July 2021

 Looking back at the post from January, I am struck by how little things have changed. This was my summer of hope. Going back to living. Letting my boys have fun, have friends. Seeing family. Except it isn't really. 

Things are better ~ some ~ but not better enough. I had such high hopes that we were turning a corner. Vaccines and masking that was working, preventing. But it isn't working. Because not everyone is willing to participate. Not everyone is willing to protect my kids. The not-so-low-level-mom-rage that simmers inside of me ALL the time now makes me cranky. Impatient. Short tempered. Exhausted. We gave up more than a year of "normal" life, and if my loved ones get sick now ~ after all we sacrificed ~ because someone has been fed a line of bullshit about the efficacy of masking or vaccines I AM GOING TO BE PISSED OFF. It's like the HIV epidemic all over again. Fear, misinformation, judgement, the average human being unwilling to make small behavioral changes to prevent sickness and death. I cannot fathom how this works. How people can just be cavalier about the lives of others. How they sleep at night or look in a mirror. How many preventable deaths is too many? Oh, wait. One. 

Apparently I'm not actually ready to write about this yet. 

 January 2021

This may be a post I never publish. Maybe I just need a place to vent, to talk about my feelings, to dump my tears. 

I am tired. Exhausted. Not so much physically, though I am not sleeping all that well without assistance. But inside. Tired of being afraid. For my family. For my country. I want to just lock the world out and huddle my boys around me and stay safe. 

But I don't want that. I want to go and do and see the world. See my friends. My brother. My father. I want my kids to see their cousins and their grandparents. Their friends. I want them to have birthday cake and nerf wars and sleepovers. It's selfish, I know. And they won't have that right now, and I am sure they will be just fine. But I have stress cracks in my heart. 

There is so much loss. Two people I know lost parents to Covid this week. How do we even grieve right now? All the traditions of gathering together to support and shelter one another are limited. It's all so damn scary. So unpredictable. And, for whatever reasons, there are people - people I know - who feel like masking and distancing are somehow about ANYTHING other than keeping others safe - or it is too damn inconvenient to actually DO anything for our fellow humans? Why is looking out for one another in such a small way somehow so freaking hard? I'm tired of being angry. 

Did I mention that I was tired?

2020 (November, if you are keeping track...)

 So... 2020. 

Miraculously, I posted in March of this year, so it looks like I will get TWO blog entries this year! 

This summer, BB was supposed to go to an academically gifted camp for two weeks. He was going to stay in a college dorm and take cool classes. He was going away for Scout camp for two weeks. Hubby was going to be giving the Army his usual 5 or so weeks and it looked like LB and I would be doing a lot as just the two of us. 

None of that happened, of course. Everything was cancelled. We went skiing in Vermont in very early March, where I sanitized everything constantly and we spent most of our time outside. Skiing for the first time with the boys was amazing fun. There were a lot of falls, but they were very game about it and say they can't wait to do it again. Flying from Boston to New Hampshire in a 8 seater plane was certainly a highlight for all of us. I am glad we did that, since it feels like we have not left the house since. 

All the cool camps were cancelled. LB turned 10 with no fanfare. BB turns THIRTEEN this week, also without fanfare. He does get to choose the place from which we order takeout... but these milestones are gliding by without the celebrations I so long to give them. I am crystal clear that these are very first world disappointments. I have come (finally) to a place where I feel like I can weep and mourn and rage and cry for all the bitter sadness in our world right now; all those without safe housing, adequate food, loss of jobs and income, access to health care ~ all the people who are losing loved ones every day... and still allow myself to feel my small sadness for the little(ish) things we have also lost. My missed opportunities are not life threatening, but I have gotten to the point where I have to acknowledge that my hurts are valid; even though they are so infinitesimally small compared to so many. In truth, the things for which I feel sadness are not for myself as much as for the things the boys are missing. These kids are, however, amazing me. They have adapted to a world that is so different remarkably well. (Possibly better than I have?) They have done online school with a great deal of grace. They have ridden their bikes A LOT and mastered wooden swordplay in the back yard. They miss their friends, going to the pool, going to camp, going to birthday parties; well, just... going. But, they don't whine about it (much) and seem to truly understand why masks are important and that this is just our world for now. 

