Where I am on COVID

Here we are...21 months into the pandemic. 

It occurred to me that life since probably May has been a series of emotional fits and starts. My parents and MIL were vaccinated in winter, so that took an edge off, and then I got vaccinated in February and March due to working for the school district. But still, I was on pins and needles until D, and then N, and then G could get their shots.

And then I was holding out until October when M turned 12 and could be vaccinated. 

In June, I was hopeful that things would return to "normal" and made our vacation plans for December 18; M would be fully vaccinated by that point. 

And then Delta.

And then M got COVID.

And then I worried about my parents and MIL getting boosted.

And then I worried about myself and D getting boosted.

Somewhere in between those worries, Omicron came into the mix, so then I was worried about flying because N hadn't had a chance to be boosted when we left. 

And now, I'm still concerned about skyrocketing rates of COVID and what that could mean for my parents and MIL because they are vulnerable (since it sounds like the vaccines keep you from being hospitalized but not sick from Omicron and older people have to be more careful in general with even "minor" illnesses).

We got back from our trip in the wee hours of December 24. 

I had spent $75 for six rapid at-home tests. We tested N and G a half-hour before Christmas Eve family events, and again on Christmas Day a half-hour before going to my parents. (N got boosted two days ago, so she was more vulnerable then). 

Today, I tested a half-hour before visiting my parents through the school district's drive-through site. 

And then someone I know who works in health care said the company that does the testing for the district doesn't always swab as well as they should (which I know because I've been tested more than several times.)

So here is where I'm at now with COVID and vaccines and testing:

I AM DOING THE BEST I CAN POSSIBLY FUCKING DO. 

I'VE BEEN VACCINATED THREE TIMES. 

MY PARENTS AND HUSBAND AND OLDEST CHILD HAVE BEEN VACCINATED THREE TIMES. 

I BOUGHT THE FUCKING KN95 MASKS FOR THE PLANE AND HAVE BEEN WEARING THEM LOCALLY SINCE WE GOT BACK.

I GET PREEMPTIVELY TESTED HOWEVER THE FUCK I CAN TO TRY TO PROTECT MY PARENTS.

AND I'm fucking tired.

I'm tired of trying to do what is best and thoughtful and most careful when millions of fucking boneheads don't. 

I spent the day with my parents visiting historic cemeteries near where my dad's maternal family had a farm. He wanted to take me and my mom for lunch at a restaurant in this town where he has wanted to go for awhile now. And so we went.

We wore our masks in and kept them on until our food came and the entire time I'm thinking:

THIS IS SO PROFOUNDLY STUPID BECAUSE HOW MANY PEOPLE IN THIS RESTAURANT WALKED IN WITHOUT MASKS (a lot of them cause I watched 'em)? AND THEN WE TAKE OFF OUR MASKS TO EAT, AND IT'S NOT LIKE THE VIRUS SAYS....

"Wait, I realize you're eating so I won't infect you right this second."

Everything seems pointless or absurd most of the time. Whatever I do or don't do, I second guess whether it is wise or responsible or worth it. 

I know I'm not alone in feeling all these things. I know there are others like me who are so mentally exhausted from all of it. 

And I know I can either continue to do what I've been doing because I'm generally a conscientious person who doesn't do dumbshit stuff or join the fucking boneheads. 

My choices are limited; everyone's choices are limited. I'm tired of doing the best I can and still feeling like I'm not doing enough. 

I'm feeling really obnoxious about this subbing job, and I don't know why

Most of the time, because of my cottage school job, I am unable to take long-term subbing positions. The only time I am able to do so is between Thanksgiving and Christmas. The school I taught at full-time many, many years ago, however, has allowed me to do some wonky long-term subbing jobs, allowing me to do 3 days a week or 4-days a week for a short period of time. 

I think this is my 4th long-term subbing job; of those four, I have loved one, been okay with another, and disliked two. 

The current one I am disliking, and I don't know why, and I feel like a shit for it. I think this is a situation that is, to borrow the dating breakup adage, not about "them" and more about "me." 

I keep telling myself that the important thing is that I'm 1. showing up and 2. doing the best job I can while I'm there, regardless of how I feel about it. 

This school year, I think that is about the best anyone is going to get from me. 

Teachers are completely overwhelmed, and I say this having been in a classroom for 7 days thus far and having at least two days in which a teacher is out and a sub isn't available and every other teacher is having to pick up the slack (and yes, this involves putting extra kids in classes which is the worst possible thing when there is a pandemic and the goal is to keep kids further apart). 

When I say this, it is not in any way an indictment of the absent teachers. Even without COVID, teachers get sick and need surgery (the reason I'm subbing for someone) and have deaths in the family and have other issues with which they need to deal (like sick kids or needing to provide care to older parents or whatever). In seven days, I've already seen and listened to a teacher cry because she is at the end of her rope. 

This year because of masks (a necessity, in my opinion, if we don't want kids to miss even more school than they've already missed) and just the nonstop stress of variants and testing and every possible plan being spoiled because of COVID, everything feels harder and heavier than it normally would. Long-term stress has immediate but also cumulative effects. 

Even if 90 percent of the kids are great, the 10 percent who are awful (whether because of their personalities or poverty or trauma or lax parents or whatever their situation is) feel even more unwieldy during COVID. I have less tolerance than I've ever had before. Or maybe it is because I'm 48 and just fucking tired. 

I don't have any grand solutions. We probably could fix these problems, but we don't want to spend the money. Because some of these kids need one-on-one care; maybe two-on-one if we're being hopeful. And there are some students who simply might not be fixable. There is a certain amount of damage that cannot be undone. 

Maybe because I'm so tired of the stress of the past 20 months, I'm less willing to be forgiving and empathetic.

On Friday, when we did MAP testing, I noted that 10 percent of the students in that room refused to do the test. One was removed and two slept. 

In the before times, I would be more concerned with the 10 percent and trying to meet their needs. In these times, I'm simply angry that the 90 percent has to put up the with 10 percent who don't care and don't want to do the least bit of anything to make their school experience better. 

It feels too much like the ding-dongs who don't take COVID seriously which is why this thing is lingering on and on. 

And I don't like feeling that way. It is a callousness I don't relish. 

Letting traditions go

Last year, when my dad was going through his cancer and chemotherapy/radiation, I reached out to a former boyfriend who is now a chaplain and asked him to recommend some books to help me deal with my feelings. 

My medication keeps me on an even emotional keel, for the most part, but intense stress gums up the works. With the pandemic, my keel was wonky anyway; dad's diagnosis and treatment left me feeling way unmoored.

I read several books he suggested, including No Mud, No Lotus: The Art of Transforming Suffering by Thich Nhat Hanh and When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times by Pema Chodron. 

Between my own therapy and going through therapy with G, I've learned a lot about how anxiety and OCD work, and so I've tried to get better and more mindful about my acts of "letting go." I've tried to remind myself to feel whatever unpleasant feeling I'm having, hold it and sit with it until it doesn't hurt anymore (or not as much), and then let the desire to control the situation dissipate. 

I've also tried, in these past 20 months since COVID appeared here, to really not force myself to do things I don't want to do. 

Now, this doesn't mean I'm not working or doing the mom thing because those are things I need to do. Those are the tending to the tree work so that in the future of 10 or 20 years, I have shade in my garden.

But what I'm letting go of, and I've always been pretty good at this, is letting go of the stuff that really hasn't ever been necessary except that everyone else does it, and so we feel that it is required. 

I compare this to cutting back all the dead stalks in my garden each fall and throwing away all the dead leaves that fall on my grass. Someone, somewhere, decided this is what you do, and so everyone with a yard followed suit (in the same way that we all bought into the yard to begin with). In truth, cutting back stalks and removing every shred of leaves is detrimental to the health of the landscape. Birds and insects use those dead stalks and dead leaves to overwinter. The dead leaves decompose and provide nutrients to my flower beds. 

Essentially, going along with whatever every other homeowner does is extra work for me that harms my yard. 

We are going about our normal Thanksgiving which has always been okay with me because I've only ever had to make two dishes. When the day/time come when my MIL doesn't want to or can't do Thanksgiving, I do not necessarily think I will adopt the practice of bringing everyone together. I cannot say for certain. That could be next year or 15 years from now. 

