Mama Thread Thoughts

I Almost Didn't Remember

I didn't remember today was September 11 until I woke up this morning and turned on the news.  NY1 was interviewing a retired firefighter who said while the phrase "Never Forget" is often uttered, he thinks it's important for him to remember every day what happened.  I can't imagine trying to live that way.  The searing pain from that day was with me for a long time.  It welled up at every anniversary.  With each passing year though, it got a little less.  The passage of time did begin to heal my mind.  I wasn't there at the site, and I didn't know anyone that died personally.  I know every New Yorker and probably every person in America has a story about where they were and what they were doing on September 11, 2001. Here's mine.

I woke up that morning as usual and was getting ready for work at my apartment in the East Village on Avenue B and 2nd Street.  I lived on the top floor of a five story building with a great roof that had amazing views of downtown.  I had even started a small roof garden up there.  That morning my father called and said a Cessna had crashed into the World Trade Center, and I should run up to the roof and check it out.  I blithely walked up the stairs with my brush in hand while talking to my father on the phone.  I remembering seeing the big hole in the building with the flames and the smoke everywhere and saying it didn't look like something a small plane could do.  Then I noticed another plane flying closer to the buildings and beginning to circle.  I wondered out loud to my father what the airplane might be doing when it flew into the second tower.  I remembering screaming and falling to my knees.  I remember the gravel grinding into my bare knees.  I stood there for the next few hours watching as the towers fell, unable to look away.   

In the awful hours and days that followed, my mind would replay the scene over and over again.  I didn't even need to turn on the news to see their footage.  I could just close my eyes.  I would think about the thousands of people that I saw die in those moments.  To say that it haunted me would be putting it lightly. I remember the fear I felt - not knowing what was coming next or what we should do.  I felt trapped on a very small island with no way to leave. My sister was in midtown in the 50's and walked over 60 blocks to get to me so we could be together and feel just a little bit safer. 

I remember the fear would come rushing back every time I had to evacuate my office tower in Times Square from some potential threat.  Running down the stairwells, I would always feeI like I was running for my life.  I would only wear comfortable shoes to work just in case.  I was addicted to the news and signed up for every single alert just so I could feel like I would always know what was going on.

The first year my sister and I went to the big memorial in Central Park.  The next year we went to the beautiful park on the water down in Battery Park City with a few friends.  After that my sister and I always just got together for breakfast.  We wanted to take a little time to mark the day and make sure that in our small way we never forgot.

With the time that has passed, my life has changed in many ways.  I got married.  I had two kids.  I stay home and don't work in Times Square.  The memories have softened, and my head is full of other things like second days of preschool and nap schedules.  Thinking about that day now makes me realize how self-absorbed my reaction was.  I wonder now with children what I would do and say.  I don't think I would have the luxury of losing myself in the fear and falling apart -- but of course, it's hard to say - and even harder to imagine. 

I am not like that firefighter that I can be strong enough to remember every day and relive the events in my mind.  I do want to make sure to never forget.  I want to have breakfast with my sister every year on the anniversary and make the day just a little different from all the others that seem to pass so quickly now.  I also want to make a resolution that I will create Go Bags in case my family does need to evacuate some day.  Time does heal wounds though and for that I am thankful.  I do remember, and I will never forget.

I woke up that morning as usual and was getting ready for work at my apartment in the East Village on Avenue B and 2nd Street.  I lived on the top floor of a five story building with a great roof that had amazing views of downtown.  I had even started a small roof garden up there.  That morning my father called and said a Cessna had crashed into the World Trade Center, and I should run up to the roof and check it out.  I blithely walked up the stairs with my brush in hand while talking to my father on the phone.  I remembering seeing the big hole in the building with the flames and the smoke everywhere and saying it didn't look like something a small plane could do.  Then I noticed another plane flying closer to the buildings and beginning to circle.  I wondered out loud to my father what the airplane might be doing when it flew into the second tower.  I remembering screaming and falling to my knees.  I remember the gravel grinding into my bare knees.  I stood there for the next few hours watching as the towers fell, unable to look away.   

In the awful hours and days that followed, my mind would replay the scene over and over again.  I didn't even need to turn on the news to see their footage.  I could just close my eyes.  I would think about the thousands of people that I saw die in those moments.  To say that it haunted me would be putting it lightly. I remember the fear I felt - not knowing what was coming next or what we should do.  I felt trapped on a very small island with no way to leave. My sister was in midtown in the 50's and walked over 60 blocks to get to me so we could be together and feel just a little bit safer. 

I remember the fear would come rushing back every time I had to evacuate my office tower in Times Square from some potential threat.  Running down the stairwells, I would always feeI like I was running for my life.  I would only wear comfortable shoes to work just in case.  I was addicted to the news and signed up for every single alert just so I could feel like I would always know what was going on.

