In the summer of 2002 my side of the family went on a trip to the Virgin Islands. While we were there my Dad bought this cotton onesie for Jaimito. I thought it was funny and colorful and I enjoyed putting it on him… he reminded me of a little beach bum, calling me to take a break and enjoy myself.
My parents went to Italy after my younger brother’s wedding in Bamberg. This t-shirt was given to Jaimito as a memento.
These outfits made us smile whenever they were worn by Jaimito or Javier. Oftentimes, the boys became the ice-breakers as the evenings conversations among familiar faces that don’t see each other that often were opened by "He looks so handsome, he is such a little gentleman."
I bought these two smartly designed onepeice suits for Jaimito in before we went on the family cruise to celebrate my Mom’s 60th birthday. My favorite part of them was the single zipper back contrasted by the layered formal front. Jaimito wore the one with the blue vest to the formal dining evenings at the Constallation Cruise. Poor little man, he was sick and sniffely but looked so gentile. Javier barely got around to wearing them because I guess we did not go out as much with him. Javier wore the green outfit to church a couple of times and the blue vest once while he was in Michigan during the winter of 2005.
The red and black vest was worn by Jaimito in a trip to Michigan in Winter 2002. The party was at Arleen’s house and the whole extended Kotarski family was there. Jaimito looked so cute with his long sleeve button down white shirt, his black bow tie and fancy black pants. He later wore the same ensemble for the new year celebration on the Cruise. But that night in Michigan, Jaimito got his shirt wet, I cant remember how, but he ended up wearing only the vest and no shirt. It was a funny site.
Jim, my dear husband and best friend, has always had a love for froggies. They are a sweet memory of his childhood. He had a stuffed froggy and who knows what else, but everyone in his family knows he likes froggies. Growing up his brother Sean and he drew endless stories about mutant froggies… their creative spin-off of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. So our kids got froggies when they were little because that was the inherited theme.
Duckies were added to the beloved animal theme by chance. We once received a "duckie-butt" pajama and then a duckie towel and duckies have been a darling for us since.
My years of academic debate over nature vs nurture, over social engineering and a new feminist agenda had me predisposed against boys in blue and girls in pink. Nonetheless, as a mom I was also not about to give up everything blue nor everything pink just because it corresponded with the prescribed socialization of our children. Many of these outfits survived my initial severe but brief judgement "ugh another example of if its a boy it has to be blue." I kept my contemptful-self at bay, by giving more ample reigns to my sincere joy and gratitude to at receiving the gift.
I consider it an honor to partake in the ritual of gift-giving, a ritual that has celebrated and reinforced the binds between individuals and families. Apathy and the growing geographical distance between friends and family erode at this ancient ritual and as privacy is valued over neighbors and independence over interdependence I see a lonely sad unsocialized trend I do not want to bequeath my children. So putting a greater value on the importance of diversity of experience, appreciation and thought, I welcomed these cute clothes in and embraced making them part of the fabric of our boys toddlerhood.
My parents gave these blue outfits to Javier. I used to think of them as my princely blue outfits. They were made out of linnen and I found them to be classically elegant. Amidst the many baby clothes that focus on contemporary children patterns or adult fashion for babies these peices spoke to me of fabrics fashionable throughout many a past generation adapted slightly to these modern times by being fashioned into jumpsuits. Javier wore them to church often. I enjoyed dressing him in them because I felt his infant days were prolonged in these Petit Prince outfits.
This beautiful blue cotton outfit was given to Jaimito by his godparents. Aside from the blue, when I first saw it I marvelled at the cuteness of the duckies playing hide and seek. Duckies did not overrun the ensemble they were fuzzy cute embroidered accents, playful and creative. This was a two peice set of heavy ribbed cotton that could have well have lasted being used by 4 more little boys. Because it was heavy cotton, had a jacket, and was so cute, Jaimito wore it on his first airplane trip to visit his Grandparents in St. Louis during the winter of 2002. Mama Weez adn Papa Jim first held Jaimito in these adorable clothes. Javier also used this outfit on his first trip to St. Louis, but being a month older at the time of wearing it was a bit short on him and left his bottom legs exposed to the cold air of winter in 2005. Javier traveled that year with larger jumpsuit with footsies but kept the duckie ribbed blue vest for cuteness, warmth and sentimental reasons.
I believe it was family friends in Killeen Texas who sent this outfit to Jaimito upon hearing of his birth. If it was not given to us by the Cumba or Rosa family it might have come from my Mom’s cousin in Virginia. Unfortunately I sometimes loose track of these details but I do know it came from afar and that made it all the more special. I loved using it because the fabric was really light cotton. It had a cute frog prince patch on the chest and racing stripes down the side of the pant legs. Both Jaimito and Javier used it and looked like big little toddlers. It was a good outfit to go out to restaurants and visit friends and family because it was light and covered their knees when crawling around on hard tile floors of the tropics.
