One Day, Another Day

One day I was complaining about quarantine and home school and needing desperately to be in the world and then the next day my dad had a heart attack and was airlifted to a hospital in another city with no family nearby and another day he had all five of the major arteries in his heart bypassed and another day my mom could be with him again and he was doing okay and one day he went back home to recover even though fears have settled in on him and then the next day the ICU at the hospital where my husband works filled up with coronavirus patients and I thought, here we go, and then the next day a black man, George Floyd, was murdered by a white police officer 15 minutes from where I live and 8 minutes from the full ICU and then people, god bless them, took to the streets to shout out against police violence and the systemic racism that surrounds and encompasses our daily lives and then there were riots and fires and curfews and helicopters and we watched the city burn on TV and out our windows and we read about white nationalists and we became suspicious of every truck in the neighborhood driven by a white man, and there were many, so we put our trash cans in the garage and left all the lights on in the house and we did not sleep while our children slept and we called our neighbors and took supplies and food to pop up pantries and then one day school was over for the year so we took books back to the building, crossing a line of national guardsmen to park near the front door, one of them waved to us, we didn't wave back, and then one day it started to feel quieter again and we turned off a light or two in the house, but not in our bodies, and every day now the husband shows his badge to a soldier to get into the hospital to treat the virus sick and the windows in his office are boarded up but if he looks out a window on another floor he will see that his is one of only a few buildings standing in a sea of destruction and every day I am scrolling and scrolling the social media and wondering what is my role, what is my part, where will I be heard, and writing to people and calling some and making signs with my kids but feeling too scared to take those signs and those kids to George Floyd's memorial or to march with them because of the virus that I was complaining about to begin with, and quietly, my son takes Brown Girl Dreaming from my shelf and The Watsons Go to Birmingham too and he starts reading and it is another day.

Hard Things

My 3rd grader, Sam, is a motivated and excited learner. He loves new ideas and happily shares his latest school projects.

And yet, on this, his 36th day of doing school from home, HE IS SO DONE.

He used to initiate his daily work, check off tasks with a vengeance, and display his finished assignments with pride.

Now he requires constant cajoling, reminding, settling, and checking.

We have only two and a half more weeks of school for this year, and I have adapted the mantra We Can Do Hard Things. Especially for two and a half weeks.

Maybe an acronym will help: WCDHTFTAAHW. It's kind of long and difficult, but then again, so is the week.

We Attack At Dawn

The kids have been engaging in some excellent imaginative play around here.

It involves Legos and pop music and pirate hats and princess dresses and a stuffed cat. It usually begins with one of the kids saying, "We attack at dawn." It starts after breakfast, ebbs and flows around the other activities of the day, and ends when we make the kids go to their separate rooms for sleep.

I do not grasp the full depth of it, and I love it intensely.

What The Future Holds

I have no regrets about these years as a stay-at-home parent. It's been wonderful and meaningful and also hard. This year, in particular, I have found a sort-of balance with teaching preschool, volunteering in schools, and implementing daily healthy habits of body and mind.

Sometime in late February, though, I felt the urge to look for a job outside the home again. Something in education that would offer added purpose, challenge my intellect, and still allow for the balance it took me so long to appreciate. Maybe in academia? Maybe in a school? Definitely something with a teaching component.

Just as I was beginning to sort out my thinking on what a job like that might be, the pandemic took over and an opportunity to teach Kindergarten and 3rd grade appeared. I could not pass it up. Like, literally, passing it up was not an option.

So for eight weeks now I have been supporting my own kids in their at-home learning, as both a parent and a teacher. This has been rewarding and also terribly difficult, as anyone in the same position might attest. This has also thrown my outside-the-home job search into new relief. Do I want to start a new job when the likelihood of teaching 1st and 4th grades next year is so high? Maybe. Do I want to work from home while also teaching my motivated but also needy kids? Definitely no.

So I'm sitting here in limbo, like so many others, wondering what the future will hold. Hoping that things will become clearer very soon but not counting on that either.

The Stuff That Really Makes Us Happy

Because for a minute it seemed like we might all have more time during the Great Covid Quarantine, my sister-in-law suggested we take an online Yale course called The Science of Well-Being. The professor, Dr. Laurie Santos, teaches how to be happier by applying what researchers know about happiness from psychological science.

I believe in and support science, so I agreed.

