Keeping a social distance

I am not a social distancing kind of person. I'm a hugger-on-our-first-meeting kind of person. I am a "let's pile as many people into this room as we can and laugh as loud as possible" kind of person. My kids? They also suck at social distancing.

Saturday morning, I woke up feeling very on edge. I had difficulty falling asleep...I've made a fairly successful transition to working nights and sleeping mornings, but when there isn't work to do, my brain still wants to stay up. By 2pm, I was ready to string a child up by her toenails and just needed to get out of the house.

I announced to Rich that I was leaving - and I loaded up my car with Pete's tools and LuLaRoe deliveries in the hopes of getting some peace and quiet and social distance from my favorite people. Of course, my car wouldn't start. (Apparently 3 days of inactivity was too much for her...). So in I went...grabbed Rich's keys, moved everything over and took off.  It only took me a few minutes to set up my music and it wasn't long before I was cruising down the road, singing along and starting to unwind.

It was just a few minutes into my journey that I was faced with a dilemma...what should I do when I actually get to the door for these deliveries? Leave it in the mailbox? Knock on the door and run? Text ahead? Would I maintain social distance? 6' between me and the person I wanted to hug?

Door #1: Kelly and I stayed 6' apart...with the exception of when I handed her the LLR bag with her new dress. It was awkward to not hug her hello - but we both handled it, joked about it and then I went on my way. There was no inviting me in - but the invitation wasn't expected.

Door #2: A more difficult visit... more awkward. This time, I was pulling up to someone who is like family. A family with whom hugs are standard...not just at hello and goodbye, but at varying moments in between. I unloaded the car into the open and waiting garage. "Did you disinfect this already?" Maybe... but I won't be insulted if it is disinfected again! There was a recently disinfected seat set up for me in the corner of Pete's garage. He invited me to stay...and I politely declined, saying I needed to get home. We chatted for another minute and he offered me a seat again...I again politely declined...but as I gave another logical reason for my departure, I realized that Pete had been locked in his house for two weeks too...and was probably craving interaction as much as I had been.

So I sat. I sat in a chair - a good 10' away. And we chatted. Just chatted and chatted and chatted. About nothing. About Trump. About his general botching of this whole situation. It felt SO good to just relax and chat with my friend...as much as I knew I needed to get home, needed to get to my next stop...I just didn't want to leave. Eventually, after maybe the best 20 minutes I had in a while, I stood at the edge of the garage and wrapped my arms around my own shoulders in a gesture of a hug to send his way. It felt so strange not to hug my friend.

But I moved on to Door #3: where Liz met me outside and I stayed in my car and she stayed outside my car...I handed her the bag of LuLa Goodies...and she stuck my crock pots in the back seat. And again - we didn't hug...didn't exchange anything more than a few words and saddened glances - but just as quickly as I got there, I was backing down the driveway to get to Door #4.

Door #4 was Katie. Katie met me at the front door and gave me the option to come in, which I declined - even though I wanted nothing more than to sit on her couch for an hour and just chat about our children and what we missed about our normal lives. Instead, we stood on her side porch, sheltered from the chilly mist that rained on us. I stood by the door to the outside - she stood by the door to the inside. I was there for two little nightstands. Or at least that was my excuse for being there. But in actuality, I was there to see my friend and spend time with her - a person that I see often in "normal" life.

After leaving Door #4, I made my way home, with a brief stop at 7-eleven. I boldly walked in with my two 50 ounce cups, ready to present my argument over how my reusable cups, fresh from my dishwasher and recently cleaned and sterilized, were less of a risk to me and everyone around me than the "fresh" cups at the soda fountain that were able to be touched by many people, other than me. Of course, since my argument was ready, no one questioned my cups and I marched through Door #5, straight to my beloved caffeine dispensing machine and filled both of those cups as I read the sign about no reusable cups...

As I paid, my buddy behind the checkout was more chatty than normal. I stayed for a minute, indulging his conversation, fighting the panic within me that just wanted to be back in the safe air of my car. Once I was safely back in my car, I had a moment to reflect on my afternoon and my "errands." They all answered a craving: normalcy.

I find myself in a weird funk - a depression of sorts without being like any depression I have known before. I attacked this time at home with verve and enthusiasm - a want and need to do as much as possible and make the most of this time in the house.

