Revelation

Life is pretty routine at our house these days. And limited in scope. Three months into the shut down and only a month into the kids' "summer", the novelty has worn off. The kids are bored. And the last couple weeks, I have found less and less satisfaction doing the things I've always done. Even gardening and farming and chatting with friends has lost a bit of its luster. Even exercise and playing the guitar are just things to do with my time, not activities that I pursue with goals in mind.

I've had something like a sadness welling up from somewhere deep. It's been growing. When I just focus on the tasks at hand like caring for my kids' physical, emotional, and spiritual needs, keeping the kitchen and living room clean enough to live in 24-7, fostering a spirit of cooperation in my home, being the level-headed one for four kids thrown out of normalcy, keeping up (enough) with the news to get a sense for what's happening in the world, and suppressing all my other personal emotions and struggles that might interfere with my ability to do those tasks, then I'm okay. I can get through things just fine. It's like floating in one of those boats built by the Brother of Jared...the storms and waves and winds tossing me about. When the water comes gushing in the door, I close it. When the boat flips over, I just move my furniture. I've got those miraculous stones, somehow, keeping the inside lit enough to see by, but only just enough.

For example, I was working at the farm, harvesting summer squash. It had rained pretty hard the 2 previous days, so everything was muddy. In this particular field, though, I found myself slogging through 6 inches of clay mud strong enough to fight me for my ankle-high work boots. I was wearing long sleeves, light pants, a hat, a cloth mask, and latex gloves. The only skin showing was around my eyes. The sun was beating down. No wind. I'm carrying a 5-gallon bucket from prickly plant to prickly plant, bending over to the ground, cutting off squash one by one, carefully stacking them in the bucket until it's about to overflow. That's when the really fun part begins. I mark where I stop, then turn to lug that 20-pound bucket of squash back through the mud to the harvest bins. It's really, really, really hard to keep my balance. Once I haul a hundred pounds of squash this way, I look over what's left...about 3/4 of the field. I check my watch...about 2 hours left. There's no getting out of this. I will HAVE to keep harvesting. I groan. I almost cry, actually, but then I just do what I've been doing for the last 3 months: take a breath and get to work.

Shut the door against the water and just keep riding. This will end. Sometime.

That's good, right? Isn't that called grit or faith or tenacity or resilience or something like that? It's totally fine as long as I don't stop to look much deeper than the task at hand. And there's usually enough work to be done (physically, emotionally, spiritually) that I don't really have to stop.

When I stop to feel, or when someone asks, "How are you?" and I actually give it half a second of thought, there's a deep well of sadness in there. I don't even know how to answer questions about me anymore without vomiting three months of pent up emotion, frustration, and sadness at their feet. I don't think that's an integral part of grit or faith or tenacity or resilience or whatever this is. It's clearly time for me to do something about those feelings. Not really knowing who to turn to with such an explosive load of who knows what, I've made an appointment with my therapist. I've talked things over with Bobby, too, and we're taking steps toward a better balance.

Writing this blog post has been a step towards a better balance.

*sigh*

Now to the pictures! A few of our recent doings:

We took a Father's Day Weekend hike to the Sangamon River Valley Forest Preserve. This is the "Lincoln Ash". It was alive and growing when Abraham Lincoln lived in the state of Illinois. It's mostly dead now due to the Emerald Ash Borer :(

Our friendly backyard robin pair is at it again! I've learned a lot about robins this spring. First off, they typically have 2-3 clutches back-to-back. Each clutch gets a new nest built exclusively by the mom, though the dad helps feed the mom while she's building (up to 30% of her food!). The mom then sits on the eggs for 2 weeks until hatch. At hatch, both parents feed the babies constantly (and I mean constantly) for 2 weeks until the chicks fledge and leave the nest. Once they leave, the mom almost immediately starts building a new nest. The dad watches over the chicks as they learn to fly and he continues to feed the mom as she builds. I have pondered this evolutionary model of parenthood for some time, doing a little compare/contrast to the modern American model of parenting: 1) rigid, gender-specific roles that meet the chicks' needs, 2) both parents engaged in the process from conception to young adulthood (even if the work isn't split evenly), and 3) the revolutionary idea that a robin's nest is made for raising chicks, instead of it simply being the parents' home with chicks living in it for a short period of time.

This is a campfire we held in honor of the Summer Solstice. All of us are in the photo, sort of :) Bobby even made oven S'Mores! We told silly stories around the fire, then Bobby went inside once the mosquitoes started to bite. The rest of us caught fireflies and "slept" in the club house outside. It was a little bit chilly with an overnight low of 60F, but everyone woke up surprised and happy that they had actually slept outside. Especially James.

