Childhoodtake2!

I cannot begin to explain to the world how much I needed March 2020. I did not need a pandemic and I did not need people getting sick or Americans losing their jobs/lives/livelihood. I did need the world to stop spinning for a while and I needed the time March gave me.

Being huddled up in my home during the cold month of March was like a miracle. Having everyone here with me, all of us safe and sound, it was heaven. I desperately missed our framily connections and I was so sad the grandparents couldn't connect with their babies, but we found really good and nurturing ways to stay connected and feeling loved.

March was long, really really long. But I needed it to go as slowly as it did. I was scared for my new business, I was scared for my family, our community, our country, I was. I was also tired. I was worn out and worn thin. I spent three years hurting myself and I needed it all to slow the hell down. I needed to see my family, I needed to work side by side with my husband, I needed to see him really shine with our kids as he taught them. I really really needed March.

April was lovely but eery. There was a deceptive peace as the magnitude of the virus really hit. We all started to really connect the dots on how long this was going to take us and there was no end in sight. More and more and more things shut down. Phases started to be introduced. The streets were empty. Stores, big and small, were closed. Restaurants really suffered. The deceptive peace really caved our walls in all around us.

As the weather got warmer, we became more hopeful, but longed for people and connection and coming out of hibernation. The deceptive peace had taken hold.

Grandparents drove to talk through the windows. People connected as much as they could in video meetings with friends/family/loved ones. As quickly as we were excited about connecting through video screens, we were also over it. Easter was canceled. Everything was eery, so quiet. Eery and quiet became the norm, a deceptive peace became our norm.

The deceptive peace made me at times feel so grateful for this time, so tired all of the time...I could not get enough sleep. There were moments when the peace filled me with so much joy but the deception of the peace had me so worried and filled with dread. What next? What happens now? How is this ever going to be fixed? Who do we know that's sick, who is lost forever? The deceptive peace had my dreams still filled with anxiety but my eyes continued to be heavy. I would do the littlest thing and the exhaustion was overwhelming. The deceptive peace had taken over my whole body.

Deceptive because...

It should not take a pandemic for me to settle down. It should not take a pandemic and a virus that knocks down the world for me to finally realize enough is enough. But, it did. And, this is who I am and that is a very hard pill to swallow and a lot for me to just accept.

The anxiousness still talked to me in my dreams. It still found me and told me that things were okay but not okay.It still asked me questions I had no idea the answers to. It still "what if"ed me all of the time.

We were expected to do everything, all at once, and everyone knew no one was doing anything well. Not one thing was being done well and with clarity. Instead, we all tried to "make the best of things".

Everyone was guessing, all of the time guessing. Everyone still is.

Deceptive because it snowed in May, riots started soon thereafter. A civil unsettling and reckoning were awakened and we were all called to task. We were all called to do more, listen more, say more, shut up more.

June, July and August all ran into each other. School "ended" and we all tried to make summer work and be summer. In so many ways, it was, in so many ways, it was not. Riots continued, more and more stories hit of the racial injustices of our world, our lives, our nation. We learned more, we were faced with the ugly truth of who we have always been.

June, July, and August all ran into each other. Kids tried to be kids. Vacations were had. Framily came back together. Grandparents got to spend time with their grand-kids again. And before we knew it, our little family had been together for six months. Six months.

In September, my daughter and I were taking of of our many walks and she said, so dad goes back to work in about 2 days...wow, it'll be weird without him home. After all this time, the deceptive peace became our normal, and the real normal now feels strange.

So yes, this week, we will have our ice cream for dinner tradition. We will say goodbye to summer. We will tuck dad in for his early mornings. We will continue to guess the right/wrong way to handle this all and we will figure it out.

For the past six months, you guys have been resilient. Calm. Crazy. Gotten along so well. Hated each other. Laughed together. Screamed at one another. Been on millions of walks. Saw framily. Reconnected with who you are. Gotten ready for a brand new school. Cried. Talked. Drew. Built. Ran. Rode bikes. Swam. Loved on Pearl. Watched a million movies. Read so many books. Spent hours of tablets. Shopped. Watched me work. Watched dad create a home. Hugged. Loved. Found peace.

When we take a little walk downtown, there is plenty of parking. The stores are so quiet, there are chairs up on tables and signs up all over the place about how "we're closed" due to COVID and keeping customers and employees safe.

There is no more traffic, the roads are wide open and no one is in a hurry, there is no where to go. I've gotten really used to doing just the speed limit because, what's the rush now?

