After a little too much sun yesterday, Sennen was finally ready for a "rest day" – a day without a beach. It seems silly to consider non-beach days to be rest when laying on the beach is what most people associate with a vacation – but honestly, the beach has its demands and gets tiring after a certain number of days. As I've mentioned before, that number is usually three days for the kids, but given our recent "rest day" including the beach in the front of town, it's been at least a week since the kids truly had a no-swimming day.
While our plan from last night was to go to Kampos after the kids finished work, we changed to an afternoon in Skala with time dedicated to art since I'm still waiting for Ailyn's paintings to add to our walls. Given both kids have Coach Thanasis at 5 pm and Sennen has basketball at 8 pm, they still have activity in the mix, so a lazy afternoon out of the sun isn't the worst thing.
This all sounded delightful when I went to run errands and left the kids to go to work. When I returned with fresh meat and produce, I found the kids returning to the house with a large box, many small clear plastic bags for filling and many large, commercial-sized bags of bulk oregano. Eirini sent them to work from home. I directed them to the table on the porch because I thought I could foresee what would happen to my living room rug had they worked at the coffee table as Sennen had initially wanted.
It turns out I had gravely underestimated what would have happened. Scooping oregano from large bags to small plastic bags sounds simple enough – and perhaps for some it is. But it wasn't for my boy who made an unqualified mess with oregano on table, chairs and ALL OVER the porch. Whether the cats evacuated due to the smell, the chaos or both remains unknown.
Ailyn, though younger, is fastidious and managed to get far more of her oregano into the small bags for resale. Only she took on too much trying to carry the box and all the little, slippery, flat plastic bags from store to house, dropping many bags along the way – and even more when she tried to set them down inside. From there she panicked that she would get fired and broke down in tears. I helped her collect the bags – most of which were inside – and got a microfiber cloth to wipe them down. All was well again. Ish.
From cold waters to scavenging for bags to emotional support to teaching how to scoop the last portions of oregano from the large bags when they got low – it felt like the kids' part-time job had become mine too. It's a LOT easier when they work at the shop.
That said, it was an excellent reminder of the value of their jobs. They may work only an average of an hour and a half a day, but they learn a lot. Besides showing up on time, following directions and being responsible, just today they learned to recover from mistakes, rethink unsuccessful processes, collaborate and clean up a massive mess. Certainly, they will smell like pizzas for days and the feline community will be recovering from this unnatural disaster in the days and weeks to come.
The kids are also learning the value of money. Ailyn, who has always been a careful shopper capable of stretching her dollars, euros and baht is experimenting with spending and credit. She wants to use her money to buy gifts for family members and all of her core friend group – which is lovely. She also has been shopping faster than she's earning and been borrowing from The Bank of Daddy to cover some of her purchases, planning to repay me with future earnings. That had her stressed today during the brief period she was worried about being fired. How would she pay me back? Very thoughtfully, Sennen offered to cover her debt for her. I told them she wouldn't be fired and if it happened, we'd figure it out then. The Bank of Daddy has flexible terms for borrowers who come upon hard times.
Still, that moment when Ailyn worried about becoming overextended was valuable. It's great she learns at ten years old in a very safe way.
This is exactly why I let the kids do whatever they want (within legal and moral limits) with their own money. There are lessons no matter which way they go and I'm happy for them to discover the natural benefits and consequences of their actions when they really aren't so consequential.
Sennen has gone the opposite direction – setting his earnings aside with the intention to convert them into dollars and using them at home.
Although the oregano typhoon on the porch was demanding for a brief period, it's also a part of something greater about this time period. I not only have custody of my kids for five weeks, but I get to really be with them – and they really get their father's time and attention. As we drove home from the beach the other day, I thought back to the Augusts of my childhood. They were great with time at both the local day camp and when it ended, with friends around the neighborhood and even weeks with my grandparents. I loved it. However, they didn't mean much time with my dad. He worked in August as in the rest of the year and unless we had a family vacation planned that month – which we sometimes did – my time with my dad was about what it was any other time of year. No complaints – my dad was generous with his free time – he just had a limited amount of it.
Because I work remotely, online – and because when we're here I work primarily at night – I'm able to give my kids a lot more of myself. We have an unusually high quantity and quality of time together during our half of their summer break. Some of this time we'll remember very clearly – like the oregano typhoon, Sennen's overheating on Vagia, Ailyn's paintings and Sennen's basketball adventures. Maybe we'll remember some things more vaguely because of their feeling or sentiment like the nights we all three fell asleep on the sofa at midnight or how I would tickle Ailyn's back and legs while she watched TV. We'll remember some accomplishments like the kids running errands and taking on responsibilities – such as their jobs. There will also be countless minutes and hours we won't specifically recall – the in-between moments that make up most of life. Yet we will know the vast majority of that forgotten time was spent together – in each other's presence, whether it was interactive or not.
If Woody Allen's over-used quote, "Eighty percent of success is just showing up," is true, I think it's especially so with parenting. Our kids want what we wall want of each other – for someone to be present with them. To be seen. Such a simple thing can be so hard to deliver and even harder to get. At the same time in your life that you bring these small people into the world to love, shape and support – you also have the most extra-familial responsibilities and demands of your entire existence. Careers, marriages, social networks, finances – they are all at their peak demand around the same time your kids are too. Our attention gets pulled everywhere and despite best intentions and hearts full of love few of us can show up as often or as well as we want.
The truth is, we have so little time in life to really be together. The years of parents and kids getting to be intimately close are few. Within another year or two, Sennen will still be in my home – we'll still be a big part of each other's lives – but he won't be mine in the way he has been. He will rightfully be developing his own life – individuating. His successful separation will be the mark of my success. There will come a point when I will have to sit on my hands and hope the lessons, the love, the foundation will be enough – and accept that what remains is to be there when and as he needs me. Then it will be Ailyn's turn. And that's La Vie En Rose.
This time of memorable moments and unmemorable hours is as selfish as anything else. It's like eating dessert for five weeks straight. This is kind of time is rich, rare and special. The divorce took away half my time with my kids and of what I have, so much can feel like a grind – going here and there, appointments, schedules, various commitments. They all have their place – they are necessary parts of life – at least in America. But this time on Patmos is as sacred to me as the Monastery of St John and Cave of the Apocalypse on the hill above us are to so many devout Christians. For all-too-few weeks, we get to be with each other without competing demands and the noise of a much busier life and word.
Perhaps to the largest degree practically possible, the three of us get to really see one another. For these five weeks I have the amazing luxury of knowing my kids' lives are exactly what they appear to be. And for these five weeks, they get to be my overwhelming priority, able to access the lion's share of my time and attention – and even when they don't have that, they have the comfort of knowing I'm in the next room or on the porch. We're together.
I'm sure it's not all joy for them any more than it's fun for me to clean up watermelon juice all over the kitchen counter or oregano covering the patio table. Still – at least for me – the value is ever-present and it feels like wealth.