Platitudes

Robert discovered something important as he tried to comfort James through the grief of Shadow's death. I want to record it here.

Just a couple days before Shadow's passing, Robert was remembering two specific instances from the last couple of years when I had made a mistake that ruined his property or hurt his feelings. In each of those cases, I had genuinely said, "I'm so sorry for XYZ. I want to make it better somehow. How can I make this up to you?" He couldn't think of anything in the moment so I said, "When you think of something that will help, please let me know." He has since felt like he had two unfulfilled promises that I owed him and he didn't ever want to forget, even though the pain from those experiences had faded and he didn't really care anymore. Last week, he was trying to decide if he should eventually ask for something to make up for the pain of the moment it happened or the pain he felt currently about the incident. And this was no simple conversation to have with him. There was writhing indecision on the floor, a flood of different emotions (residual pain, love, forgiveness, justice, impatience, and fear to name a few) and he just couldn't get a grip on what he wanted or what to do. He was paralyzed. He asked what I would do in his situation. And because he is SO STINKING LITERAL most of the time, I asked him if he wanted my adult answer or the answer I would give as a 10-year-old kid. That piqued his interest and he asked for both.

As an adult, I would try to let go of the pain from those instances and move on without feeling like they owed me anything. A lot of times, there's nothing someone else can do to make the hurt any better.

As a 10-year-old kid, I would try to get the most I could out of the situation, even if I didn't really have hurt feelings anymore.

Robert then asked a very keen question, "If there isn't anything you can do to fix it, then why even SAY you want to do something to make it better?! It means nothing!"

"I said it because I genuinely wanted to make things better. That's truly how I felt. And I still do. Even if I knew there was nothing I could then or now to fix it."

He thought about that for a while. Then we talked about whether these hurts were the kind I could do something about. It turns out, he was just as concerned about making me feel better about them as he was about making himself feel better. Once we figured that out, it was easy. He grew visibly more comfortable and his whole body relaxed a little. I told him I would feel better if he weren't burdened with these unfulfilled promises. He wanted the same. We threw out a couple compensation ideas. He said, "Just do/give whatever you think is fair and will make you feel better." Then he smiled warmly and rested his head on my shoulder as he let out a big sigh. I could tell that that was the resolution he so badly wanted. He was free of his burden. He freed me of mine. I later made a deposit (of an undisclosed amount) into his allowance account. Done.

Two days later, James watched me carefully and solemnly cleaning out Shadow's now vacated tank. James was sobbing, but wanted to be part of it all. Robert desperately wanted to help James feel better. He found himself saying, "James, if there's anything I can do to help you feel better, please let me know." We intuitively knew Robert could do nothing. Robert knew it, too, and yet it was truly how he felt. When James went to get something, Robert and I were left alone with the tank. Robert looked over at me and said with quiet realization, "Mom, I think I know how you felt when you said you wanted to help, but knew there was nothing you could do. I think I know why you said it anyway." Then he smiled warmly again.

Platitude no more.

Shadow's Passing

I regret to inform you that James' pet fish, Shadow, passed away quietly at the end of last week. He had been acting sick for several days. Bobby and I could see what was coming. James was concerned for him, but we all felt helpless. Do you take Bettas to the vet? Bobby tried to prepare James for the worst. I finally went online and did some research, diagnosing Shadow with severe constipation (very common in Bettas fed dry flake and pellet food, apparently, but none of the "here's how to care for a Betta" resources we scoured made that big a deal of it *groan*). But it was too late by then.

James discovered Shadow's body on Saturday morning. He cried and cried and cried...the shock of it, the grieving, the blame, the sadness, and so much loss. The other kids were feeling it, too. While Bobby helped James through the first of his grieving, I had Matthew crying on my lap and Robert snuggled up close on one side. Shadow was our family's first official pet (chickens only count halfway). And he was also the first creature to die with whom we had developed any real attachment. James didn't want a funeral, fearing it would make him even sadder, but he did take a good long time with Bobby finding the perfect burial spot. There's a memorial there now. Rest in peace, Shadow.

I wondered how long James' feelings of loss would endure. Shadow had lived with us for 8 months. The other kids pooled some of their allowances together and gifted it to James to help buy another fish. James found comfort in that gesture. He was a little withdrawn and forlorn the rest of the day, but soon became eager to try again with another fish.

We went today to choose another male Betta. James wanted to get one just like Shadow and name him Shadow Jr., but I encouraged him to choose someone new with a new name. We came home with a better (*ahem* high fiber) fish food and a gorgeous, navy blue Betta that he eventually named "Starlight." 

Welcome to the family, Starlight.

