Brave, Anyway

Tag: momlife

  • Six Months into Quarantine

    Six Months into Quarantine

    On the last day of real life, six months ago today, I ate pizza at a restaurant with some of my favorite people. I miss them. Critical commentary and witty banter in person feels like family. Critical commentary and witty banter via Zoom feels like maybe we’re mean.

    For days I will eat a bagel, some pickles and cheese for lunch, and maybe a bowl of cereal and a mini Hershey bar before bed. Then one day I will consume ten thousand calories within a few hours – chicken biscuit, a box of Gobstoppers, pizza, fries, banana cream pie from the Cheesecake Factory. I will get a tummy ache and promise myself and God I will never ever eat that way again if I can just go to sleep and feel better. But about 10 days later I will in fact do it again. I cannot seem to stop this cycle.

    This household consumes ketchup at the rate of 38 ounces every 6 days. It is more precious than milk, bread, OJ, and maybe even toilet paper.

    John Cusack should not play a serious serial killer. Just stop it, Netflix. He’s supposed to be holding up boom boxes and kissing girls that are like us. Grosse Point Blank is an exception because the government made him do it AND because he kissed a girl that could have been us.

    I let my teenager go on a double date to the roller rink. All kids were driven there by parents. All kids were in a public place at all times. All kids were wearing masks at all times. COVID dating simplifies some things for parents.

    I have a thousand and one complaints about virtual school. I’m not sharing a single one. Teachers are busting their butts and stuck in the same crappy situation as all the rest of us – but they also have to try and teach with few resources and sketchy leadership. I desperately want my girls to go back to school and learn face to face, and at the same time I am terrified of the risk involved.

    I am not going to be one of the first half a million people to get the vaccine. That’s a Stephen King novel just waiting to be written.

    Occasionally I’ll get a little brave and venture out, but then I end up spending the next 14 days holding my breath a little. Vacation was great, getting my hair cut and colored was great, getting a pedicure was great…but I’m not sure it’s worth the late night thoughts that bombard my brain or the slight tension that rests in my shoulders the couple of weeks following.

    Every time I start to worry about sickness and events outside of my control, I try to remind myself that evidence of miracles walks around my house daily. I snapped this picture of Audrey a couple weeks ago and I keep coming back to it. She’s got a little Wonder Woman stare combined with maybe a Drew Barrymore Firestarter moment. Her expression is so focused. And fierce.

    September is Childhood Cancer Awareness month.

    My favorite quarantine purchase is an In Our Prayers display. It’s a visual reminder and a method to communicate who and what is on our hearts. Right now every single one is related to family: blood family, church family, work family.

    I am watching too much news. This has resulted in my firm belief that there is no revelation or story or coverage that is going to sway votes for or against Trump at this point. Supporters of his will not believe them. He said it himself years ago and it’s an absolute truth – he could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue and still get votes. The case involving the President and E. Jean Carroll and the Justice Department is the news story that has me the most frustrated right now: DOJ to represent Trump. The president denies knowing his accuser and is being asked to provide a DNA sample as part of the case, which is pretty standard. His DNA, that could prove he’s telling the truth and she’s lying, is the thing he’s trying desperately not to provide. Why aren’t more people asking why is that?

    The longer I’m out in the world less and at home more, the less faith I have in humanity. Especially if I spend any time on Facebook or Twitter. I need to get out to see the good in people. Online, it’s too easy to judge solely based on what they copy and paste and share. And yet, I guess that is who they are. It’s all so confusing.

    Regardless of what some people might say in rally speeches or tweets, I’m voting Democrat but I am not trying to lock anyone in their homes, fire all police officers, overturn the second amendment, fighting to keep churches closed, or thinking we shouldn’t be allowed to say God in America. I’m just a girl, standing in front of the TV watching a boy, who’s not doing a very good job at his job.

    I have peaceably protested. I have never been a participant in looting or destruction (unless you count that time we spray painted the train overpass in college). I think the destruction of property is wrong, it works against trying to get people to see your “side,” and it distracts many from the core issue. And yet at the same time I get why some people are doing it. Sometimes frustration builds and builds and builds over months or years or a lifetime and then it bursts out. Maybe if we didn’t view equality and fair treatment of all people as an issue that has sides, we wouldn’t be dealing with these explosions.

