Our Village

Things have been rough in our teeny tiny corner of the universe.  I could get into a long story about the ways in which things have been a bit hard for the Silverman-Akandes but a) there are a lot of details – some of which are best kept close to the chest for now, and b) sometimes what we learn during our hardest times is such a gift that we almost become grateful for them.  What I will share though is how, through this rough patch, our boat has been steadied as we navigate rough waters.  

We have all heard the proverb “it takes a village to raise a child”.  It is an African proverb.  More specifically, it is a Nigerian  proverb originating from the Yoruba and Igbo tribes.  Let’s just say that my love of this proverb is directly related to my Yoruba heritage.

I used to think that in my big-city community, we believe in the child-rearing village, but we don’t necessarily live that belief on a day-to-day basis.  We’re all struggling and trying so hard to live the best version of the lives we imagined while dealing with the life we’ve been dealt that many of us don’t think that we have much to offer a village.  I realize now, that I may be wrong.  With no concrete plans or agreed upon rules, my basketball team sized gaggle of children are offered the love and energy of a village.  

There are those villagers who we have been formally invited into our lives as caregivers and teachers, who perhaps, with no real intention, become more than what their titles would suggest.  They don’t always act in ways that best echo our beliefs and values but they always act with great love for our children.  They hug them and listen; they remember what they love and what they hate and what they fear.  They laugh with them and at them (but in that “you’re so adorable” kind of way).  They teach them and teach them again and again.  They “clock in” but they never fully “clock out”.  Thank you.  We are grateful for you.  

There are those who live close by and share their yard and their kitchen and their couch.  They run faster than us when one of ours topples over on their bikes darts out in the road, after a runaway ball.  Their children’s grandparents know our little ones by name and remember them coming home.  On Halloween someone gives out candy, and someone pours the wine and someone hangs with the kids.  We never talk about who is doing what or when we’ll change jobs but we all know it’s all taken care of.  Our little ones sing goodnight to them and ask for one more snuggle from them before coming home.  They drop off a bottle of wine or a case of coke and they know exactly which liquid we need and when.   Thank you.  We are grateful for you.  

There are those villagers who are part of our family of origin. Bubby and Zaide, who call on the phone and send cherished postcards and come for special weekend visits to be showered with enough kisses and cuddles to make up for lost time.  There is Nanny who is nearly part of our every day but still gets the run-down-the-hall greeting every time she arrives and the confused look when there’s only time for a short visit.  There are aunties and uncles who are like royalty and somehow are the ones who can always do the things we cannot.  There are aunties and uncles  and cousins who show up every week, even when they’re tired, and love our brood enough to spoil and scold.  Thank you.  We are grateful for you.

 

Our village includes chosen family – old friends and new friends, who love up our kids but love us up too.  We can be honest with them.  We can call our kids assholes and they know that we need a break not to be judged for saying horrible things about our kids.  They know what we sound like when we’re on the other end of the phone but are crying too hard to form words (okay that may be the beauty of call display, but you know what I mean).  They let us brag about our kiddos without feeling guilty.  There are those villagers who when we’re talking about one of our kids and their struggles say, “We’re going to do what we have to do to support her.  She’s our little one.”  With those friends we are never alone.  They hold us up.   Thank you.  We are grateful for you.  

It’s been a lousy couple of weeks for the Silverman-Akandes but it’s totally okay.  Our boat is being steadied.  As I write this I hope that we are good villagers and that I am wrong about thinking that we have nothing to offer the village.  I hope we give you and your littles as much Yoruba style, village love as we receive.  

To our people, to our villagers, I hope you know who you are and I hope you know that we are so, so grateful for you.  

XO Ajike

No Nursing, No Cribs...Sh*t Just Got Real!

Big changes are afoot at the Silverman-Akande ranch!  As of last Saturday, February 8, my exactly 2.5 year old twins have been refused entry to the milk bar.  I just couldn't take it for one more day.  My breast, a.k.a the milk bar, had become a stand-up, dance-at, always open spot to check in, soothe a broken heart or a stubbed toe and re-hydrate before running off on the next emergency toddler adventure.  They fought over sides and positions.  They broke my jewelry (and sometimes my spirit) and became rude and bossy about where milk should be served and how convenient access should be – “Don’t put my milky away mommy, I will be right back!”  Rude!

So last Saturday when I couldn't stand the feeling of their sharp little fingers kneading every part of me, I told them that they had to say goodbye to “milky” and that they could have milk in a cup or juice and as many cuddles and hang-outs in the carrier as they wanted but no more milk from mommy.  They whined and cried and have tugged at me and asked for milk several times over the past few days, but we’re done.  

