SOL20 D27 Five Friday Reflections On the Week

My dear friend Bri has started writing again and the text she sent me this morning inspired me. I love the way Bri is structuring her writing during this time, and so I'm standing on her shoulders for today's post. Thanks, Bri!

Things That Made Me Smile
Greg reffing driveway basketball games. The sun on our faces. Walks in the neighborhood, seeing people on porches. Sitting on my porch, watching kids walk by with their parents. The little girl who wouldn't say hi, but blew me a kiss. Hostas I planted last year poking up through the mulch - I'd forgotten all about them. Video chatting with my sisters, my neighbor, my colleagues. Picking up a hobby: I decided to try cross-stitch and ordered myself a kid last week. Turns out I ordered an embroidery kit, and I'm really loving it. The game Psych, an app that allows you to play with people all over. We played several times this week, and I got such a kick out of the haikus my family wrote about me -- I feel so seen (and yes, that is a picture of my 8th grade self).

Things That Made Me Lose My Shit
Greg hardly ever gets on my nerves, but on Sunday when he decided to test out the video chatting with his students WHILE I was video chatting with my sisters, I thought I might make him move to the back porch. Let's just say, this upcoming week is going to be a challenge on both the wi-fi capabilities and our teamwork. And just all the talking. There's so much talking all the time. The last time I spent this much time with the kids at home, they still took a 3-hour nap in the afternoon. They don't want to do that anymore.

Things I'm Grieving This Week
Missing spring break and the traditions we've built going to Florida the last several years. Missing my niece's first birthday (thank God for Zoom). Knowing that Emma and Jacob will be celebrating their 13th birthday without any real fanfare. Normalcy and routine. Confidence in the "system." When I talk to people in healthcare, I get scared. Haircuts - all the boys in this house are in desperate need.

Thing I'm Celebrating This Week
A week where I think we created some great memories. Finding a new normal and routine. Embracing a slower pace. Getting back on my bike and doing a few peloton workouts this week (I want to do more!). Eating meals together - lunch AND dinner!

Gratitude
I have so much gratitude for people who protect us - anyone who works in healthcare, all the people at the grocery store, the people who are keeping things familiar. And they do it knowing that they might become exposed to the virus. I'm in awe of these people. I'm thankful for hugs from Justin; every time he sees me, he leans over to give me a hug. I'm so grateful for technology that allows us to feel a little less isolated, a little more productive, and to continue working. And books! I'm always grateful for books. I'm reading three books right now - Untamed by Glennon Doyle (another thanks to Bri!), Stamped by Ibram Kendi and Jason Reynolds, and Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilson. Oh, and Dewey's Edgar Allan Poe pizza.

#SOL20 D24 Having Three Kids While Sheltering-in-Place

It's funny that time has slipped so quickly since the last time I wrote. Five days.

I've been proud of the kids in these last few days. They're finding things to do. They're spending too much time on screens, but they're also building marble runs and finishing room re-dos (Emma's ready for her reveal tomorrow!). They're shooting hoops and laughing and bonding. They'll remember this time together for the rest of their lives.

The boys have slept in the same room every night since this has started. No matter how hard they fight during the day, they want to bunk together. First, Jacob made a nest bed (our family name for a floor bed) up until yesterday. Now, because Greg's working on painting Justin's room, the boys have moved to Jacob's room.

Justin's room is long overdue for a remake; he had a peeling wallpaper mural that had been there when we moved in (10 years ago!). Justin really wants to paint his room orange...I've talked him into a light gray with one small wall (his closet) painted blue.

Emma and I went for a drive today. We cruised around, looking at closed businesses, watching people out for walks. We talked and laughed. We listened to music, she told me stories about her friends.

Today Emma and Jacob started wrestling. They're nearly 13, and as Emma dropped on top of Jacob, trapping him underneath her, I was thrown back 10 years when they used to wrestle in exactly the same way.

The three of them are having a hard time figuring out how to wrestle together. Justin ends up watching them wrestle. Or Emma ends up watching the boys go at it. It can be hard to have three. But mostly, I'm so grateful for them.

#SOL20 D20 The second time we called the fire station

It was about three months after the first time (see Thursday's post if you're not sure).  Now the twins were three and so, so busy. It was lunch time and Justin was eating all the time. I could barely keep up.

This day it was chicken nuggets. I don't even remember now how exactly it happened, but before I knew it, there was a chicken nugget on fire in the oven. On fire. In the oven.

Well, I panicked. I had three under three in my house. I wasn't sure what to do. Did I open the oven and risk spreading the flames (that was a thing, right?), or did I pull out the extinguisher and hope it didn't spread?

