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Stone's Throw Away

Category Archives: Pride and Joy

Our kids. We love ’em. We’re thinking you might, too.

The Rabbit and the Hare. And Natalie.

08 Sunday Sep 2013

Posted by Vicki Hamlin in Family Ties, Pride and Joy, Stuff I Want to Tell You About, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Our two boys showed their natural affinities for activity very early on.  Garrett liked to throw things, hit things, run as fast as possible in whatever direction we were moving, and to push his body to its limit at every opportunity.  He also loved to yell.  To climb things.  To stay awake until he would fall asleep sitting straight up in his chair at the dining room table.  He could not have cared less about food, snuggles, the needs or wants of other human beings.

Luke, in his turn, discovered that he didn’t need to move a mile a minute.  He watched first, so that when he was ready to try something, he could do it with precision.  Slower maybe, but more accurately too.  Easy laughter and acceptance of all people and any situation have been the qualities that have drawn people to Luke since he was an infant.  He loves all things sensual:  food, warm water, hugs, conversation.  He thinks of others first.  Also – that boy can sleep!

So when Natalie came along and, even as a toddler showed no real magnetic draw to – well, anything – we were shocked — having expected our third child to pull us into her particular orbit as the boys had.  However.  She’s not a risk-taker.  Nor is she a watcher.  In fact, if she watches too long, she just loses sight of getting in there and trying things herself.  Which, come to think of it, might just be her M.O..

She’s happy-go-lucky and will take part in whatever we are doing (or, now, whatever her friends are doing) but she doesn’t demand anything for herself.  She follows.  Yet she’s no pushover.  She’s downright bossy.  But it’s almost as if she’s just trying on that personality for size, because even in her bossiness, she’s not offensive, rude or unlikeable.  My point is — I don’t think she’s fully hatched.

Is this because she is a girl?  A third child?  We’re not sure.  But we’re still trying to figure out just what is going to bring that girl the utter joy that Garrett feels on a baseball field and Luke feels in a pool.  Who doesn’t deserve to find the things that make them come alive?

So.  This year, she thought she’d try horseback riding and we wholeheartedly agreed to make it happen.

Tobasco Stables is in Belmont, only a few miles from our house.  My friend and former colleague, Avis, and her daughter, Megan, own it and give lessons at “camp” in the summer.  Natalie spent 4 days taking care of and riding Jack, a stunning Appaloosa who loves apples, being brushed, and, as it turns out, Natalie.

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Where Jack lives.

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A girl and her horse – a truly beautiful thing.

Jack is a good horse.  He is gentle and slow moving, and patient.  When we would arrive at the stable he would greet Natalie outside, at the edge of the fence, and he would whinny when she walked away to go home.  He knew she was his for the week and wanted to be friends.  But Jack is big.  And Natalie is little.  And she spent 4 days hoping she didn’t get trampled on. Which wasn’t the basis of what she needed in a relationship.

Here, in this pic above, off the horse, she was most comfortable.  Grooming and petting are her thing.  Riding, however, took her to the edge of her carefully carved out comfort space, and, sometimes, over.  Can you hear the crack?

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She is totally thinking “whoa, Jack, whoa” – her favorite phrase of the week.  She also thinks she’s moving at the speed of light.

She so wanted to love horseback riding.  She just didn’t.  She felt small and afraid and not at all in control.  Which Jack knew, and accepted, but which she didn’t know, and couldn’t, therefore, accept about herself.

So when we left the stable in July, we didn’t go back.  We asked her if she’d like to continue lessons and she squinched up her nose at us, big blue eyes blinking.  “I don’t think so,” she said, “okay?”

Of course okay.  So we keep looking for a spark that makes this girl’s heart leap up.

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She fell in love. But not enough to make her stay.

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Under the Budweiser Sign

22 Thursday Aug 2013

Posted by Vicki Hamlin in Family Ties, Pride and Joy, Stuff I Want to Tell You About

≈ 2 Comments

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Itty bitty slice of heaven right there.

I’d never even noticed the tables before, in the hundreds of games I’ve watched on NESN.  But we got incredibly lucky with table seats for a Blue Jays/Red Sox game in late June.  Not only were they at a roomy table – with a great view – but included food and all the beer we could drink, which, forgive me brave Budweiser fans, was one.  One beer.  Which I didn’t even really want because it was 52 degrees.  And raining.

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Gray skies. Wet chairs.

It could have been hailing cat urine from the sky and I still might have been the happiest momma on earth, though, sitting there with the boys, enjoying bites of pretzels, popcorn, hot dogs, cotton candy, ice cream, and sausage hoozawatsis with peppers and onions.  I ordered nothing. And yet, was not hungry when we left the park.  Huh.

Yes, friends, the table had four chairs.  No, we did not stuff Natalie in a duffel bag and sneak her in, though the thought crossed my mind.  Yes, she was bummed to miss it.  We added to the list of things to tell her therapist in 2025.

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Great life message. Things move along quite nicely if you’re not a bag.