    I don’t know if this is real or photoshopped, but it doesn’t matter. It sums up how I feel about several situations in the world right now.

    This world lost a pretty great human a week ago. Her name was Alicia. We went to Emory & Henry at the same time and we graduated together. She was fierce and passionate, she had a huge heart and an old soul, and she spoke truth verbally and in writing. She stood up for people regardless of what others would think of her. About a year ago, we were both having “a day” on the same day and I picked up my phone and dialed her number instead of sending a message. I hadn’t heard her actual voice since 1995 but it seemed like no time had passed since the last time. We laughed about old times and current times, we man-hated, and we traded Momma stories. The time talking was the hug I needed, and I hope she felt the same way. I am so thankful I made that call, and I have a feeling she’s looking out for us from that great cloud of witnesses while slyly making mischief and casting some spells by request.

  • Blessings in Formica

    Blessings in Formica

    Back in 1946, when my Mom thinks my great Aunt Jean and Uncle Dale got this formica table, I’m certain they never imagined that almost 75 years later their great great niece Audrey (Little Bit) would have this thing called a laptop sitting on it, and would be using it as a desk for virtual school during a pandemic.

    Blessed are those who came before us, who are now in our great cloud of witnesses cheering us on, who prayed and established roots and set examples, and who even bought or built or made things so that their families – and their children and their children and their children – might rely on the strength of what they established.

    And I saw for the first time how, despite the isolation of our own lives, we are always connected to our ancestors; our bodies hold the memories of those who came before us, whether it is the features we inherit or a disposition that is etched into our soul. Alyson Richman

    For the over 50 years that it sat in my great aunt and uncle’s kitchen, this table heard countless prayers and graces.
  • Solidarity

    Solidarity

    I support strong women.

    I do not have to agree with everything a strong woman believes in to support her.

    I do not have to agree with everything a strong woman believes in to know she can do her job.

    I do not have to agree with everything a strong woman believes in to vote for her.

    This is not just a statement about Kamala Harris or Elizabeth Warren. This is about all women. My family, my friends, my colleagues, my neighbors, my fellow church-goers.

    I do not have to agree with everything a strong woman believes in to love her.

    I have great affection for and deep love for many strong women with whom I disagree on very big topics – abortion, guns, health care. And yet I think those women are fantastic mothers and grandmothers and aunts and cousins and lawyers and doctors and students and educators and artists and caregivers and professionals. They are fantastic women. They are fantastic humans.

    Some vote red, some vote blue. Some don’t vote at all. Some have children and some don’t. Some have faith and some don’t. Some have had an abortion. Some have been the victim of violence. Some have battled disease. Some cannot be alone and some prefer to be alone. Some like men, some like women, and some like both. Some are wealthy and some are poor and some are in the middle. Some are seemingly always lucky and some are seemingly always struggling. Some have great regrets about choices they’ve made in their lives and some live with more acceptance and love for themselves.

    I can disagree in very key areas with a woman or have very different life experiences from her, and still recognize that she is a good person and stand in solidarity with her.

    I expect more of women than I do of men. That has been a truth in my life since I can remember. I don’t know that I even understand all of the reasons why. But I know it’s not just me. As a nation, we are “harder on” women than we are on men.

    We are especially “harder on” female candidates than we are on male candidates. And that’s because, at least in part I think, of our expectation that women must do what women are supposed to do in addition to the stuff of the job/office they want to earn. We expect men who run for office to do their job if they get it. We expect women to do the job if they get it, on top of all the womanly stuff we feel they must keep doing in order to really be a woman.

    But it has got to stop. Strong women need to support strong women, especially in this time when women are being called nasty simply for having the audacity to have an opinion. Especially in this time when people are questioning one another’s faith because of how we vote. Especially in this time when our nation is led by a man who has mistreated women, and that man is supported by millions.

    I choose to support strong women, focusing on the ways in which we agree instead the ways in which we don’t. Because one thing I have found to be true of all strong women, regardless of their background or beliefs: they get stuff done.

    P.S. I also choose to support strong women who have a little sass. I have no idea if AOC is good at her job or represents her district well – I don’t live there. But I do know she knows how to stand up to a bully like a boss.