I would be remiss if I didn't take a moment here to say how insanely grateful I am for their teachers. Holy cow, these humans are amazing. They have had to adapt to entirely new platforms, had to try and engage kids through a screen and online portals, had to literally figure out completely new ways to do their jobs - WHILE doing the job. It's like building an airplane mid-flight. I feel sure these teachers are not sleeping enough and spend SO much time trying to help their students that they have to be so burned out... and yet they keep showing up for these kids. As a nation, I am entirely certain that this entire profession needs a pay raise. A big one. 

I am beyond grateful that my employer has figured out how to let us/help us work from home during this crisis so I am not leaving two pre-adolescent boys alone in our home all day. (What could go wrong?) So, silver linings: More time with my babies. No matter what, when we go back to a life outside the house, I am going to miss that. (Pretty sure the dog will, too.) My commute is awesome. We have played more games together, eaten better (Shoot, I have even cooked some! Branching out!) We have made new friends online, who I hope to spend time with in real life some time. Every day, there is some act of kindness that gives me hope and faith that we can be our best selves when the chips are down. I have spent more time with some of my girlfriends on the phone, or having Zoom happy hour ~ it is, sadly, sometimes easier to "get together" from the living room on a Thursday than to carve out time to actually travel to a friend's house, get child care, etc. So, that has been a nice surprise. The opportunities shared by talented artists has been unbelievable. Truly. the kids have gotten to see ballet, concerts at the Ryman, Patrick Stewart reading daily Shakespearean sonnets, and Andrew Lloyd Webber playing piano in his living room. These are amazing things we might not have afforded in normal times. In particular, there are two singer/songwriters who we were lucky enough to see a few times at the Seay's Music Room who have been playing twice a week since the world shut down. Georgia Middleman and Gary Burr have given so selflessly of their time and talents to brighten these dark times. They are talented and funny ~ but here is this awesome other thing ~ the group of people who get together to watch them online have become like friends, too. When you go to a live concert, there is no matching the emotion and energy between audience and the creators of music and magic... but we also don't really get to know the people in the front row. We don't wish them happy birthdays or mourn their losses or make them feel connected to us as a crowd. The people who tune in to the Middleman Burr shows do those things. We all feel a little less alone for the time we get to spend together listening to amazing songs and bad jokes (sorry, G ~ some of them are good...) and we talk with one another. We are making connections with friends we haven't met yet. That is a silver lining. Maybe gold. 

So grateful for so many things; in the same breath as all of the sadness, anxiety, and fear. 

Breathe. Call your mom if you can. We are all in this together, even when we feel most alone. 

2020, April 3.

On March 2, BB called from Middle School, he wasn't feeling well. I took him to urgent care and got a positive test for Influenza A. That night, tornadoes tore through middle Tennessee leaving a path of damage over 50 miles long. Two Wilson County schools were completely destroyed. Businesses, buildings, homes, churches were flattened. There was no more school that week. The following week, which was spring break, our schools scrambled to figure out a way to keep these kids in schools, without their buildings. A plan emerged that the displaced kids and teachers would share ~ MJMS kids would use their school from 8-12, WWMS faculty and their students would use it from 1-5. Practices and matches and rehearsals were being rearranged, extended care being discussed, and a plan emerged.

Then, the spread of the virus causing COVID19 exploded globally. People stopped traveling, many stopped going to their offices (including me), grocery shopping became anxiety inducing, and school did not start back with their new plan. The schools here are closed until April 30, officially, but I will be surprised if they go those 13 days of May.

So, effectively, Summer break probably started March 2 for my 4th grader and 6th grader. First year on the tennis team. No games. No TaeKwonDo testing and advancement. No Scouts, no camping. We have a full summer planned with new and exciting opportunities. Will they happen?

I am so very fortunate that I can work from home, as I don't know exactly what I would do with my family if I had to go in every day. There are so many families facing so many hard choices. Livelihoods lost or diminished, fear everywhere. Birthdays, graduations, class trips being missed, memories rearranged. People dying. Mistrust and misinformation sowing seeds of anger, doubt, and fear. I have to both explain this to my boys and shield them from parts of it.

Our silver linings: I am getting to spend so much more time with my boys. Yes, they drive me nuts some of that time, but I am so, so glad to have this time with them. Musicians and artists who are stuck at home are sharing their talents and their gifts so freely online to help us all navigate this locked down life. We have seen so many acts of kindness and generosity.

Robert is still working in health care, and that causes me a lot of worry, but I am grateful that he still has a job to do. But this post is not about those fears.

Grandma

My mother left us one year ago this coming Saturday.