We went cold turkey, which is probably a bit cruel, but I am not exactly a slow and steady kind of person.  And while I don’t remember how I dealt with the feelings of my older kids when they stopped nursing (yes, even Z who is adopted), I do remember that they were also made to stop nursing abruptly.  My big guy nursed from about 6 to 17 months and stopped on the night I started injectable hormones to try to get pregnant. 

The girls nursed for 22 months until I was 6 weeks pregnant with the Littles and started bleeding.   I don’t know how we got through it – how I made it okay for them.   When F & L cry for milk and I bribe them with a cookie or juice, I feel so awful and think “Is this really necessary?  Shouldn't I just continue?”  But I can’t because I always said that when I started to resent nursing, I would stop.  No little one wants resentment flavored milk.  It’s probably curdled!  Ending our nursing relationship is the right thing to do but I still feel sad.  These are my last nursing babes.  It’s the end of a stage of my life and I am not that into endings.

 

The possible up side is that the world will finally find out what I am like without serious lady hormones coursing through my veins.*  I have been on fertility drugs, pregnant or breast feeding since September 2006.  That is 7.5 years!  I realize that I’m not breaking any records, but I am so excited to learn if my raging anger quickly followed by extreme bliss is related to my hormones or if it’s just the joy that is me!  I imagine Wife is also very curious about this.  To be truthful, just wearing a proper, proper bra and having my breasts rest much higher than my waist, which is wear they've been hanging out for years, is enough to shift my mood! 

 In response to the end of nursing, or just to keep life interesting, Mr. Lee thought that he needed quick access to me and learned to climb out of his crib this past weekend with great precision.  Sure, the first attempt landed him on his head but he is not one to shy away from a challenge so he kept practicing until he was a smooth escape artist.  Figuring that one day he would try to escape while half asleep and really hurt himself, we decided on Monday to take down the cribs.  I once read a blog post by a mom who referred to bedtime as a game of whack-a-mole.  This could not be truer in our house.  Wife and I quickly move through our tiny hallway returning escaped children to bed for a good hour and a half after “lights out”.  The twins – set one and set two, refuse to stay put at bedtime.  I am certain that we have successfully dealt with this in the past.  The girls went through a phase when they stayed in bed but they are smart, and realize that there are good times to be had at bedtime.  It is after 9 pm before the last emergency bathroom trips are taken and fetching of necessary toys and singing of various renditions of classic kids’ is done and the kiddos are too tired to continue their antics.  And in case you are like me, and measure time in cups of coffee (AM) and glasses of wine (PM), by 9 pm I am about 2.5 glasses of wine in and am pretty much ready for lights out myself. 

So the Littles are in new phase of "littlehood" and we are along for the ride.  I suspect that there will be crankiness – theirs and ours, from lack of sleep for a while as well as frustration – mine, from having to come up with alternatives to “milky” for solving toddler problems .   As the title of this post suggests, sh#t just got real! 

XO Ajike

*I use the term lady hormones in reference to myself, fully aware that this terminology would not be appropriate for all of those who have the same hormones running through their bodies. 

*http://momastery.com/blog/2012/05/22/whack-a-mole/

Happy Birthday MJ

Today is Michael Jackson's birthday.  He would have been 54 today.

Michael Jackson seemed like that one celebrity that would always be around.  I know that none of us live forever, but he had a never ending timelessness to him that.  Maybe it's because he was always there.  We all grew up with him.  Watched his successes, his failures, his high points and his low.  We have literally observed every moment of his life and I can't think of another celebrity that comes close to him in that regard.

He had a 45 year career when he passed away at 50.

Michael Jackson was one of the most misunderstood celebrities.  Period.  His every move was being watched by the entire world.  Everything he did and did not do was subject to somebody's criticism.  I could not imagine what that does to someone's head.

And to top it off he never had a childhood.  While other kids were out playing carefree, he was learning and perfecting lyrics, dance moves and harmonies all while travelling and performing.  As an adult I know how much being on that stage takes out of you.  It's draining (mind you it's incredibly rewarding, but it does take a lot of energy.)

It reminds me of the lyrics of the song  'Childhood'.  They seemed to be a plea: "Before you judge me, try hard to love me, look within yourself and ask: Have you seen my childhood?"  I really do feel for what he must have been going through.

I don't think anyone else would have handled his life any better.  Especially when you factor in all the things we take for granted.  He was never able to go to the grocery store, drive a car, go out to dinner, take a walk down the street or even use the bathroom without people wanted a piece of him.

Would that make someone a little crazy??  YES!!

People always expected him to be 'on' to have the performer MJ ready and available to entertain the masses....I often wondered what he was like behind closed doors without the cameras.

Regardless of his personal decisions, he was an incredible entertainer who influenced thousands if not millions of past, present and future performers.

Happy Birthday MJ!

What's your favorite MJ song?  Post the video link in the comments so we can all reminisce.

The First Moonwalk: