Danger Will Robinson!!!

Dude, today was a day.

Like the kind of day where you truly want to jump in the car and drive away. Like want to cry and scream and laugh while running away. That kind of day.

I should have known when I missed my alarm, after getting the ice delay call, that it was gonna be that kind of day. What I should have done was crawled back into bed and hid under the covers. It’s what I would have done had I known what was coming next.

Our teenager, bless her heart, started the day in tears. I’m talking can’t get intelligible words out, face contorted, loud sobbing tears. My sweet girl had all the emotions and then some this morning. Why? She misses her best friend. Sigh. She misses the person she’s seen almost everyday for the last three years. Her other half to the crazy show. Her person. I get that. I do.

After an hour of calming, coaxing, reasoning, rationalizing, reassuring, and all the other things I do as mom, I gave up. I quit. I’m not proud because I don’t give up or give in. But, today I did. I didn’t have it in me to badger her into clothes and drive her sobbing into school. Day two was a no go.

My frustration peaked. I called reinforcements. And wanted to strangle him and his calm voice through the phone. lol. Tears of frustration burned my eyes. Feelings of failure clogged my throat. I’m mom. I fix the things. I help. I heal the hurts. But, today I couldn’t do any of those things.

Before we made this transition, I knew things were going to be challenging. I’d have been an idiot to think otherwise. And the planning me, created plots and scenarios in preparation for it. And I still couldn’t get my daughter off to school on her second day.

Life has an uncanny way of testing us. Of pulling at us in ways we never imagined. Did I imagine a cross-country move during the freshman year of our last kid at home? Nope. Definitely did not. It’s how we deal with those tests that defines us. Frustration, tears, sadness don’t make us less. But wallowing in them makes us miserable.

So, after I swiped my own frustrated tears away, I told my daughter I’d back off, emailed the school, and moved on with my day. This is just one day. One piece in this wild new puzzle we are putting together. Hopefully, with more hugs, snuggles, and sleep, tomorrow will be a better day.

Day four was rough

Here we go….

Again!!!

Well, the time has arrived. The last child of the Chaos Crew is preparing for that journey into high school. Y’all I don’t know if I’m ready for it.

We’ve been down this road before. Kids hitting that second semester of eighth grade and suddenly the talks of high school schedules begin. Before we know it, we have informational flyer about classes and clubs all over the dining room table. Conversations center around what’s the best foreign language class and should they take honors anything. We start weighing the different history classes and trying to shuffle in a little bit of fun as well.

And this last one, she’s not like the others. She’s social. She enjoys people and doing things and being a part of things. Everything to be really honest. She’s a theater kid and sings in choir. She loves art but enjoys reading. History isn’t her favorite and she likes writing. So, the decisions are scattered and ever-changing.

As we sit and discuss the pros and cons of AP Human Geography and which math class she’ll be in, my momma heart aches a little bit. She’s the final one. The baby of this ridiculously crazy bunch. She’ll be the one that does all the things. I can already see the giggling gaggle of girls trying on dress after dress for dances. The color coded schedule I’ll need to keep up with her classes and clubs and sports. The text messages letting me know she’ll be done with this rehearsal or that group meeting at some random time.

Being a mom is awesome. And terrifying. And rewarding. I love the title mom. If I do nothing else, I can say I was mom to five truly cool kids. But, it doesn’t stop the ache that comes as I watch them grow into the world. The 18 years a parent gets to help guide them doesn’t seem long enough. I consider myself one of those truly lucky mommas whose older kids still come home for help, hugs, and hot meals.

Mentally, I’m working on toughening up and being ready for that final kiddos walk across the stage. I know it’ll be here before I know it. But, my momma heart may take a little longer to fully be ready for the baby of the bunch to fly off into the sunset.

Here we go again….

Waking nightmares…

And internal panic attacks!!

Pretty much sums up my day. Imagine heading out to run errands only to sit at a light and see no less than ten police cars speeding through the intersection. Your curiosity is peaked at two. A little unease creeps in at four. Realization dawns on the direction they are headed. As cars six and seven fly by, unease slides along to mild panic. The only thing in the direction they are rushing is the high school.

Not just any high school, but the very one your child attends. By the time the tenth car whips past, your chest is in a vice grip of contained panic. Your mind begins to race. Panic and fear threaten to take hold of every fiber of your being. You fight to keep yourself in check because surely if something we going on the school would notify you. Right?!

As the hubs and I were out running errands this morning, this was our reality. I didn’t want to believe him when he suggested the speeding parade of law enforcement was headed toward the high school. But, the panic didn’t cease. A text from our son, hunkered down in a third floor classroom, confirmed the thoughts dancing along my mind……something big was happening at the high school.