The first year my sister and I went to the big memorial in Central Park.  The next year we went to the beautiful park on the water down in Battery Park City with a few friends.  After that my sister and I always just got together for breakfast.  We wanted to take a little time to mark the day and make sure that in our small way we never forgot.

With the time that has passed, my life has changed in many ways.  I got married.  I had two kids.  I stay home and don't work in Times Square.  The memories have softened, and my head is full of other things like second days of preschool and nap schedules.  Thinking about that day now makes me realize how self-absorbed my reaction was.  I wonder now with children what I would do and say.  I don't think I would have the luxury of losing myself in the fear and falling apart -- but of course, it's hard to say - and even harder to imagine. 

I am not like that firefighter that I can be strong enough to remember every day and relive the events in my mind.  I do want to make sure to never forget.  I want to have breakfast with my sister every year on the anniversary and make the day just a little different from all the others that seem to pass so quickly now.  I also want to make a resolution that I will create Go Bags in case my family does need to evacuate some day.  Time does heal wounds though and for that I am thankful.  I do remember, and I will never forget.

Living the Big Love Life

I just got back from an amazing week!  Let me start at the beginning.  Last winter, before our second children came along, a couple of us were sitting talking about how much fun it would be to get a house together for a week this summer.  Somehow the idea took hold and in a blur of newborn driven sleep deprivation, I booked a house for us in a fairly remote part of the Catskills.  Three moms; six kids.  How crazy could we be?

I have to admit I was a little bit worried in the weeks leading up to the trip.  When I started to do the math, three 2.5 year old toddlers, three six month old babies and three fairly tired moms seemed an equation that could only equal disaster.  This could not be further from the truth!  We did a ton of planning ahead of time.  We realized that getting out of the house with all of us might be difficult and our lack of familiarity with the area could be a huge roadblock.  We decided to bring all our food with us so halfway through the week no one was forced to fun out for apple juice, whole milk and baby rice cereal.  We planned each kid meal and each adult meal and split up the grocery list.  We each brought a few favorite toys (Legos, trains, playdough, playmat, etc).

The house had seven(!) bedrooms, a wide open downstairs and four acres of grass with a lily pond full of frogs!  We got lucky with almost no rain and barely a cloud in the sky during the whole trip. The toddlers got to run wild and got a crash course in how to play with other kids.  The babies got lots of fresh air and chance to grab the grass with their little chubby little fingers.  We got a chance to share some of the load of parenting: preparing meals, cleaning up, laundry, and entertaining the hordes. 

However, my favorite part was the chance to really talk to some women friends.  I realize I have missed this part of my life since having children.  I used to spend a lot of time with my girl friends out for nights out and shopping trips.  Now that I have kids, I aim for a night out with girl friends from my pre-kid life about once a month but the two hours usually fly by and I am left wishing for more.  This was a chance to really talk from the time the sun rose until we crashed in the evening.  We got to talk about so many topics that ranged far from just the kids.  It was heaven to get to actually finish a conversation that wasn't interupped by the end of the playdate or a crying baby that needed mommy's kisses to feel better.

At the end of the trip, one of the moms compared us to Big Love - the HBO show with the polygamist family.  We didn't share a husband -- but we did get to share our lives.  I am certainly not going to suggest to my husband that we take a second wife, but I do see the appeal of communes.  I loved the closeness all of us got to share and I can't wait until we get a chance to do it again.

The house had seven(!) bedrooms, a wide open downstairs and four acres of grass with a lily pond full of frogs!  We got lucky with almost no rain and barely a cloud in the sky during the whole trip. The toddlers got to run wild and got a crash course in how to play with other kids.  The babies got lots of fresh air and chance to grab the grass with their little chubby little fingers.  We got a chance to share some of the load of parenting: preparing meals, cleaning up, laundry, and entertaining the hordes. 

However, my favorite part was the chance to really talk to some women friends.  I realize I have missed this part of my life since having children.  I used to spend a lot of time with my girl friends out for nights out and shopping trips.  Now that I have kids, I aim for a night out with girl friends from my pre-kid life about once a month but the two hours usually fly by and I am left wishing for more.  This was a chance to really talk from the time the sun rose until we crashed in the evening.  We got to talk about so many topics that ranged far from just the kids.  It was heaven to get to actually finish a conversation that wasn't interupped by the end of the playdate or a crying baby that needed mommy's kisses to feel better.

At the end of the trip, one of the moms compared us to Big Love - the HBO show with the polygamist family.  We didn't share a husband -- but we did get to share our lives.  I am certainly not going to suggest to my husband that we take a second wife, but I do see the appeal of communes.  I loved the closeness all of us got to share and I can't wait until we get a chance to do it again.