But I hate entertaining. I really don't like to cook. And so I would have to find a way to do it that would not make me miserable. I know too many people, friends of mine and family, who do Thanksgiving (and Christmas and Easter) and stress about it. 

And yet, it is a holiday that we all do because someone, somewhere told us we had to. Did any of us ever formally decide, "Yes, I want to celebrate this holiday in this particular way?" Or have we all just done it because we've always done it. 

I have decided this year that our Christmas is changing. I am doing a long-term sub job until the district's winter break, and I am going to be tired. Subbing wears me the heck out. Plus, at the best of times, I hate shopping. So I have decided that I am not buying gifts for anyone. My children have everything they could ever want (and would rather have money anyway, I think). 

Our family is supposed to leave on a short trip soon after school ends, and this complicates the Christmas planning too, so I'm not planning. With airlines and delays being what they are, I have no guarantee that we will even get back when we are supposed to, so I'm not doing our "normal" at all. I'm not even going to try. While we are gone, if I feel inclined to buy someone something on our travels, I will get it. But I'm not buying everyone stuff just to have them a gift at Christmas. 

(I should say that this non-traditional Christmas is bringing its own OCD stress with it. The irrational part of my brain is pretty well convinced one of my parents is going to get COVID today at Thanksgiving and will be on a ventilator at Christmas, making our trip not happen.)

I am not putting up all the Christmas trees because the kids only help because I fuss at them, so I am putting up one tree that I will do myself and not ask them for help. I don't even care about Christmas, and I am sick and tired of trying to make my family a holiday that they don't seem to care about (although I suspect they will complain this year because it "isn't the same.") 

I feel like screaming from the rafters to every woman I know: STOP DOING THIS SHIT FOR YOUR FAMILIES UNLESS YOU ACTUALLY ENJOY DOING THIS SHIT FOR YOUR FAMILIES. IF YOU FUCKING HATE IT, then STOP. 

This year, I am listening to the crazy screeching lady in the rafters. 

The school choice SAGA continues AND can schools PUHLEASE think of better questions for admitting kids?

Item #1 on today's blog agenda is my comment that despite folks lamenting how much our district needs and wants kids to attend their "neighborhood schools," they lie.

They "say" they want neighborhood schools, and then they bend over backwards into something out of the Kama Sutra to get their kids into any school but their kids' neighborhood school. 

They say, "We want neighborhood schools!!!" 

They mean, "We want neighborhood schools.....except for my child."

These parents say crappy stuff about their neighborhood school whether they have stepped foot in said school. And some teachers, YES, teachers, contribute to this nonsense by telling students and parents that some schools are better than others. And some of those teachers I'm almost certain have never set foot in some of these schools that they denigrate. 

And then the kids believe all they hear so that they have ZERO desire to attend their neighborhood school which leaves parents who are totally ok with their kids attending their neighborhood school (ME) being forced into navigating applications and all the other shit that goes along with choosing high schools. 

The paper that one diploma from the "best" school is printed on in our district is EXACTLY the FUCKING SAME as the paper from the "worst" school. 

Yes, you have arrived at Carrie's blog, V2: My kid doesn't want to attend his resides school. 

His reasoning is this:

1--I don't want to attend my resides high school. (He doesn't know why, although I would say it has something to do with all the junk parents and their kids and sometimes teachers says.)

2--He wants to go where there is a computer program. (Ok, that I can understand.)

3--He wants to go where his friends are applying. (Same thing his sister did even thought she ended up not even having classes with any of those friends like all four years but whatever.)

Since I'm been through this rodeo, despite how much it bugs the shit out of me, I'm like, "I don't have the energy for this crap a second time. Apply where you want, but I'm not driving your ass anywhere."

Item #2 on today's blog agenda is why do the applications ask questions that are so heavily focused on the extroverted among the population? 

Like "Describe 3 groups or extracurriculars you have been involved in."

Which is bunk because 13 months of those three years of middle school were spent doing NTI when no one could be involved in ANYTHING. And do they want to hear about what he did when he took swimming lessons at the Y when he was two???

But also, my middle kid isn't interested in being super involved person. (He is very, very, very much like my husband who has zero interest in involvement with most of the human race.) 

He is never going to join spirit club (unless he is interested in someone romantically who bends his arm to go to spirit club.) He is never going to join a sports team (and for that I say, THANK YOU, JESUS!)

I have grown into my introversion; I didn't always use to be like this. For many, many years, I was a good-time girl (although not a drunk, orgy-involved good time girl.) I like to go out and do things. 

But I firmly believe since becoming medicated and going through therapy that my constant busyness was to quiet my mind. Keeping myself busy meant I didn't have to deal with my thoughts and my anxiety (and I think this is why a lot of people have glorified busyness...so they don't have to deal with what is going on inside themselves because it is painful and scary.)

Why can't these application questions ask things like:

"Do you think it is more important to be a leader or a follower or is there a need for both? Explain? (Because by god, we can't all be leaders. And sometimes leaders need to sit their asses down and let other people do things.)

Do you consider yourself a person who gets their energy from people or from being by yourself? Explain. (Because this asks kids to consider some pretty important self-reflection prior to high school.)

I don't know if Albert Einstein actually said this, but there is a quote attributed to him that I like, especially since he was Albert fucking Einstein. And who cares whether Albert liked to go out partying with friends? He had a brilliant mind and some of that came from taking the quiet time required to think. 

"Although I am a typical loner in my daily life, my awareness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty, and justice has prevented me from feelings of isolation.”

We have such a joiner, chatty, involved mindset that we don't even understand that our questions leave out entire segments of students who may have lots of insightful things to offer but we ignore that they could even be parts of the equation. 

The best non-award my player could get

I know awards can inspire people and make them feel proud that their accomplishments have been recognized. 

I experienced it myself at the end of 8th grade when I won the Principal's Award and at the end of high school when I won Miss Presentation. 

But awards can also make people feel like failures even if they win an award (or at least they did for me). 

At the end of senior year of high school, we had superlatives voted on by our graduating peers. I had it in my mind that I wanted "Most Likely to Succeed," but I did not get this award.

I was voted Most Leadership. While I was proud of it, it wasn't what my heart desired. It took a long time for me to recognize that 1. this award was really appropriate given the person I am.  I am a leader. 

And 2. getting an award about success may not match whatever definition of success any given person has. I don't have a big-whig corporate job. I don't work full-time. I'm not a mover and shaker. But I've got a fucking interesting life, and I have a positive impact on others. The older I've gotten, the more I think an inch deep, mile-wide life isn't quite as cool as an inch-wide, mile-deep life. 

When I graduated from college with my BA, I wanted the Economics award, but I was given the English award, even though my GPA was higher in Economics. Looking back now, as a certified English teacher and a freelance writer who has won awards for my writing, I understand that it was a little silly for me to get my nose out of joint for not getting the "award" I wanted.

And how many people are there who never win the awards but who show up and show out and work hard and do all the things well but maybe not as well as the best? They never get the recognition they deserve. 

When N was a freshman, she had a field hockey coach she really liked and wasn't with some of her past middle school teammates. These girls were good players and had been playing longer than N. She felt intimidated by them; when they made varsity and she made JV her freshman year, it was the BEST thing to ever happen for her self-esteem. She was able to shine. She played so well and earned a Best Defense Award at that year's end-of-season banquet. 

(It was the epitome of bigger fish in smaller pond versus smaller fish in bigger pond scenario.)

The downside of her esteem shooting up and playing so well is that she made varsity her sophomore year where she again felt those intimidated feelings being around the girls from middle school who made varsity their freshmen year. 

I'm not sure N was ever able to fully rise above those feelings, but by senior year, she redirected herself from that to becoming a friend to the underclassmen on the team. 

During senior night this past season, when a rainstorm interrupted the team's final festivities of the night, I collected all of the posters that the underclassmen had made for the seniors to protect them from the rain and noticed that N had a crap ton (that are still in my living room). One of the underclassmen moms even made a point to show me the sweet poster her daughter had made for N before senior night festivities began. And they were clearly posters that the girls who made them had spent time and effort on--detailed drawings and battery-powered lights and all kinds of extra. 

