Time Marches On

 As another summer comes to a close and the school year begins, I am reminded how fleeting the time with my children is. I sit here tonight writing the “secret” notes they know to expect on the first day of school and I’m filled with pride but also sadness. I am one of those weird moms that dreads sending her kids back to school. I miss them so much it hurts. I enjoy time off from them as any parent does but sending them out into a world I have no control over is just so hard. Will other kids be nice to my children? Will my children be nice to other kids when they know I can’t watch them? Will they remember to speak with respect and manners to the teachers and staff at their school? Have I taught them enough?! I hope I have but I guess you never really have that answer as a parent. You’re never done learning yourself so how could you ever be done leading your children? 18 years seemed like a lifetime when I was growing up but now I know it’s over in the quickest of flashes.

How will my children grow and change this year? Will I still be Matthew’s most favorite person now that middle school is here? We’ve had a pretty good run but I’m always waiting. Waiting for friends, girls, cars, sports etc to come along to replace me. I know it’s part of this whole parenting thing but it’s definitely one of the worst parts. Will Claire flourish this year? Will she make friends and discover how truly wonderful she is? Have I told her enough? Have I shown her how to love who she is or have I passed down my own insecurities? 

The new year is so full of possibilities for our children but the uncertainties are there, just out of sight. Have we done enough to prepare them for this next chapter of their lives? I certainly hope so. I pray so. I long for it to be so. Here’s hoping ❤️

Ants Marching

I raised her to be strong. I raised her to be independent. To have body autonomy. To speak out when it doesn’t feel right. To share her feelings no matter what. What was I thinking?!?

My sweet daughter has always been an old soul. Honestly, wise beyond her years in ways you can’t even imagine. She has hit every milestone in her 12 going on 13 years on this earth at an incredible pace. She is smarter than most kids I know. She has the emotional intelligence of a person twice her age. And I have always been so proud of that. So proud that she is an individual at the expense of the opinions around here. She knows who she is and what she likes. At TWELVE. 

I will never forget the memory of visiting my grandmother at the memory care unit where she lived when Claire first stood up for herself in a meaningful way to an adult outside of our family. There was a lady there who had forgotten the boundaries of strangers as people often do with Alzheimer’s and dementia. Claire still had her long beautiful hair. Hair that she has NEVER enjoyed having other people touch. This lady saw that hair and couldn’t resist. Came right up to Claire and started playing with her hair. At first Claire just moved away. The lady followed. Claire moved again and again the lady followed her. Finally, in the sweetest but boldest voice Claire said “please don’t touch my hair.” And that was that. I had never been more proud. Her body is hers alone and I taught her that and she lived it at that moment. One of my greatest parenting experiences. 

It’s been happening slowly yet all at once. We have always let our kids sleep with us if they wanted to. Even if it meant that Dustin and I split into different beds, each with a child. Usually Matthew with me and Claire with Dustin. People will say you shouldn’t. That it will cause attachment issues and blah blah blah. Bullshit. They are my children and I will love them however they choose to be loved. Always have and I always will. Although now it’s harder. 

It has been creeping in for a couple of

months now. Matthew would want to sleep with me but Claire no longer took that as an opportunity to sleep with Daddy. It hurt Dustin and I calmly explained that her body is changing and she’s getting older and we have to be okay with her new level of comfort. And then last night, she tucked ME in. I tried to get her to snuggle for a few minutes and the words she said broke me “I don’t really like that anymore.” Tears. Immediate tears. I tried to hide them but she saw and it upset her. I have taught her how to deal with every adult when it comes to her body and her level of comfort. I just forgot to teach myself how to deal with it when it was my turn. 

I went downstairs and had a good cry in the office to Dustin and then gathered myself back together and headed straight to her room. There she was, lying in bed. Sad. Not sad because she stood up for herself but sad that it hurt me. What?! I felt like the WORST mother in that moment. I said the only thing I knew to say; “Baby, I’m so proud of you for telling me how you feel. I’m sorry I handled it badly. You have every right to say what you want with your body. Please don’t be upset because of me. You keep telling me your truth. How I feel about you growing up is my problem and not yours. I am so proud of you. I love you.”  I hope it worked. I hope I haven’t shown her it’s not safe to be honest with me. 

I want her to be secure in herself and her feelings and she is. I am SO proud of that. I just didn’t know it would feel so heart breaking to be on the receiving end of all of those lessons. Now of course one of the first people I reached out to this morning was my mom. It wasn’t until later, after school drop off and when I was crying in my Dunkin’ that it hit me. I went straight to my mom. I feel there is hope there. Lady and I had some ROUGH years but she is my best friend and confidante now. Claire will come back, I know she will. The in between time is just going to be so hard for me. But only me. 