I find myself looking for that energy - longing for the person who felt hopeful and full of that enthusiasm from two weeks ago. The person I see has a sadness in her soul. She is resigned and lacking the hope required to make it through this time. She smiles and is peaceful but is missing the intense enjoyment that the living of life brings.

This time is unlike any other we have ever known - and hopefully unlike anything our future will bring. Safety and the need to socially distance is critical - but humans are not meant to be alone. We need each other. We need to balance our physical well-being with our emotional and mental health.

COVID-19: Day 12

Today was a bit of a rough day for me. I have been extremely productive for most of the first two weeks of this forced staycation...but today was a rough one.

It was day 3 of my "working overnight" plan - and it was the easiest night so far. I was super productive and I barrelled through loads of work. I went to bed with a smile on my face and slept hard for about 5 hours. From 9am-11, it was a series of wake up, fall asleep, wake up, fall asleep. Couldn't get comfortable. Couldn't fall back to sleep. I finally gave in, got up and took a shower. Which, by the way, felt amazing.

I'm not sure if it was the lack of sleep or this persistent, dull sinus headache that I'm sure is seasonally-induced...but making the kids lunch took all of the energy I had. Not long after lunch, I found myself back in bed and napping the afternoon away. I slept until 5:30 - and I am sitting here, just 6 hours later, so exhausted, I can barely keep my eyes open. 

So Mama had an off day. Guess what that means? Kids had an off day too!

I got up at 5:30, made dinner, did dishes, did some laundry...sent the kids outside to play for a little bit (played with chalk...and Rosie colored Angelina's face completely blue...) and then got ready to help Ange with her homework. I have been saying since before she could walk that parenting Ange is a full time job. Never has that job consumed so much of me than it does during this coronacation. We don't have a set schedule for her - and that doesn't help. Her work, which I know isn't difficult for her, takes her far longer than it would if she was in the classroom with her teacher and peers. 

Tonight's work for Ange didn't take as long as normal though...a fact for which I was

thankful. Especially since a casual question during dinner exposed that RJ hadn't started any of his!

Fast forward to 10pm...RJ was STILL working on his work. Why? Because my charming and adorable little asshat spent the entire afternoon chatting up the ladies from school. I learned yesterday that the little girls in fifth grade are quite enamored with my boy. They all talk about him nonstop, per one of their moms. So earlier today, I gave RJ messenger for kids so that he could connect with his assorted girlfriends from school...and he connected for HOURS today.

His social needs took over his day, so at 8:30, when we should have been playing Rummy 500 and watching Harry Potter, we were sitting at the island, working on his fifth grade ELA assignment. It's a shame, really - because No-Nap Nicky conked the heck out a little after 8...and he is usually particularly deft at destroying card games.

Given that I am in charge of most academic things around here, it was particularly amusing for me to watch Rich try and work with him on what should have been an easy assignment. Not for Captain Procrastination! Despite turning off all distraction and sitting right next to him to keep in on task, the boy struggled with some basics - like "end of sentence punctuation." it was making Rich completely nuts.

Since I had entrusted him to stay on top of his own work and this was proving to be a mistake, I took a moment to review his google classroom to make sure he had submitted everything for the week. It was a good thing I did! Clearly, my lesson has been learned and the boy is not to be trusted with his own time management. We were clearly in for the long haul with him and suggested to Angelina and Rosie that they head up to bed. 

A: how am I going to sleep with no device?

Rich: like most of the free world does. Like every kid in Ethiopia does.

Is this the new “there are starving children in Africa, so eat all your food?” Since we don't do a "clean plate" club in 2020, we need to find a new comparison.

Needless to say, I started snort laughing and couldn’t get my shit under control. Which caused Sir Stallings to stop watching his f*cking video and throw some commentary my way...

Me: watch your video.

Rich: like the Ethiopians can't

Rosie: is Ethiopia really a place?

Done. Just done. Rich is throwing all blunt objects in Rosie’s general direction and I am searching the internet for some sort of educational tool to teach my ding dong about the continent of Africa and its countries.

Aside from this general tomfoolery, I did loads of laundry. Loads and loads and loads of laundry. I showered today - and took the time to blow dry my hair. I even got dressed! I am a little ashamed to admit that today's shower *might* have been the first of the week...this whole thing is definitely taking a toll on our household hygiene habits. I have been operating out of my PJs and sweatpants - jumping out of bed to start the day at noon...climbing back into bed to work at 10pm...with nonstop activity in between. The shower felt amazing. I am going to make more of an effort to take care of myself on a more regular basis. My practices in self-care were the first to go!