Last night at N's last field hockey banquet, one of the underclassmen parents came up to me and the mother of another senior (a close friend of N's) last night and told us how much she appreciated that our daughters had made her daughter feel so much a part of the team and so welcome. 

And that was the non-award award that makes me most proud of my daughter. 

I don't say this to dismiss the awards the other girls won. They are very good players; they deserve their awards. 

I say this because when it comes to who I want my daughter to be, if I could design a perfect kid in my estimation, I'd rather have her field hockey stats suck and for her to be a kind, open, and friendly person who other younger players look up to and admire.

Why milestones aren't sad (to me)

Despite being a bit of a downer personality, I don't usually feel sad about my kids' milestone events. 

I am not in any way, shape, or form sad that N's field hockey career is OVER as of next week when we have the banquet. Yes, she did it for seven years. Yes, she had fun doing it. No, I will not miss seeing her play field hockey. 

I didn't feel sad that my son got promoted to middle school and we left behind the elementary school where we had been for 12 years. It's a great school; my kids had awesome experiences there. But there are other experiences to be had.

The benefit of having three kids is that by the time the last one does anything, I'm kind of "over it." I've done whatever "it" is so much that I'm thrilled to not have to do "it" anymore. 

The truth is, I don't understand the boohooing people do when their kids reach milestones. These milestones are a GOOD thing, a reason to celebrate, a time to move on to the next thing. It seems strange to me to waste away time in nostalgia, where all the shitty gets glossed over as if it was delightful. 

I am thankful to have spent years at home with my children, but I have yet to slide into nostalgia about it. I can watch a video of their cuteness but also remember the sleepless nights and the poopy diapers and the whining over stupid stuff and the toys everywhere and the speech therapy and occupational therapy and endless doctor visits and surgeries and how much shit I had to pack just to go to Target with them. We had to have SNACKS to drive to the freaking post office to mail a letter. 

To lament the milestones is to get stuck in a haze of "It was wonderful in every way" when it wasn't. 

Last year during quarantines, it pained me to see so many people complain about their kids being home all the time. I have already started to see and hear people do the "My kids are going to college and now I'm sad because they are leaving" thing, and I want to yell, "YOU HAD A YEAR OF TIME WITH THEM THAT YOU COMPLAINED ABOUT. YOU WASTED THAT GIFT." 

Now maybe I don't have a heart (it is possible). 

Maybe I'm not in touch with my feelings. 

I am not sad about N graduating from high school because if I want to hang onto this time it means never letting her move on. It means trapping her in a lifetime of 17-year-old-ness to satisfy my own weird feelings. That's the kind of stuff they do to princesses in all the crappy fairy tales; trap them in amber so they can watch time go by without them. 

Plus, I have every reason to think that my relationship with my kids, which is good now, can get better or at least differently good. My relationship with my parents has grown and changed as we have grown and changed, and that has been lovely. 

And besides all this, time doesn't give a shit that you want to hang onto it. All the belaboring of time moving on is just a waste of the time that you have. 

My poor third child and his sad birthday

Dear M,

You, like lots of third children, get the butt end of the bread loaf when it comes to things like baby books and timely birthday letters. This letter is coming almost two weeks past your 12th birthday. 

Not to say you're happy with the scraps, but you don't know any different. And you have thrived nonetheless. 

Why was your birthday this year a sad state of affairs, you ask? 

Your 12th birthday was preceded by your COVID diagnosis so that threw a wrench in the works. The events and activities we had planned for the quarantine days got pushed back to the following week which meant your birthday and the days surrounding it were overwhelming.

Plus, your birthday has, for the past seven years, been highjacked by field hockey season. So the week of your birthday we added all the stuff we rescheduled from COVID quarantine plus the regular field hockey schedule fuckery. 

Your brother decided to be a bit of an asshat on your birthday, too, as a result of the aforementioned schedule fuckery and him being 14 and hormonal and a middle schooler. 

This birthday is one you won't remember and that is probably the very best thing. It was a complete pfffttt, although you did get chocolate cake and a big ass balloon that is still full of helium.

You are pretty wonderful kid. Not perfect, of course. You are an absolute bear in the morning. You HATE HATE HATE the early mornings of middle school. I have to start waking you at 6 am so that you have gotten your grumpiness out of your system by 6:50. 

And you are still tremendously undecided about everything, including what you want to eat. You interrupted the show Daddy and I were watching last night because you couldn't decide what ice cream you wanted to eat, and you needed my help. AND I STILL DON'T KNOW HOW EXACTLY I AM TO HELP YOU DECIDE WHAT YOU ARE HUNGRY FOR. 

Getting your first COVID shot this past weekend.  

But aside from those two minor things, you are the best youngest child I have and maybe the best youngest child ever. You are so mature about doing your schoolwork and taking initiative and being responsible. That is the benefit of being the third kid. I could send you off right this minute to college, and you'd probably be ok. 

You are such a reliable petsitter.

You and me and a cat playing chess. You always, always win.

You are the person in the family that everyone almost never gets angry or upset with. You are G's favorite and N's favorite, and they always adore you even when they are cat-fighting each other (although now that they are both teens, that happens less). 

You are S******s' best buddy; she runs to you and meows and hollers constantly. She chases you around the house and is very upset when you lock her out of your bedroom while you play with the VR headset. I tell Daddy that he and S**** are ridiculous together, but you and S******s are equally ridiculous. 

You love bubble wrap (a longtime fascination), and you are reading One-Punch Man and Attack on Titan graphic novels. Your favorite class this year is social studies which I was surprised by because last year you hated social studies (but maybe that was the NTI version of social studies). 

I am savoring this year because your body is still little boy size and skinny, and I know we are truly in short-time mode there. 

You have changed so much over the years but are still, and always will be, my sweet bonus baby boy. 

Love,

Momma

Birthday (not a) boy (but edging closer to being a man)

Dear G,

Something happened in the last 18 months.

Yes--global pandemic, but I'm not referring to that.

Yes--social justice movement, but I'm not referring to that.

Yes--doofuses trying to overthrow the election, but I'm not talking about that. 

What I am referring to is that as you edged closer to 14, you grew taller than me, started wearing men's sizes in clothes , and are totally baritone (no longer squeak). Teachers who had you in sixth grade have been astounded that you walked into the building this school year as, like, a full-grown man. 

And that's not even the most amazing part.

It's that you have matured so much. 

I know teenagers get a lot of grief and people often say they don't like teenagers, but one of the best things about teenagers is that they can and do understand quiet reason and explanation. It used to be that if there was something you didn't like, you'd throw a complete duck fit.

Now, if you are upset, you go find a quiet spot and chill. And then once you're calm, we can discuss. And usually, you understand where I'm coming from and you explain yourself in a way so I know where you are coming from. 

Of course, you still grunt a lot. And you start every sentence with "Basically." And you talk about video games and TikTok videos that go completely over my head. And we're still working on getting you beyond mozzarella sticks as meals. 

I really worried about how you would do going back to school while the COVID pandemic rages on and even worse than last year due to the Delta variant. But you've done great. Sure, you aren't eating at school, but I can't blame you. I don't feel comfortable eating inside close to other people, and you maybe have 12 inches between you and a peer. And you've had a couple little blips with tying your shoes but after talking about it with you, I've seen you working to manage your anxiety. 

Now, not all is glory. I was about ready to murder you on Friday night when you were finishing up assignments that, at least for two of them, should have been finished on Thursday. Your pre-frontal cortex is only a little over halfway baked; only ten more years to go. BUT, to expect anything different would be to expect perfection. 

And while, as my son you have a glow of hazy perfection about you, you are not a perfect person and never will be. 

I love that you talk to me in ways that I'm not sure other boys talk to their moms. You don't tell me your deepest darkest fears, but you come to me with questions and you bring up things you think about or things you like which gives me greater insight into who you are. 

It has been fun to watch you move from an interest in Korean music to Russian music to Bob Marley music. Now, you are increasingly interested in cars and learning about them so I told you to go get a job at Valvoline when you turn 16. You recently had to write a resume for one of your classes, and it was interesting for me to see what you envision for yourself. (I was NOT surprised that you want to work at Dairy Queen; it is your favorite place to eat at the moment.)

If there is a worst part to having you be more firmly fixed in teenagerdom, it is that you rarely allow me to take your photo. 

