It's day 33.
We all got to take an outing this week, because the 10 year old Goldendoodle decided to "play" with the dumb 4 year old Ridgeback - and ripped her toe nail CLEAR off. 30 min before the vet closes and we are in the parking lot. Thankfully they fixed her up - just wish they would've helped me clean up the 87 spots of blood all over my floors. Just another day, right?
When you think of a whole month's time staying home, it's just crazy. Limited grocery runs - no doctor visits - no sports - no carpool - no church - no family gatherings - no friend's house. I've been able to sit at our round dinner table with my crew for more meals this month than in the last couple years. That's a plus, for sure. I think the boys are missing their buddies. I am too. We drove by the school and church Wednesday and waved. And it became real to them. There's a real space that housed all of that fun, friends, learning, teaching, recessing, assembling - and it's still there, but we are not. And 33 days in, we feel the space that's empty. My adrenaline has pumped for 33 days. Each child has their own seat at a different table for distance learning while I don't own a seat anywhere in this house. My feet carry me from one task to the next and if I stop, I cry. One of Grayson's Pre-K teachers posted a "farewell" to the students today and this mama wasn't ready. We still have 1 1/2 months left of learning. He's in Pre K but he looks forward to his weekly assignments more than anyone in this house, and you know what else? He LOVES his teachers. He prays for them every night by name. He tells me throughout the day how "proud" they would be that he already knows how to add numbers together or that he knows how to spell CAT. He can't wait to get back to school, and wonders if it will be tomorrow. And I can't explain to him that it just won't be. Us mamas, we are not trying to fill these gaps. We are just trying to help label the apple as RED. There's a reason they behave for you, and not us. Teachers - you know. And I do too.
Pre-Corona, we were planning a trip to Disney and it crossed our minds that our oldest would be 10 in 2021. The next words out of my mouth were "He's halfway through his childhood." - what are we doing? What's filling my day so much that I miss the details? What's on the agenda that causes me to choose between my children's activities? What is on MY agenda? I'm learning.
Our round kitchen table was one of our first "new house" purchases in 2013. I told Brannan that I didn't understand why we'd buy a nice piece of furniture if we were going to have a lot of children - we only had 2 at the time. It's the first piece you see when you walk in the back door - because that's where you walk in if you belong - and it came with 4 chairs. THERE ARE 6 OF US. We finally bought 2 more chairs that don't match so that we could all share the space. Not sure why we went ahead and chose to do it. But since this pandemic is giving me time at this table, I'm grateful. All 4 children have their "spot" at meals, and I've earned mine through these 33 days. This is where we start our days, stop mid-way through, are greeted after school, and finish before bedtime. This round table has been drawn on, spit on, crawled on, and prayed upon. Our animals rest beneath it, and our hands are clasped above it. And now I see why the round table is needed at the end of the day.
Because a day can be A DAY. One of the days this week - I lost track early on - the boys got into it, like boys do, and it ended with me ripping the oldest off of the second oldest. As I silently praised myself for being strong enough to still do so, that one I just ripped off the other muttered those words - "I Hate You." He then said he wanted to go live somewhere else, to which I offered to help him pack. He spent the rest of that hour in his room - WITH the one I ripped him off of - as punishment, and I was told by my apple watch to "breathe." We had hit a corner with a pretty rough edge at that point for both of us to feel. I told them not to come back down til they were ready to apologize - the oldest assured me that'd be tomorrow, and I told him to starve. Needless to say, we've met our matches. Thankfully, 2 hours later, with little brothers playing downstairs and a little lego therapy, we had an apology, and the corner seemed a bit less fierce. The circle had come back around and we were ok. 33 days.
33 days, and I'm understanding that we have a choice to sulk or to sit. If I sulk during this crisis, that's alright. But if I take a seat, in my case at the round table, to experience this segment and all that it brings to me, then I'm truly doing my part. I'm doing my part, FOR ME. There are things for me to realize, understand, let sink in - all from which, I'll grow. So I'll take that seat at the table with my crew - the good days and the bad of the 33 so far. Because when it all circles back, we're here together, learning - living - loving, losing what we don't need and lifting up the hopes we have. And maybe that's what it's all about?
Friday, April 17, 2020
Sunday, April 5, 2020
A Whole Heap.
Day 21 for us.
I have felt a lot of emotions lately, and all of them are being warded off by the constant thought of "Carrie, chill out and let the healthcare teams do their job. Do your part. Stay home. Stop worrying about that tickle in your throat. Stop complaining. Stop being upset about it. All you have to do is sit - alter your life for a bit and let this thing do its thing." And for the most part, it's a quick fix for me. I take a deep breath, gather myself, and get on with the day.
But Wednesday, I looked at my dancers through the screen and said "Ya know, this sucks." Some started wiping away tears. I told them, "You know, you can say it with me - this sucks." We all sorta felt better after that. Then we danced in our own spaces, as if we had put out into the atmosphere what everyone was feeling. I told them that it was ok to come to terms with this new normal - to welcome the feelings that they had - and maybe it would make peace with itself. They were listening, and so was I.
