Quarantine Quinceanera

Dear Lucy,

I had no idea when I wrote your sister’s birthday letter just over a month ago, that we’d still be hunkered down here at home in late May. I had no idea that you wouldn’t get to finish your freshman year with your friends, and that we would be celebrating yet another “quaranteen” birthday at home. In a lot of ways, this time together has been good for us. You have slept more than you ever would have if school was in session and you were leaving the house at 6:45am! We’ve watched movies, you helped me with clearing out the basement and painting it. Well…you helped a little with that stuff! You’ve had time to work on school stuff and have not been on a strict schedule. You’ve played video games, worked on wigs for HOURS at a time, and even had Zoom calls with your friends. Isn’t it weird to think that we’d barely even heard of Zoom a few months ago? Does it suck to not be able to see your friends and hang out, and do regular end-of-school stuff? Of course. But you, my dear, not surprisingly, have taken this all in stride. 

At fifteen, you are at once a complete grown up, and still my sweet little girl. I’m sure that’s likely embarrassing to hear, but there are times that I look at you and I can still see the curly haired, lisping child you once were. Some nights you still climb into my bed and we laugh and talk. I am so thankful for those moments. Maybe you don’t know how much that time helps my heart, but it does. On the other hand, sometimes I see you and I hardly recognize the woman you’ve become. You are nearly as tall as I am, and you have a poise and togetherness about you that I do not recall possessing at fifteen. I’m not even sure I possess it now, at almost 45. I have loved watching you navigate your freshman year at Lincoln. I know it’s not ending in the way you’d have liked, but it’s made me incredibly proud that you’re doing so well there and you seem to be learning the important things that only an education at Lincoln could teach you: equity, making friends with an incredible variety of people, and accepting people who don’t look like you or come from the same place you do. To me, all the academic stuff comes in a close second to the life lessons I’m watching you learn there.

This year has come with an abundance of change for you: new school, new house, new blended family, and that was all before this global pandemic came and put our lives to a screeching halt. I’m so proud of the ways that you’ve handled all of this. It’s not that it hasn’t come with it’s fair share of crap – it has. And I know that stuff isn’t always as easy as you make it look. But you’re willing to talk about it, and open up about it, and you’re willing to ask for help when you need it. I hope you can hold onto that as you get older. There is nothing at all wrong with asking for help or admitting when you’re overwhelmed. It took me a very long time to learn that, and I STILL have trouble asking for help. It’s not a weakness to ask. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

This year has also maybe been the hardest for me in terms of parenting the two of you girls. You’re both teenagers now, and there’s a funny dance that I’ve found myself doing with the two of you – and more often with you, because you’re just that much older. It’s the little two step of sharing my opinions with you, but also shutting my mouth enough to let you form your own opinions. It is the constant pull of loving someone so much that you could literally eat them up, but also letting go enough so that you may grow into your own person. It’s biting my tongue and letting you figure things out on your own, and that is so hard for me sometimes. I want to give you the things that I didn’t have as a teen with my mom. I want us to have the kind of relationship where you can tell me anything at all, but also where you don’t NEED to tell me things, if that makes sense. I want to be the mom who you want to come talk to late at night, but I don’t want that to ever feel forced or not genuine. I want to have the kind of mother daughter relationship with you that continues into your adulthood – and doesn’t just stop when you’re 18 because you’re suddenly grown up, which is how mothering was done to me. I want to continue celebrating year after beautiful, hard, lovely year with you because I am just so very proud to be your mom. Happy birthday, little Lucy B. I sure do love you. 

Zoe is a Quaran-teen

Dear Zoe, 

You are having a birthday during the strangest time in your life thus far. It’s really the strangest time in anyone’s life, to be fair. There’s a pandemic happening in the world. A virus called Covid-19 that is incredibly contagious, and potentially deadly. As of right now (March 29^th) we’ve been stuck at home for almost two weeks, and we have at least another three weeks to go. Maybe more. Life, as we’ve all known it, has come to a complete stand still: no school for you, working at home for me, and so many things you were looking forward to this spring have been cancelled. It is going to be weird to have a birthday during this time. We’ve made plans for your day to be fun despite what’s happening all around us, and you have been amazingly flexible and easy going about it, which isn’t always in your nature – let’s be honest. I’ve joked that your love of video games, drawing, and not wanting to leave the house means that you’ve been in training for your whole life for this quarantine we are under. But honestly, you seem to be the one out of all of us who is rolling with the punches and taking all of this in stride. I’m so thankful for that. 

Zoe, you are not always a kid who rolls with punches. I don’t think it’s any surprise to anyone that I wrote that. You are stubborn and feisty, and you are not down to take anyone’s bullshit. Like, ever. The same qualities that drive me to tears some days are also the qualities in you that I envy. I could be holding a yellow flower, and you will tell me it’s red. You’ll insist I am wrong, roll your eyes, tell me again that I’m wrong, and then go slam a door to prove your point. Each time something like this happens, it leaves me wondering about my perspective. Which isn’t always a bad thing, really. Frustrating, but not a bad thing. When stuff like this happens, it always makes me wonder about who you’ll be in 10 years. I hope this fire within you stays. I hope that you’re able to funnel that into something that you feel passionately about, and that what seems to me sometimes as frustrating stubbornness will help you fight oppression or injustices.