It seems impossible that it has been a year. A year of wanting to hear her voice. A year of firsts without her. Her grandsons' birthday parties with no Grandma. Her Fourth of July birthday. A Mother's day without sending her a card, or getting one from her. Christmas. Thanksgiving. A year of catching my breath and either breaking into a smile or unexpected tears when I come across a photo of her without prepping myself. Intentionally looking at more photos. Knowing how much she would have loved hearing her grandson singing Danny Boy at a concert. Trying not to think of all the things we won't have her for in the coming years, the graduations, weddings... And trying SO very, very hard to be the kind of mother she was.

The boys sometimes ask in their prayers that God tell her "Hello" and that our beloved dog Gnash is snuggling in her lap in heaven.

She would have adored seeing my boys in kilts for the Highland Festival. Or hearing my oldest read a poem for the Veterans on Memorial Day at the National Cemetery. Seeing my youngest in his Cub Scout Uniform reciting the oath. I believe, in my heart, that she does see these things; I guess I selfishly miss seeing her see them with me ~ with my family. Dear God, I miss her every day.

February 2017

School. Cub Scouts. Soccer. School play. Honor choir. Bookworms. Legos. 10 Years together.  Grandma is gone.

Apparently, my moments to pause and reflect are few and far between. Truly, moments are few. I feel as though I am constantly in motion, never get enough sleep, never have enough time with my husband ~ or my boys.

BB is almost 10. LB is almost 7. They are kids now. People. With opinions, personalities, individual talents. We argue. I constantly wonder if I am doing this right, with occasional flashes of validation.

A Personal Best

So, over a year since the last post.  Clearly I am terribly serious about my second career as a writer...

It has just hit me, today, that after this summer, both my boys will be in school. Ride the bus, I have no control over what they are exposed to, exciting, learning, big boy school.  Kindergarten and second grade.  Wow.  No more grabbing LB to rush him to day care on my way to the station.  I will leave the house alone every morning.  I truly wonder how that will feel.  I already feel a bit odd whenever I get into the car alone to go do... anything, really.

They are both so interesting, so individual, so smart, and yet so much still babies.  This is the start of the time where it will really start to show if we are teaching them the important things they need to know to get on in this world.  Kindness, patience, empathy, confidence, independence.  I cannot believe that these little people are so very grown up already.  Our family has changed in so many ways, and I feel like a dreadful historian.

Both of them played soccer last fall, which was great fun, if a bit hectic.  I don't see how people manage running around, spending any time together, commuting, working, and keeping the house inhabitable as well as multiple sports or clubs.  I can just barely keep my head above water, most of the time, and there are never enough minutes in a day to feel like I am teaching my children, or appreciating my husband.  Perhaps I need a bigger washing machine.  Just do it all at once, when their drawers are empty.

This mom thing is the coolest gig ever, though.  No question.  Man, I love those boys.

Three

Three. My "baby" is three.  BB starts kindergarten this Autumn.  I have become an unlikely expert on superheroes and dinosaurs.  I am almost constantly delighted and worried.  What are they going to learn now?  How will it go?  Will school be exciting, scary, both?  (I know the answer for me, I wonder about BB...)  When I step back from the constant cacophony I am startled by these little... people.  And by how much they have changed me.  Mostly for the better, I think, but I was never this scared of all the evil in the world before.  Now I have an almost constant low-grade anxiety for the pieces of my heart which careen off the walls around me.  I want them to be strong and fearless, so I have to show them that.

On the lighter side, we are pretty much done with diapers, with the exception of nighttime ~ Hooah!  Soon our house will be filled with people who can dress, toilet, and brush their teeth without assistance.  I am already imaging what I will do with all my free time... :-)

February 2013

2013.  I keep saying and writing it, but really haven't assimilated.  Another year.  Another anniversary.  Another madcap Christmas with our combined families.  A five year old.  An almost three year old.  I know I am part of this journey, every day... but I often pause and think, "when/how did that happen?"  "How is it 2013?"  We have to register for kindergarten next month.  School.  I'm not even going to try and find words for the maelstrom of conflicting emotions that threaten to unhinge me when I dwell too long on my baby in school.  Some of the feelings are common to mothers everywhere since the inception of centralized education; some are new and tinged with an unspeakable anxiety particular to this age, these days of fear and uncertainty that you might be next.  And you cannot let that dominate.  But I find I cannot pretend it isn't there, either.  So, we dance, internally ~  between faith and fear and strength and paralysis ~ and hope for the best.  But I really didn't want to write about that.  :-)

