Tag: military family

Lemon Tree

Tapping this out on my phone, from a bathtub in a house we are renting, I’m kind of excited. We’ve owned and rented various homes over the years, as well as lived in base housing during Eric’s career in the Navy. We’ve been house hunting for about 6 months for a long term place of our own for the first time in our marriage.

The cart is way ahead of the horse. I’m writing this post before any contracts are signed, before anything is even remotely official. We looked at a house – what I am hoping is THE house. It’s not fancy, it’s not brand new, and definitely needs some work and sweat. I can see past the surface of this one to envision our family within its walls. I’m speaking it into the universe! Manifesting! All the powers of woo woo!

When I walked in with our realtor, I realized before we even went inside, that it ticks many of our checkboxes. We are working within a budget that in other areas would buy a lot more, but this market is SoCal and it is its own animal. The floor plan is great, it’s a two story, in the neighborhood we want, (location, location, location as they say) and is within the school boundaries the kids currently attend. After transferring every 2-3 years, one thing we really wanted was for them to complete high school without any more moves, if possible. I realize this is all first world problems and decisions. The fact that we can buy a home is a privilege. Even more so that we can be selective.

We tour the home, spotting areas that need work, windows that will need replacing, verifying the HVAC and hot water heater age…all the things you examine as you look at property. I snapped a few pictures to send to Eric as he couldn’t make this particular viewing. “This may have some possibilities…” I texted into the phone ahead of the slog of photos being sent his way.

I always try to temper my reactions to properties as we’ve been viewing them. I kind of know pretty quickly whether I like a space or not. You get a feeling driving around neighborhoods. Most of the time I am able to look beyond surface things like paint and decor to see floor plan and possibilities. Eric is definitely better at vision. Some have been beyond ridiculous. There was a flipped house that had a very beautiful, but highly impractical, kitchen. In “adding square footage”, access to the garage was walled off. With washer and dryer hookups in the garage, this meant that to do laundry, one would have to go out their back yard, around the house, into another side door of the garage simply to wash clothes. It was an overpriced property that as soon as we made the connection of how impractical the layout was, we quickly made our way on to the next.

One house we viewed had a small pool (not something I really wanted, but the location was) but smelled like 4 large wet dogs and decay were embedded into the walls. Likely a home built 50+ years ago and not properly maintained, or cleaned.

Additions to another home done improperly resulting in tripping hazards in the form of 2-4 inch differences in each doorway from room to room were a fun find. (Insert eye roll here). There was the neon orange house. Think Pepto bismol pink, but then make that violent color orange. Through the entire house. The “fixer upper” that was trashed inside and broken windows that we didn’t even get out of the car for…the house with not one, but two giant (seriously, huge) spiders greeting us over the front door, ughhh…so many listings.

As we made our way outside and to the back yard, the side path led around back to a lovely space with room for the things the kids and I have been dreaming about – a trampoline, a tetherball, maybe even a hot tub! I snapped a few more photos on my phone looking at the space, realizing it’s probably the largest backyard I’ve seen yet in the 6 months we’ve been looking. Fully fenced, I realized there are no neighbors directly behind this property, smiling as I reminisce about the “fun” neighbors in south Texas that loved having outdoor parties until 3am, music blaring. There wouldn’t be any of that here. There are side neighbors, but the houses are not packed right on top of one another as we’ve seen in other places. “Definitely a strong possibility…” I thought again to myself.

Who am I kidding?

I’ve mentally already packed my bags. I’m cataloguing belongings into Donate/Keep/Sell. I’m seeing the kids laughing while jumping on a trampoline. I’m smiling and trash talking them while viciously beating them at tetherball. Grinning, I turned to the far side of the yard and sweep my eyes around the plants along the fence line. The only thing this yard needs is some TLC, and of course the lemon tree Hannah and I have been dreaming of since we lived here a few years ago. Oh! Maybe an avocado tree, and tangerines! I move to walk back around front and my eye spots yellow…

How had I missed it? There it was, back along the fence. Not quite in the corner, there it was – a medium height, but highly productive, lemon tree. All hope of maintaining any sort of poker face was lost.

“I think this house is one Eric needs to see,” I quietly tell our realtor.