Children are so fascinating, yes I know, especially your own. These days I must be a single person’s nightmare for my conversations, my musings are about my children. Granted I do think and talk of other topics, but those give me anxiety as I feel a rush to take out a pen jot down ideas, to do lists, draw diagrams and looking at my agenda try to save the world around me. But when I talk of home, ahhhh, I find peace, balance and wonder. Thank God for my children, literally and wholeheartedly I believe they keep me sane.
In fact, thinking of my kids has become a trick, somewhat of shortcut to switching gears.
Can’t sleep, can’t take a break, barely breathing… in order to take a deep, a really deep-oxigenating-idea-opening-breath I begin by thinking of my kids or interacting with them – heck that’s the wonder of having them around!
Recently our company’s child care assistant quit. It took us by surprise, or maybe not, but my husband and I still feel the sting. Part of the sting is -not so much that she left, we had been talking about this for a while so it was not a surprise – her leaving led us down a tired debate: "Well, what are you going to do?" "Sign your children up for day-care or extended care." "You should separate home life from work."
We, of course, believe that the home/work dichotomy is a fabrication that does not always serve the company best. I believe that companies can begin showing greater social responsibility by recognizing that employees are human beings, members of messy families. Rather than silently discriminate against women employees during their "family/procreative years" embrace the families in the company, build community and company appreciation by divising plans to introduce flexibility for employees to balance their own social responsibility with their productive, creative commitment to the company.
But I reckon I hold a minority perspective in many succesful circles. The tried and true professional tradition, people succesful in the current "system" or ways things are done assume the only right way is to separate home and work. So, I entertain these converations two or three times a year from friends and family. The conversation is very similar each time, we go back and forth again and remain each side unconvinced or agreeing to disagree. More importantly, beyond disagreeing philosophically my husband and I are willing to put our ideas to the test and incorporate child care and flexible work hours and work from home into our company. This is the point where I would like to say we are multi-millionaires – that would end most arguments, but rather we are what we like to say: "working on it" but with the satisfaction of doing it "our way."
This time it was different though, I slipped a curve in the conversation. I challenged the "wisdom of the ages" and asked, "Well WHY is it better to separate the home from work? Can you point to my children and tell me I am causing them irreparable harm?"
Yea, I know it is a cheap shot to refer to my kids as guinea pigs but then most parents will confess parenting is taking chances and full of theories put to the test. Moreover, after 7 years of the same ol’ conversation, I have earned the right to challenge them on a point of fact looking at our own experience.
My children view first hand that their parents have good days and bad days, work lots of hours, need to concentrate at times, get frustrated, fight, argue. Oh, the horror, they would say. But I insist, my children also see their parents resolve their differences. They see first hand that being mad does not equal not loving or caring, they know and see the time for speaking up and the time for letting things go. Our children also see us laugh and have fun.
All this talk about "quality time" and dividing oneself between the office and the home, the career and the mom. It just seems unnatural. Do we need to shelter everybody from all the parts of our lives? "Yes," I hear my detractors say, "or nothing will get done. Everything will be all messy"- of course, I add to their argument "and the fear of what will they think if they only knew I was an imperfect human too."
In my experience, sharing and mixing things up in moderation seems to work wonders. Granted, I do recognize that we need not be familiar ALL the time, and when work needs to be done concentration and focus are required. But at the same time, it is nice to see business men talk about their children for a change or have them give me an understanding nod as my 3 year old son walks into the
meeting room to tell me a secret: He loves me.
Jaimito did just that. It happened the very day that my employee quit
and I happened to have a meeting that afternoon at the Chamber of
Commerce.
There I was just in time to preside over the Innovation and Technology Committee flanked by my 6 year old daughter, 3 year old son, and 7 month old infant baby boy in a stroller. I had not planned it this way – for this would fall into one of those "working need concentration moments" , but there I was, making the best of it. In moments like these I remind myself that most of my business colleagues, are parents as well. I get into this "rebel zone" where I convince myself that ideas, progress and results are the things that matter. I am keenly aware that the mommy visage will work against me, people will likely ask what is this mom doing here, why should she be in charge. Then I let a silent war cry for all working mom’s – let the work we do settle the score and
challenge any prejudice.
But you see, there I go, talking about work when I am sitting in bed, with the purpose of writing about my children — cause I want to go to bed and have sweet peaceful restful dreams. So lets flip the switch:
Aren’t children funny!
Jaimito is one of those "flip the switch" kids.
For the better part of a year, we were after him to get toilet trained.
He would give us a dissertation, he knew the process, he knew his older
friends from the park did it, he knew it was part of growing up, he
knew and understood all there was to say on the subject. We tried
education, incentives, peer pressure, getting upset, not caring, we
tried so many strategies it seems funny looking back. In the end, he
went when he was good and ready and not a day earlier. One morning,
like flipping the switch he was ready and never went back.
That was the first time we noticed he was a "flip switcher."
Now, in retrospect, I can
see he did the same with his language skills. He was eighteen months
old and I was being ridiculously neurotic, wondering when he would be
more verbal. I know the books say not to worry, but I did anyway. Lo
and behold, around twenty months he just progressed drastically and by
age two, strangers remarked at his advanced expression.
