Happy birthday to LRT, who turns thirtysomething today. He is my one and only and greatest brother. My parents are here this weekend (a quick sleepover on their way to another great travel adventure) and this morning they were recounting the day LRT came into the world and what they remember of it. They remember quite a bit, it seems.
LRT is very memorable. He's enjoying his new job and we had a great visit here (see Dec. 30, 2003) entry. He indulged me by going to The Acorn, which is probably my favorite swanky restaurant here. We walked a lot, ate a lot of food (ethnic and otherwise) and talked football. Well, he talked about it and I listened. He has good insights about many things in life, most of which are more important than football. He never fails to impress me with his judgment (by that I mean discernment) and willpower.
It's a great gift to have time with him alone, because even though I love my nephews deeply, once they came into the world, it seemed I rarely got my brother alone. Kids are that way, you know -- they are the center of the universe, and that's how it should be. I certainly don't think they parent best who parent least. I do marvel at what it takes to be a truly good parent, and how powerful a force it is in someone's life. LRT could only bear to be away from them for a few days and he called frequently.
LHR (she'll always be LHK to me) couldn't bear to be away from 2-year-old Sophia for a few days and brought her along last weekend when she made her annual Martin Luther King Jr. hoiday sojourn (see January 2003 entry). She is clever and precious and filled with non-stop action. LHK does an amazing job with her, especially in asking her questions, teaching her in subtle ways, and encouraging all parts of her development. I enjoyed my time with them; however, I realized I live in the least kid-friendly abode in North America.
I also learned about the Disney Princesses (trust me, you don't want to know), drinkable yogurt, and the Tigger movie (saw it at least twice). LHR has always been an overachiever, but traveling on a plane with a car seat, stroller, not to mention the child herself, qualifies her for super-duper status. It was good to have them here.
How does she do it? How does LRT? How does anyone?
I've often joked that witnessing public parent-child conflicts in the mall, at Wal-Mart, etc. killed my maternal instinct, but the truth is I don't think I ever had one. Probably the closest I came was when I first began to know and love EP and AP. I wanted to do everything for them, protect them and give them the best life they could possibly have. I still feel that way. It's scary. I have a very strong appreciation for what it takes to be there for another person 24/7, and I don't have what it takes. I hung up from a long, difficult phone call with EP and AP's parents (who I think are wonderful parents, and who are absolutely giving everything they've got) on Saturday night with a renewed sense of it. EP turns 16 this week. Heaven help us.
So that's what's been on my mind for the past week: the nature of being a parent. One thought floated up through all the others, one small insight into the selflessness that is at the heart of raising a child. When my cousin Marti was in her last weeks of fighting breast cancer, we went to visit her and to pray for a miracle. She'd been a rock through it all, never complained and never really cried, at least that I saw. We were talking very openly about the very real possibility that she was going to die. She was completely clear-eyed and said she did not fear the pain, or what she thought would happen to hear after death. She said she couldn't bear the thought of leaving her 6-year-old son. She never even got the whole sentence out because she broke down in tears. Of all she had been through and had yet to face, that single thought was uppermost in her mind and heart: that she would be separated from her child, and wouldn't get to live out her life as his mom.