I took a fun “what does your name say about you” quiz which was largely accurate..and answered a fun Facebook post asking you to compare a picture of you from when you were little to now. I like to think I haven't changed much. The original poster on FB thought Rosie looked like me from this picture. I showed Ro - and she said she saw it too. There's a first time for everything! Fun on Facebook. So. You know. Totally productive. Whatever. I’m allowed an off day!

Also - Using the last square of toilet paper made me laugh. Uncontrollably. Like - laughed until I peed. Fortunately, I was in a good seat for that to happen! 

I think this whole social distancing thing is getting to me a bit. It's hard to always be chipped. It's hard to not constantly think about the things we are going to miss. I miss cheer. A lot. I miss my cheer babies. We should have had our second competition last weekend and be working on getting ready for our third. I miss dance. I miss the rigormorall of our day-to-day lives. I even miss making lunches. 

I am trying as hard as I can to focus on the positive and just enjoy being with my children. My kids are totally amazing - but I do miss my friends. When we get out of here, and hugging is ok again, I'm just going to hug as many people as I can. 

But, for now, I'm just going to enjoy this time as much as possible. For right now - that means not stressing about all of the things that I *need* to do and instead spending time recording my feelings while my Rosalicious practices her french braiding technique. (Which turned out to be dutch braiding...but I think her first and second attempt went super well!)

Times, they are a changin'...

Ah. My girl. Our Button. Rosalicious. Ro Ro. Rosie Baby.

I love this child more than words can express. Of course, she is my kid - so I love her the way a mother loves a child. My love for Rosie is deeper than that. It goes beyond parent-child. I love her personality.

She is silly and fun with a serious side. She treats school like it is her job and rocks those A's like nobody's business.

I hate that she is growing up. Hate. It.

12 years ago right now, we would be snuggled up, napping together. Well - she would be napping. I would be unable to move because if I lifted my arm away from her head, she would be awake and ready to go again. I would have ER on the TV and would stay awake, breathing in every little moment of my time with her. She is perfect.

She is racing, full-speed ahead, towards those teenaged years. She wants to be grown. She no longer likes hugs and kisses and doesn't want to be snuggled or held.

So on Saturday night, when she said "Mommy? Would you hate me if I wanted to sit with you?" I wanted to squeal with delight. I didn't, of course, I kept my cool - like it was no big deal - and said "I could never hate you, love bug. I will happily share my chair with you!"

For the next hour, I didn't pay much attention to Captain America: The First Avenger. I paid attention to the rate of her breathing. The feeling of her spine pressed into my side. I tried to memorize the texture of her hair - the individual strands and how they go in different directions, just like mine. (Though her hair is so much lighter than mine...) Her profile - and how much she looks like her dad. Her lashes - that frame this amazingly huge eyes that take up her whole face (that she got from me).

For that hour - I just enjoyed every moment of my baby girl - who is so not a baby anymore. I enjoyed those moments, just in case she doesn't ask to cuddle again.

Last night, awakened from a scary dream, Rosie came in and asked to sleep with me. This is the third time in the last month or so, and I made room right away. I know that as we grow, we need our moms in different ways. For now - I just want her to need me as much as possible and when she does, I will welcome it with open arms.

Dear Angelina...

Dear Angelina -

My sweet girl. I hate raising my voice. Especially with you. I feel like my voice is loud, it is like razors through your heart. And I hate it. I'm not always sure how to parent you without that voice.

I'm watching you sleep now, in the wake of yet another "why did this happen, Ange" conversation. "And don't tell me you don't know." But you never know. And neither do I. So I weep for us both while you sleep.

Tonight's episode occurred at 11pm - after a family movie (during which just you & I stayed awake). You yelled from the foyer - though two of your siblings were upstairs asleep and one was in bed, on her way to sleep. The yelling was because you saw "a strange animal" on our porch. I promised to investigate and sent you to brush your teeth. After seeing the harmless white cat on our lawn, I noticed my ring on the steps.

The year you were born, I tapped my way across the stage to Beyonce's "Single Ladies." I wore a cheesy, plastic, light-up ring - which has safely been on display in our sunroom ever since. It has been taken down three times. Once to be worn in a reprise of the original routine, once by a curious Angelina right after that reprise and then tonight.

This comes on the heels of a series of somewhat destructive behaviors that have me headed straight for the nuthouse. I'm at a bit of a loss as to how to help you - but there are some things that I need you to know...

