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