So I grabbed the cordless phone (I loved that phone! I miss it!) and we ran out onto the porch. I called 911 this time.

"So, I just have a really small fire in my oven," I tried to keep my voice calm. After reciting my address and name, I went on to say, "Can you not send a bunch of fire trucks? I really don't think it's that big of a deal."

Well, that is not how it works.

So, three fire engines raced to our door in record time (Jacob and Emma were delighted). They marched into the house, and by the time they got there the chicken nugget that had been burning had turned into...


a black, charred rock. No longer on fire. But it had filled the kitchen with smoke. They still had to spray the oven, just to be sure, I guess.

They were so kind. I was so mortified.

SOL20 D18 That time we called the firestation

We've been telling lots of stories lately. Yesterday, we sat on the front porch and the kids and I reminisced about their early days, the days when I didn't work and we spent a lot of time together. The days that feel a lot like now (except I'm still working, just remotely now).

They remember so much, but in a funny way, through the lens of childhood. They started talking about, "Mom, remember when you had to call the fire station?"

We had just moved to the new house. Justin was a brand new baby. It was early spring and I came downstairs to get ready for the day. Greg left the house early and as I walked into the kitchen, I could feel a breeze. I stepped into the back room and saw that the sliding glass door in the back room was open.

I freaked out.

I gathered the kids (2 year old twins and a brand new baby) and headed to my new neighbor's house. I called the non-emergency line: "I think someone's been in our house." The officers were so kind. They met me at my front door. The kids stayed with the neighbors.

The officers went through our home. They checked the basement. The attic. The looked at the door jamb. "M'am, nothing appears to be missing. Your laptop is here. I think you're okay. Are you sure there's no way someone from the inside left the door open?" I shook my head. "Maybe one of the kids?" I assured them that my kids were only two and they didn't even know how to open that door.

They left. It was a mystery. I felt a little better.

Later that day, 2-year-old Jacob toddled into the back room. He walked right over to the sliding door, reached his little hand up, unlocked the door, and walked out to the back porch.

Mystery solved.

SOL20 D17 Easing into our days

We saw a little sunshine in Ohio today, so the family headed down to the Loveland Dairy Whip, our beloved soft serve ice cream place. Their walk-up window and drive-thru are still open for now. After the mile or so walk (most of it downhill), Greg realized that he'd have to head back home and get the van. Thank God! I was already dreading the walk back up the hill. 

It felt good to be out. We saw quite a few neighbors on their way to an outing social isolation style - some headed to the park, some on a walk. We saw miniature daffodils that had sprung from a neighbor's side yard. It was assuring to see that nature is still doing its thing. We came home and played basketball and then Uno sitting on the front porch. 

We're easing into our days. The boys are rediscovering Legos. Emma is still working on her room re-do: tomorrow she paints! We tried an experiment that one of the teachers posted on FB. We unearthed a never-before-used art kit. We tried to watch a Mo Willems video, but the boys started wrestling half way through and I tossed them down to the basement.

Greg and I are trying to figure out how to balance our own "stuff" with parenting (and co-parenting). Our kids are big, but they still need us so much (like, so, so much). 

I am still scared, but am also leaning into being able to slow down. And I acknowledge what a privilege that is. We can both work from home. We are not food insecure. We can use technology to keep us connected (we had a great Zoom session with my in-laws). I hate that for so many families, they don't have the same opportunities. 

#SOL20 D16 Yay for resources!

This image sums up our day. Thank goodness for all the online resources that are available to us. Between https://jarrettlerner.com/ and his resources, the unearthed Legos that Greg has been sorting for the boys, and Emma having a purpose for making a proposal to redo her room, we had a pretty good day.

And this meme just felt so apropos. I notice more grays every day. I got a hair cut last week, and though she didn't mention my "sparkles", I know the time is coming when I will be tempted to color my hair. But, now now and I'm glad for it!

SOL20 D15

I can’t stop reading. The statistics, the news reports, the projections, the predictions. I can’t stop looking at the headlines and wondering when/if the virus will reach us. How will this look?

I’m trying not to think about all the movies I’ve seen that portray a life unlike anything we’ve ever known - the Birdboxes and the Quiet Places. My mom instinct has kicked in - I want to hoard, I want to bunker, I want to do everything I can to make sure my people are safe. But how to do that when I don’t even know what safe looks like. 

I imagine it has to do with protection - how do I protect myself from the spiral of bad news. How do I protect my family from what’s unknown. How do I protect teachers from being overloaded. How do we collectively protect each other? 

Because really that’s what at the heart of this. Protection, not just ourselves, but protecting life as we know it. Which means we’re going to have live a life as we don’t know it for a little bit. And that’s really hard for all of us.