I love you. More than anything in the world. You are absolutely one of my favorite people on the planet.

I often think we are soulmates - connected by threads that no one can see but we both feel.

I get lost in the depth of your eyes.

I know you hate taking medicine (because you would rather eat lunch), but I love your ADHD brain. That brain of yours is beautiful and creative. It is strong and powerful. You, my sweet little girl, are going to change the world and make it a better place. Your brain sees through fences and defenses and easily identifies that weaknesses within others. The beauty of our heart is that you only use that knowledge for good.

You are a helper - and you are proud to be a helper. It comes easily to you - and you don't even know how much of a gift that is to everyone else around you.

I think back to my very first parent teacher conference with your amazing teachers at Bridges. You were not yet 4 - the second youngest child in your class. Your teacher looked at me and said "your greatest difficulty as a parent will be figuring out how to help her harness her many talents to use them for good."

And you are so very, very talented.

I told you, my sweet 8-year-old girl, that I am afraid that your choices will land you in prison. That you will someday touch the wrong belonging of the wrong person and end up with your back against the wall and scared. You cried. I cried. You are sound asleep - and I am wide awake and searching ADHD blogs for different ways and techniques to help my beautiful Angel.

I'll do whatever it takes, baby girl. We were destined for each other - and I am learning so much from you. I love seeing the world through your eyes - and I never want that view to change.

I'm Not Fine

At 2am on Wednesday, March 6, 2019, I was awakened by Rich and the sound of my baby screaming downstairs. Nick had fallen asleep on Rich's lap and was now awake with a vengeance. He was wailing from downstairs, and without really focusing on Rich's words, I hopped out of bed and ran to him.

He was in the foyer, my sweet little baby, his face red and tear-stained. I scooped him into my arms and as I whispered soothing words into his ear, my mind was jolted into a heightened level of awareness - I was instantly aware of the heat radiating off of my baby's little body.

I brought him to the couch and rocked him. A few minutes later, my pulse was racing nearly as quickly as his - Nick's temperature was 103.

I have been consistently calm throughout illnesses and injuries. It typically isn't until after the cookie has crumbled and been mended that I allow myself to fall to pieces...in a quiet, dark room where I have nothing by my own thoughts. This moment in time was different.

We gave him a dose of Motrin and I rocked him to sleep. His little body began to cool - but it wasn't until he was clammy and his heart rate was back to normal that I allowed my eyes to close. I didn't sleep well - I tossed and turned and awakened repeatedly throughout the night. I couldn't relax knowing that my little Pickle was fighting a fever. I couldn't sleep soundly while as I feared whatever illness raged inside his little body.

A quick description of his symptoms - high fever, green boogies and body aches - and his pediatrician wanted to see him right away. So off to GBMC we went.

My poor little buddy barely had the energy to the open his eyes after I laid him down on the examination table. The nurses took pity on him - he didn't even need to go get a weight check. His temp was still up there - 101.9 - and they did a flu test right away. Within 10 minutes, our pediatrician confirmed what I had feared - Nicky had the flu.

Last winter was a terrible flu year. Everything I knew had the flu - friends. Pregnant friends. Babies of friends. Children of friends. But, thankfully, not my little family. We were spared by the Flu last year. It had devastated us enough the year before. This year, however, was going to be a different story.

I heard the doctor's voice as she talked about Tamiflu and the side effects and why she didn't want to prescribe it to Nick. She was under water in my ears as she discussed keeping him hydrated. I stared through her as she told me about how many of her patients who tested positive but had their vaccines were quick to rebound. The more she spoke, the louder my blood raged in my head and the tighter my chest felt. I told her I would keep her posted. I told her I knew what to do. I wrapped my sweet boy in a blanket and placed him in his stroller and wheeled him down to the car. 

I strapped him in his car seat and kissed his sweet face and promised him whatever his little heart desired. "You snuggle me in you bed?" Yes, sweet boy. Of course I will. 

And then I phoned a friend. I allowed my heart to explode and as the tears flowed down my cheeks, I told Teresa all about my sick buddy and the big, bad flu. 

Fear is a powerful thing. And I was very very afraid. My heart continued to race as it did on January 31, 2017. Teresa reminded me of all the reasons why this moment in time was so very different than that dark day two years ago. She was right, of course, but there wouldn't be sleep for me until I knew for sure that my baby was going to be just fine.