 I often joke that you’re the coolest 13-year-old I know, but it’s true. You have an eclectic taste – in music, clothing and cosplay, and it’s so interesting to watch you love those things and seemingly not care what other people think. You are awesome at doing makeup, transforming yourself into amazing characters. I’m excited to see what you’ll do with that in the future. You are a video game champion, and while some people may scoff at that, I see you learning all kinds of useful skills through those games. You have a keen sense of equity. Sometimes I just mean in this house when you tell me that something you sister gets to do IS NOT FAIR, but I also see it in other parts of your life. You are a noticer. You watch situations at school, and in the media, and you are outraged when people are mistreated. I have never been silent about my thoughts on justice, or injustice – but you have your own thoughts about these things and it makes me incredibly proud to watch you navigate that.

These are weird times, kiddo. It’s hard for me right now to be the grown up in the house, and to have you look to me for answers when I don’t know any more than you do right now. Just yesterday, I read an article in which someone wrote, “We will need to become more like dogs, giddily hopping into the car when we have no idea where it's heading…” and I keep thinking about that, because that is just exactly what we have to do right now. I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring, or even whether you’ll be able to finish the 7^th grade with your friends. I don’t know when Alice Cooper might come back, since his tour that we were so looking forward to was cancelled. I’m not sure if Comic-Con can happen, even in August. Lordy, I hope it can. But I do know that tomorrow you’ll turn 13, and nothing can change that. We’ll celebrate in the ways we can – with our own little quarantined family, and we’ll be thankful for things like FaceTime so that you may see your friends. And you, like the giddy dog, will hop into thirteen and see where it takes you. I love you, sweet Zoe Margaret. I am so proud to be your mama.

Quarantine: Week 2

Today has been hard. The girls have been with their dad since last Wednesday, and it’s just been me and Gregg here at my house. It’s been a LOT of alone time for me. I love being alone, don’t get me wrong. I think I went about 8 years where I was never alone for a single minute, so I’ve learned over the last several years post-divorce to really savor my alone time. But. I’m not a fan of mandated alone time, and I think that’s the difference now. I thrive when I’m surrounded by people. I get ideas from other people, I am used to being in the middle of a huge group of little people, or a group of teachers. I’m used to having at least one night a week where I’m out with friends. We have a standing monthly meetup with friends that we call our Sunday Funday group. My point is that all of this alone time is really starting to wear on me. I am currently on a group text with 10 people that would typically make me lose my mind. TEN PEOPLE. Three weeks ago, a group text with ten people would make me stab someone. But those other 9 ladies have been like a lifeline for me this week, and I love the way we’ve managed to stay connected and invested in each other during this time. It has helped me more than I even realized before writing this. 

I spent much of the day in the basement for the first time since last Friday. Over the weekend, I decided to take a break from the cleaning for my mental health, but I'd also tweaked my back in some way so I really wanted to rest it. Today I was back at it, and it’s taking me way longer than I’d anticipated. There are about 40 Rubbermaid tubs in the basement. You’d think that would mean it's organized. Nope. I’ve had to go through every single one of them, because in the first three I dug through, I found really important family photos and memories that need to be saved. The other 99% of the tubs are garbage. Literal garbage. But since I now know there could be important things hiding, I’ve decide to go through each mother fucking tub. So yes, that has not only taken more time, it’s taken WAY more emotional space than I’d anticipated. Emotional space that should be held right now for being alone during a quarantine. Emotional space that might be used for wondering what the fuck is actually going on in the world and how we’ll all get through this. Suffice it to say, I’m spent. I’ve found great things. Photos. Letters. All of the little intricate puzzle pieces that make my story mine. And that, frankly, has been a lot to take on this week. I hadn't realized maybe how much until tonight.

One of the highlights of the last week and weekend has been a nightly Facebook live show from my favorite songwriter, Travis Meadows. If you’ve not heard him, please do yourself a favor and click on his name right back there – read about his story. Travis is doing a “Hope Cast” each night on social media, and while I’ve loved all of them, tonight it was exactly what I needed. His music really spoke to me and this place I’m in right now. This place we are all in right now. He sang Amazing Grace first. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard that song without having a full on ugly cry. It’s just so beautiful and brings back so many memories for me. And so, tonight I had an ugly cry. I think I needed it. Then, he sang Old Ghosts. I’m going to try to link the video for you below. So often I say, “I believe in things that I can’t see” about stuff that happens to me, and that is a line from this song. I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about the old ghosts I’ve been digging up this week in my basement. There is stuff that is ready to be thrown out, and there are old ghosts hiding in those tubs that have made me exactly who I am today. Tonight, Travis said, “While we are going through this fire, let it refine you – work on yourself.” I’m trying to do just that, and though the timing might be bad, or probably even just a little stupid in these first weeks of quarantine, I know I’ll be thankful in the end.

