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!

Two!! How??

So, the "baby" is two now...

And starting to do more and more things like his big brother...

Who is frequently amazingly patient... (although not always)

 

Our little soccer star...

And growing into a pretty awesome big brother.

Each and every day, I am utterly amazed at the miracles in my life.  These three precious boys with whom I get to share my life never cease to amaze, and sometimes bewilder, me. 

The inner workings of the BB brain are a wonder to behold.  He is fascinated with the concept of his next birthday, and has a VERY long list of things he is going to do, when he turns five.  (Eat barbecue, watch Star Wars, wear a necktie, eat guacamole... the list goes on and on and gets longer pretty much every day.)  He often explains things to LB, and is incredibly helpful in a myriad of ways.   He is learning things so fast, they both are.  Frequently (more than I would like, perhaps) he breaks out with something I didn't know that he knew yet.  More frequently, his take on things just makes us laugh out loud.  

Driving past the historical home of a long former president:  

BB: "That's ----'s house."

Me:  "Yes, it is.  But he doesn't live there anymore."

BB:  "Did he move to an apartment?"

Me: Pause... "No, Buddy.  He was President a long, long time ago, and now he is in heaven."

BB:  "Oh.  He died."  Succint, and to the point.  That's our boy.  

The LB turning two was harder on me than I expected.  It just wasn't that long ago that he was so small, and needed me so much.  Now, he's not a baby.  He's - well, he is just such a BOY.  Watching them together is hilarious and heartbreaking, in turns.  They argue and push and grab toys from one another ~ and then turn around and help each other out, share food, build together... BB is sort of bossy, but I guess that comes both with the territory, and with some genetic coding.  (Just ask MY little brother...)  I can already see little ways in which they each seem to resemble us, which is awesome and terrifying.  Hearing your words come from the mouth of a child will make you stop and think, and sometimes worry!   EEEK!  And then BB will say something like talking about our friend who is the "special forest" soldier, and you just crack up. Of course, the rest of that conversation, in which he asked, "because he is really special, right?" was even funnier, as we replied "yes, he really is special."  He will think that is far funnier much, much later.  (Our friend may not be quite so amused...)

This is bad, even for me!

So, a whole year with Daddy away can be neatly summed up by a card sent to us ~  On the front of the card it reads:  "One day you'll look back on this and say..." and you open it to find:  "Well, that sucked!"  And it did.  We all missed him so dreadfully, and he was so very lonely for his family.  But, we are proud of him and what he does to support his brothers and sisters in arms.  Our sacrifices seem small when compared to so many - but on their own, they still feel huge.  But, HE IS HOME.  And we are readjusting nicely, thank you.  He occasionally has to say, "I'm here now..." so I will stop trying to do absolutely everything on my own.   It's pretty cute.

So, BB is almost four and a half and so very interesting.  Some moments he is belligerent in his independence and others he (in his words this week) "always just want to be beside you, Mommy."  He had his first soccer practice yesterday, which was pretty hilarious. It was slightly less chaotic than I anticipated, but then, not everyone was there.  BB had a good time kicking the ball and wearing his new shin guards.  LB stood on the "sidelines" (a bit of a misnomer, since they didn't actually really play on the field so much as kick the ball around randomly in the vicinity of where we were supposed to be) happily munching from his snack cup and squirting his juice box everywhere.  He picked up a few errant soccer balls and brought them back to us, but was otherwise happy to just sort of chill.  I do wonder about actual games, and keeping him out of the fray when he gets that BB will be allowed to play with the ball and he is supposed to sit it out.  We shall see.  They frequently surprise me.  LB has started really using more and more words, and some short sentences.  He kicked me during a diaper change and immediately said what sounded like "sossy mommy."  His favorite friend is "raffe" - as in giraffe.  He knows most of the body parts, and like most toddlers, delights in poking you in the eye or the belly button with great force as he tells you the words for those parts of the anatomy.  He is still a super finicky eater, and some days I despair of getting him to eat real food.  He went through a phase where he ate Vienna Sausages - hardly a real nutritional win, but protein, at least.  Then, out of the blue, throws them at you.  Daddy said to him, "Buddy, it makes me sad to even buy these, but it makes me even sadder to have to throw them away." Both of these boys have established a stubborn, opinionated streak that make me think they may have been switched in hospital, since no one in our family is like that at all.

This has been a full and challenging year and now first quarter of 2012.   To everyone who said, "Cherish these moments, they go by so fast..."  I get it.  You were all right.  It is impossible that LB is almost two and that BB is getting ready to play (however loosely) a team sport.  Where did my babies go?

We now drive a minivan.  Which, sadly, I adore.  It's awesome.  We call it the Batmobile, and it now has cool bat-logo stickers on it.  I envision stealing Adam West's line for many years to come as I tell the family, "To the Batmobile!"  Whatever works, right?  It's way cooler than admitting to the minivan thing.

We are oh-so-very well, and I will (try not to laugh here) endeavor to post more than three or four times this year.

Peace out.