She has to feel my permission to grow up. I know that deeper than I have ever known anything in my life. Time marches on just like a colony of ants working towards a common goal. Claire and I are on a new journey. Not completely separately but not completely joined together. I have to learn to walk beside her in this journey and support her as she grows into the very woman I’ve been teaching her to be all these years. It’s just that these years have gone by in a flash. 

Instead of leading I must now follow her lead. Instead of mourning the past I know I have to embrace where our relationship is heading. I am not the first mother to feel pain at the changing tide with my children. I won’t be the last and I know I have another turn coming with Matthew. This is new territory that I will learn to navigate. I will lean on my own experiences as a teen. I will lean on my faith. I will lean on Dustin. And without a doubt, I know the daughter that I am and that I will lean on the most important woman in my 42 almost 43 years - my Mom. 

 Time

    I woke up still unable to breathe through my nose this morning and realized today would probably be another lost day. Not completely of course but my plan to restart the exercise program that has been bringing me a ton of joy this year will probably wait another day. Now, I took a covid test this past Wednesday that turned out to be negative but all the same, I started thinking about what all of this pandemic has cost me. 

    If you remember I had covid in the very beginning. I had it bad. I have told that story so I will not recount it here. Other people have had it worse and have lost their lives or the lives of people they love. Those losses are immeasurable. They are also not what I’m thinking about in terms of what I’ve lost, what so many people have lost, throughout this pandemic. What I’m thinking about specifically is time. 

    I have family here in town, my own family in my home of course, but there is also my mother, sister, and friends that I consider family. How much time have we lost with one another during this time of covid? When I first moved into an apartment in my 20s, my mom and I started having dinner together one night a week. Either her house or my apartment (usually her house honestly) we would gather together and just spend time. I was the last to leave the house and went back and forth several times before finally committing to an apartment and really moving out for good. These dinners gave us a time to be together and not lose touch with the close relationship we had developed in my early 20s when it was just the two of us living together at home.  Eventually, those dinners started to include my sister, then my husband, and then my children. What started as a simple weekly dinner has turned into a family event every Sunday night where we can gather together and reconnect as a family unit. Every Sunday night without fail we knew we had a standing date. My kids look forward to seeing their Mimi and Aunt Charlotte every week. We don’t get to see my sister nearly enough even though she’s just a 45-minute drive away but she works, we work, kids have school; you know, life gets in the way. Well, not on Sunday nights! I look forward to spending time with my mom and sister as well. We usually start out nicely enough but Charlotte and I? Oh, we start telling stories or jokes that get a little more off-colored than Mom would probably like but then the laughter. OH! The laughter that begins can hardly be described. There have been many a sad tear at that table over my lifetime but more often than not, the tears are from laughter and pure joy. I cherish that time with my family. 

    Then came covid. My mom has asthma and we were all very worried in the beginning that she would come in contact with covid and it would be bad. Like BAD bad. I still worry about her now of course but in the beginning, especially after I got so sick, she decided to basically cocoon herself at home and we totally agreed. NO CHANCES should be taken when it comes to your Momma. I still stand by that and even now, as omicron surges, I want her to be safe and home. Maybe not to the extreme that it was in the beginning but I want to keep her safe. I want to keep my sister safe. I want my kids and husband to be safe. But what has this cost us? Sunday night dinners started to become a weekly discussion. Sometimes we’d go but often…it just didn’t seem smart. Given the fact that I work in the hospital and sometimes care for covid patients in the Cath Lab, it didn’t seem wise to risk exposing my entire family. It was bad enough thinking I was carrying it home to Dustin and the kids, I certainly didn’t’ want to give it to my mom or sister!! And then just when we thought we’d get started again, BOOM another variant. Then another. Then another. 

    So what has this cost me personally? Time with my mother and sister. Precious time that we can’t regain. I miss having those nights at my mom’s house where we could talk and laugh but also work through our life stressors. We would talk about what was going on with us and each gives advice or opinions (whether anyone takes the advice or not is on them) but it kept us in tune with what was happening with the others. We often get so wrapped up in our own day-to-day that we lose sight of what the others closest to us are experiencing. Sunday night dinners were a way to bridge that gap. 

    For my kids, Sunday nights were full of people who love them unconditionally, and man that love is palpable. They miss it and I miss it for them. Mimi is the best cook in the family according to Matthew - and I’m not even mad about that! Mimi gives the best hugs, reads the best stories, and always seems to have a little something extra for the babies. Matthew and Claire have asked repeatedly when we will start these dinners again and I honestly don’t know what the answer is. We have done it a time or two and the thinking is we will again and probably would have BUT covid. Dustin tested positive right after our Thanksgiving trip to Disney. Charlotte tested positive right after Christmas. Claire tested positive this past Sunday and it goes on and on and on. Again, my test was negative but I’m only up to write this because whatever cold or virus this is, isn’t allowing me to sleep through the night. The point is, it’s Sunday morning. I can’t breathe through my nose and still have a cough. Nope, no dinner tonight. Family time lost.