I hope this year is as good as it can be for you given all the continued uncertainty with everything. Today you will get your favorite food (what Blizzard will you pick?). You will open a present or two. It will be chill because of M's COVID test last week; we will save celebrations with grandparents until M is fully vaccinated in a few weeks. 

I know you know that your dad and I love you. We would do anything for you (except hide you from the police if you are a murder suspect; I ain't doing that. You do stupid stuff, you deal with the consequences of your actions). 

We will always support you (again, except in that murder situation). But even if we didn't hide you, we will always love you and want what is best for you to become the kind, intelligent, young man you are. 

Love, 

Momma

How the virus is like the yeast (an OCD saga from long ago with reverberations today)

When N was around six months old, I developed mastitis and then a thrush infection. 

Now, if you've ever been a breastfeeding mother and develop thrush, it 1. is painful and 2. sets you off on a course of fighting an invisible enemy. 

Maybe things have changed and the instructions for how to mitigate thrust differ now, but back in 2004, I went down a rabbit hole of crazy trying to fight thrush. I tried to follow everything I read. Boiling N's pacifiers and teething toys (she will probably develop cancer from all the leached plastic from that). Using paper towels for months in case I was getting anything from multi-use towels (like in the powder room). Trying to wash everything that came into my baby's mouth. NUTS, I tell you. 

This was one of the things, besides my hormones, that led me deep down into the pit of OCD where I'd never visited for so long before and seen such icky sides to it. 

It felt like I was never, ever, ever going to win.

How, exactly, do you fight something you can't see?

This is what I've been thinking about since M's COVID diagnosis yesterday, especially as it concerns keeping the rest of us "safe." 

My OCD wants to go bonkers trying to keep everyone away from each other and all of us wear masks nonstop and clean, and clean, and clean. 

But then I think back to what my mental health was like fighting that invisible yeast. I was fucking insane and as miserable as I can remember being my whole entire life. I stopped eating and sleeping and started crying and waking up in full-blown panic attacks.

Sure, it was hormones, but it was also a lot of feeling completely and totally out of control and not being able to handle it.

I'm medicated now, but I also don't think it is wise to intentionally poke the OCD bear if you can help it. Especially when under stress. Stress brings out the worst in OCD. And I've been stressed (like everyone) for the past 18 months with additional stress for all of Dad's health issues last year. 

So we're taking some steps to try to keep the four vaccinated in the house "safe," but maybe not as safe as we could. 

First of all, M is 11. I'm not locking him in his room like a pariah. If it was me or D, we'd lock ourselves away and try to keep the kids safe. But the most vulnerable person in our house is sick so what is the point? 

G is sleeping on a mattress in the living room (which in some ways is kind of stupid because he slept in the same bedroom with M the four nights between M's negative COVID test on Friday and his positive COVID test on Tuesday). 

We're keeping the ceiling fans on where M is to move the air around for when we are near him. 

I changed the filter in the HVAC system, and we're keeping the house fans running at all times (although this may be the worse thing to do because of circulating the virus). 

I brought a box fan upstairs to circulate the air in the kitchen and office since there is no ceiling fan. 

I disinfected the remote control because M was using it yesterday.

But I'm not wearing a mask inside my house, and I'm not making my sick kid do it either. 

We did a shit ton of things to keep "safe," and it didn't keep us totally safe. I don't for one second regret any of those things, but I think it is kind of absurd now to try to put the cat back in the bag, especially since we don't know when between Friday and Tuesday that M became contagious. At what moment did he officially become contagious? We will never know. 

I may be walking around today, right this minute, positive with COVID. Just because I was negative yesterday does not mean I am negative today. 

For my own sanity, I cannot allow myself to engage with this invisible enemy the way I did in 2004.

I hope if the four of us who are vaccinated get sick, it is mild. But ramping up my anxiety and destroying my mental health in the effort to stay physically healthy may not be the best choice at this time. 

If your kid gets COVID (a sad retelling of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie)

Apologies to Laura Joffe Numeroff and Felicia Bond.

If your kid wakes up feeling hot and with congestion, you'll probably regret having sent this child to school the day before when he was also a little congested (but you live in the Ohio River Valley and 4/5 of your family take allergy shots so congestion is like a way of life, not a symptom).

If you're having these regrets, you'll remember that you have an at-home COVID test stashed away and you'll give it to this child (who is TWO FUCKING WEEKS from turning 12). 

If you give the child the COVID test and it is positive, you'll have to call the substitute center because you're subbing that day and WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO NOW?

If you call the substitute center and explain the situation, they will tell you to call health services.

If you call health services, they will tell you to go on in and substitute teach because you're fully vaccinated and without symptoms. (But try to stay six feet from students....have you ever been in a school before, lady?)

If you go on in and substitute teach, you will text your congested, at-home-COVID-tested positive child multiple times through the day to make sure he is not more sick. You will also text several friends throughout the day and notify the grandparents (one of whom is now also COVID-exposed). 

If you don't die from "My child has COVID"-induced anxiety while subbing, you will take your child to get tested through the district's drive-through testing site.

If you take your child to get tested at the drive-through site, they will be unable to record the test because the directions on their website are super freaking unclear (someone hire an ENGLISH MAJOR to make it less confusing so antsy parents don't screw it up). 

If your child gets tested and isn't able to be registered because the website instructions are unclear, you will call the company and text the people at the testing site and reregister again so that the freaking results can be recorded. 

If your child feels hot and is congested and cannot distance in any capacity especially at lunch, he will get a POSITIVE  COVID test TWO FUCKING WEEKS before he is eligible to get the vaccine (have I mentioned that?)

If your child is officially COVID-positive, you will look at your calendar and determine all the places and people you now need to call.

If you call the dentist to tell them you have an appointment next week and have COVID in your house, they will tell you they have to talk to the doctor because who the fuck knows what to do in all these various situations. 

If you call the volunteer organization to ask what their COVID protocol is since you are now officially COVID-exposed, they will not email back in the 1.2 seconds you want a response (because isn't everything SUPER CRITICAL AND TIMELY NOW?).

If you look ahead next week, you will realize you have to reschedule the orthodontist appointment for both your sons on Monday.

If you look ahead to Wednesday, you'll realize you probably need to call the hairdresser and find out what their COVID protocol is. (Likely another several weeks to get your mop cut.)

If you look to Friday, you'll see that your plan for a short day trip is now cancelled.

If you continue looking at the calendar, or you look at your COVID-positive child on the couch, or you look at your vaccinated but maybe will also get sick older children, you may WILL pour yourself another glass of an adult beverage.

If you feel overwhelmed, you will remember that there are all kinds of single parents out there who are dealing with this shit without a safety net of a spouse who works from home. 

If you think about single parents, you'll also think about parents who can't work from home who have to go into work or give up jobs because their kids may be quarantined for 10 days at a time, whether they are COVID-positive or not. 

If you think about all this stuff, you will feel the violent urge to throat punch anyone and everyone who has made light of this virus that has killed close to 700,000 people in this country in 18 months and continues taking people down either temporarily or permanently every single day. 

Stingy with the L word

When I was a kid, I threw around the word "love" like confetti. I loved Duran Duran. I loved dancing. I loved my best friend.

Even as I got older and into college, I threw it around with various guys I dated. I was in love with all of them. 

But at some point, I closed it in and determined that I didn't feel comfortable throwing that word around. And the older I get, the more cringey I feel when other people use it. 

At one point, one of my biggest pet peeves was when people would say or write "Love ya." 

Gawd. 

Just seeing that gives me the willies, so maybe it remains a pet peeve. 

On occasion people still write or say this to me, and my insides shrivel up a little.

Sure, there are different ways to experience love.

There is the general love of mankind, but I don't share in that feeling. I'm not sure when I heard the word misanthropy, but I identified with it then, and I identify with it now. I identify with it even more strongly after these last 18 months of watching people do things completely against their own best interests on the daily. 

I may aspire to a Christ-like love of others, but I don't think it is in the cards. People make it very hard to love them (including me; I am a hard person to love).

There are people I like, people I find fun to be around. There are people I admire. 

But to love someone, at least in my book, there has to be a history and a long one. There has to be honesty above all else. There has to be mutual respect. 