We cancelled our spring break trip today. We were going to drive to Orlando, like we've done the past 7 years. The kids are furious. With me mostly. But I know I'm just the target of all the unknowns in their life. 

I tried to introduce a routine and the kids revolted. Emma rolled her eyes so hard I think I heard them crack. She thinks getting up by 9 am is ridiculous. Jacob did that thing where his eyes well up with tears, but instead of showing his emotion, he gets mad and acts like he's not. Justin cried.

Bedtime was slow tonight. I rubbed lots of backs. Said lots of prayers. Gave long hugs. 

What else can we do?

#SOL20 D14

Day 1 of social isolation:

Send help - the boys are ready to kill each other. We have one section of the basement ceiling down due to "I tripped and fell."

My husband and I are debating whether or not our planned road trip to Orlando should go on. Status: unknown.

Daughter and I had a great day -- we bought a swim suit (in case we DO go to FL) and she would only let me in the dressing room once she chose what she liked. I was shocked at her chest. She assured me it was the padding.

Nap status: good. I got one in today. That's my strategy for health. Napping regularly.

Games played: 1 game of Clue (Harry Potter).

Tears status: 3 outbreaks. One due to game play; one due to wrestling; one due to overtiredness.

So, overall, good day.

#SOL20 D13 Should I panic yet?

I'm in a state where schools are closed. And it is bananas.

Today I went to Kroger and saw a friend I haven't seen in ages. We hugged. Then she told me she works at a hospital and I wanted to jump in a shower.

This morning I met a colleague at Starbucks. As we sat there, someone four tables back coughed and we both looked at each other.

But here's the thing. I can't live in isolation. What will I do?

Tonight we met with a family we love so dearly for our pizza night. We decided that we would be each other's people (we read about this in the Atlantic). We played Uno and talked about life. It was cathartic.

So, hold each other tightly (figuratively). And communicate. Write a bunch. And take a deep, deep breath.

#SOL20 D10 Signs of spring

I see you, spring,
peeking around the corner,
seeing if we're ready for you yet.

You didn't go too far this year.
My mums still have green at the base,
and the grass never really died this year.

But as the garage door rolled up this morning,
and the pink of the sun-kissed sky spilled in,
I could hear you
in the songs of the birds coming back home.
I could smell you in the rain-soaked grass,
the earthiness floating.
I saw you in the worms that spilled from the grass,
in the buds peeking up through the old mulch,
the first daffodils blooming.

It seems you're back,
so I'm putting away winter:
the coats, the boots, the hoping for a snow-day
(seriously? not even one this year?!).
I'm stretching my arms wide,
ready for cookouts and evenings spent on the front porch,
for birds nests, and remembering what I planted last year.

#SOL20 D9 James Taylor

When I was 16, I got my first job at the public library in the AV Dept. My job as a library page involved re-shelving videos and CDs (and the very small selection of laser discs! Remember those?).

One of the perks was that I could check things out, and I discovered all kinds of music. I went through a phase where all I listened to was 70s folk music, especially Simon & Garfunkel and James Taylor.

My mom loved James Taylor too, so she was happy when I brought his Greatest Hits CD home. Those were songs she'd listened to as a teenager. I developed such a crush on James Taylor, his piercing eyes and dark hair made me swoon. I would stare at the pictures of him from the 70s and wish that there was even one boy at my high school who looked like that.

James Taylor's music became a soundtrack for my family. One Christmas my parents gave me the James Taylor boxed set and I wore that thing out. When they dropped me off to college, I put the CD on, then watched from the window as they pulled away.

My dad and I danced to "You've Got a Friend" at my wedding (and we played "How Sweet It Is" while we cut the cake). My sweet mother-in-law gave me his Christmas album one year and I loved it.

My mom, sisters, and aunts went to a James Taylor concert a few years ago, and it felt like a throw back to the 70s, including the young couple who leaned over and offered us a pass of their joint. We declined (though I'm not sure that would have been my mom's answer in the 70s).

James Taylor was recently on Seth Myers and I'm not sure how at 71 he manages to have the same charm and swag he did when he was 20, and still when he was 50. But, I can see how he made my mom swoon, and then me. Hearing his voice, I can close my eyes and feel 17 again.

I love how music can do that. How good music can thread itself throughout your life, showing up at intervals and helping to create a mood for so much. I love how I can hear a song and be transported back to a dorm room, a dance floor, a living room.

