We've returned from a technicolor week, having joined the throngs of families who made their way to the Choate's Parents' Weekend at the peak of leaf peeping season. As we drove up the Merrit Parkway, the catch your breath moments became more vivid and visceral as the splay of reds, oranges and yellows hummed us along to our destination. Hillsides sparkled, crackled and dazzled with the leaves' bonfire palette and the yawning of lawns never looked so verdant. We made our way to campus for three days and throughout or visit I could feel my pulse both quicken and dissolve in the delight and ease of autumn's annual firework display.
I have always been partial to Fall, even though it can carry a sense of grief and letting go. The great undoing of abundance. A harvesting that makes both fields and trees bare, while also inspiring room for the silence of white and gray. It's inside this striking shift of the seasons, as I visit my daughter's home away from home, when I am more able to name the things that nourish me, delight me, and tickle my senses.
While the patchwork quilt landscape called for cozy blankets and wood burning fireplaces, warmed apple cider and walks through the woods, our days were packed visiting Elsa's classes, watching her soccer practice and games and stealing her for dinners at Hot Pot and Buffalo Wild Wings. With what felt like a shop-till-you-drop fanaticism, we took in all that Choate had to offer and were invigorated by the invigorating spirit of Elsa, who glowed like Hestia incarnate with her freckled warmth, and she kept us moving at a pace much faster than our adopted limin pace of the Caribbean.
After a meal in the dining hall that looks the same as it did 30, yes 30!, years ago- minus the pizza oven and panini station- we headed to Elsa's JV Soccer game for one last round of outdoor Choate activity. Parents and siblings cheered and, yes, Harry was there to watch his sister AND the Choate football team dominate on both fields. And my sister, Sabrina, made a surprise short and sweet visit, taking in the booming energy of this school that's been "home" for 2 of my 3 children, and could be all 3 if Harry has anything to say about it. (He's working hard on his application as I write.) Having Sabrina there, a witness to the display of teenagers in their prime, just added to the sense of awe that this school can inspire- a captivating and humbling display of the multitude of layers that go into resourcing the many activities and opportunities.
Our whirlwind of activity did not cease post Parents Weekend, but rather continued as we made our way south to NYC for our second Patriots vs. Jets face-off. Post 12 hour rest stop at Granny Sue's for the night, we broomed on to the Meadowlands early Sunday morning. And man-o-man, the energy was contagious the minute we pulled off the NJ turnpike with all of the green wearing Jets fans and Navy/White/Red sporting Patriot supporters. Once we unloaded from our zippy Hertz Tesla, we caught the wave of green, navy, red and white jerseys and made it to the sold out stadium. Mind you, it was also Halloween weekend, so while the stands were reminiscent of a bloated Christmas tree with lights, there were also teams of Ninja Turtles, hot dogs, pirates and even a sighting of Ace Ventura: pet detective (he won my award for best costume). The point is- this place was a-buzzing! And even though there was a ticket snafu on my part, we managed to watch the game as a family for most of the game and celebrated the Patriot win along side the underdog Jets' efforts in high spirits with our fellow ghouls.
Where we got to see Elsa in her element at Choate, football games (as well as traveling) is where it's at for Harry. Our youngest never ceases to amaze me with his spritely energy, attention to detail and supreme focus when it comes to competition or exploration. Dave and my plus one keeps stride with whatever pace we set, never complaining, willing to offer suggestions for dinner (like BuffaloWildWings) or go for quick walks through the woods at rest stops to soak in the golden light with his mama. This trip I wasn't sure how our fast growing thirteen year old adolescent boy would feel about being the plus one in our Wallingford hotel room with 2 queens, but I was beyond thrilled when Harry asked to sleep with me so Dave could hook up his c-pap with ease and recover from his spicy hot pot meal. Our unassuming Hilton Garden Inn room became a whole lot sweeter with this creature who was sharing the blankets with me, as well as some soft snores.
In the midst of all the lights, action and chaos of our weekend, there is Harry- cool, calm and collected (as long as the Patriots are winning). While this was a trip to celebrate Elsa, her hard work and her October birthday, I couldn't help but celebrate Harry as well. Seeing him go off with Elsa to her dorm while Dave and I had our parent-teacher conferences, an 8th grader on a high school campus, I rest assured that Elsa would treat him as she always treats her kid brother- disarmingly, with a smack of toughness. What I didn't expect was how much Harry would own and enjoy the Choate experience. He was present and curious in Elsa's classrooms, excited and cheering during the games, confident and capable in the dining room. I definitely don't think I ever oozed the coolness that my youngest exuded during those three days over my the three years I was a student at this massive school. He walked along like he belonged there, with his newly shaved head, gold chain and neon green sneakers- part "Farmer Ted" from Sixteen Candles and part Ferris Bueller.
So, yes, we circle back to the bittersweet dilemma of having competent, independent kids who want to leave the nest. But this time, during this visit, I think I am starting to ache a little less and breathe in a little more, softening my maternal resistance. As we dashed from Wallingford to New Jersey to Manhattan, there were these moments when I found that time could stand still by simply being quiet in the cacophony of fitting every possible activity into our limited time together.
Turning on the fireplace app while Elsa and Dave talked to her dorm advisor, sitting with Harry in the soft blazing light of our weird electric car. Being content enough to sit a few rows above my family and taking in the scene of fans who cheered as if their lives depended on it, infected by their glee and excitement. Soaking in Elsa as she tried on and twirled in party dresses at Windsor (I know she's too old for party dresses, but that's what there were) and giggling as she tested the rayon/polyester blends with funky dance moves under the spell of florescent lights and blaring beats. Sleeping in a queen sized bed again with Dave, falling asleep with no trouble as I nestled under his arm. And, finally, the moment we arrived 45 minutes late to a Broadway show I thought we were early by 15 minutes, when I almost crumbled from the dashing & doing and failing to check the start time of the performance. The moment when my heart stopped and our clan got eerily quiet and Harry grabbed my hand, pulling me into the theater, and said, "It's okay, Mama. It's ok." And grabbing my hand, with Elsa in tow, led the way into the theater to find our seats so that the three of us could watch the remaining 75 minutes of the show.
In the throes of recalibrating post Northeast hoopla-ing, I was speaking to a friend on the phone who offered some savvy parenting advice he'd read in a New Yorker cartoon. It reads, "Parenting is usually hardest for the first forty years of your children's lives..." And while I chuckled and agreed with this wide open statement on how parenting really never ends, I can't help but savor the fact that I get to be a mom to my kids for as long as I get to walk on this earth. And for better or for worse, my kids get to have me as their mom for the rest of their lives. The truth is that this parenting gig isn't about practice making perfect, getting the start times right or the correct number of tickets, or even practice making progress. It's about being in the moment with the kids at my side, the fraught and the silence, the angst and the tenderness, and breathing in all of the feels as we weather together- willing, soft and open to what's here now.
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