I cannot even begin to love someone I cannot trust. And I cannot trust someone I barely know. I'm not sure I can trust some people I've known for several years or even most of my life. 

So I am truly stingy when it comes to the people I say "I love you" to. 

And there are circles of it. Sort of like Dante's Inferno but with my own weird love designations. 

I tell my children every single day that I love them. Sometimes even more than once a day. 

I tell my husband and my parents a little less often. 

I tell my brother and his family and my mother-in-law less often than that. 

I tell my oldest friend usually once a year in a letter. 

And that is it. 

Because of this, I have an automatic revulsion-type feeling when I hear people throw the L word around. 

It is similar to the feeling I would get if I saw someone put mayonnaise on their waffle instead of butter and then smother it with syrup. 

Ewwww. 

Teaching children to advocate for themselves

I don't want to be handling my kids' stuff when they are adults, so when they enter middle school, I start handing over the responsibility keys to them.

This is a slow process and is somewhat dependent on the personality of the child. I can't do with G what I did with N. M has practically raised himself and is ahead of both his siblings despite being several years younger than each of them. 

Handing over the responsibility keys doesn't mean I throw the kids to the wolves. There are times when my kid doesn't know what's going on, and I need to insert myself into the process. 

But if it is a matter of questions about an assignment or something of that nature, I encourage my children to email their teachers themselves.

When they first learn to do this, I don't just say "Email your teacher" because they don't know what to say or how to say it or anything. They are still under the impression that adults know what they're doing. I try to gently disabuse them of this notion. 

Today, I had to help G advocate for himself.

He was assigned a group project yesterday (Friday) to be done and turned in on Tuesday. It is a long holiday weekend. 

Now I have issues with this assignment from the outset. An assignment over a holiday weekend is plain idiotic.

Also, group work at the start of the school year is usually dumb, especially if things aren't specifically laid out for kids like "Jane Doe is in charge of writing slide 1 and Bob Smith is in charge of slide 2."

(I know this from having assigned things without being very clear and specific about roles and responsibilities; I've learned from my own stupid mistakes.)

I asked G if he and his group had specific roles. He said no.

He said that two of his group mates weren't even at school on Friday and the other had to leave early to complete MAP testing. So G's group on Friday consisted of himself. 

G said he was just going to do the entire assignment, to which I responded, "No, you absolutely are not."

Maybe I'm just at the end of my rope with the pandemic "group assignment" in which some of us have done ALL the work to try to end it (vaccines, masks, social distancing, etc.) while others have done whatever the fuck they want, but I'm not about to agree to G doing an entire project so that the other four members of his group can get an A or a B or even a C on his back without contributing in the least. 

I tell students all.the.time when I sub that giving other people the answers is giving away their brain work for free. And it doesn't help the other person in any way, shape or form. 

So I watched as G wrote an email in which he explained the situation to his teacher and asked what she recommends he does. 

I'm hoping that he gets a reasonable answer back. If not, that's when I'll need to come into the picture and do some advocating.

I was wrong about sports

Many years ago I read the novel Jack Gance by Ward Just. It tells the story of a young man who goes to Washington, DC with idealism and a desire to make change, but the political machine slowly wears him down. He eventually gets sucked in by that machine that rolls over anyone who tries to push it off its course. If there is a lesson in that book, it is that you either conform or you get out. 

Or the machine crushes you. 

I've never been good at conforming. It was one of the reasons I stopped attending Catholic church in my twenties; I would attend out of a sense of obedience/shame and would leave with a massive anger-induced headache every time. My mental health won out, and I got out. 

I couldn't change the church, so I left. (Eventually, I found a church that allows me to be me where I can attend without feeling like my head is going to explode in rage.)

Last night, after a conversation with D, it occurred to me that I have been wrong about this whole sports thing ever since N was in middle school. 

I've written once on this blog about my failed sports "career" as a kid, but it wasn't even failed. It never began. What I realized even then was that sports was focused on results, on winning. People were a means to an end, not an end in themselves. That is what sports is; to try to change it would be like trying to change the spots on a leopard. 

But for me, people have always been more important than winning. 

In a real sense, sports rejected me, and so I rejected sports back. Some people react differently, I suppose. They continue to love a game that didn't love them. They continue to want to be part of the team.  There is an entire field of sports psychology, and I can't even pretend to know all the iterations of people's feelings about sports, winning, losing, self-esteem, etc. But I imagine that for every kid for whom sports gave a leg up, there are as many or more for whom sports let down and so they found something else that they feel a meaningful part of. 

I can find parallels between why I left the church and why I rejected sports: both were an exclusive club. If you didn't meet certain requirements or qualifications, you were out. Or you might be part of the team, but you weren't really part of the team. 

And, of course, there is a need for requirements. I want there to be requirements for lawyers and doctors and mechanics. I don't want some idiot willy-nilly sawing on my brain if I have an aneurysm. 

But religion and sports seem different to me with sports being far below religion in importance. The state of my conscience is way, way, WAY more important that tossing a ball around. 

[I mean, when I really think about it, there is a whole lot of angst/drama/anger/money spent over tossing a ball, and it seems like something Samuel Beckett should have written a play about. But he stuck with religion, which is also often absurd.]

Eventually I found a church that has an open-table. This doesn't exist in sports at least not that I have seen or found yet. The goal is, above all else, winning. 

And my conversation with D last night made me recognize that I have been wanting sports and asking sports and demanding that sports be something it is not, and I'm in the wrong for that. 

My view about sports seems the exact opposite of what sports enthusiasts think. I see it as exclusive and full of drama and half-truths and a whole lot of mind-fuckery. I cannot reconcile "We are a team; let's work together" with "We want to win and will isolate/ignore you in order to do that." Those same ideas are at work in sports, and they seem, to me at least, to be irreconcilable. 

Perhaps the problem is in the openness of joining. "Come join the team" is often followed by "But we're only going to play the same people over and over again." 

For some people who love the sport, I guess that is good enough. 

For me, it has never been good enough. (And gives me a deeper appreciation of women who have said "F you" to the Catholic church's refusal to allow women to become priests.) If you are good enough to be on the team, you are good enough to play. And if you're not good enough to play, coaches should have the guts to cut people, even if it makes the players sad (as it did me when I was a kid). They are going to be sad and/or angry anyway, but especially if they are being told "We love you; we're a team" but then actions are different. 

[As much as I felt rejected when I didn't make the A, B, or C basketball teams as a 10-year-old, it wasn't as bad as what I would have experienced if I'd made the team but was too shitty to actually put on the field/court.]

I truly try to understand sports dynamics, but after seven years of watching my kid play a sport (and I only watch when my kid is actually on the field), I have gotten nowhere. 

Another thing I suppose I've always known about sports but never specifically focused on is that it is a power imbalance that sometimes makes people do things they wouldn't otherwise do. I understand now how Larry Nasser was able to abuse girls. Parents may have spoken amongst themselves, may have wondered or questioned or felt uncomfortable or been downright angry. But to fight and fight and fight means their child loses something valuable to them. Their child would lose an opportunity, and their child would be stuck in a quagmire of uncomfortable. I have seen this dynamic play out in real life so I get it now. 

Parents may be angry as hell and speaking loudly and proudly amongst each other but quiet as mice when the coach is around. I both love and hate that I cannot just be silent, that I can't just let it go, but what I really hate is that other parents allow me to speak out without speaking up with me. I understand why they don't, but I hate it anyway. 

Even parents whose child plays a lot put up with stuff they despise so their child will continue playing a lot. 

I'm fairly sure someone who loves sports would read this and call it a major case of sour grapes, and they aren't wrong. But if I were to care about sports at all, I would care for the underdog most. I would care for the kids who aren't the all-stars but who just enjoy playing. (And yes, this is what my kid is like, and so I know I have that bias, but I would have that bias anyway based on who I've been my entire life.)

How much shrieking and gnashing of teeth would occur if coaches decided to bench their all-stars and only play the other kids? How quickly would those same parents who think everything is great when their kid plays a lot suddenly find themselves angry and frustrated? When we're in a privileged position, we can  quickly call someone else's frustrations sour grapes. "They're just angry because their kid isn't playing much," and they are right. If they put those shoes on their own feet, they would feel the same. 

