Just Barely Passing

Everyone is navigating through their new normal. People are working and learning from home, cooking a lot more, having lots of FaceTime and Zoom calls, doing occasional drive-by visits just for a little more human connection without the actual touching part. It’s a new normal hot mess. But it’s our mess, so we embrace it.

I like to use the interwebs, specifically social media, as a way to feel connected with others, and while my intentions are good, I end up feeling like I am failing at life. On Facebook, I’m seeing all sorts of amazing things people are doing with their quarantine time. For example, I just saw a post about someone making spinach polenta and baked pears wrapped with bacon and topped with goat cheese for a “quick dinner.” What in the actual fuck is a spinach polenta? Does it come out of a can, and does it pair well with spam? I just taught the kids how to make instant ramen and thought I was a gansta, and then I see a post like that. Defeat. I also hear about great family hikes and activities, which made my kid activity of, “Go outside and collect rocks..why? What do you mean why? Because nature!” sound sort of ‘meh.’ I see all these great DIY projects being completed at home, and I tried to use that to motivate me. It led me to taking my kid’s bedroom shelves down, only to have quickly lost steam, leaving the mess of an incomplete project on her bedroom floor. I am feeling inferior at best.

I would venture a guess, though, that many of my peers feel this way right now, so at least I’m in good company. In an effort to help others feel like they are not alone in their “inferior new norm,” here’s a peek into what our house looks and sounds like a month and a half into our quarantine.

1. Homeschooling Stephen King

I’m almost certain most parents are drowning in their attempts to educate their kids, and teachers are worried that their students are now carrying the 1 instead of making math mats and 10 frames. I’m kind of going back and forth between doing a great job and not giving two shits. My teaching mindset ranges from, “I will do my best to ensure my children will thrive,” to, “Define ‘fail’ in the pass/fail grading system.” The kids also fluctuate in their motivation and ability, but most days they seem pretty well-adjusted to the new system. However, there have been moments that just leave me scratching my head, wondering what sorts of things I did to have broken my children. For example, Reese had some creative writing assignments that she was so proud of and could not wait for me to read. She stood there and watched my reaction with so much anticipation as I read her first story. I had to control my jaw from basically falling off my face as I read about a guard of a castle (she was the guard) who decided to burn her prisoner alive because he wouldn’t answer her questions to her liking. It was like reading a scene out of Game of Thrones. I said, “Wow, that was definitely not what I expected. How very, umm, imaginative! So, burned alive, huh? Seems a little harsh, don’t you think?” And she responded, “I don’t know, it just felt right.” My next thought was, do child psychologists do Zoom calls these days? But no, I thought perhaps it was just a one time terribly violent story. A few days later she had another creative writing assignment, and this was her chance to redeem herself as a good human being. Nope, not the case. This time, she wrote about a surfer who was pulled down into the ocean and eaten by a shark. I tried not to give too much attention to her dark imagination, and just corrected her spelling and grammar instead. It’s fine, what’s two violently dark stories, right? No big deal. Then her third story, and this was not an assignment but just a story she wanted to write on her own, was about a super mean mom that constantly yelled at and fought with her daughter. They went on a family road trip together, and while driving at night, suddenly drove off the road. She left it as a cliff hanger, but if I don’t clean up my act around here, I’m guessing the mean mom in the story doesn’t make it out of the car alive. My homeschooling is either creating a future phenomenal author or a sweet sociopath. I guess we’ll see in a few years. Thanks, coronavirus.

1. The Sound of Music

The kids like to listen to music while they do chores. Sometimes they listen to KidzBop, sometimes they choose to listen to movie soundtracks. Lately, they have been obsessed with the “Pitch Perfect” soundtracks, which I was cool with since I like those movies. It seemed pretty harmless, until I started hearing my 9 and 6 year olds singing lyrics like, “…Let me see that thong, thong-thong-thong-thong…,” or, “I like big butts and I cannot lie,” or perhaps the best one, “Let’s talk about sex, baby…” So I had to make a parenting decision, and the obvious one would have been to stop them from listening to inappropriate music. But no, I’m not making good decision here these days. I said, “Guys, if you’re going to sing the Thong Song, please get the lyrics correct. It goes, ‘She had dumps like a truck, truck, truck.’ You don’t need to know what it means, just please sing it correctly. Also, you are to only hum, ‘Let’s Talk About Sex,’ because you’re not ready for the lyrics. And here, let me play the original Sir Mix-A-Lot song on Alexa so you know what the original “Baby Got Back” sounds like.” Sometimes I’m just too tired to do the right thing. Right now I’m good with not doing the most wrong thing. However, I now have a 6 year old who won’t stop singing, “My anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns, hon!” This might be borderline most wrong thing, but now I find it entertaining and don’t want to stop it anytime soon. Maybe when he starts telling his classmates on his Zoom calls to “shake that healthy butt,” I’ll resume proper parenting.