There’s this thing I do when I’m attempting to avoid disappointment. I don’t want to hope too hard, for fear of whatever it is I’m hoping for doesn’t come to pass. This preemptive strategy never works. I’m trying to avoid feeling bad. In reality we’re either disappointed or not, but no amount of trying to tamp down excitement or rein in enthusiasm results in less disappointment. ‘Expect the worst, hope for the best, then be pleasantly surprised when it does work out’ seems on the surface to be the way to go, but I’m calling BS on that. Why not be optimistic? Why not?

I’m really excited. Might I be disappointed if it’s not the right house? Of course. In the end, who cares? I’m just gonna revel in the excitement of possibility for a bit. We will be going to see it again after some maintenance has been done, and it’s been professionally deep cleaned. We will likely put in an offer. My fingers are crossed. My toes are crossed. We will see.

In the meantime, I choose hope…

…and the excitement at the possibility of a lemon tree of our own.

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Adventure Awaits!

When the rep walked up to the house we were about to turn back over to the military housing company, I bristled at her container of Lysol wipes. The wipes wouldn’t have been a big deal, but paired with her attitude, I got a little defensive. I get that they have to make sure the homes are properly cleaned, but….seriously? We’ve spent the last three days cleaning behind the movers that were not only late, but short handed. (She had also done a pre-move inspection so she already knew our house was in great shape.)

Through the process, she test cleaned various spots through the kitchen, re-wiping down the inside of the dishwasher, refrigerator and every drawer in the kitchen. She checked every window, every blind, every sill. In all of our base housing experiences – we’ve never had someone this persnickety. We passed with flying colors, but I did have to have a mental chat with myself to not say something through the process. (For the record, the house was cleaner now than it was when we moved in. I resisted the urge to comment on that out loud.)

With that done and keys handed over, we drove away from our very last base house. This was the last chapter of active duty military life left to close. I exhaled as we drove away, the reality sinking in. Eric and I did a little giddy car dance/high five as we drove back to the kids to pack up.

We. are. done.

No more moving every three years (unless we want to), no more being told where to move, and no more short(er) term planning. We can stay put for as long as we want!

THIS IS EXCITING!

Deception Pass Bridge

It was a stunning day in the PNW. Definitely another one of those sunny days that fool people into moving there just in time to experience months of Fall/Winter/2nd Winter/Almost Spring. After a visit and hugs with the parentals, we hit the road to Seattle so we didn’t have to get up as early for their flight. Eric took the 2-legged minions to SoCal, and I am on the road with the 4-legged ones! I love road trips and it’s been nearly 3 years since we’ve been anywhere – mostly due to Covid. Seattle traffic was great practice for the 8 lanes of I-5 in my future! Have I mentioned that I am alone? For the first time in about 6 or maybe 7 years?! Mind blowing. I have been looking forward to this trip for weeks! I definitely crave alone time; to read, to listen to music, to write, to think, and to just be.

After getting them all set for their flight, the doggos and I headed south with the tunes playing and yes, lots of singing all the things, stops for coffee and eats (when it was finally open), and even a DOG PARK!

They are great traveling buddies!
Love Love’s Travel stations!
YAY leash free!
Hello Oregon!

About 5 minutes after arriving in Portland, I missed the turn to stay on I5, and took a scenic detour over another giant bridge in Portland that made my tummy squeemy. (I’m not so great with heights + freeway speeds. For some reason I will visualize driving off the bridge and falling to my doom. Yes, I do in fact have an overactive imagination.) I later learned Squeemy Bridge’s actual name is Fremont Bridge. I would post a pic, but I couldn’t take one for the white knuckles and aforementioned imaginings of plummeting to my death. You can google it. (And likely be unimpressed as the photos do not do the height justice. At all.)

Back on the correct freeway, we moseyed our way down to look for the Starbucks’ Oregon mug that was out of stock at every location on our move up from San Diego in 2019. It only took 3 stops to find the coveted mug – mission accomplished!

Got it!
Puppacinos for everyone!

We made it to Grant’s Pass the first day, and it was HOT. Heat advisory 100 degrees hot. It’s been a minute since we’ve been in this kind of heat. We are now comfortably tucked into our well-air conditioned hotel room for the night and ready for tomorrow’s adventures!

I can’t wait!

What a Year!

