I am here to tell you that the good attitude about this neverending situation? It comes and goes.
One minute I am contentedly ripping weeds out by their roots in the back yard, chattering happily with one of the kids. The next I am texting friends things like "If this kid doesn't start remembering deodorant I'm going to move to Peru."
Yesterday I asked a child to stop texting during a class Zoom meeting and said child made aggressive eye contact with me as they continued typing a text. Lucky for that child I had spent that very morning brainstorming ways I could respond to their undesirable behaviors in a less asshole-y way.
I went downstairs and made a nice hot lunch for me and Ryan and then fed them peanut butter and jellies. And hid the phone. Passive aggression at its finest.
In good news for everyone, my rowing club has opened back up on a very limited basis with a tight schedule to ensure as few people as possible in one place, strict boat and hand washing protocols before and after a row, rowing in single boats only, and wearing a mask until you are out in the middle of the lake. I hesitated in signing up for a reservation, because that all sounded too hard and confusing, but I finally went out on Saturday as a pre-Mother's Day treat for myself and then immediately signed up for two more spots because it was apparently the missing piece to the mental health puzzle.
It feels SO good to get back out on the water. To leave the house. To exercise. And I am learning a new style of rowing since we can't take out the eights (too many people). This requires lots of concentration, which means there is no time to worry about silly things like recessions, infectious disease, or the prospect of never again dropping my children off at school. This also means that I absentmindedly bite my lower lip in concentration so hard and for so long that it's kind of red and numb at the end of practice.
Also on Monday I tweaked my lower back and today got my hands mixed up, slammed my right oar handle into my left hand, and accidentally reopened a huge cut on my finger that had JUST started to heal. Bright side: now I can say it is a rowing injury rather than an onion-chopping injury.
Ryan made Mother's Day very special by making lots of amazing food and a huge pitcher of sangria. Breakfast was eggs benedict and french toast casserole, dinner was honey lime sweet potato black bean tacos with fruit salad and cilantro lime rice with brownies for dessert. I spent the morning on various devices for church and Sunday School and the kids' Sunday School and the rest of the day reading on my front lawn with a glass of sangria. So really it was the perfect day. Or as perfect as it gets around here right now.
Last night the Cub Scout year-end slide show made me cry because of all the happy pictures of the kids DOING THINGS TOGETHER, like camping and canoing and racing derby cars and it reminded me of how sad I am that we are missing so many fun things we normally look forward to in the spring and summer. I used to chastise myself for being sad about things like that given the fact that we are healthy and financially secure, unlike so many others, but it's OK that it sucks a little, even given those things. Turns out I should have tried to hold it together a little better because when I rubbed my eyes I got poblano pepper residue in my right eye. The firey burning was immediate and I had to walk blindly up the stairs, poblano-laden tears rolling down and stinging my face, and into my bathroom where I used my shower as an eye wash station for five minutes or so until I could actually OPEN the eye. And then I felt very very silly. But at least I could see!
Today the kids don't have school and I had big plans to plant a bunch of new groundcover in the front yard and maybe some bushes, but I also have a rather large stack of unread books and some kids that are reasonably quiet and engaged with something (video games). Dinner tonight is church supper and I have plans to have a conversation with a friend. Pretty pretty good.