wonderful people that we have ever attended. I cried during their vows, got chills during their super cute choreographed first dance, and saw so many parts of their wedding that I wish we had done (great idea: a big picture frame hung between trees as a "photo booth" for all the guests to go pose in as wedding documentation--brilliant!). We danced until Alexandra started to fade (Nico had passed out in the Ergo despite my booty shaking), and we slowly traipsed back to our hotel room looking at the stars that elude us here in Brooklyn.

We didn't bring any books in from the car, so I told Alexandra a story as she fell asleep. I told her that one day, she'd have a wedding and we would all come. That we would eat cake and dance all night and be happy with all her friends and our friends. I told her that she could marry whomever she wanted and we would support her choices and love her (I decided to save the "as long as s/he isn't a total douche" addendum for later), and that she'd always be our baby girl. As she looked at me with her dark chocolate eyes, I don't think she realized the layers of meaning in my story of her future, but it would be just lovely if some of it would sink in and, in her mind, she would never feel the need to question the validity of Jen & Mary's wedding versus anyone else's.