Big Brother is a clever child, who loves books.  He is doing well in phonics and sounds out words, though frustrates easily.  He is fiercely independent and draws a dozen pictures a day.  His people are now recognizable as such, and often produces robots, spaceships, dinosaurs, and intricate scenarios in his art, which he is eager to explain.  He likes to "shoot" things, and wields a light "saver" (think Star Wars) when he isn't shooting bad guys.  I don't understand where this driving urge to kill imaginary things originates, and we have lots and lots and lots of talks about it (and, see first paragraph) he understands that there are no weapons at school, ever.  Even in Pre-K, there is a subzero tolerance policy in this brave new world.  Mostly, however, he is a delight.  He is clever and funny and verbal and imaginative.  We joke that he will be a director on stage or film, as he scripts out these elaborate scenes and conversations, give you your part/lines:  "Okay, Mommy.  I am going to curl up on the sofa and you try to sit down and you say, 'oh, this feels like a rock.  Wait, it isn't a rock, it is a whale shark.  No, wait, it is an egg.' and then I will wiggle and you say, 'my egg is hatching!' and then I will hatch and you can feed me and then you see that I need a home, so you will bring me home to live with you."  And let me tell you what, if you don't hit your mark or forget a line, watch out!!!  Then you see the quick to frustrate temper tears.  He is a champ of an eater, which is more than I can say for Little Brother.  LB seems to think cheese, hot dogs, french fries, bread, ketchup, and applesauce are the only necessary food groups.  He talks a lot, and is curious and demanding.  He is also an inspired dancer.  He, too, loves books and we spend a lot of time reading together, which makes Mom and Dad very happy. LB is our fearless child, BB is a bit more risk averse in general.   At the risk of oversimplification, is seems that the older child is a bit more like me in temperament, while the younger is a little more like his Daddy.  It will be fun to see how that plays out over time.  We are potty training, and I am very eager for the day when diapers are a thing of the past.  Of course, that will be another one of those transitions which will likely sneak up on my heart in ways I don't now foresee as other pieces of furniture are outgrown.  Though I like to think I won't wax as nostalgic about the changing table as I did the crib.  We shall see.

Have I mentioned lately that this is just fun?  We laugh a lot, I am funnier by the day, if you ask my boys.  I am so incredibly fortunate in my husband and the father of our children.  He balances me in good ways, keeps me from being too type A when he can, and supports me with the patience of a seasoned crisis hostage negotiator psychiatrist on Valium.  Without a prescription, God love him.  :-)   I could easily write a long love letter of a post to my amazing man ~ I'll give some thought to how that should go.

My four minutes of quiet time for this week are over now.  See you in the funny papers.

Our future paleontologist

Five year old birthday breakfast snack

Defenders of the universe... 

Where did they go?

Those tiny little baby boy bodies that couldn't get close enough to me?  Who would calm in a breath as soon as I held them close?  Who needed us for everything?  How have they transformed into these frenetic, chaotic, independent, LOUD little men who literally careen off of the furniture, walls, and each other?  With every new skill, new step toward self actualization, each epiphany; they move away in  infinitesimally small ways... which is a chance for the parent to revel in, to celebrate ~ and mourn all in the same breath.

I'm all weepy, introspective, waxing poetic and philosophical over a crib.  We took it apart.  LB has been in the bunk bed, sharing a room with BB for a month.  So, we finally over-rode the maternal emotional inertia and dismantled it.  Aside from the ever-present diaper pail (a future milestone I feel sure will ONLY bring celebration, without any nostalgia from me), there are so very few vestiges of the babies they were.  And I WANT that, of course.  Watching them grow is pure magic.  The thrill of their synapses wrapping around something new is such a primal, elemental delight for us.  They make us laugh every single day.  It just astounds me how quickly it has happened.  Yes, I know, everyone I know (and people I didn't) all told me it would go so quickly.  Clearly the only thing in the history of my life in which everyone agreed, and got right.

The good news, of course, is that for those who want to visit us, the spare room where the crib resided until this week is a lot more user friendly.  You don't have to circumnavigate the crib as soon as you enter the door, and you can get in and out of the bed from EITHER SIDE.  I know, crazy, right?  The changing pad is gone, so there is room on top of the dresser for a few things.  One might be able to complete an entire weekend visit to us without having to play where-is-there-an-outlet-for my-cell-phone-charger-and-where-did-I-leave-it?  So, we have THAT going for us, which is nice. 

So, we forge on, amazed and excited, astounded, and occasionally wistful on this adventure.  What a ride.  Come visit ~ if you dare!