The kids have the same English teacher at our school. All year long they have a weekly contest called “Giggles”. This contest involves writing a sentence and correctly placing all commas. First one done wins for that week. At the end of the year, the student with the most wins becomes a “Comma Master” and earns a ‘fancy crown’ 👑 and the glory of having their name on a poster for future classes to aspire to/admire. I have been hearing about Giggles all year long.

To know my minions is to know their competitive nature. 🥴 To know Jake is to know that he is a hair splitting, precise, rule enforcer. When in a game/competition setting, not only is he competitive, but has struggled with good sportsmanship when he is not the winner. Mrs. Hall and I chatted often at the beginning of the year. 🤣

While it may have been a bumpy start, over the course of the year Jake has grown in his language arts abilities, as well as becoming a better team player and gracious when games did not go his way. Mrs. Hall gave all her students hand-written, personal notes encouraging them and wishing them all a great summer. Jacob’s included how proud she was of his growth in this area.

This teacher also expanded the winners circle to include 2nd place this year. 1st place is a Comma Sensei, 2nd place is a Comma Master. Hannah was the sensei of her class, Jacob was the comma master. Of course he realizes it’s a silly contest and a simple Burger King paper crown. The fact that he stayed engaged and kept trying, even after he had calculated that there were not enough weeks left in the year for him to win 1st place, is sort of a big deal. And a huge deal that Mrs. Hall recognized and rewarded that effort.

I have said it before, and I will say it again: I. Love. Teachers! Thank you! Thank you for seeing them and meeting them where they are. You are making a difference!

It’s a bittersweet year as we are moving out of state. Though the goodbyes as a military family have been frequent, they are never easy, especially for my tender hearted daughter. (Luckily this *should* be the last one!) Some of her classmates are military kids, but many are not. I was so incredibly touched when Hannah showed me a project they all worked on as a going away gift.

They all got together, printed out pictures, made a collage board for her, signing personal notes at the bottom. Be still my Mama heart!

Their class also did fun superlatives. Jacob was voted “Most Likely to be a Mad Scientist” and Hannah was “Most Likely to Star in a Movie”

Yeah. That tracks.
Hannah and her friends also exchanged little gifts ❤️

The see you laters and the goodbyes just suck. It’s hard and sad and all the feelings. One thing the goodbyes bring is a deep appreciation for authentic friendships and a boldness in expressing their affection for one another. I have been so fortunate to have had such friendships and am grateful that my kids have been loved well by their friends.

Hair on Fire

“Well, at least the washer is new so there won’t be that deployment gremlin,” I chuckled two days ago as we folded clothes together, getting him all packed up for what will be our LAST separation. Letting the kids finish up the school year, we are staying behind for a few months while he goes on ahead to start the next gig.

I woke up at 2:30am this morning from a dream that my hair was on fire. Like deep REM sleep to fully alert in what felt like 3 seconds. One minute I’m talking to Nancy Pelosi and wondering why my hair is burning (Um, hello subconscious. Why are you so weird?!), to racing around the house quietly trying to sniff out the source. “Where is it coming from?” I thought, unplugging everything electric in my house. I quickly dial Eric and think of our laundry conversation, groaning internally at the thought that I just had to say something and jinx us! Getting the emergency number for our housing office, I dial them and am also directed to call 911. At this point, they have asked us to evacuate everyone out of the house as a precautionary measure. Firetruck is on the way.

Have I mentioned that our area has been blasted with snow since Christmas?! I grabbed the keys and warmed up the car, then waking up the kids, I told them to bundle up, that we are going to sit in the car with the dogs until the firetruck arrives. I thought of the most ridiculous things, like how the kitchen is dirty, and that if this turns into an *actual* fire, I won’t have to wash those dishes I left in the sink last night. Dog poop bags, gloves and coats, dog sweaters, I get the broom to brush off the snow so I can see to at least pull my car out of the driveway. I’m still in my pajamas and winter boots and running on nothing but adrenaline.

We had heard a weird chirping noise coming from the furnace closet the day before, and had planned to call housing about it. I thought maybe it was a belt going bad, perhaps that was what the smell was? (I know just enough to be dangerous, of course.) The smell was permeating the whole house, so furnace was my best guess.

Firemen arrive and I let them know what I know, and they tell us to sit tight while they inspect the house. I texted Eric and informed him of the situation and he replied, “Take a pic for memories!” “Seriously?!” I mutter aloud, smirking as I discreetly snap said picture.