Today is my Dad's birthday. He would celebrate a new decade today - 60. I haven't seen him in 18 years. I knew him alive for 18 years - and now I've spent 18 years without him. He always had wise words for me, and I wonder what he'd say here. He'd smile that smile that 18 years won't take away, and he'd tell me to trust. I taught for 6 hours today outside to an iPad screen, and I couldn't help but notice the beautiful red birds that kept coming to visit. I believe he celebrated his day with me, and applauded me as I took a whole heap of a mess and tried to dredge forward the best way that I knew how. And after I finished, I started to wonder if this whole heap of a mess was my turn to grow. Yes Carrie, it is.
We miss our family. We miss our friends. We miss our church. We miss our school. I miss my dancers. And that's real, and that's ok. My boys miss their buddies. Grayson misses his Pre-K teacher. He told me last night that if he saw her again, he would always make sure to hug her good-bye. Briggsy asked me "Mom, when this is all over with, can we throw a big party? I want to see everyone I love." - Yes Briggsy, when we can, that's a great idea. BK3 told me last week that he's excited to plan his birthday party. He's been talking about it every day - I think he's starting to understand that the month of May might look exactly like this. But it's his way of being hopeful, and I'm here for that too. We are becoming more sentimental. We are enjoying the stillness more. We are noticing what growth is needed inside this whole heap of a mess that we see on the surface. This whole heap that WAS on the surface. These weeks are filled with cleaning out, trimming up, tossing out, spending less and that whole heap is getting smaller while the emotions of adjustment are getting more wild. Let this thing do its thing. I'm learning. I'm here for the emotions if the whole heap continues to lessen. I see the light at the end of our tunnel, while really, we are just "sitting" - a much bigger problem is tackled by the people who are strong enough and smart enough to handle it. So we all take our seat on this journey. We all rummage through the heaps. We all feel the emotions of the last 3 weeks. We all share our heaps and become bound by them - maybe that is what we are here to learn. Let's take the ride together.
I have felt a lot of emotions lately, and all of them are being warded off by the constant thought of "Carrie, chill out and let the healthcare teams do their job. Do your part. Stay home. Stop worrying about that tickle in your throat. Stop complaining. Stop being upset about it. All you have to do is sit - alter your life for a bit and let this thing do its thing." And for the most part, it's a quick fix for me. I take a deep breath, gather myself, and get on with the day.
But Wednesday, I looked at my dancers through the screen and said "Ya know, this sucks." Some started wiping away tears. I told them, "You know, you can say it with me - this sucks." We all sorta felt better after that. Then we danced in our own spaces, as if we had put out into the atmosphere what everyone was feeling. I told them that it was ok to come to terms with this new normal - to welcome the feelings that they had - and maybe it would make peace with itself. They were listening, and so was I.
Today is my Dad's birthday. He would celebrate a new decade today - 60. I haven't seen him in 18 years. I knew him alive for 18 years - and now I've spent 18 years without him. He always had wise words for me, and I wonder what he'd say here. He'd smile that smile that 18 years won't take away, and he'd tell me to trust. I taught for 6 hours today outside to an iPad screen, and I couldn't help but notice the beautiful red birds that kept coming to visit. I believe he celebrated his day with me, and applauded me as I took a whole heap of a mess and tried to dredge forward the best way that I knew how. And after I finished, I started to wonder if this whole heap of a mess was my turn to grow. Yes Carrie, it is.
We miss our family. We miss our friends. We miss our church. We miss our school. I miss my dancers. And that's real, and that's ok. My boys miss their buddies. Grayson misses his Pre-K teacher. He told me last night that if he saw her again, he would always make sure to hug her good-bye. Briggsy asked me "Mom, when this is all over with, can we throw a big party? I want to see everyone I love." - Yes Briggsy, when we can, that's a great idea. BK3 told me last week that he's excited to plan his birthday party. He's been talking about it every day - I think he's starting to understand that the month of May might look exactly like this. But it's his way of being hopeful, and I'm here for that too. We are becoming more sentimental. We are enjoying the stillness more. We are noticing what growth is needed inside this whole heap of a mess that we see on the surface. This whole heap that WAS on the surface. These weeks are filled with cleaning out, trimming up, tossing out, spending less and that whole heap is getting smaller while the emotions of adjustment are getting more wild. Let this thing do its thing. I'm learning. I'm here for the emotions if the whole heap continues to lessen. I see the light at the end of our tunnel, while really, we are just "sitting" - a much bigger problem is tackled by the people who are strong enough and smart enough to handle it. So we all take our seat on this journey. We all rummage through the heaps. We all feel the emotions of the last 3 weeks. We all share our heaps and become bound by them - maybe that is what we are here to learn. Let's take the ride together.
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