They just don't have to wear those shoes. 

As a rule, politics doesn't change and religion doesn't change and sports don't change. The power imbalance won't allow it. And if it happens, it takes many, many, many people working together.

Somewhere along the line, I forgot that I cannot change the animal that is sports. It can bend me if I allow it, but I cannot bend it. 

People and their dumb natural consequences

When N was little, maybe 3 or 4-years-old, I told her to put her coat on when she went outside, and she refused. Threw a duck fit. 

I could have fought her, wrestled her into her coat, but I just let her go outside and then enjoyed myself immensely when, with teeth-chattering, she came back into the house a short-time later because she was freezing. 

This is now how I feel about people who have refused to get vaccinated for COVID. 

I am a skeptic by nature, hence the reason I have never fallen head-first into a pit of religious faith or absolute belief in anything. (There is some irony here when those who put belief above all else must experience with their every sense the pain and suffering of COVID infections themselves before they will understand it is a serious fucking problem.)

I have reached a point where I absolutely do not have any compassion for people who have remained unvaccinated and are now sick. The biggest problem I have with them is their utter selfishness that is now keeping health care workers exhausted and delaying hospital care for people who have other non-COVID life-threatening issues. 

I don't pretend to know what Jesus would think, but I hope he would give them a good lecture and maybe flip a table at them. 

Recently a parent explained to me why she is not making her child get a vaccine. I did not ask; she offered this information willingly and unprompted, and I tried to keep my eyes from bulging out of my head. 

She said, "She's old enough to make her own choices."

I think I said, "Oh," because, again, trying to keep my face in check. 

I didn't give my children a choice because if they do get COVID and require care I AM THE ONE WHO IS GOING TO FORK OVER THE MONEY TO PAY FOR IT. 

I AM THE ONE WHO IS GOING TO HAVE TO PUT MY LIFE ON HOLD AND BE AT THE HOSPITAL.

I AM THE ONE WHO IS GOING TO HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF MY CHILD IF SHE IS HOME SICK. 

I AM THE ONE WHO IS GOING TO HAVE TO TAKE MY CHILD TO VARIOUS DOCTOR VISITS SHOULD IT COME TO THAT. 

Besides my child who gets sick who will suffer most, I AM THE ONE WHO IS GOING TO SUFFER. 

And why would I choose to suffer in this way and be inconvenienced if I don't have to?

My senior does get to handle lots of her own stuff. She gets to pay her own car insurance. She gets to decide where she goes to school and what she wears to school and how she handles her schoolwork and what she wants to eat as a snack when she gets home. 

But as long as I'm the responsible party for her health care, she doesn't get to avoid a vaccine that has the ability to make COVID a largely preventable disease. 

What makes this statement by this parent even more mind-boggling is that this person's child plays on a sports team. There's no I in TEAM, or that's what sports-minded people say. And yet, not getting a vaccine could put the team and their games in jeopardy. Focusing on the "I don't want a vaccine" means the "TEAM could be harmed."

I am tired of being angry. I am tired of watching people do the dumbest possible things and reap the harshest consequences from their dumb choices. And I am mostly tired of knowing that because of their dumb choices so many other people are suffering. 

The relief (and joy) of ending things

Endings aren't nearly as exciting as beginnings.

But they are immensely freeing. 

I started to think about the "relief of the end" today after taking M to his 6th-grade orientation. His entry into middle school means our family has said "So long" to the elementary school we'd been a part of for something like 12 years. 

It did not make me sad for him to move on. 

Perhaps some of this lack of sadness was because we didn't have the "traditional" promotion ceremony or any of the before-times banquets and things, although I generally dislike that kind of stuff so I don't think I felt anything besides relief that we didn't have to do it (one of the rare positives of COVID). 

Last weekend when I saw local church members doing a service project at schools to spruce them up in anticipation of school starting, I didn't feel sad that I wasn't pulling weeds at the elementary school with these volunteers as I had in years past because I was the school's "Beautification Chair."

This lack of sadness made me think, too, about the freedom of releasing myself from connections with people I didn't really know or like or have any real reason to be connected to. 

Yes, I know this has been something I have mulled over here before. 

It is my blog....so I chew on what I want. 

Let's blame it on the obsessive part of my OCD. 

I think what can and does happen to moms who spend years not working outside the home is that they sometimes confuse their own needs with their children's needs. As my children made friends, I became friendly with many of my children's friends' parents. Some of them I truly became friends with, but the vast majority were never my friends. We didn't socialize outside of our children. We don't really know anything about each other. I would never dream of calling them if I were in a bind. 

But sometimes I have mistaken them for more than acquaintances.

Even though I am well beyond the angst of teenager and young adult life, adult friendships or acquaintanceships or connections can still be a little confusing, especially in our social media world. 

It occurred to me that one of the most wonderful things about my children moving on is that I can give myself permission to move on as well. 

I do not have to stay connected (however loosely) to people I truly don't know or admire or like or care about. 

In many cases I no longer remember why we were connected, to begin with. 

(That doesn't mean I wish them ill, but I want to be connected to people I admire or find funny or who make me think. I want to be connected to people who don't say or do or post stupid things unless they are being sarcastic or ironic in which case I probably like them. I want to be connected to people who I feel are kindred spirits.)

And there is a special category for people whom I don't see often but who make me feel happy when I am around them or when we do speak. I won't pull my mask up and put my sunglasses on and turn the other way down the grocery store aisle if I see them. These are the people who I think would probably come to my parent's funeral or at least send me a card in the mail to let me know they were thinking of me. 

Something remarkable I also consider is how much I have changed from the time N started at the elementary school to the time M left. 

I went from "friending" everyone and wanting to know everyone and be involved to being extremely selective about who I friend (and downright delighting in unfriending people). Maybe it is because when N started elementary school I was a stay-at-home mom of three children under 5 who had absolutely zero time for myself or life beyond my children. Whatever friends I had were going to come through my kids or I simply wasn't going to have friends. 

The ending of things in terms of M's schooling has provided me some happiness I didn't expect to find there. 

Iterations of angry (and seriously, WWJD?)

I am beyond angry at this point in the pandemic, especially as I see the rates of hospitalizations climb with Delta.

I know people who refuse the medical science of COVID vaccines but willingly take the medical science of cancer treatments. They refuse to put a vaccine in their bodies but will put chemo in their bodies. 

I know people who lack all empathy and imagination to put themselves in the shoes of other people until something directly impacts them and then suddenly, they experience a change of heart and "get it." 

While I don't call myself a Christian (because people who blast their Christianity all over the place have been, in my experience, sort of assholes; the bad apples have more than spoiled the bunch, I'm afraid), I want to live by the Golden Rule. 

I have tried to be sympathetic to people who are scared of the vaccine. I have tried to understand where people are coming from who think it is a ploy or a government scare tactic. 

But there are so many who spout off about Jesus all day long and yet will not in any way live by the Golden Rule to do unto others as they would want others to do unto them. They march themselves to church every Sunday but will do little to care for the least of these. 

And Lord knows, I do a shitty job of caring for the least of these, but I don't blather Jesus and Christianity all over people and then still do a shitty job of caring for the least of these. 

Irony is the opposite of what you expect, and I would expect people who claim to live under one master (Jesus) who made the ultimate sacrifice for them to be willing to sacrifice for others in some capacity. 

I have been spending a lot of time asking myself "What would Jesus think of all this?" 

Would Jesus feel proud of his Christians who reject a vaccine made with the intention of saving the lives of the sick and the poor and the chronically ill? Or even the young and healthy? Wouldn't Jesus want us to help our brothers? 

Would Jesus be proud of people who shout and yell about wearing masks if it means it keeps others from suffering? 

I am done hoping and wishing and praying for these people to act in a Christian way; I'm now praying for myself to work through this deep anger I feel for humankind. 

This is why you're crazy

They said COVID is a hoax. 

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections. 

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long).

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work.

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?).

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?) and they were making a vaccine for a disease that they also said is a hoax. 

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?) and they were making a vaccine for a disease that they also said is a hoax and the vaccine was a guise for the government to control us. 

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?) and they were making a vaccine for a disease that they also said is a hoax and the vaccine was a guise for the government to control us and the vaccine wouldn't work. 