More recently, after he turned three I became interested in having him
practice his scholastic aptitude and routines: holding pencils,
coloring, following instructions, concentrating, listening to stories,
repeating songs, LEARNING SPANISh in our case. All efforts were lost on
him until suddenly this month, at 3 1/2 he cannot have enough school
like projects. His dedication, enthusiasm and good work leave me again
laughing at my earlier worried self. He just had to flip the switch.
I don’t think I am a flip switcher, except in this: I can assure you
that with thoughts of my little big boy before me, all else is
irrelevant and distant. I will be going to sleep with a smile and I
thank God and Jaimito for that!
Are we there yet? No. Will we ever get there? I believe so.
Surprisingly, the parental exchange with children sitting restlessly in
the back seat of a car awaiting a better more exciting moment has
become a doorway to understanding the impatience I feel everyday as I
and others around me ask if we or will we ever arrive at a better more
exciting moment. Can I speak of success having not found IT yet? I do
not mean to squirm out of the question -for I know to many it would be
as ironic as a divorcée giving marraige advice- but, it all depends on
how we define It, Success.
Our priest likes to cite Mother Theresa’s reply to the
question: Does it bother you that you have not been succesful? Mother Theresa purportedly replied: "God did
not ask us to be succesful, but to be faithful." The statement eases my frustration at not having more to show for my hard work but Ceasar is at my door asking me to pay taxes and rent. These days dreaming and working to make visions a reality carries a big ticket that quickly turns to debt.
Growing up I knew it was a day to thank the sacrifice of many honorable men who served the nation and risked their lives. Those were abstract soldiers. Men unkown to me.
Now the Veterans are my own. My daughter has lived the uncertainty of her father’s absence as he went to protect a people far away from a bad ruler that was cruel and unjust. Thankfully, my husband is a veteran without having gone to the battlefield but on the eve of Veterans Day my heart is heavy because another loved one leaves to serve the world and honor American ideals.
My youngest brother, will on Tuesday leave for the Middle East, destination Central Iraq, east of Bagdad. His mission to train the 5th Iraqi Brigade. I can still see him as the young boy, around the age of 8, brazen defender of "the people" – any of his 3 older siblings – speaking up for justice when he saw wrongful accusations and unjust punishment. Yes, the drama was no bigger than what is experienced in an average family of 4 children, where discipline was on the strict side and my mom balanced free-lance work and the demands of childrearing, but we all knew back then he was uncommonly courageous.
My heart is heavy with wrestless anxiety as I pray with every breath for his safe return and successful mission. I want a free and democratic Iraq that ensures basic human rights. I shudder at the cost of that goal. But if no one dares defend the ideals and nobody tends to the cries for help, then the ideals are just as well forgotten. Criticism that we go only where there is national interest is not a valid argument against the military action. If we cannot act upon every crisis is it better to act in none? I believe not. It is well known that collaboration and alliances are strongest when each side has an interest in a common result. In that sense, having national interests where we put our troops is a sign that bodes well for the thoughful development of the engagement and meeting of goals.
Today, my thoughts are drawn not just to our current crop of active duty soldiers and veterans but to the Iraqi nationals that have given their lives to defend and rebuild a new Iraq. If 1000 US soldiers have died in almost 2 years
of fighting, on the Iraqi side, casualties have met our loss 50 to one.
On this Veteran’s Day, as my brother is soon to leave, I pray for a future where the minority does not rule
tyranically over the mayority, where human dignity is afforded to
everyone, where fascism and terrorism are dead and senseless words. I
pray that courage and hope are never in short supply, that dreams give
ways to bright futures and the sharing of abundance. I pray that our
soldiers come back in good health, richer in experience, compassion and
wisdom. I pray that time flies and soon I will see the day when I hold my brother once more fast and hard. May we have the luxury of growing old together.
"OLAIA…….!!!!," my first indication that the men in my life were there were their voices of joy upon seeing Olaia walk out the baggage claim. It was so reassuring and wonderful to see Jim and Jaimito waiting for us at the airport. Jaimito hugged his sister and then hugged his mommy. My little man looked at least 6 inches taller. Jaimito was not exuberant as he has been at other times, but he seemed so grateful in a calm and sincere way. I think I know that feeling. One can be exuberant when it is a cherry being added to ice-cream, but Olaia and I arriving back into his life was probably more like a relief that he had not lost one of his founding pillars.
On the drive home, Jaimito and I held hands occasionally, stretching from above the front seat to the baby seat behind me. As we came closer home, Jaimito, became more comfortable and started spontaneously cheering: "chi-hi! chi-haa! chi ha ha ha, ah Mami, Ah MAMI, ai-ba-ba!" followed by "chi-hi! chi-haa! chi ha ha ha, ah Oyaia, Ah Oyaia, ai-ba-ba!". He repeated them twice, alternating people he was cheering. It was so earnest a cheer, I don’t think anybody else in the car noticed but I, and Jaimito sang it to himself as if it were before a stadium packed full of people singing with him.
I am glad to be back.