The lead fireman came out and told me my house needed a different scented candle, that the one I was using does not smell good. Ohhhhh, okay. Fireguy has jokes at 3am. I laughed, and he explained that they did locate the source of the smell to the furnace and that maintenance would take care of it. We shut off the furnace and were able to come back inside and wait. The firemen start to leave, apologizing for wet bootprints all over the floor. “Your house is so clean, I feel bad,” one of them remarked. I laughed again and told them they’ve all made my day. Not only did they compliment my cleaning skills, (ridiculous that that makes me happy to the degree that it does), but also the fact that I wasn’t in fact crazy and they could recreate the smell, and the source was accurate. And of course that it wasn’t an ACTUAL fire and there wasn’t any danger to minions or pets. Whew.

Maintenance arrives and discovers the furnace motor is not happy. At this point I’ve been up for over an hour and 4 am seems like just as good a time as any to make coffee. Mr. Maintenance takes out the motor to take back to the shop to make it happy again. He replaces the filter and gives us space heaters to use while he’s working, because someone invited Santa and his North Pole weather to stay for a week after Christmas and it’s getting frigid in my house with no furnace. Time for Santa to take his snow and go home!

I decided that if I want to hit my mileage/badge goal for the year, I better get on the bike sooner, rather than later, as we will no doubt have a nap in our future or be heading to bed early – regardless of it being New Year’s Eve. “I have 7 miles to bike today,” I explained to my mom as I had recounted all of the morning’s “excitement” over FaceTime coffee at 5am. I was starting to fade and realized I better get it done or when Mr. Maintenance showed back up, or I would have to interrupt the ride, or worse – not have the energy to do it later. On the bike I went!

It was the perfect icy cold temperature to workout in – and I got the planned miles and challenge badge I was aiming for. (Honestly, it’s the silliest things that are motivating.) Year-end goal accomplished! Just as I was finishing up the cooldown ride, Mr. Maintenance knocked, ready to turn the furnace back on with a recently re-tooled motor freshly installed in the furnace.

Crises averted, hair decidedly not on fire, and heat back on with no odor, it now feels like 872 o’clock. Happy New Year to us!

And here’s to NO MORE GREML– Wait!

Scratch that. I’m not making that mistake again!

Good Riddance 2021!! Yeah, let’s go with that.

When Dad Buys You Lemons…

“Can I go with you to the grocery store? I have a list.”

“Uhhh, okay,” I responded from the shower. “What did you need to buy?” I asked.

“Lemons, sugar, a pitcher, cups, and straws. PLEASE Mom! Please! I have always wanted to do this. It’s summer….”

She’d been asking to do a lemonade stand for quite a while. Like 5 years awhile. Maybe longer. I’ve put her off for various reasons. She was too young (read: I’d have to do all the work), we were busy or had other plans that weekend, whatever. The timing just never seemed right.

Me, thinking, “Well, I don’t see why not. We aren’t camping this weekend and there isn’t much going on. I think we can make that work.”

(Insert squeals of delight and frantic planning mode turned way up).

After getting items from her list, and 10 lemons (surely that should be plenty) we set up shop in the front yard, complete with canopy and “decor lemons” and her eye-catching poster:

She could barely sit still. Her excitement was met with a very supportive military community. Lots of friends and neighbors came by to grab a glass of Lil’ Miss’ yummy recipe. Great teachable moments sprinkled throughout the afternoon and evening, including the difference between sales and profit, costs of doing business, supplies, and record keeping. Live, hands on examples that will likely stick with her longer than just talking about abstract concepts.

Running out of lemons, I zipped to the store to grab 10 more! She went through pitcher after pitcher! (And multiple batches of simple syrup.) She decided to set up for Saturday as well. Lucky for her, Dad did a bit of shopping!

Yay for the Costco sized bags!

“Thank you thank you thank you! This is amazing!” she hollered, dancing around the kitchen. “We are going to have lemonade for dayyyyyys!” Turning serious for a moment, she said, “Seriously though, Mom, I want you to know I am super grateful. This is going to be sooooo FUN!”

I stopped in my tracks. “Who is this kid?” I thought. I remember playing and eating candy at 10 years old, not being grateful! Ha!

Saturday morning, she walked out saying she had “THE PERFECT SHIRT”! I turned around to see her in what is actually the perfect shirt for a lemonade stand.