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?) and they were making a vaccine for a disease that they also said is a hoax and the vaccine was a guise for the government to control us and the vaccine wouldn't work and the vaccine would make people sterile. 

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?) and they were making a vaccine for a disease that they also said is a hoax and the vaccine was a guise for the government to control us and the vaccine wouldn't work and the vaccine would make people sterile and the vaccine makes people magnetic.

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?) and they were making a vaccine for a disease that they also said is a hoax and the vaccine was a guise for the government to control us and the vaccine wouldn't work and the vaccine would make people sterile and the vaccine makes people magnetic and the vaccines cause autism (still wrong). 

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?) and they were making a vaccine for a disease that they also said is a hoax and the vaccine was a guise for the government to control us and the vaccine wouldn't work and the vaccine would make people sterile and the vaccine makes people magnetic and the vaccines cause autism (still wrong) and vaccinated people shed virus or vaccine (which one?). 

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?) and they were making a vaccine for a disease that they also said is a hoax and the vaccine was a guise for the government to control us and the vaccine wouldn't work and the vaccine would make people sterile and the vaccine makes people magnetic and the vaccines cause autism (still wrong) and vaccinated people shed virus or vaccine (which one?) and the vaccine alters DNA. 

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?) and they were making a vaccine for a disease that they also said is a hoax and the vaccine was a guise for the government to control us and the vaccine wouldn't work and the vaccine would make people sterile and the vaccine makes people magnetic and the vaccines cause autism (still wrong) and vaccinated people shed virus or vaccine (which one?) and the vaccine alters DNA and the vaccine would implant computer chips in us. 

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?) and they were making a vaccine for a disease that they also said is a hoax and the vaccine was a guise for the government to control us and the vaccine wouldn't work and the vaccine would make people sterile and the vaccine makes people magnetic and the vaccines cause autism (still wrong) and vaccinated people shed virus or vaccine (which one?) and the vaccine alters DNA and the vaccine would implant computer chips in us and the vaccine didn't keep people from getting sick when Delta came along. 

They said COVID is a hoax and it would go away after the 2020 elections and it is just like the flu (but the flu doesn't sicken people all year long) and masks don't work and masks violate our God-given rights (to our faces?) and they were making a vaccine for a disease that they also said is a hoax and the vaccine was a guise for the government to control us and the vaccine wouldn't work and the vaccine would make people sterile and the vaccine makes people magnetic and the vaccines cause autism (still wrong) and vaccinated people shed virus or vaccine (which one?) and the vaccine alters DNA and the vaccine would implant computer chips in us and the vaccine didn't keep people from getting sick when Delta came along and the vaccine was really a placebo. 

They said all this stuff, adding more weirdness and implausibility. 

Layering strange upon nonsensical until I had to ask "Are they crazy?

And then I said "This is why you're crazy."

I said it to them, and I said it to myself when I thought about them.

How the pandemic has changed me

Prior to September 11, 2001, D and I didn't want children. 

We had said when we married that we wouldn't even think about kids until we'd been married five years. When September 11 happened we'd been married almost four. 

The events of that day made us reconsider a lot of things, including what we hadn't done and what we wanted to have done prior to dying (if we had a choice). And we decided that maybe having a child was something we wanted. 

A big historic event that didn't directly impact me in any way changed the course of my life in a big way. 

The COVID-19 pandemic appears in some ways to have changed things for me as well. 

I think most of this is internal. My mindset has changed.

Some things were already changing. The brainwashing of people I know as a result of the presidency of Donald Trump had opened my eyes to the ways in which others aren't really what I thought they were. Or maybe they were always really what I thought they were but I just couldn't tolerate their behavior anymore. 

I am not a worshipper. My motto is that everyone, and I mean everyone, has had poop stains in their underpants. This is the great equalizer and the reason I don't get intimidated or overwhelmed by people who have money or fame or great talent. Even Jeff Bezos has had poop stains in his underwear, and some of those might have been added this week when his penis rocket went sky-high.

For a long time, I have not been a people-y person, but the pandemic made me really reflect on my view of friendship and acquaintances and who I want and need in my life. 

There was a contraction, and there continues to be a contraction. 

I have even reconsidered who I need to speak to.

Of course, I have no desire to be uncivil, but I don't need to pretend to like or care about fitting in. I don't need to be social media connected to everyone I've ever known. My unfriend game on the social media tabs continues. And this doesn't mean I hate people nor does it mean I wish them ill; I just don't care. I don't need their view or opinion or anything from them. 

I doubt they even like me. Perhaps by unfriending them I will remove me as an annoyance for them (and they were too kind or lazy to do it)?

A couple days ago I finished a book called Subtract by Leidy Klotz, and it was about how we don't often see the benefit of subtracting things from our lives. We seem to have an evolutionary need to add and build, but subtracting can be just as if not more beneficial. 

The pandemic has really made me think even more about subtracting from my life, distilling its essence down to what is essential and really meaningful for me. To borrow a phrase from Marie Kondo: "What does spark joy?" 

And right now, haphazard, random, not based in anything meaningful connections does not spark joy. 

My thoughts on donuts (so much extra)

I am a minimalist at heart and could become fairly ascetic if my family would allow it. (They like stuff more than I do and have a harder time getting rid of stuff than I do; just ask D about his CD collection in the basement closet.) I just don't require a whole lot of stuff nor do I like a whole lot of stuff. Rather than bringing me joy (however temporary), it brings me discomfort and this has intensified the older I've gotten.

I owned a Fitbit for a short time (bought secondhand) and decided I hated it. 

I have never owned an Apple watch nor will I ever. 

We don't have an Alexa nor will we ever.

We don't have a Ring doorbell.

I wouldn't replace the outside lights to get automatic sensor ones so D managed to find a switch that will make the lights come on at dusk and go off at dawn (and not as wasteful as replacing lights that are old but still totally working). 

I have and still wear a pair of sandals that I bought right before we went to Disney....in 2011. I own and wear one pair of tennis shoes, 2 pair of sandals, and one pair of flip flops. My winter boots are the same winter boots I have worn since before D and I married.

I am not in any way an "extra" person, but it hit home recently when I realized that I DESPISE what has happened to donuts which makes me sound like a very grumpy old person but I do not care.

Donuts are so freaking MUCH anymore. I can't even tolerate to take a bite because there is so much frou-frou now. Candy and cookies and doodads sprinkled on top to kingdom come.

Photo by Kobby Mendez on Unsplash

Of course, this is in no way surprising. I realized during the cupcake explosion of several years back that even though 7 inches of icing and whatnots on top of a cupcake look amazing, they taste like an overwhelming blob of diabetic coma. 

The same thing has happened to cookies, too.

And cars.

When we bought our new-to-us minivan almost two years ago, I was like...

I don't want leather seats. 

I don't need the trunk door to lift automatically.

I don't need to be able to start the car remotely. 

I don't need GPS.

I don't need heated seats (which always make me feel like I've peed myself whenever they come on without me knowing it when I'm in someone else's car). 

I don't need/want a sunroof/moonroof.

I don't need a television in the car for people to watch. 

I don't need all the buttons and widgets that I might also find on the freaking Space Station. 

I'm not saying that all this stuff isn't cool. Sometimes I find it very cool. It is all definitely visually stunning, as are the donuts with all the shit on top of them. 

But the substance is remarkably cloying. 

My reality is not THE reality

Since my OCD diagnosis some 15 years ago, I have spent a lot of time trying to clean up the mess of my mind, trying to determine what is real and true, like some kind of objective reality, and what is my brain's perception of what is real and true.

I spent the better part of 30 years thinking that catastrophizing was normal and logical and made perfect sense. If someone didn't answer the phone and my brain told me they had DIED or were in the process of dying, I accepted this without question. If I thought it, it had to be right. 

It is a hard pill to swallow when you realize you've never actually been the captain of your ship but only played one on tv. 

The more I think, the more I come to the conclusion that there is no definitive real and true. I am limited by my brain and my sensory perceptions. I'm listening to an audiobook now that talks in part about how our memories can't even be trusted. What we remember may only be a tiny sliver of what actually happened. 

Somewhere along the line, my brain told me that adults knew what they were doing, and I accepted this belief as reality. 