On the outside, I appeared calm as a lake with no breeze. Inside I was a mess of thoughts and jumbled emotions. My child was locked down in a building and the rumors were flying. Active shooter. Shots fired. Injuries. No injuries. SOMEONE PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON?!?!

Our son kept us informed from inside his classroom. He assured us he was fine and helping keep the class calm. But, my momma mind couldn’t calm down. I knew my child was safe and the authorities had things well in hand. Yet, my mind and heart wouldn’t calm down.

It took me some time but I finally realized why. It wasn’t worry for my son that was hurting me, but worry for the students as a whole. Including the ones responsible for the incident.

The last year and a half has been tough. Like wish for a do-over button hard. And, all to seldom, the mental health of our children is overlooked. I don’t pretend to understand what would drive a child to take a gun to school. There are a plethora of possible explanations. Whatever the reason, it hurts my heart.

Kids have had to deal with unimaginable circumstances recently. Lockdowns. Mandates. Social distancing. Remote learning. Financial hardships. Death. Illness. Family dysfunction. Often without any assistance on coping with these things. It hurts my heart.

I’ve done my level best to bolster the mental health of my own children. During remote learning when my daughter cried because she missed her friends, I all but tap danced on my hands to make her smile. Or when my son hid in his room for hours because the closest he could get to a friend was a FaceTime call and I insisted on a comedy movie marathon. I talked. And asked questions. We prayed. A lot. But not every child has that and today shows that.

This world we live in is hard. There’s so much to process. So much to figure out. Kids need our help to work through it all. To figure it out. To understand it all. Otherwise, we will end up with more situations like today.

My heart hurts for the students today. It hurts for the families of the students in custody. It hurts for the students who are scared to return. For the parents afraid to send them. It just hurts.

Tonight, as I hug my kids ridiculously tight before bed and pray over them, I’ll thank God my kid is safe. And when the thoughts of ‘what if’ start to creep, I’ll pray and thank God my kids are safe. Internal panic attacks and waking nightmares aside, I’m ridiculously happy my kid is safe.

I’m still standing….

Because I’m mom that’s why!

Well, after 18 months of hearing about it, my household was finally hit with the dreaded Rona! Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnn! Nothing says end of summer break like a household of people all exposed to the virus that has been dictating moves for the last year and a half.

I’ve looked at the last two weeks as a personal experiment. Everyone presented and dealt differently. The middle schooler had a low grade fever for about five seconds. But she popped a Tylenol, took a thirty minute nap, and went about life as usual. The high schooler slept for three days and hasn’t stopped eating since he woke up. I knew he was back to normal when I heard the basketball bouncing outside.

Of course, me, being mom, didn’t get sick. But if I had, it would have looked like me sleeping for a full day, then back to business as usual. While worn the heck out from taking care of a sick teen, running a business and a house, plus caring for a sick hubby with a hurt back, I also managed to keep up with my workouts and the million other things mom had to do. I can’t imagine why I needed a day to sleep.

The poor hubs, though, he’s suffering. He’s got asthma, so his lungs aren’t strong at all. He scared a few years off my life twice in the last few days. Nothing like having his lungs close completely, only opened with quick hits of an inhaler, to freak a wife out! He’s under the care of an amazing friend who has dealt with this personally and professionally and on the mend.

Now, I can say with certainty, we survived the Rona. No, not a single one of us got the widely touted shot. And we won’t. That’s our choice.

And that, dear friends, is the way it should be. A choice. Free from persecution. Free from backlash. Free from judgement. Everyone should have the choice as to whether or not they get a shot in the arm. Parents should have that right to choose from their children. Employees should have that right to choose.

It boggles my imagination that we live in a world where friends and family are forced to get a shot they do not agree on in order to keep their jobs. Children are being secretly approached in schools about getting a shot without parental information or consent. Get it, wear your mask, still catch Rona. Don’t get it, burn your mask, still catch Rona. Anyone else rolling their eyes??

I watched church friends catch it and live through it. I had a dear friend pass away from complications of Covid. My daughter lived through it while carrying my granddaughter at the start of all of this. And now, my household has caught and survived it. When I say I have seen this from various sides, I mean it. And when I say I stick by natural immunity and mask choices. I mean that too. And when I say I don’t care about anyone else’s choices but wish mine were respected, I mean that too.

Now to go get my immune ready children set to return to school in their senseless masks…..yeah that’s a whole different conversation!

Still standing

Parenting bites

I’m at my wits end!