Those with kids and bleeding ears have likely heard The Duck Song.
In case you haven’t heard it, here it is for your listening pleasure 😂 My kids still think it’s hilarious.
  • The base police made a quick stop!
  • SO MANY lemons!
  • Even her brother came to “show support” 😂

She sold lemonade all day Saturday and went through 52 lemons! 🤯 We have a pitcher leftover, but we aren’t mad about that! It’s quite tasty. My kitchen looks like a yellow bomb went off, but it smells delightfully fresh! Luckily the mosquitoes that are notoriously awful in our area weren’t too bad. To be sure, Eric sprayed the front yard with yard spray hours before her set up to allow for enough time for it to dry. We battled wasps and hornets (not to mention fears) and ended up moving her stand to the other side of the driveway to get away from what we think may be a nest in a tree.

Surviving the insects, we talked about all kinds of things, idle moments that generated top of mind musings as well as deeper conversations. The lemonade stand served as a vehicle to just be together with minimal distractions. There was a time when I never would have had the energy, or honestly the desire, to do anything like this. While I was drinking this would have been a no-go. I am so thankful for these reminders of my why. I love being present with them just to chat – about the mundane, what they are thinking about, their thoughts about different situations – all of it.

Who knew a little lemonade stand could be more than just some tasty beverages?!

Scary

I have this thing: apparently I like to scare myself. I jump into things and then figure out the how. I ran track for 3 weeks in the 8th grade and then decided I hated running. When I signed up for my first running event, it was only because my friend said it was doable and dragged me along. I knew I could walk if we needed to, and we were actually doing this “let’s get fit” thing. Running races wasn’t something I thought I could do, let alone enjoy.

At 33 and post-baby #2 (over the course of 7 months while living in Hawaii) I did things I never thought possible. I ran a mile without stopping. Seems small, but it was big for me because I never thought I could.

Until I did.

It became longer. 5ks, 10ks, and even half-marathons. (That’s 13.1 miles. On feet.) It seemed insane, but when surrounded by others setting and smashing goals, the impossible seemed possible. Like, why couldn’t I do those things, too? At a get together during this time, over wine (back when I still drank), I made the slightly tipsy decision to run a marathon. I had lost weight, was working out (HARD) 5-6 days per week, and oh, why the heck not?! Never mind the fact that only a week before the marathon date, I’d already signed up for the Kualoa ranch Xterra half trail marathon. (Trail running DOES NOT equal a regular road race. At. All. Trail running is WAY, WAY harder.) But someone at the party said ‘It’s really very doable,’ as she explained a run-walk strategy. Impossible….becomes a maybe…becomes possible.

Our time in Hawaii taught me many things, including how to set goals for myself, how to dream big – even if it scares me – and that I can be a determined person when my mind is set. With 2020 being the circus it was, and the world in the chaos that it is, family, sobriety, and the bike in my living room that goes no where have been my outlet and sanity.

I haven’t run races in a few years due to injuries that get aggravated when I run over a 5k. After becoming a certified Spin instructor, my endorphin thirst was quenched on a bike instead of in running shoes. It’s been years since I participated in any events, but I still set goals and earn badges on the bike and through my fitness watch. (Side note: it’s the most trivial things like badges I find highly motivating.) The beauty of training this way is that metrics are measured which gives tangible evidence of improvement. I love improving.

Across the social pages along came the PeloFondo event. Riders set a mileage goal of their choosing, and then have 2 days to complete the miles. Thinking it would be fun and something to challenge myself before the next actual challenge begins in a week, I set my goal of 30 miles. Seemed achievable.

But…it didn’t really scare me. I’ve done 90 minute rides both indoor cycling and outdoor. So then I figured I could leave my goal at 30, but then actually ride 50 (because Garmin badges). That way I could play it safe, have a goal, but not push myself much harder.

A friend from the Hawaii days messaged years ago to say she was doing her first century ride. I remember this conversation vividly. (This was after we had all moved on to our next duty stations, but we still cheer each other on, even from across the globe.) This conversation planted a seed.

I swallowed and upped the mileage to 100.

One of the class instructors, Christine D’Ercole, often says in her classes to get curious. Instead of the mental chatter that tells us we can’t do something, that talks us out of all the things, she has this amazing motto: I am. I can. I will. I do. We change the chatter and get curious. What if I can do this thing? What if I can set a crazy-ass goal and actually achieve it? What if it takes forever? What if?