  • Perfection Redefined

    Perfection Redefined

    With the exception of Mary, I don’t think I’ve even once thought about the women in Jesus’ family tree. What a horrible thing to be true about a Christian and a feminist.

    But a few weeks ago I came across an artist named Tricia Robinson, and was really moved by her work and especially her words about The Four.

    Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba have something in common. They are grandmothers in Jesus’ family tree. Some were prostitutes, involved in affairs, some lied and were truly not the starry-eyed perfect princess. But God chose them…these four broken women. And that’s why I gave them crowns. A symbol of grace and love from our Creator and Redeemer.

    The Four, by Tricia Robinson

    I knew the stories of these women, but it never occurred to me that they were part of the lineage of Jesus. And it struck me that I have harbored a secret belief that all the people in His family were and are people who meet a high standard of perfection.

    I know that I can lean toward perfectionism and I thought I had identified all the thought patterns that needed redirection, until my reaction when I saw this artist’s work and her words. The bad and the ugly is that I still expect perfection of myself, and that’s not an attainable goal.

    I am very disciplined about setting realistic goals at work, but I am not-so-disciplined in my personal life. Particularly as it relates to setting realistic expectations of myself in my most important job: mom. I guess maybe a lot of moms fret about whether or not everything they say and do is enough, but I really feel that weight more in the last few years because my girls need and deserve a parent who is focused above all on them and who sets a good example.

    I may not be out sleeping around, but I certainly drop F bombs and can get my judge-y on. Translate: I’m far from anyone’s definition of perfection, including and especially my own.

    I also love the words of Ann Voskamp, which Tricia Robinson shared in her packaging with the print:

    Four broken women – women who felt like outsiders, like has-beens, like never-beens…women who didn’t fit in…And Jesus claims exactly these who are wandering and wondering and wounded and worn out as His.

    I feel like an outsider regularly. Depending on where I am, I may be the Christian who’s not a Republican, the Mom who asks uncomfortable questions of other kids’ parents, the one who won’t come to something if I can’t bring my girls with me, or the opinionated divorced lady who makes people uncomfortable because I am not afraid to stand up for myself or to encourage women to stand up for themselves. I’m a girl who doesn’t care about hair and make-up. I’m not a “single-pringle” looking for fun, but a woman committed to peace. And I’m not good at keeping up with friends and I don’t go on girl trips because in my non-working hours I hang out with my girls, cook with my father-in-law, or yell at the news and my Twitter feed.

    I am also wandering and wondering and worn out regularly. There’s a never-ending list of things I feel like I haven’t done (and that I actually haven’t done!). There’s a never-ending list of things I need to do with and for the girls, and that I need to teach them about and to talk to them about. There’s a never-ending list of things I’ve missed and of things that I never even thought about needing to cover until a situation arises and I think How did I not think about and plan for this conversation??? Which brings me back to: I’m far from anyone’s definition of perfection, including and especially my own.

    Maybe I should redefine “perfection” as simply doing the best I can. Because grace. But can I do that? Maybe it’s brave to accept a radical notion like my best is enough. Because grace. But is that crazy?

    As I was pondering it all tonight, Audrey fell off her bike and skinned her knees. I ran to grab the bin of materials to get her all cleaned up, and when I opened the gallon Ziploc bag of Band-Aids – which are the leftovers from dozens of boxes and themes we’ve had over the years – the one she pulled out said Brave.

    The family of Jesus is filled with imperfect people and followers. I’m one of them.

  • Back To School?

    Back To School?

    There’s no way we can go back to school and keep children and educators safe. I’ve resigned myself to this, and at the same time it makes me really frustrated and really angry.

    There are tourists and locals filling restaurants here every night. Bars are open. The local water park is hosting kids and their families each day. Music lessons and gymnastics practices and dance classes have resumed for kids. How is it that so many unnecessary elements of life are functional and school is a giant omnishambles?

    I’m thankful that businesses have been able to re-open and that people have been able to get back to work. I’m thankful that people can start to pay their rent and their bills. But I can’t shake this feeling that while it’s great that my daughters and I could get our hair done and have acrylic nails put on, that’s not what we – meaning our government and leaders – should have chosen as the stuff to focus on.

