It's after 11. I just tiptoed to the rooms of each of my sweet, sleeping babes to give them one more kiss on this - our last official day of quarantine.
169 days ago I picked up my children at school - we were almost jovial about our upcoming two week vacation from all of the things. No real school, no activities. Just each other.
We filled those first two weeks with games of Rummy and household projects. We did our school work in the morning and then relaxed throughout the afternoon. Four children who were used to having Mom work from home and be at their general disposal now had both parents working in the house. Lunch and dinner became events for all of us.
Two weeks stretched to two months and longer. Taco Tuesdays stretched well beyond its limits and we seemed to have leftover tacos on Wednesday...Thursday...Friday... Meat was made with mashed potatoes. Dinner was the first part of our endless family nights together and our days were monotonous. Breakfast - work - lunch - work - dinner - cleanup - Rummy & NCIS (with RJ asking for "just one round" and Ange begging for two...) - then off to bed we went. We would sleep off that darling monotony and wake up refreshed the next day and do it all again.
In March, Nicky would wake up every morning and say "is it Mommy Nicky day?" And I would smile and tell him "it sure is!" In April, he said "I not go to school today?" And I said "you're sure not!" Then we would get a few more snuggles in before we started our day. In May, my sweet little buddy would wake up and ask to see his friends - friends that he will never see again, as the year ended before adult relationships could be made and a tuition increase forced us to move on.
We now close out August - and that same little guy has asked me if he can go to school every day for the past three weeks. He isn't the only one who is excited.
I joke. A lot. I talk about how my kids need a break from me and I need a break from them. I will say that I'm ready to drop kick them to school and if the AOB closed our school down, I was leaving them at those front doors on August 31st anyway! I joke and I kid and there is some truth to all of it. They need a break from me - and I need a break from them.
But I am terrified.
We have far from isolated ourselves over the past two months. After three months of shutting ourselves in and locking the door, we opened the blinds and shielded our eyes to the sun, soaking up the rays with a new love of freedom. Our initial steps were timid and suddenly we were thrust into something that felt a little like life as we used to know. While we were so ready for life to resume, the process still felt more rushed than I wanted. We did more and more. We saw more people. We went more places. We wore our masks and washed our hands and our distances got a little less each time.
But I am still scared. And as I sit here, thinking about what will happen in less than 9 hours, I am more than just a little sad.
Five months and 19 nights of togetherness - and it is all about to come to an end. It is all going to end with a hard dose of normal that is packaged in navy blue shorts and goldenrod t-shirts. As much as the logical person in me knows that they need this - they need some normalcy - the helicopter mom in me wants to keep them home so that I can look at their sweet little faces just a little bit longer.
I have had this conversation more than once over the past two months. There is no right answer here. There is no wrong answer. The conversation isn't easy and prevents more questions than solutions. I am continually grateful that I am not the person who is making these tough decision for our teachers and our children.
There is confusion and fear and anxiety for so many of us. Each of my four children have handled this whole situation differently - but they have all demonstrated strength beyond imagination.
I'm about to close my eyes on our last night of the strangeness of the past 169 days. Tomorrow restarts the clock. Tomorrow is a new Day 1. Tomorrow is a new beginning.