1. It’s What’s For Dinner

Jamie and the kids have really developed a liking for canned corned beef, spam and rice, instant ramen, and frozen pizza Fridays. The love for instant foods have become some what of a comfort to them, which is great for me since I’m so tired of cooking. But the MSG-saturated foods are not the only things the kids look forward to during dinner time. Since the quarantine started, we decided to have “family meetings” during dinner, and the kids love it. It is an opportunity for us to go around the table and share what our favorite part of the day was, and something that didn’t go very well that each individual needs to work on. I thought it was a great idea, and I’m patting myself on the back, thinking I’m just nailing this mom thing. Most nights, the meetings go smoothly, where everyone says something productive and I finish the meeting with a few thoughts and comments about how the day went and what my expectations are for the next day. But then there are nights when the kids take these meetings as opportunities to make passive-aggressive jabs at me. For example, one night I had said that I should have made more time during the day to be more active, maybe work out or go for a walk. Reese responded, “Well, at least your mouth and lips were active. You did a lot of talking and yelling today.” I mean, she wasn’t wrong. Its just hard to hear comments that would normally come out of my mouth come out of my kid’s mouth instead. After all, it’s only funny when I say it. Evan has also chimed in, saying things like, “I have a question. How come if you and Daddy are doing the same workouts, Daddy has muscles and you don’t?” I said, “Look, I have muscle too,” and I flexed for him. His response: “Oh Mommy, those are NOT good muscles.” Again, he’s not wrong, but damn, the honesty can be so brutal sometimes. But the kids aren’t the only ones taking pot shots. In fact, they are probably taking my lead. At the end of one meeting, I finished with saying to Evan, “And just a general thing…stop being SO ANNOYING!” Jamie had to text me to stop my rant before things got really ugly. Personally, I don’t know what was wrong with that comment; it was truthful and I used simple language that a 6 year old could understand. Apparently, telling you kids to their faces that they are annoying is frowned upon here. We’re strong in the honesty department in this family, not so much in the tactfulness. It’s a tough pill to swallow sometimes.

1. Too-gether

We are nonstop together, and some days it feels like a little too much. I created a rule in the house that everyone has to get thirty minutes of alone time daily no matter what, not including workouts. I mainly started the rule for two reasons: 1. To get them the hell away from me, and 2. To keep the kids from fighting. If you notice, both reasons directly revolve around me and my mental health. I explained that it was important to be able to spend time by yourself to reset your mind, get some quiet in your brain, and explore your own imaginations. Sounds beautiful, right? Like something out of a weekend retreat brochure. Well, my little devils took my fabulous thirty minutes of peace idea and weaponized it. For example, if they are fighting over a toy (like our in-house skateboard…yes, it has come to that), one kid will scream out, “I call my 30 minutes on the RipStick!” Crying ensues. There is no peace in the house, only death stares at each other, whines about “It’s not fair,” and maniacal laughter if the skateboarding kid wipes out. The 30 minute weapon has also been used to threaten a sibling into submission, with threats that sound like, “If you don’t help me clean my room, I’m going to take my 30 minutes and I’ll play the Lego game without you,” or, “If you don’t make my lunch, I’m going to take my 30 minutes and read Harry Potter by myself.” Tattletaling ensues, Mommy drinks. If I made this into a drinking game, I would be drunk everyday by 11am.

Jamie and I actually suck at taking our thirty minutes too. Jamie will maybe play video games after the kids go to bed, but by then the house is already quiet and peace has already been restored. I sometimes attempt to take my thirty minutes after the kids are finished with schoolwork, but it’s not a conscious peaceful time, since I basically crash on the couch to take a nap, only to be woken up 10 minutes later with a kid asking, “Oh Mommy, are you sleeping?” Nearly everyday we say that we need to do better with taking our thirty minute alone time, which I think has become code for us to tell the other that we don’t want to be near the kids right now. Although at this point in the quarantine, I have stopped using codes and just tell the kids, “Hey guys, I just don’t want to see you anymore. Please go away.”

As you can see, it’s all about survival over here. I’ve adjusted expectations with everyone’s behavior, mostly mine. The kids fight, Jamie and I fight, we fight with the kids, and it’s all good. We forgive. We forgive each other and especially ourselves, and it gives us a chance to do better and start fresh the next day. I let go of perfections– in schedules, disciplining and homeschooling the kids, cooking meals, cleaning the house, and home projects. I’m focusing on mental health and making sure all my roommates are handling this isolation as best as they can, because I know I’ll feel better knowing that they are okay. Our day to day life is not pretty, and we have no great creations or glorious accomplishments to share on social media (except maybe that one time I was Ripsticking in the house with a vodka popsicle in my mouth…that was a solid effort). We are excelling at being super average, possible even below average. Lucky for me, in the grading system of quarantines, it’s pass/fail. And since no one in my house is actively plotting the others’ demises (maybe occasionally thinking it, but no actual plan), I think we’re passing. And if I remember correctly from my academic days, earning a just-barely-passing grade in a pass/fail class is pretty much acing it.