It's possible I'm missing some key take aways due to watching TV while also viewing lectures (that's what the Yale kids do, too, right?), but here's what's sticking with me so far:

1) Our intuitions about what will make us happy are totally wrong. Not only do we want the wrong things (aptly called miswanting) but we also think those things will make us happy for longer than they do.

2) There's this thing called Hedonic Adaptation, which means that we get used to things and then they don't make us happy any more. A new car, for example. Eventually (and sooner than you'd think), it's just the car you have.

3) Because we don't adapt to them, experiences make us happier than things. Even though you might want to extend that vacation, it's the shortness of it that makes it so great.

4) Our reference points, those completely irrelevant standards against which we compare ourselves, are also totally wrong and have an intense impact on our happiness. Dr. Santos has a lot to say about social media here, as you can imagine.

5) We can intentionally engage in practices that make us happier. Dr. Santos says we'll learn the details of The Stuff That Really Makes Us Happy next week. I'll be returning for that lecture. Obviously.

If you want to take this course, I'm pretty sure you still can.

These Strange Times

Blogging seems like as good a thing to do as any during the Great Covid Quarantine. It's remarkable how many things I might do, and yet I do only little bits of each thing, distracted always by the call of a child or the weight of this situation.

Overall, we're doing fine. One member of our family heads off in his undershirt and track pants each day to work at the hospital where he dons the available scrubs and PPE, coordinates the medical troupes, and treats the sick. He returns home in his casual wear and runs through an impressive disinfecting routine (which does not involve swallowing bleach). Then we carry on like it's a normal evening, talking about our days and sometimes forgetting the strange times we live in.

At home we're doing the school thing, and in a way, it's been a nice change for me. I have opinions about learning, and my kids are now my students. Sam receives my addendums to his schooling with a modicum of wonder and compliance, while Eloise reminds me she has only one teacher and it is not me.

The silver linings are abundant. We bake more, read more, puzzle more, and color our way to calm. The kids bond to one another against the common enemy of their mother (chore time!) and find creative ways to battle the boredom. We take family walks and bike rides and explore neighborhoods never before explored. We watch the sunset with appreciation.

And we carry on toward an unpredictable end, naming our gratitude for one more day of health and togetherness knowing that those things aren't available to everyone.

Action, Adventure, and Parenting in August

I've decided to respond to the call and blog about Action and Adventure in August.

Here goes.

One of the ways I've been able to maintain sanity during these summer days of endless Sam and Eloise is to send them both to this wonderful soccer program called Joy of the People. I mean, the name itself is so good, and there's a solid philosophy to boot. There's nothing better than a program with a solid philosophy that it ALSO LIVES OUT. It's so rare. Basically, the people at JOTP want kids to play for the joy of soccer. There's very little coaching, very little skill and drill, and very few adults. Instead, there's abundant free play in mixed age-groups, and I can drop my kids there whenever they (or I) want. As a result, there's abundant joy for us all.

Except for today. Sam and Eloise refused to go. They were tired and missed home after a weekend away at the cabin, and they just. wanted. to play. Legos.

That's fair, but I also really wanted them to go (sanity) and knew that they would (or should) much prefer a morning of soccer with friends to a slog through the grocery store with mom.

So I entered the battle. There was whining, crying, attempts at compromise, a proposed bribe, and finally, a standing of ground that resulted in two of us sitting in the car for five minutes while another refused to get in.

But we got there, and before I had even turned to go, Sam had entered a game and Eloise was being greeted by name by one of the college-aged coaches. Both kids were smiling.

I'm happy to report that they have have asked to go back tomorrow. It doesn't mean they will. We all change our minds sometimes, and some days I don't feel like standing my ground. But if parenting isn't an adventure -- in even the most mundane of daily exercises -- I don't know what is.

A Loss

We lost a whole week during the polar vortex.

Temperatures were in the -30º range, and the kids had to stay home from school. I was down with my first nasty cold of the season and between nose blows, I broke up fights and sent kids to their rooms. I made Sam sick, too, and when the weather was finally warm enough for him to go to school, he had to stay home.

We did our best to pass the time with Uno, My Little Pony episodes, a train set from when Sam was a toddler, and Harry Potter movies #2 and #3 (which Sam and I watched in installments while Eloise napped).

The week felt like it was not part of real time while also being 12 days long.

Is that a loss? Or a gain? I don't know. But now that we're back into the regular routine, it feels like a blur.

p.s. It's February now, but I'm carrying on with the January Blogging Challenge. You probably noticed.