Listen.  I have not been to a live Red Sox game since I was 22 years old.  I didn’t have great memories.  It was horrendously hot that August afternoon.  I was with an ex-boyfriend.  Not a boy who became an ex.  One who already was one. (I know, WTH?) I think I even witnessed a fist fight – but that might be a mixing of memories from a trip when I was about 9.  Not the stuff of memoirs, really.

But I’m telling you, I love Fenway Park as I do my own living room, which, of course, is where I watch most of the games.  Now that the kids are older, and we watch a lot of baseball together, I have discovered I am more than a fair-weather fan.  Sometimes I even find myself screaming at the television, especially if we’ve left, say, 11 runners on base by the 3rd inning.

Or, to be more accurate; I don’t so much find myself doing that as listening to Guy tell me to STOP DOING THAT.  To which I later have to explain See? That is the reason we LOST. THE. GAME. 

Which did not happen here.  No losing on this lucky night in June.  Because guess who pitched?  My faaaaavorite, delicious, very talented player:  Jon Lester.  Mmmm hhmmm.

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Eyes off. He’s mine married.

Why I’m telling you about this trip – besides highlighting an awesome bit of our summer?  Is this: I discovered that Garrett still believes he’s going to make it to the Big Leagues.

During the game, he analyzed not strategy, not base running, not hitting stance, not coaching technique.  He said, “when I’m out there on the team, I’m going to be one of those guys who chats up the other team. I’m gonna be that guy.”

To which, we all nodded, like that made perfect sense.

If, on a one in a bakazillion chance that my son does become a Red Sock (a Red Sox?), a player, I can tell you exactly where the other four of us will be sitting.

Maybe they’ll let the mom of the center fielder bring in some decent beer!

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Raw and Exposed

15 Monday Jul 2013

Posted by Vicki Hamlin in Family Ties, Pride and Joy

≈ 4 Comments

Our mantra, as we age, seems to have become we will not live our lives in fear!, but it will not surprise some of you for me to also declare that I am a fearful ninny when it comes to other things.

Things like the three human beings I created.

This week, I’ve been thinking of a time, years ago, when I was unable to sleep at night. I would lay down and close my eyes, but scenes of every single imaginable way for my children to die would play in my head, and I could neither stop the visions, nor  the situations that played out in them.  In fact; often, in the scenarios, I was the cause of their death, though always accidental.  I began to fear losing them with such angst and terror, that I found myself paralyzed, unable to enjoy them as I should have in those tender years.

Somehow, time passed.  I fed them vegetables and snuggled them often, and made them wear warm boots in winter and helmets when they biked or skied.  I held their hands tightly when we walked to the library.  I made sure to look behind me when backing out of the driveway and was most vigilant near pools and lakes.  My two main goals as their mother were to 1.) keep them alive and 2.) not let them die.  So, even while doing all the right things, my mind was constantly, and I mean constantly, buzzing with the what-ifs.  What if he chokes on this carefully cut carrot?  What if she rips her hand from mine and bolts into the road?  What if their school is attacked and rampaged?  And on.  And on.

The fact that this has gone on now for over 5,000 days is mind boggling.  What a terrible waste of good energy.  When my attention was on god please don’t let such and such happen, it should have been on, wow, look what’s happening! After all, that is definitely my focus and attitude in other areas of my life.  Just not with my children. I sincerely hope I haven’t missed as much as I’m afraid I might have.

Last Sunday, as I was watching Garrett do his thing on the baseball diamond, I thought —  he’s not only still alive, he’s thriving!  Luke is not only breathing, he’s singing his way through life!  And Natalie is not only living, she is living out loud.  They are getting on out there in the world whether I’m ready or whether I’m not.  And I am missing it.  I’m right here.  But I’ve been missing lots of it.

I wondered:  when and how did this happen?  This living?  As if I had no anxiety at all every time they left the house to play in the neighborhood, to walk to the store, to sleep over at a friend’s house.  And then it occurred to me. No matter how fearful I am, no matter how much anxiety I have, no matter how many warnings I summon about strangers or saturated fats or sunscreen,  nor how much I worry – I’m not controlling anything.  Anything.  At.  All.

Why on earth this revelation took this long is far, far beyond me.

Garrett’s going to be driving soon.  And dating. (Arguably, he is already dating – if by obsession texting with a girl, dating can be defined.)  And facing choices I would never want to have to make again.  How do I, his mother, keep my heart and mind in a state of non-worry? I feel I’ve spent 13 years considering worst-case scenarios.  Clearly, that’s gone on long enough.  But…how?

That vulnerable state is just about the most uncomfortable place I can imagine.  I suppose I’ve convinced myself it is just a mother’s job to worry.  But the thing is, I do not want to be remembered for being the worrier, the put on a sweater, don’t go too fast, for god’s sake be careful, people are NOT to be trusted! mother.  I want to be the one that pushes them to do the things they hadn’t dared dreamed of doing themselves.  I want to dare to let them go.

Because this:  if I don’t give them wings, who will?

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