#SOL20 D8 (One of) My favorite Baseball Players

Jacob loves baseball. When he was three, he had an invisible friend named Baseball Player. He's been playing since pre-school and he's had some ups and downs. His fielding is always great. His hitting more inconsistent. No matter what, though, he never complains about playing baseball.



This year he's playing with a new team, a team a little more intense than the ones from years past. This team will go to out of town tournaments, and he's going to have practice three times a week, plus games. It's a commitment, this team.

Yesterday they had their first scrimmage. Jacob was nervous. So nervous that he said to me, "Mom. I'm nervous about today." Anyone who lives with a 12-year-old knows this admission is big.

I took him to the game yesterday and could tell he still had the jitters. He sat out the first inning, and in the second he got to pitch. The pitcher's mound is Jacob's happy place. As soon as he threw his first strike I could almost seem him visibly settle in.

A few times he looked over at me, checking in. Grinning the whole time.

The rest of the game he played outfield (I found out later he told his coach he wanted to stay in the outfield the whole game). Every few minutes he'd glance over at me and the look on the kid's face made the upcoming craziness of this season worth it.

I'm so grateful for the lessons he's learning too. He's stretching outside of his comfort zone. He's learning how to play with a new team, even though many of the boys he played with in the past. He's learning how to face new challenges, how to handle his nerves, how to fly.

And I can see him gaining so much confidence. It's a good reminder that as a parent, part of our job is to let our kids face hard things head-on. To get out of their way and let them feel nervous.

Basketball season is officially over

Justin, the youngest of our family, played basketball again this year.

It was quite a season. He had wonderful coaches and played with a scrappy bunch of 4th graders. They ended up being the season champs, and came in second during the tournament.

This season was hard for Justin. He's not the fastest kid on the team. He's not the most aggressive. He doesn't have a lot of awareness of the game.

But, man, does this kid have heart.

All season all he wanted to do was score. After every game, as we walked to the van, once we were away from the other kids, he'd look at us with his eyes full of tears and say, "I just want to score." We'd remind him of all the ways he contributed to his team -- the wicked picks, the rebounds, the smart passes, the defensive blocks, the forced jump balls (this kid. He dominates jump ball).

But he's 10. He measures success by points.

So, here we are, the last game of the season. There he stands, under the basket, right where his dad has coached him to be. He jumps up and grabs the rebound. And he's wide open. It's like a movie -- all the kids were somewhere else and he has a clear path to the basket. Justin shoots the ball straight up to the basket.

And the damn ball went above the net, above even the backboard. It balanced so, so, so gently on the top of the backboard. It wobbled just a bit and THEN sunk into the net.

I went crazy. I jumped up. I yelled. I cheered.

The ref blew his whistle. The basket didn't count. The backboard acted as interference (or something like that...I don't get technical here).

I was still cheering. Other parents looked at me and said, "oh, it didn't count."

"I don't care," I shouted. "This is his first basket and I'm celebrating."

As the ref made his call, parents started boo-ing (which, yikes, but also, yes!). Even the other team's parents booed. It was as if everyone in the gym knew how much Justin needed that basket.

The game continued. In the last few minutes of the game, the score was tied up. A minute left, our team was losing by one point. Justin leaned over to his coach: "If they'd counted my basket, we'd be winning."

In the end, Justin's team was runner-up. It was a heart-breaker, but also a totally awesome game. It was evenly matched and his good buddies got to win.

As we walked to the van, Justin turned to us, his eyes shining. "That was awesome. I scored. I know it didn't count, but I scored."

#SOL20 D5 Wrestling

These two pictures capture exactly the season of life we're in right now. It's practically WWE around here. When we're approaching bedtime, the two boys will say, "Mom, can we wrestle?" I know it's a stalling technique, but I also realize that there's some really important bonding that's happening too. 

So usually I say yes. Most of the time, the boys can't wrestle for more than six minutes before someone is insulted or hurt or outraged (it's usually Justin, the youngest). Last night the boys headed to the basement to wrestle. Emma looked at me and said, "How long till someone's crying?" We both made our predictions, and then she headed upstairs while I stayed downstairs. A few minutes later we heard the boys fighting. 

"You jumped on me too hard!" one of them yelled (at this point, it doesn't even matter which). 

"Well, you shouldn't have been playing with me," the other shouted, unreasonably. 

Suddenly, I received a text: 

But, before you go believing it's only a boy thing in our family, let me present you with this, a picture of the twins going at it just as hard as the boys do. 

At the center of it all, as you may have noticed, is the middle boy. The rascal. the instigator. Jacob is always at the center of the noise in our home. It's almost like he's a magnet, drawn to the chaos. 