School’s out for summer! Woohoo!! That final bell tolled and my kids made the customary whooping exit from the school buildings. Backpacks were haphazardly discarded into bedroom closets. Sleepovers plotted with scary efficiency. Plans to wile away the long days with water fights and trampoline tents were created. My kids were ready.

But, an axe loomed. It hung over my high schoolers neck; dangling by a tenuous thread. Will we log on and find that he did in fact do all of the promised work thus passing sophomore year? Or, would we find that the stories of passing grades were mere fiction crafted to save his hide until he was found out? Alas, I must confess myself disappointed.

The high schooler had grades that brought out the mad mom. The disappointed mom. The mom who, yes is a pastors wife but former Marine, used a few choice words as her professed disappointment escalated. The I’m-ready-to-ship-him-off-to-Switzerland mom.

Like any decent, self-respecting parenting duo, my husband and I discuss and consult each other before dropping the hammer on our kids shenanigans. We see where each other’s headspace rests and we decide on a fair consequences to the actions of our children. This time was no different. He’s typically the good cop and I’m the bad cop. Tonight, I was the mad/bad/frustrated/irritated cop.

I love my children to no end. I would tear the earth apart if anything happened to them. Maybe it’s this love that makes me want to tear my hair out when I see one blatantly failing to live up to any sort of potential. Like just straight failing to try or even pretend to care. It’s maddening. We’ve talked to him. Grounded him. Ungrounded him. Took away every privilege. Hovered closer than a bumblebee. Stepped back and watched from the sidelines. Nothing has worked.

His failure feels like my own failure. His inadequate attempts at school make me feel as though I am an inadequate parent. Mentally, I know it isn’t true. But, it doesn’t stop me from feeling that deep sense of failure. I want to hide in a closet for the next two years and hope he passes. I know I can’t.

Right now, my kid probably detests the very thought of breathing the same air as me. Even though he brought it all on himself. And, he will dislike me even more as hard-nose mom emerges for the next few weeks. I hope someday, years from now, when he has kids of his own that he has to discipline, he remembers me telling him “I wouldn’t be sitting here ticked off to high Heaven if you’d done what you were supposed to do!” And when he remembers that, I hope he understands the love behind that statement.

When all else fails…

The day started out like any other Monday. I hit snooze twice and cursed my incessant need to be an early riser. I pulled on workout clothes and laughed my way through five miles and an episode of the Gilmore Girls on the treadmill. Made sure the high schooler was up and functioning on semi-human levels. Showered, dressed, and prepared to take on the day.

By ten, I was over it. My kids went back to school without leaving the house today. Christmas break ended but they are still here disrupting my well oiled machine. Virtual learning for the first week back proved challenging from day one. I shudder to think what the rest of the week will look like.

The high schooler, who I’m certain is purposely doing poorly just to make me nuts, sat diligently staring at his chrome book with one eye open. I’m positive all of the Spanish I heard went through through an empty tunnel in his brain, connecting with not one single brain cell.

The middle schooler did her level best to hit me with at least ten thousand words before finally logging on to her first class of the day. I’m a writer and I have trouble comprehending the enormous quantity of words that spill forth from her daily!!

Nevertheless, we were trucking along relatively smoothly until terror struck. Suddenly, the wifi quit working. Dun dun duuuuuunnnnnn!!! Insert panic here! The high schooler, cool as a cucumber, insists I hand over his phone for instant hot spot usage. The middle schooler, my beautiful preteen drama Queen, freaked out.

I could see the quiver of the lip begin as she wailed about her teacher counting her absent and missing class. My email to the teacher explaining the situation most certainly would not be enough! I took my cue from the high schooler and offered up my hot spot. I wasn’t actually trying to work or anything shut away in my home office….

Hot spot activated but still slow. Not enough to assuage the emotional monster pacing my office. The swirling circle of death finally gave way to her fretful face on video in class. Of course, the teacher had to call her out as late when she popped in. She held back her tears like a champ. Did I mention she’s highly emotional??

We managed to get through class on a hot spot when inspiration struck her. She gathered her things, which is always way more than she actually needs, and camped out in the living room…two feet from the wifi router. Whatever the problem, it resolved itself. But, she was convinced it was her brilliant maneuver to move into the same room as the router that saved the day. Hey, who am I to squash her brilliance?

Crisis averted but of course it meant my office hours were sorely interrupted with theories and thoughts on our home internet issues. Hard to focus on secret operative mayhem when someone keeps barging in every thirty minutes with new stories and ideas. Luckily, there’s always tomorrow….