Dinner and Eggs

Last Saturday morning, like pretty much every Saturday since having kids, I was feeling a little stressed. Alice, ever in tune to my mood and blessedly eager to make me happier, asked if there was something she could do to help. I was in the thick of sweeping and mopping the house floors. I jokingly remarked, "You could plan the menu and make dinner every night next week."

"Okay!"

"What?!"

"Okay! I'll plan the menu and cook dinner every night next week."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Ohhhhhhh-kaaaaay."

I wondered if her enthusiasm would wane once she sat down and started looking at recipes. Nope. I wondered if she'd hand it over when she had to convert those recipes into a shopping list. Nuh-uh. I was pretty sure she'd need all kinds of help in the kitchen every night preparing each meal. No. Or constant reminders that she'd have to start cooking now if she wanted to eat at dinnertime. Nope. She was an organized, confident, recipe-following, dinner-making machine! She probably did 90% of the dinner prep work this week with me acting only as her sous-chef now and then. She did an amazing job! This girlie just blows me away.

Here was her menu:

Chicken Alfredo

Mac and Cheese

Loaded Potatoes

Cheesy Noodles

Beef and Broccoli

Leftovers

Parmesan Chicken

You can tell she's a girl who likes cheese, cheesy sauces, pasta, and chicken. Everything was made from scratch and all of these recipes were new to us. If she decides to do this again, I'll work with her a little on expanding her flavor repertoire, but that is honestly the only thing I would change. Robert wasn't too happy with all the sauce. He gave her first-hand experience with eaters whose preferences only make room for PLAIN noodles, PLAIN chicken, and PLAIN vegetables. He survived, she started developing a tougher skin, I got a bit of a break, and the younger boys were exposed to a couple things I wouldn't normally make (I'm lactose intolerant).

In other cooking news, I want to record here how impressed I am with James' go-to-it personality. When he gets an idea in his mind about what he wants to do or make, he's awfully resourceful in getting it done. And he's pretty courageous (can work through his fears). Or is it fearless (fear? what's that?)? Alice and Robert are years older than James, but he is much bolder around heat and sharp objects than they are. Yesterday, bored with the typical lunch options, he asked if he could have scrambled eggs. I told him I didn't want to make them. He said he would! There were no clean eggs, so he washed some. The best pan was dirty, so he just used the next best one. Alice was nearby giving tips as he cracked eggs into a bowl, added salt, and whisked them with a fork. He asked me for some advice on cooking temperature and how much butter to add to the pan, then he calmly did the rest without fear, without complaint, with complete confidence and his quiet, can-do attitude. What a kid! That boy cooked his own scrambled eggs from start to finish! He said they were delicious, though he would have liked more "crispies". Ha!

In the above photo, the guys are chillin' in the bed of a rented pickup truck before we use it to haul brush to the Landscape Recycling Center and bring back a couple loads of mulch. I wish I had more pictures of Alice *sigh* but she shies away from lenses these days.

Mulberry Hill

The kids and I went for a little bike ride this week to Mulberry Hill. We live in a very, very, very flat place so it's exciting to climb a hill now and then. Even if it's man made.

The kids ran up and rolled down the hill several times. When Matthew meets a hill, he finds it hilarious to pretend he's "falling" down the side and losing control. Alice always rescues him. Robert and James prefer to steamroll down the side as far as they can go. When that gets old, they ask me to film them running and tripping so we can send it to America's Funniest Home Videos. I remember having those aspirations, too, as a kid.

At the top, they soon noticed a fantastic echo effect. I took a video of their shouting :) and you can cleary hear the echo. I love how Robert mouths "hello" with the echo. I asked him about it later and he had no idea he was doing that:

Exercise in a Mask

I went to the gym today. It was only my second time since its re-opening last week. And it's SUCH a different experience from going to the gym pre-Covid 19. First off, all classes are held outside. They're limited to 9 participants and 1 teacher, with reservations being made online 72 hours in advance. All people must keep at least 6 feet apart and wear masks at all times. Before you're even allowed to get out of your car, the teacher asks you if you are currently experiencing any symptoms of Covid-19. Once you're out of the car, you have to use sanitizing wipes on all of the equipment set out for you (it's already been sanitized by the cleaning staff between each class). Then, and only then, will the class begin. When class is over, you sanitize all your equipment again, right before the cleaning staff get to it.

Seriously, my gym has a lower risk of infection than the grocery store.

I've enjoyed getting back into class. I haven't enjoyed exercising in a cloth mask.

I love the accountability that comes from making an appointment 72-hours in advance. I really wish they had fountains for refilling water bottles and bathrooms open to the public. Without those, my body can only go through one class. It's a bit of a drive (and a hassle) for only one 40-minute workout, but I'll do it again next week. I just don't make physical activity a priority otherwise.

