the mud

A long time ago, well not that long, but about 10 years ago, my oldest broke his collar bone. It seems like a very, very long time ago, when my kids were little, when kids were actually out playing, when we would actually drive places together. It happened during an ice hockey game. He was distraught. Now I am just thankful that's all it was. No concussion, no serious injury. Then, it felt like the end of the world. For him especially. He wouldn't be able to pitch for the upcoming baseball season. He wouldn't be able to play at all. He would be sitting on the sidelines. And sit on the sidelines he did. For every game for his team. Cheering them on as best he could. Kinda feels like that now, right? We've all been called out of the game, trying to cheer on our healthcare heroes from the sidelines. Wanting them so badly to defeat this enemy of ours. When I took Jay to the Orthopedic surgeon and he gave us the news, we walked gracefully, quietly to the car. When we got i...

Saturday morning. Laundry. Yoga. Housework. Change the sheets. For some reason, my mental list grew exponentially longer the more I did. Clean the kitchen. Clean up the dog's spit-up.  Make student packets. Go for a walk. Get coffee. Plan a birthday party. Buy birthday gifts. Send emails. Get Venmo. Work on lesson plans. Place a grocery order. Return phone calls. "Visit" my parents. Go to the post office. Plant the garden. And I was already behind schedule. It was 10:30 and the day had barely started and it seemed to have gotten away from me already. I had too much to do. I had to stop myself. There was no timeline, no pressure. My parents weren't going anywhere. I still had two hours to get to the post office. And finally, I caught myself, wondering why I was so worried and why this felt so weird.  And I realized that just for an instant, these were Normal things to worry about. These were the things that occupied my mind not so long ago. And I felt normalcy re...

When I realized that my entire skill set, my whole executive functioning capacity, is now completely invalid, I started wondering what, if anything, I could possibly know to get my family through this time. All my decorating skills, not important. All my teaching skills, completely inept. All my good humor, maybe needed in a pinch? Cleaning - who cares at this point? All my cooking skills, vital. But what would really get us through this mess? Survival skills. I didn't know it at the time, but I think my mother taught me a fair amount of survival skills. And I have to say, my grandmother too. I always told my kids, in the face of fearful world events, that Gran and Marmee had survived and so would we. Gran had to darken her rooms and pull the shades during WWII so the U-Boats, reportedly off the coast of Cape May, wouldn't be able to spot them. Or at least that is how I remember it. She prayed every night that her brothers and later her sons would come home. And they did. Mar...

Last night I was talking to my mother on the phone. Gone are the days when I could run or walk the dog over to visit her for a quick chat or a cup of tea. How did that happen so quickly? As she and I talked about everyone's health, (mental health, too) she remarked that she hasn't done a thing all week and she didn't know why. She had been meaning to put away the Saint Patrick's Day decor (my mother decorates her mantle with a monthly theme as if she still taught second grade, and it's a big hit with the family) but she hadn't touched it. I told her that I have been meaning for three days to clean out the closet of all our winter gear, which we never actually used, and I just couldn't. We are in survival mode, I told her. This is one of the favorite things I've learned from my kids playing MineCraft, that you can play in Survival Mode or Creative Mode, and right now we are playing in Survival Mode. That means that instead of organizing the winter closet,...

I came across it by chance. In my sock drawer. I don't remember seeing it recently and definitely not in the sock drawer. But there it was and I was immediately taken back to a little room in a house we lived in two houses ago. To a little room that served as a bath space for the baby. The 'it' I found was a baby blue washcloth. Not a new one. Not the kind they sell today. The kind you got at your first baby shower.  A little remnant of love. That was 22 years ago. I don't know how or why it showed up. But it did. Looking back brings so many wonderful memories, when they were little and we would worry about bumps and burps and sleep. Back when I was a beginning parent. Now I've been promoted to Junior Parent. Not really, but a few weeks ago we were invited to "Junior Parents Weekend" a fabulous celebration that precedes graduation, getting all the juniors and families together to see what they are actually up to at college. We were even treated to what t...

A few short weeks ago, we celebrated a Homecoming for two of my children. It's an amazing feeling having them come home. Home. You long for it. You count down the days until they make it back. Home. It has so many connotations. The home you grew up in, the home you create. The place you are born, the place you live. We, my two high school sons and I, usually spend almost 12 hours each day gone from our house for various reasons. Coming home is the best. As soon as I pull in the driveway I feel a sense of enormous relief. We made it. I set down my bag, set down my burdens, and sit down. A cup of tea, a glass of wine and all is well with the world again. That feeling of unwinding and letting go. It is the best. It would be that way for the college-age kids too. Just as I pull into the driveway every night so relieved, so it would be for them, exponentially so, when they pulled in to our house after months away. Just before the kids came home, I was at church, another home for me. I...

I can't remember a time not wanting to be a mother, so when your kids are grown and they begin to show you they might not need you as much, or tell you they don't need you, or worse, tell you they don't want you anymore, it's a little bruising. And then we ship them away! And we have to be tough and strong and act like it doesn't hurt. It makes no sense. But here we are. And so today we are packing a whole 18 years into bins and boxes and tucking in our hearts and getting her ready to leave. But guess what happened right in the middle of it all? (I need to tone it down here a little, I sound enthusiastic, but I'm not Really enthusiastic...) Annie tripped on the steps and hurt her shin - you know one of those scrapes that doesn't bleed but hurts like a mother. And so I got to be The Mom. I elevated her leg (and she let me) and got her ice and then I let her lick the bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough! And then she let me take her picture! (After she asked me...