Pretty soon after becoming a mom, I think I realized that adults are winging it. We don't know what we're doing but we're just better at pretending or not caring or simply being used to the status quo than teens or young adults. 

Because I'm diligent about replying to emails and getting things submitted on time or not showing up late for work, I have assumed that the reality is that other people do this. As time marches on, it is evident that I have been wrong. 

When people have lauded me with praise about things, I don't know if what I did was actually good work or if it is because I show up and have a pulse (which is beyond the scope of some others). 

Sure, there are some folks who have this same "be dependable, follow-up with people" approach as me, but the world is big...bigger than I can usually wrap my head around most days. 

It is a borderline miracle that any business or organization functions with anything resembling efficiency at all, ever. That anything gets accomplished is a win. 

Over the years, I've definitely chilled out and not expected as much from myself or others. Recognizing that my reality isn't everyone's is both disorienting and freeing. The longer I live and the more I think (which is a lot since we're still lying low due to M's lack of a vaccine), the more I recognize that I will continue to go through these periods where I reconsider things that my brain told me, things that I believed for a long time. 

Post pandemic (even though it's not over) ennui

Ennui is often thought of as boredom, but I define it more broadly. 

In some ways, I have been in a state of ennui my entire life---a listlessness brought on by near-constant existential crisis. Having children and being busy and medication have lessened it, but that feeling doesn't ever fully go away. 

For the past several weeks, that feeling has worsened, and I have been trying to figure out what is going on. 

It is pandemic-related and OCD-related, but the specifics are a bit fuzzy.

There are several subtypes of OCD, and there can definitely be overlap between them. For me, contamination OCD is primary (with forbidden thoughts/ruminations secondary). This means I was totally prepared to live through a pandemic and completely unprepared to re-acclimate myself to life post-vaccination. 

My sweet spot in life was wearing a mask, not socializing, keeping my distance, and having hand sanitizer EVERYWHERE. 

Now, as I write this, everyone is acting like the pandemic is over and done with, but I have my suspicions as to what will happen. There remain a whole lot of unknowns. What will the fall and winter look like, for example?

For me, the biggest is when my youngest child will be able to get his vaccine. While I trust the vaccine to work as well as the flu shots I take each fall (or better), I also recognize that no vaccine provides 100 percent coverage. And if one of us in our house gets sick, will M get a rougher case because he is, due to his age, unable to get a vaccine? 

That worries me (even though my rational brain can totally understand that the risk to M of being harmed in a car accident driving to the vaccine is higher than his risk of getting COVID and dying from it.)

But clearly, rational thought hasn't ever been my strong suit. The blog is mood-disordered mama; not totally rational mama who keeps her wits about her. 

Then there was the announcement by the school district that kids in schools will no longer have to wear masks which seems to me to violate the "unvaccinated people need to wear masks" policy, especially at the elementary level. I would be hesitant to immerse myself in a vat of liquified bacteria or virus without a wetsuit, and that image in my mind is what I picture walking into an elementary school will feel like in the fall. 

Of course, subbing in an elementary school has always been like immersing oneself in a vat of disease, mucus, and slobber.

And then there's the general people factor. 

I didn't love people before the pandemic, but being away from people has made me even less eager to be around them, especially in large numbers. 

I recently read a book that mentioned Dunbar's number, which I had never heard of. It is a theory that the most social relationships an individual can have with anything like stability, based on evolution and our tribal history, is around 150. Research seems to suggest it isn't completely accurate, and I would say that is true. 

My Dunbar's number is around 5; possibly 10 if I'm in the right mood. 

So I'm meh about people, and I'm meh about everything else. 

I'm not bored but I am completely unmotivated. 

There are things I think I'd like to do but I haven't the desire to do them.

My impression, which could be wrong, is that other people are boldly going back into "real life." And that may be ok for them as so many lamented the pause of pandemic year 2020. 

But I liked the pause for the most part. Not every second of it, of course. But on the whole, I liked the simplification of everything. 

I liked, for once, having an actual excuse (THERE IS A FUCKING PANDEMIC) for social activity besides "I don't want to" or "I don't like people" or "I don't have the mental energy to keep up with surface-level conversations."

The pandemic made it easy and acceptable for me to keep my distance...both physically and emotionally. The pause meant I didn't have to deal with involvement in school and planning with acquaintances and putting on the mask of caring about things I truly care nothing about (player packs, for example). 

I enjoyed the disengage. 

So now that things are ripping back into "normal," I'm forced to re-engage myself. And I'm having a hard time. 

A successful trip to the Gorge (unlike the one when I was a kid)

Lots of people have visited Red River Gorge (RRG). 

My parents attempted to take me, my brother, my cousin, my grandma, and my aunt many years ago when my brother and I were kids. 

We never made it.

Well, I guess technically we did make it because we drove around in the rain and fog on winding roads in the area that is called the Red River Gorge Geological Area.  

But we never saw an arch, a trail, a cave, a waterfall, or a big giant hole in the ground because my brother puked in the car (from said winding roads), and we all practically sat on my grandma's lap to avoid the puddle of stomach bile on the floor. 

That trip sucked, but boy-howdy was it memorable. 

When I started planning for a summer trip this year, I knew I didn't have the mental bandwidth to plan an out-of-state trip. Our governor has been very cautious about COVID, and some other governors acted like there hasn't been a pandemic going on for over a year, so I just didn't feel comfortable heading into some of the more bat-shit states. Plus, with my dad's health issues over the last 10 months, I didn't know what would be going on with him. I didn't want to be 10 hours away from home. 

Plus, we had a good time last year checking out several places in Kentucky that had been on my to-be-visited list: Cumberland Falls and Land Between the Lakes. 

I tend to not like to revisit the same places repeatedly, and RRG was someplace the kids had never been. I think maybe D and I had gone there while dating but that is seriously ancient history. And my childhood trip was a non-event. 

So we rented a house and took my parents, my MIL, my niece, and our crew and drove down. 

I think every family has a story or tradition of something they do or something one member does that everyone pokes fun of.

In my family of origin, it is my dad's notorious frugality. Now, I'm all about frugality, but I learned from my dad that paying for a halfway decent hotel or rental home is a very good idea. I'm not at all a big spender, but when you pay cheap, you often get cheap. 

In 1998, when D and I went to Las Vegas with my parents after we married, we stayed at what looked like a bordello. We could see the Bellagio, which was brand new, out our window. We looked longingly at the bells and whistles and newness of that hotel. 

In 1999, my brother, future SIL, our parents, and D and I went to Virginia Beach. My parents got the hotel. The pool didn't work at all and the hotel rooms smelled like someone sat in them each day smoking 3 packs of cigarettes. My parents STILL have not lived that hotel down. 

After that, my SIL and I have never allowed my parents to select the hotel or rental. 

In the family D and I have created, their story about us is that we pick the most remote, out of the way places to stay. Nearly every human who visits the Rocky Mountains stays in Estes Park. This was enough reason for me to rent a home clear on the other side of the Rockies. That side was just perfect for people like us who hate crowds and traffic. 

When we arrived at our RRG cabin, N (who drove with my MIL) commented on how we had to turn around 3 times because the roads didn't have roads signs so we weren't sure where we were going. She said, "This is so typical of them, picking the most isolated spot in the world." 

The weather was rainy quite a bit while we were there, but we still managed to find some dry(ish) times for quick hikes. Our hiking motto with G (who hates to hike) is also a perfect hiking motto when a 78-year-old who has had 4 surgeries in the last year is going too: easy and not long. 

I knew my dad was a tough old bird before this trip. He's had his colon removed, open-heart surgery, and the many surgeries with his cancer diagnosis from the last year. But I guess this RRG trip really brought it home to me when he hiked up the original Natural Bridge trail. It took him awhile and he had to stop to rest many times, but he made it up and back. He is not invincible, but he is the epitome of "As long as I can try, that's what I'm going to do." 

Four days away is about all we can handle with the kids being eager to return to our house and their friends and their devices. And truly, four days is all I can handle of coercing and listening them ask when they can return home. 

But those four days were pretty darn good.

Sky lift going up to Natural Bridge

Getting ready to walk through Fat Man's Misery. 

             

Angel Windows at RRG

Natural Bridge in background

Big honking native umbrella magnolias

The whole gang at Miguel's Pizza