A week has gone by - and he is more than on the mend. Our pediatrician was correct: the flu vaccine limited so many of the flu symptoms. He rebounded within two days and aside from a very brief relapse over the weekend he was essentially back to being our normal, wonderful, sweet and crazy toddler. But I'm still not really ok. Fear still grips me - and I don't know if I will ever return to my mindset of pre-01/31/2017...that headspace that called the Flu the Flu and didn't see it as a serial killer, armed and dangerous. 

While The Cat Is Away...

This is a picture of my Rosie girl. My beautiful, amazing, strong, bold and daring Rosalicious. She is incredible. She was basically fresh from dance class, recently changed from her tights and leotard into her PJs - and she was so excited about her class that she took a flying leap off of the ottoman - and was promptly chastised by her father for standing on the furniture.

...

I totally rolled my eyes as soon as he said it.

I often feel like a kid trapped in an adult body. Yes, we need to get things done - but I genuinely am unfazed by children climbing on countertops or jumping on furniture. It's just stuff, right? So as long as they are being safe, I am usually pretty comfortable letting the kids be kids (and sometimes being the adult kid) and having lots of laughs in the process.

Rich, however, does not share my views. He is perfectly content shirking all responsibility whenever the opportunity presents itself, but he is usually looking to play countless hours of video games and pass out on the couch while ignoring the sink full of dishes. He is constantly telling the kids to be careful with our already broken and ripped 12-year old couch...and not jump on or off of the furniture...and not to climb.

Here is my secret...

In addition to rolling my eyes when he silences the crazy, I totally encourage the behavior as soon as his back is turned!

I know! It is totally shitty of me - but I do! I really believe that kids should be kids and stuff is just...stuff...and I would rather have the laughter and giggles and the uncontrolled, unbridled chaos than order and calm.

So last night, when he left the room, Rosie asked me if she could jump again and if I would take a picture of her mid-flight. My response? "Did Daddy leave yet? No? Wait until he goes..."

Once the door was closed and the car was down the driveway, my leaping ballerina was back up on that ottoman, showing off her jumping skills...and there I was, capturing each and every one on my phone, encouraging her every step of the way. We have video. We have live photos. We have still photos. We have memories because we had fun.

I'm sure Rich would be less than thrilled if he knew that the kids and I are co-conspirators in our occasional rule-defiance...but what he doesn't know, isn't going to hurt us!

Baby Got Back

See that little face? The cute little blondie poking his head out from behind my right shoulder? Yeah - that's the adorable monkey on my back!

Nick and I are close - and in many ways, inseparable. He is the first of my children that I have actually actively worn around. My little buddy goes everywhere with me - and he usually does so happily.

We spent some time at Funland at Rehoboth Beach with Rosie, Angelina and the Wetzelberger girls. The first chunk of time was basically dedicated to his sisters and friends. They picked the rides and activities (including a bathroom run and cheap carnival games). Finally - while we waited for some of the girls, he got to hop out of his Tula and into a boat...

I was a little nervous - he is a bit of an escape artist and that loosely fitted strap would be absolutely no match for him! He was a little anxious until the ride started, but once those boats were moving in that circle of water, he was a happy little clam! 

Of course, once he had a taste of rides, his patience for waiting on everyone else was thin! So we picked a ride that everyone could do - the helicopters. He was in heaven both because of the ride and because he had both Rosie's and Elise's undivided attention the whole time! 

Finally - while we waited for the big kids to finish up their "must ride" list, my Nicky went on the firetrucks. Again...and again... and would have been happy to stay there all night long!

So - after a few hours of fun, I strapped my guy onto my back and went strolling down the boardwalk in search of Thrasher's fries and Fisher's Popcorn. As I accepted the bag with two tubs of popcorn from the dude serving it up at Fisher's, he apologized and said "sorry - it doesn't fit well. It is kind of awkward." 

"Dude - nothing is as awkward as this 35 pound monkey on my back!"

To a degree - it's true. Carrying your child around on your person can be completely exhausting and more than just a little inconvenient. But it also only happens for a painfully brief period of time. I might blink too much, and he will suddenly be grown and not need his mama for everything. I might turn my head, and he will suddenly be too big to be carried. It is just a matter of moments before I pack the stroller away and hand my toddler Tula on to someone who will need it. 

But I'm not at that moment. I'm not at that time. I still get to enjoy my littles while they are little - and for that I will be forever grateful.