Nail Polish and Treasure Hunting

Matthew and James have finally aged out of bathing together. Well, they didn't "age out" so much as "fought constantly and ended every bath experience in screaming tears". James is old enough and large enough to shower on his own, so we just decided he was ready. At first, Matthew sobbed and sobbed at the idea of bathing on his own, but he forgot that an adult would be in the room with him the whole time...and that he would have full access to the toys and such without interruption from James. He's come to looooooooove his "solitary" bath time. James, however, resists showering/bathing on his own. I haven't been especially picky about what counts as a shower for him. If he gets wet all over and washes his hair, it's a win.

Anyway, I was a little bored during Matthew's bath this week, and ended up reorganizing the bathroom closet. And because my kids tend to follow me wherever I go and whatever I do, Alice and James were having a good time looking through the stuff I was pulling out. We rediscovered a few bottles of nail polish! Alice got excited. Matthew got excited. James got excited. Alice painted all of their fingernails. The boys were THRILLED. Matthew was especially surprised as he gazed at his baby blue fingertips, "My hands look so much older! And taller. Don't they look older?! Mom, look at my hands! They look like a big kid's hands!" He admired them all the way through PJ's, tooth brushing, scriptures, family prayer, and bedtime stories. Then, in a second, he started to panic, "How do I SLEEP like this?!" I tried to talk him through it, telling him he could treat them like regular fingernails. He couldn't comprehend it! He kept his hands out in front of him, fingers spread wide, paralyzed in fear that he'd never be able to sleep. Luckily, I had some acetone wipes in the bathroom. He felt a lot better once the nail polish was off, thanking me with great relief that I had had those wipes on-hand.

James decided on Saturday morning that he would put together a treasure hunt for us, complete with *actual* prizes. This was BEFORE his chores were finished, of course, but I made it clear that we would be happy to hunt once everyone's chores were done. He worked diligently and quietly at his desk for about an hour. Making clues. But once the clues were finished, he hopped to it on his chores. I haven't seen him work that efficiently on chores in a long, long, long time. His hunt was a great success! And he instantly wanted to put on another. As he ran back to his room to get working on it, Matthew called to him, "Wememboh to make the clues pitchers 'cuz I can't weeeeeeed!"

The second hunt was a lot of fun, too. Weeding not we-kwi-uhd.

That inspired Robert to make a hunt for everyone, too. And we begged Bobby to choose/create a city-wide family treasure hunt for Monday Night Fun the next day. He was happy to oblige. When the kids take turns choosing Monday Night Fun activities, the Covid-19 pandemic has significantly cut down their options. They usually end up choosing a "Studio C" or "America's Funniest Home Videos" session. It's funny, and fun, but just more screen time. I was grateful for good weather and Bobby's good sense of humor to take on this challenge.

Garden in June

Here's a snapshot of my new garden near the first of June:

There's always something fun to do there: weeding, mulching, harvesting herbs, transplanting, irrigation, monitoring growth, checking for pests, trellising, sifting rocks out of the soil. With all this time at home, I've come to understand better what "puttering" in the garden really feels like. There's always some little chore or task to be done, not urgently, but it makes me happy to have done it.

The boys have enjoyed the drier weather quite a bit. The aisles between my garden beds make excellent roadways for racing games and chasing bad guys and impromptu dust cloud competitions. I kid you not: Matthew and James sat on the ground facing a pile of dirt that Robert had created, waiting for him to run at them and kick the dirt into their faces. I can't make this stuff up. He did it. Then they traded places and did it all over again.

James can't wait to harvest his carrots and sell them. He created a new garden bed today where our stick pile used to be and seeded it with lettuce. He hopes to sell the lettuce, too. James has dreams, man. Driving home from picking up our farm share this afternoon, he was sitting in the back next to Matthew. We drove past an old gas station that's been out of business for a few years. James says, "Maybe when I sell my carrots and lettuce I'll get lots of money. Maybe when I grow up more I'll have enough to buy that old gas station. Matthew! Wouldn't it be cool if I bought that gas station and turned it into a pizza place?! We could do it TOGETHER and call it "J and M's Pizza". Isn't that awesome?!"

Matthew: Yeah! That's perfect! And if people needed gas, too, they could get--"

James: (decisively) No. It's only pizza. But after we're done working, we can bring home pizza for free!! Do you want to do that? Do you want to sell pizza together?

Matthew: Yeah! Wow! That's so exciting! I just can't wait! *takes in a breath* (a little cautiously) but a pizza guy isn't what I'm going to be. I'm going to be an astronaut.

James: (slower) Oh yeah. Hmmm.