    It’s clear to me that we’ve put lots of thought and energy and resources into many wrong things since mid-March. We have kids back on balance beams and to practices for whatever sports they play, but what the hell were we doing focusing even one ounce of energy on those things before we figured out how to safely educate our nation’s children?

    In the last four months that we’ve known about this coming problem, it just seems like we’ve done a whole lot of nothing. And now we have proposed the couple paths of least resistance, giving parents (but not really teachers) a “choice,” and we are calling that our best.

    1. Students can attend school in person, full or part-time, with safety protocols.

    or

    2. Students can opt for 100% online, with parents committing to this plan for the first half of the year.

    Source for local options in Chesapeake, Virginia.

    In some districts, school is 100% virtual for the first quarter with the goal of 50/50 later in the year – meaning 2 days a week for some, 2 days a week for others, and 1 day a week teacher work day. In some districts, no decisions have officially been made yet – although I think they have been made and elected cowards are delaying the inevitable backlash as long as possible.

    Distance learning, as we’ve had it, was not learning. Learning is the acquiring of new knowledge. At best our distance program was maintenance. Maintenance with really crappy technology that was not designed for the volume it’s been seeing. Maintenance because maybe it kept some children at the level they were on when they walked out of schools on March 13. Maintenance that really only benefitted those children living in the best of circumstances, with technology at home and parents or siblings or caregivers to help.

    I realize that the plan for “learning” is supposed to be different for the fall session than it was back in the spring, but I just don’t see how it can possibly be that effective – especially for children who aren’t privileged in some way. In the spring, Audrey’s elementary school teacher was absolutely fantastic. She sent regular updates, she gave clear directions for where to find everything, and she even scheduled one-on-ones with her students and showered them with love and attention and encouragement. From my vantage point, she did everything she could and more with the limited resources and guidelines she had. And yet on the weekly zoom calls she hosted, many – like roughly ⅓ – of the children didn’t attend and some of the children from Audrey’s class literally never attended. I wonder how those children are faring? I wonder if anyone making decisions about school wonders about how those children are faring and really considers them in these decisions?

    At the high school level, I experienced three categories of engagement from teachers. Some sent no status until the end of the year. Some sent a progress report every 2-3 weeks. One teacher sent a consistent weekly report or check-in. That regular check-in was from Ella’s PE teacher, and while I was thankful for the update that’s not the class I was wondering about. But the bottom line is that each of those levels of engagement for my high school student was fine because she’s an honor student. She got her work done, which I was able to check online at any time, and she will likely always do so with little-to-no prodding by me. Learning is not hard for her and she lives in a home with high-speed internet and with a parent who can work from home. She has the ability to ask questions of dozens of smart friends and adults any time. (Although I could not help with trigonometry if my life depended on it.) She is privileged.

    Distance learning is not ideal for large portions of our population now matter how you cut it – for children who struggle with learning, for children who don’t struggle with learning, for children who have fewer resources, for children who have IEPs or 504s. Distance learning is not ideal for many children who are privileged and downright not possible for many children who aren’t. And yet if distance learning is truly the only safe option, why have we put so little effort into making it feasible for as many children as possible?

    I understand that to some extent our leaders are reacting to a situation that is constantly changing, but how did we not have even a basic disaster plan for education in a time of war or crisis that we could have built upon for something like this health crisis? How did companies around the world send millions of people to work at home and we can’t figure out something better than the constantly-crashing Schoology? How come other countries have figured this out and we haven’t? (I do know that in part the answer to that last question is that citizens of those other countries acted like adults, put on their big-people panties, and wore the damn masks to prevent the kind of health crisis we’re facing in the U.S.)

    It seems like we just put all the wrong people on this task force. This is not the fault of teachers. This is the fault of leaders. And this is the fault of voters. We’ve made some very poor leadership choices, and now our children are going to suffer the consequences of that. That weighs on me. I pay a lot of attention to national elections and state elections, but not as much to local school board stuff. That is a bad, bad, bad habit.

    I don’t have any answers. Just frustrations. And regrets. And foreboding. And sadness. And a growing worry that at some point we’re even going to expect our teachers to pay for their own PPE.