What. If.

I knew it would take me forever. I got ready and ordered the padded bike shorts and anti-chafing cream. (Somehow I missed the padded bike seat cover but my amazing husband popped out quick to the store and picked up not one, but two. He graciously fit one on while I was mid class!)

It took me 12 classes.

There were lots of stretching breaks between the classes. 2 peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat sammies, 3 apple pie Lara bars, 2 bananas, Nuun hydration tablets, and a LOT of water got me through. Not to mention the randomness of the post-ride feast!

Not necessarily pretty, but when you’re hangry, anything edible tastes like heaven!

101.19 miles took me 6:30. Six and a half hours. (The marathon time was in this same ridiculous ballpark.) I will never win races or compete competitively, but I race me. (And…. occasionally my friend Bo. He typically creams me.)

3000 calories torched according to the watch. Four Garmin badges were earned:

(Seriously, it’s ridiculous that these little things excite me to the degree that they do.) The very last ride of the 12 completed today happened to be the 200th!

Badges, badges everywhere!

I am…..capable. I can….do hard things. I will….continue to set goals that scare me. I do…finish what I start. Thank you Christine for the words I didn’t know I needed.

It’s been a minute since I set a scary goal, let alone participated in a formal event. I missed it. I missed getting scared and pushing beyond that fear. Because really….why not? And what if?

Corny Things

With the playgrounds closed, the only thing there is to do lately is to go on walks, hikes, or bike rides. (Or bake). I love to cook and bake as much as the next person, but I can only eat so much sourdough bread. I started painting rocks. I thought it might bring a smile or giggle to kiddos out and about. Multiplied by no parks, stay at home orders, etc., it seemed like a fun way to help get out the stir crazies. Beginning in March, it was a way to fill some time, be creative and get outside a bit.

I remember seeing cute little lady bug rocks out at my favorite trail – they’ve been there for years. The minions and I gathered up some good rocks at the beach and we started painting. One kid painted one, the other kid painting a few but lost interest. I however fell in love with it and have continued on painting little random images onto rocks and hiding them around our neighborhood. Many were inspired by the internet.

Some are better than others. A few are left in our own flower beds. Most I paint and then hide in random trees or by community mailboxes.

I love a good pun, much to my kids’ disgust. I love showing them my latest and them groaning and rolling their eyes at how corny their mother is. “Oh mom!” I don’t even care. It’s funny punny.

Our community has a Facebook group page and people started posting the found rocks with their kids’ smiling faces. My daughter was irritated that I didn’t speak up and post that it was our rocks that were found. “That’s part of the fun – not knowing who is doing it!” I explained. She disagreed. Oh well.

While out walking the dogs the latest artistic creation in one particular tree in front of a house that I know has a couple of littles. I quickly made my deposit last week and I hear the door swing open and I walked quickly away. A window slid open and the mom I regularly wave to as we drive by called out to me.

“He saw you! I couldn’t stop him!” I laughed and agreed that I was in fact busted. “Are you the one that has been painting these rocks?” She asked me. I smiled and said yes, it was me, but that I’d found some in my walks that were not ours – that others had started painting and hiding, too! She said she loved them and it gave them something to look forward to on their walks.

Today as I was finishing up painting a fresh batch, the hubby walked in holding a gift bag. Curious I asked him what it was.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It was on the porch.” I opened it up and found a card and some acrylic paint pens!

I got teary as I read the card. I remember how hard deployment was with littles under normal circumstances, but with COVID19 on top of it, playgrounds unavailable, stay at home orders – Groundhog Day is likely an understatement. Painting these tiny canvases has been a fun escape but has reminded me of the importance of community. While we may be socially distancing, we still need each other. People need people.

And maybe just a little splash of art.

What COVID19 is Revealing

On the phone while walking the dogs, my mom and I chatted about, what else? The virus. We were remarking on things we’d been seeing, hearing on the news, and from friends. Between poop pickups and her calling her dog, we had one of many of our “solving the world’s problems” chats.