Restaurants that were once filled with long wait times, are empty, closed, some are closing forever. Our little town that is always full of so much life is the quietest I have ever seen, it's too quiet.

Going out for a coffee, alone in the car for 10 minutes is like heaven. Honest to goodness heaven. It's the only alone time there is. I shower with questions constantly being thrown at me, I go to my room just to have a door bust open. I do yoga with someone chattering at me. I run with kids biking next to me. I take walks with my daughter. I'm woken up to be asked if they are allowed to be awake. No one is tired, just mamma. I hear mom 13,000 times a minute. The only quiet is during homework time when we're all working together.

And then, the schools closed for the remainder of the year, the day was really hard. The following weekend, it snowed, in May, and I thought...there isn't much more I can take. It's all starting to feel like too much, there is no such thing as normal anymore. Everything just feels off.

May 15th right before dinner, a tornado hit our town. A tornado, two weeks after it snowed, three weeks after the schools closed down, one month into murder hornets, two months into a pandemic. The fear from my children was physical, the screams were desperate, the tears were making their shirts wet. We're all fine, the house is fine, everything is fine, even though nothing is fine.

The next day, we all put our lawns back together as best we could. Trees were taken down, fires were started, assessments of damage were made. Some homes were badly injured, ours looked like a bad storm flew through. I struggled because I didn't sleep at all, the anxiety was a bit much and I hit my limit. I brought friends coffee because they didn't have power and I felt better. I took a really long run with my little man riding his bike next to me and I felt even better. I went for a long walk with a part of my squad, yes , we were socially distant, yes, we wore masks, and I felt even better. I had a zoom call with my college crew and I felt even better.

I drove home from my walk and noticed that even though no one had anywhere to go, our little town still exploded. The weather drove people out to walk, to hike the park, to walk the streets. You can tell they are desperate, they want people, they want movement, they want connection, they want something to do and somewhere to go.

I came home to my coach all cleaned up, ready to grill pizza. Any other night, we would have had framily over. We would have picked a house, started a fire, had too much to drink together, and it all would have made sense. But still, it was good to smooch my person, hug my kids, feel a little sunburned from all my time outside. See how tired my puppy was from the long walk and hop on another lit screen and see my girls and laugh really hard together.

We go up and down. This was the break I needed, maybe the break we all needed. We all needed our weekends back from all the things we are committed to and now it feels like most days are a weekend. I wanted peace and quiet. I wanted a year of calm and bright and I did get a lot of what I needed, wanted. The rest, the naps, the sleep, the food and eating that I needed to do. The letting go of early mornings, the letting go. The family time I needed. Then, there are days that I can't believe my kids will be home for 6 solid months. That there are no sports, that all concerts are canceled. Careers are frozen. Cities are silent, but bursting. Musicians are hosting concerts on TV to keep spirits up. Graduations are canceled, people that have worked so hard for so long, have no end to their years of dedication. That going to the doctor's office is a really big deal. Going grocery shopping is scary and treasured time. What life is this? There are days that I am so happy, days that I feel really ok. Days that I can't sleep and I'm so worried. This year is just all over the place. It's all over the place and an actual show. You can't make this stuff up anymore, it snowed in May.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on perspective.

Go.

It's all in the way that you look at it, it's all that you see, it's all that you decide to focus on.

This is what we all do, every single day, all day long. I am much more of a see the glass half empty kind of person. I feel the darkness linger way before the sun sets. I think about worst case scenarios, I play them out in my head, I walk through them, I put myself there, I live there for a while, and then I pull back.

So why now, when the entire world stopped spinning, am I seeing things a little differently? Why now am I slowing down and not panicking all day every day? Why I am lingering in bed now? Why I am napping so much? Why are my daughter and I laughing so much, my son and I snuggling? Why am I noticing our puppy so much more? Why am I lingering so much? Why do I feel like I have no time when I have all the time in the world? Why do I feel like not doing so much? Why am I not wanting a routine? Why is this my perspective right now?

Why, as worried as I am about the health and wellness of our entire world, and the economic health of every single person, why am I also worried about when this all goes away? Why, as sad as I am that so many people I have to see behind a window, do I feel so so close to those I really love? Why is my perspective all out of sorts?

I'm just not that important.

Even when the world stops spinning, it still finds a way to go on.

Even if you are not going on all cylinders all of the time, things still get done on their own time.

Most importantly, why did it take a pandemic, why did the world need to stop spinning, for my perspective to finally change?