Right now the kids are ruining my couch, annoying the neighbors and wreaking havoc in the basement. I know, though, that before I'll be ready they'll be heading out and making noise somewhere else, so I'm trying to soak it up. And to remind myself that the couch can take it.

#SOL20 D4 Memory Lane

I cleaned out the garage this afternoon and discovered a stash of photographs my mom had given me this summer. The pictures from my 8th grade graduation caught my attention. Wow. So many thoughts. I showed this picture to my daughter and she said, "You like ... kind of ... geeky."

She's not wrong. I was kind of geeky (or pretty geeky).

In our defense, floral patterns were all the rage at the Fashion Bug that year, which was the main place a 13 year old in Findlay, OH could buy a fancy dress in 1990.

It's funny too that when I look at this picture, I remember feeling that crazy blend of insecurity and overconfidence -- I was sure I was fat. I was positive my bangs were just right. It reminds me to be gentle with myself and to be so patient with my own daughter who is just entering this phase. 

I love seeing the young girls in this picture with me. I'm still in touch with all of these girls, women now. I love keeping track of their accomplishments. This picture, taken 30 years ago, feels like another lifetime ago and yesterday. Time is so funny that way, isn't it?

#SOL20 D3 Hello, March! Let's check in!

A dear colleague and friend shared this tweet from @heyamberrae with me this morning and I thought it was the perfect way to slice. Don't you love when people bring something into your life at just the right moment?

The highlight last month was ... how can I pick just one? Connecting with good friends, collaborating with amazing colleagues, creating space for hard conversations.

This month I want to feel ... more connected to my kids and husband. 

I'll be over the moon by April 1 if... our school levy has passed and my life can resume normal programming. 

One thing I'll regret not doing in March is ... embracing the here and now in Florida (re: buy the bathing suit and take the cover up off. Get in the pool).

I want to give myself permission to ... take more risks. 

If I get stuck, I'll remember... it doesn't all happen at once. But it never happens if you don't start.

#SOL20 D2 The Perfect Punctuation to a Long Day

It's been a long week, and it's only Monday. We didn't say good night to the kids until 9, at least 30 minutes later than I like. I had a meeting tonight. It rained all day. Nobody liked dinner (again). I need to stop and get gas tomorrow morning on my way to work - which means I need to wake up 15 minutes earlier. I went to Walmart for egg rolls because they are the only place that carries the egg rolls we like and they were out.

But finally, the house is quiet. Nobody needs me. I walk into the kitchen, reach up to my hiding spot, and pull out my treat, the bright spot of my day. And there they are. Waiting for me.

Samoas. I love this season, between winter and spring, when these little treats find their way into my life. These cookies taste especially delicious because a friend dropped them off on Saturday. She knows they're my favorite and after a hard week (it's been a bit of a month...that's for another post), so delivered these to me (get you a Mindy, who brings you emergency cookies).

#SOL20 D1 - 12, One Month From Being 13

My daughter is almost a teenager. She is 12, one month away from 13.

Last week, I was working at her school, and I happened to be there during lunch time. I have learned (the hard way) that she does not want a surprise drop in visit from mom. What used to make her day, now has the potential to ruin it.

So, I texted her. I could see her across the cafeteria, huddled with her friends, eyes all trained on their phones.

Her head whipped around. I could see the blush creeping across her cheeks from across the room. She scowled, slowly shaking her head. Telling me with only a little body movement to Stay. Away.

And then I made such a rookie mom mistake. I acted like I cared, like it bothered me a little bit.

I've noticed over the last few months that suddenly, I am mortifying. At the beginning of the school year, she wanted me to meet her at the office instead of at lunch. Now, I laugh too loud when we're at restaurants. I don't use the right kind of chapstick. Usually, these things just roll off my back. I retell them to my girlfriends as we commiserate about all the pent-up hormones that haven't found a release yet. Plus, I remember being 12, one month away from 13. I remember when everything my mom did I found simultaneously irritating and assuring.

But still.

It stings a little when you know you have to let this brave being venture the world, alone when she wants to be, but fully present when she needs that too. I've read all the books about how this is her figuring out who she is separate from me. I've taught kids this age. I've studied child psychology. It's all normal, I tell my friends when they struggle, and myself when I forget.

I'm comforted by the fact that her long-legged self still wants a kiss each night before she goes to bed. She wants me to look over her homework. She likes when I pick her up from track.


Honestly, it's not my ego that hurts. I realize it's a mourning of the passage of time. I'm excited for this sweet girl to be a teenager. I can't wait for her to get older, to watch her bloom into herself. I like each stage of her life more than the one before. Yet it also means I have to let something go. I have to let this 12, one month away from 13 girl be mortified by me, to give her the space to chart her path.