“I wish more people would take this seriously and stay home,” she said. We both lamented the spring breakers in Florida (not to mention Miami’s local authorities) and community members still acting as though life is just normal, continuing on with routines and activities. We considered the words of local government officials. We recounted the measures we are both taking. Those with compromised immune systems as well as people over 60 are most at risk. Both of my parents fall into this category, as well as some other complicating factors for my father.

After we said our goodbyes, I kept thinking about some of the things we’d discussed. Our respective counties have the highest number of cases in Washington outside of Seattle. It’s not as if this is some far away issue that “others” are having to deal with. It’s local. A friend of my husband just passed. No one thinks it can happen to them, until it does. But it got me to thinking about what this quarantine has brought out in us. 

All of us.

For one, greed with a capital G. One look at grocery store shelves show just how much people are hoarding. Toilet paper is not going to prevent the spread of a virus, people! There is also not a food shortage. Leave some for the next guy. 

I’ve heard it said that “people are 1 missed paycheck away from being homeless.” (Yes, people live paycheck to paycheck. Yes there are financial issues and health care costs, and childcare costs, mental health issues, job losses or other reasons that contribute to a dire situation. Those very real scenarios are not what I’m discussing here. ) What I’m talking about is the continual mindset of living for the now. This is more than just finances. Yes, people should be saving for that rainy day. That’s life – the rain is going to come. Put a little away. But it also goes for basics, like eating. There are so many people that simply do not know how to cook, it’s frightening. I have heard people complain that they are petrified about how to feed their family if the restaurants do not offer take out. WHAT?! No, I’m not saying everyone should be a chef and love cooking, but knowing how shop for, plan and prepare a meal is a literal survival skill. We have to eat.

Our current culture chases and worships busy. It’s a badge of honor to just not have any time because our calendars are filled with busy. Appointments, celebrations, work, extra curricular activities, playdates, get togethers, holidays, school functions, church,  Go, go, go until we fall into bed staring into our phones stuck to our palms, distracting us into unconsciousness. This time of social distancing and isolation is bringing up stuff that we’ve spent time and money avoiding: being with ourselves. We either busy it out or numb it up. Drinking, smoking, shopping, gambling, working to excess, spending too much time on social media or in front of screens. Busy and numb to avoid the quiet; to avoid the whatever it is that we cannot stand to sit with. 

Try it. Seriously. Try just sitting and praying, meditating or simply being quiet for 5 minutes. It’s harder than it sounds. Thoughts will distract you and you’ll have urge after urge to get up and go do something. Check the phone. Wonder what’s streaming. Look at social media. Wonder what the kids are doing. Hear a noise. Make a list. Anything. Even laundry. Something to avoid just being. We have the hardest time sitting in the uncomfortable and staying there. Taking away the obligation of busy is revealing our inability to just be.

For sure the anxiety is at a high. You can feel it in the tight lipped smiles of others as you walk by, respecting the 6 foot social distance. Our kids are picking up on our tightness. They are cooped up and anxious, as they overhear news reports. (My daughter is currently a stage 5 cling on, barely letting me leave the room. I get it.) Every time you turn the corner in the grocery and see yet another bare shelf it ratchets up the anxiety and anger another notch. Anger is being lashed out on retail employees and others who have zero control of supply. Fear and anxiety are as contagious as the virus itself (if not more so). People are still downplaying the situation citing that “it’s only the flu” or “it’ll pass, the media is making a bigger deal out of this than it should”. Downplaying escalating cases and deaths world wide scream fear. Fear seeks to minimize and downplay any danger because it is a situation over which we have very little control. Fear and anxiety are certainly real. 

Yet….through all of this, it’s revealing other things, too. 

We are being shown that sometimes less is more. I have seen more people out in their backyards playing with their kids, walking their dogs, going for runs and walks, riding bikes and just being together.

Covid19 is giving us a gift of community. Yes, at a social distance, but community nonetheless. I smiled as I walked the dogs, looking for shamrocks hung in windows of our neighbors’ homes for St. Patrick’s Day. The latest effort has been to “Chalk the Walk” and spread a little joy for others to find as families (separately) take a stroll around the neighborhood.fullsizeoutput_195e

We are wired for connection and this separation is hard for all of us. If anything, this experience is teaching us that we need one another. Perhaps more than we thought. People are offering to grab things for others at the store and leaving it on their doorstep to avoid contact. People are asking for the proverbial cup of sugar and others are delivering. We need each other, and we are showing up.

