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.