    I also have family that doesn’t live right here. Dad and Treva live in NC right on the same street as even more of my family including my three adorable nieces whom I haven’t seen in person since this past summer. Dad and Treva have been able to come here a few times since covid began but more often than not when we make plans someone winds up sick. Maybe just a fever but you just never know what is causing that fever, or headache, or stomachache and who wants to chance giving anything to their Dad in his 70’s. Not me. We have had plans to go to NC several times to see not only Dad and Treva but the rest of our family that is there on that street as well. I don’t remember the last time we were there. Dad left to go to work in Hawaii as he does every few months and we had a plan to go see them before he left. Covid. How many trips have we ALL missed to see family and friends? More family time lost. 

    I love our church. I have a long and complicated history (filled with teen angst and adult stubbornness on my own part) with finding my own way to a church. A church where I felt accepted and truly a part of a church community. I have that in my Salem church family. My children have that in our Salem church family. My best friend and her family attend this church which is how Mom and I first started going there. Then Dustin and I really joined the church and made a consistent effort there when I was pregnant with Claire. We waxed and waned as people often do but over the last couple of years we started to become more and more involved. I love the youth program for Claire and the youth minister does an amazing job with these teens. The children’s ministry can’t be beaten and Matthew has learned and experienced so much thanks to them. Recently I joined the Sunday school class that was being led by my very friend that I followed into the church. It is a class of people my age with children around the ages of my children. It’s a community, a family of people experiencing life right alongside my own experiences. How many Sundays did we watch from the couch because one of us had an unknown cold of some kind? Then eventually we started attending the early service because it was being offered outside and we felt safe to go. And now, it’s back in full swing, albeit with masks. It felt good to be back in church. It felt nice to be back around our church family. Now here it is, Sunday morning. Claire is technically still quarantined and well, I already told you how I feel today. Time with my church family lost.

    Dustin and I have a pretty active circle of friends. We love game nights and dinners and keeping our kids out at friends' houses until all hours of the night (they usually sleep) while we catch up and just spend time together. Now those nights are fewer and fewer. Then when we do have a night the unexpected seems to happen. Just this past weekend we got together with one of our usual friend groups for a birthday dinner. It wasn’t a late night by any stretch but we spent a few hours together inside the home of one of the couples in our group. BOOM - the next morning Claire woke up not feeling well. Covid. Having to tell our friends that we unwittingly exposed all of them was not a text I enjoyed having to send. What is even worse is that one friend has been fighting what can only be described as an autoimmune sickness since June. Great. We exposed her to the ONE thing she has been trying to avoid. Luckily, so far she has remained covid free but I will think twice about hanging out as a group again and I am sure they will too. Time with friends lost.

    I mentioned earlier that I have been on a new exercise routine this year. It’s a new program that I am doing with Jennifer, my best friend mentioned above, and some other awesome ladies. It’s exciting, it’s invigorating, it’s for ME. The program has provided a schedule for me to follow and I like having structure. I LOVE that another of my best friends lives across the street from me and is always ready for a “slog” (slow jog) as we call it to knock out my cardio. Guess what we also do on those slogs? We talk, we laugh, we sometimes cry, we vent, and we heal. I cherish those times with Cassie. In those times we aren’t just moms and wives struggling to work and clean and raise kids and plan meals and wash clothes and and and. We are two women bonding together through sweat and miles. All of the other stuff is left at home and we are just out there as two individuals taking time for themselves. We planned to go today but now, after writing this is complete, my plan is Benadryl and probably a nap. More time with friends lost. 

    In addition to the cardio workouts, there are other workouts I do in my home on the program. Until this week I haven’t missed a single one! I may not have done them on the right days but I have done them gosh darn it! That time is just for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love that my kids are seeing me work so hard towards a healthier me. I love that they see me moving towards a personal goal I have set for myself but that is really a side effect and not the driving factor. This is for me. For my confidence, for my health, for my personal joy, just for me. Now due to this cold I have I’ve missed most of this week. And every day I miss is another hit to my consistency which for me really is key. Now instead of continuing on, it feels like hitting restart. It is frustrating and disappointing and angering and just all of the things. Time for myself lost.

    I could go on and on and on as you might expect and I am sure that many of you reading this could share similar stories and experiences as well. Time lost. Time we can’t get back. Time that will never be ours again. So this morning as I am thinking about what I’ve lost, what so many of us have lost, during this pandemic, I’m just thinking about time.