A friend of mine posted a request for songs that fit current events. Suggestions in every genre came in. I was inspired to create my own playlist as a “music as therapy” session. I laughed with friends’ suggestions (and my own, honestly) that were dark and inappropriate, but still hilarious. Humor in dark times. We need that. Like Dolly Parton says in Steel Magnolias, “Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.”

We are given this precious gift of time. The days feel long. “I need a snack” and “I’m bored” are being heard in equal measure. My kids are sleeping hard because they are getting more activity. We are making a conscious effort to ensure it. We make time for what we prioritize. Take away all the excess busy, and we have a whole bunch of time to do the things we say we’ll do “someday”.

Someday has arrived.

February Ho-hum into March Mania

Saved in drafts on February 29, 2020:

I read on a blog somewhere that February is the month that all homeschoolers want to throw in the towel. I get that big time. I still love it, speaking globally, but man the day to day is rough lately.

My students are trying to get over a cold, the news is spouting fear about Coronavirus, and crazy shoppers are lined up around the commissary to stock up on Lysol, toilet paper and antibacterial soap in the event we should have a quarantine. Not quite sure why people aren’t washing their hands like they should already be washing their hands, but well, I digress. One guy even had 5 gallons of Clorox in his cart for good measure. (Insert face-palm emoji here.)

Cut to March 19, 2020

Wow. Now they are only letting 50 people in the store at one time, and they are rationing essentials to prevent ongoing hoarding. The virus is still spreading. We’ve been told to shelter in place, stay home and late night television hosts have all done vids from their couches.

My kids are homeschooled so not much has changed for us, except our extra curricular activities. We’ve done a bit more reading and a bit more hanging out in the yard with the dogs. Thankfully, the weather has been chilly, but sunny. In the PNW, we take the sun whenever it decides to show!

Part of me feels that we can do this. We can come together for the greater good. As a society, we’ve been called to be our better selves in the past and risen to the challenges we faced. The more cynical side sees this and wonders what is wrong with people:

As a friend of mine put it, these were probably Tide pod eaters at one point.

Outside of spring break Florida (aka: the real world) it’s as though downplaying the seriousness of this virus is an attempt to mask fear. “Eh, it’s just the flu.” Or “It’s fine. When the weather warms up it will blow over.” Saying things like this help ease the fear of an uncertain/unknown.

For us, we are washing hands diligently, following recommendations to only go out for essential items like food and sheltering in place. I try not to be fearful. I can’t have the news on nonstop. I took a luxurious shower. The kids rode bikes and played together (without fighting! WIN!)

Virus aside, I feel like quarantined peeps set themselves up to start feeling like this sooner rather than later:

I don’t know what’s going to happen. Hopefully we are doing enough to flatten the curve so our healthcare systems do not get overloaded. It is scary to think about worse case scenarios, such as those being faced in Italy.

For now, we hunker down. We do what we can, where we can for those that are immune compromised. We wash our hands. We pray. We prepare meals, do some lessons with the kids, and play with the dogs. And then we wash our hands.

Seriously, go wash your hands.

That Escalated Quickly

Just a few short weeks and the world is slowly coming to a halt. It is serious and we must all do our part for the greater good. I love this post at Reluctant Xtian and what he recommends about thinking of others and not just ourselves.

While I agree and will implement those suggestions, I’m also looking forward to the break. The break from the “have to’s”. Deep spring cleaning, long dog walks, and tackling the ever growing pile of must read books on my nightstand are calling me.

Less running around, less hurrying, and less expectations. More boardgames, more snuggles, more breathing and more savoring of the time with my crazies.

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We will continue on with our homeschool curriculum. Books will be read. We will have lots of breaks to sit in the backyard and play fetch and feel the grass under our bare feet. Sweet daughter has been mowing lawns and poop scooping for neighbors. Cookies will be baked, hands will be washed, popcorn popped, movies watched and new recipes tried.

As an introvert, I relish this time. No, I’m not glad we have a rampant virus. Businesses large and small will be affected. People are sick and dying. It’s. awful.

Yet…

Since we are quarantined, schools cancelled for the time being, and precautions are being taken – I won’t be sad for the gifts that this process is giving us. 

The gift of time.

The gift of family.

The gift of remembering our neighbors and our own humanity.

The gift of knowing that we are in this together, and that we can do hard things. 

 

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