This isn't Easy, and This isn't Tragic

 

This virtual learning thing...I'm going to be honest. It isn't all one thing. It isn't one size fits all. It isn't all right or all wrong.

One moment I find myself getting extremely defensive when someone paints a picture of the poor children having to learn at home, hidden away from the world, like Rapunzel in her tower, crying in front of screens and forgetting the alphabet. It kind of hurts my feelings. These were hard decisions and we may never know if we did the right thing. I'm sure my kids will have plenty to tell their therapist someday about the year 2020. Won't we all? But, overall I think they're learning stuff. They seem pretty happy, and well adjusted more often than not. We haven't been sick once in almost a year, which is a small miracle in our family, especially with the severe asthma that usually keeps them coughing and wheezing half the year following even a small cold. And our interactions are less frantic and rushed. We spend slow mornings talking about life over coffee and hot cider, or going for long walks and playing basketball after lunch. When I start feeling others judge this as tragic, instead of just exuding a quiet confidence in my personal decision, I double down, and probably don't show my best self.  I probably try all the harder to make it seem as though I've got this all together, and it comes off as self-righteous.

But if I am honest...it's a mixed bag. A trail mix of the good, the bad, and the ugly, the affirmation and the doubts.

Yesterday, I started the day by reading that the Pfizer vaccine would not be recommended for anyone with a history of anaphylaxis of any kind. A "history of anaphylaxis" does not even begin to describe Moses. My plan was to send Mo back to school once there was a widely distributed vaccine. Could I do this forever? It felt like the good scientists of the UK had just taken a needle and popped the balloon with all my hopes and dreams of every being alone in my house in silence ever again. This isn't a call for opinions on vaccines in general. But just a lament that this might not be a quick and easy solution for us.

After that, all I wanted to do was listen to my new book on Audible and get caught up with the dishes. Do you have any idea how many dishes we go through with everyone home all day long? By the time the dish washer quits running it's ready to fill  again. Boys.Eat.So.Much. But...no kidding...every ten seconds Daniel would call me over with a question about math. MATH?! I have a liberal arts degree. Just when I'd think we'd solved all the y=mx+b's in the universe, I'd hear, "Mom...can you come look at this?" "I don't WANT to look at this! I WANT to listen to five minutes straight of this book without interruption and actually get something done!" I immediately felt terrible when he muttered an apology. I was the worst. Then he had to start a test so I had to tiptoe around quietly listening to him growl and grrr in frustration because it obviously wasn't going well. "Your stress is becoming my stress right now," I'd quietly remind him. "Just focus and do your best." 

I had a plan for the day. I was going to make my dad's favorite food in the whole world, German Bierock, my Grandma Anna's recipe. It takes all day and usually a small army to make but, because I was going for the "I've got this all together" and running smoothly façade, I had taken it on alone and was quickly getting frustrated over how much time I'd already lost solving y=mx+b. It also didn't help that the only existing recipe was a picture sent to me by my sister of a scratch piece of paper in which she'd scribbled down the fading directions that Grandma had dictated to her while demonstrating this process 30 years ago. 

Foam yeast, while browning hamburger, but boil the butter, water, and milk...and stir it constantly so it doesn't scald. And when are you supposed to add the egg? I think that was penciled in somewhere. So when I heard "Mom, come look at this?" I took a deep, ragged breath, and calmed my voice as I explained that this was very complicated, and I needed to concentrate. "I think Grandma was messing with us so we'll never get it just like hers."

"I can help," he said. "My foods class isn't meeting right now online. I have time." 

I started to protest, looked at my mess, and then handed him a whisk. 

He was a legend. He literally saved the massive, sticky blob of dough we'd labeled "Jabba the Hut." And we laughed and told stories, and teased each other. 

Halfway through this, Moses came running down the stairs. He was getting ready to help his class present their invention projects to "the engineers at ASU, and the principle and a bunch of other people" on a webex call. He was anxious and excited. And I was able to wash the flour off my hands, take him in my arms and pray over him. What a privilege!!!

Daniel hopped on and off of classes, and worked little by little on his homework as I continued making these time consuming rolls of cabbage and beef. When we realized we had twice as much dough as we needed we did what Grandma would've and made cinnamon rolls. We were so proud of ourselves. 

When we got ready to take them over as a surprise, my dad was asleep and my mom was out running errands, so I just told her to swing by. Her eyes popped and she squealed a little. It's hard to explain what the bierocks are for my family. 

My dad got the pretty ones. We kept the ripped and disfigured ones. They tasted the same.

My mom decided not to tell my dad what she was warming up that night until she put the plate in front of him. I would give anything to see that surprised look on his face, but my mom described it as precious.  Precious. In that moment all of it felt worth it. Not just the sticky jabba the hut dough that I had to pull Daniel away from school to help pry from my fingers. Not just the cabbage smell that still hasn't left my kitchen. But the having the kids under my feet, and the overthinking, and the extreme vigilence...to be able to have days like this and moments with my parents, that can be described as precious.

I know it doesn't work this way for everyone. I know that not everyone has the luxury of a flexible schedule. There are so many specific situations and obstacles. We stay home partly so that those who most need to can go back safely. 

And it's not easy for us. If I ever make it look that way I'm probably not being honest enough. We've had to learn some coping tools for some new anxieties, and remind our kids that they don't need to worry about adult problems. We've wondered what friendships would look like at the end of all of this, and had to find very creative ways to stay connected with others. We've continued to socialize and do some of the things we love, but are just a little more cautious and selective. But as a food allergy AND cancer survivor family we've practiced cautious and selective for quite a while.

Today, wasn't nearly as warm and fuzzy as yesterday. Today Moses came down the stairs no less than 15 times to ask us for help, only to argue with us over the advice we gave. And by 3:00 I was trying to find some reason I could get everyone else to leave so that I could put my feet up and binge watch "A Million Little Things" on Hulu without anyone talking to me about the new Minecraft updates. It isn't always cinnamon rolls and hugs.

 Sometimes it's exposed some pre-existing conditions in our soul and mind that we needed to work on. These things weren't exactly caused by the events of 2020, but it's helped bring them to surface so that we can work on them. 

It's also been full of blessings. I believe we're closer as a family than we've ever been. The kids have developed skills, and character traits that they maybe wouldn't have. Sacrifice and waiting aren't bad for us. Difficulties shape us. 

I can't wait for this to all be over. I want to drop my kids off at school, listen to the beautiful sounds of kids squealing and basketballs bouncing, an then go meet up with friends for coffee. I can't wait for Daniel to not have to wait for email responses to math questions. That day is coming...just not quite yet. But, we're alright. Really.