Later, he said, “Call your friend who’s an asshole. It was his fault, but he’s not gonna call you.” And those are some good words of advice, as well.

Heading into week two of quarantine. Week one of full on shelter in place in KCMO. I wish you well, my friends, and please know you’re not alone in this mess.

Quarantine. Week 1

My kids are still asleep. In my bed, no less, with the dog. This is the new normal, I guess. No school.  “Working” from home. We are now in complete pandemic mode. And I’ll be honest? If this virus doesn’t take me down, my anxiety about it will. I was told I should write about it, so here is my attempt at that. I’m fucking freaked out, y’all. I’m not so worried that I will contract the virus – though when Gregg was here last night and began talking about his allergies, I went full on crazy mode in my head thinking about WHAT IF IT’S NOT ALLERGIES?? I have to stop looking at the news.

I’m trying to take things in stride. Once I found out that I wasn’t going to have to use my new and not very plentiful PTO time to cover this mess, and I would still get paid, I could relax a little. When this stuff began happening – SO quickly – it was suggested to me that I’d have to take my leave to cover time off. I’ve been at my job for 9 weeks. I hardly even know what I’m doing there yet, and I certainly don’t have PTO build up. On the other hand, I’ve also finally gotten myself into a financial situation that doesn’t make me want to jump out of a window every month, and the news of this quarantine made me worry that that would also go out the window. I should be ok financially…if I turn off the one-click Amazon shopping.

I’m trying to teach the girls some new things while we are all here together. Lucy is learning to cross stitch, and Zoe wants to needlepoint. We’ve watched movies and had meals together. I feel like I work in a really small and not very good restaurant, I’m cooking so much. We’ll all probably gain a thousand pounds in the next weeks and months. I’m not worrying about school. It’s my livelihood, education, but I’m not someone who thinks the actual four walls of school is where the learning has to happen. You want to learn? Bake something. Learn a new craft. Write a story. Hell, play a video game. I said it. My kids have mastered the Nintendo and I believe that takes a lot of math, and spatial awareness, and also stamina. I think those are skills that will serve them well, despite the nerdery it took to build them.  

I had a dumpster delivered today. My timing is spectacular, of course. My friends have been offering to help me with a basement overhaul for YEARS, and I picked the one time they’re all at home and can’t help. I also picked perhaps the most emotionally charged activity to do during the most anxious time I’ve had in years. Smart. My basement is still full of Steve’s things. I’ve created paths around it for years and haven’t let myself look too closely at the tubs and boxes of shit because I knew how angry and resentful it would make me. It’s time to get over that and get rid of the stuff. I have ghosts living in this house and it’s beyond time to get them out of here. So, that’s what I’m doing while we are quarantined.

I am trying to see this as a time to put my life back together, not as the time when it all falls apart. There’s a fine line between the two, really. I’m trying not to look too far ahead. I’m lucky in that I have a job where I can work from home and I will continue to get paid. But I have an abundance of friends who either work in the service industry or own their own businesses. I can’t imagine the stress they are under right now. I feel selfish for writing about my anxiety, but I think it’s important to value everyone’s struggle right now. Mine isn’t not valid because someone else has it worse. It’s ok to not be ok, no matter what your situation is. I guess that’s the point of my writing this. I want to say I’m not ok right now. I will be fine, but right now I’m struggling. I think it’s important to be forthcoming in times like this. I hope there will be a financial bail out for my friends. I hope we won’t need to shut down more of our day to day lives. I hope so many things, but right now I’m focusing on what I can control about today. And today, I hope I get some of this mess cleaned. And maybe clearing my home will also help to clear my mind.

Fourteen

Dear Lucy, 

You are about to be fourteen years old. Just writing that makes me want to cry a little bit. As you know, each year I write a little something for birthdays, and I always go back to read what I’d written the year before to see what has changed since then. Last year when you turned 13, I had my friends (and your little group of other mothers) write you a little something about becoming a teenager. I love that they gave you their own little pieces of advice, and when I read what I wrote to you, it made me so happy because I think you are truly taking some of what we told you to heart. 

You don’t mind being different from other kids. You aren’t afraid of being exactly who you are, and you don’t apologize for that. You wear the clothes you want (even the “mom jeans” with the high waistbands that I secretly think are awesome) and you listen to the music you like, without apology. This year there’s been a lot of Billie Eilish, and also a lot of the Beatles. Two musical sounds that couldn’t be more opposite. I love coming upstairs to hear you playing one of my old Beatles albums. It reminds me of being a teenager and discovering that music for the first time. It was like an entire universe was being opened for me at that time, through that music, and I love that you’re finding that, too. Just last weekend we were in the car, and you were putting music on a playlist for us to listen to, and as I sat next to you I thought, “Man. She is her own person now with her own tastes.” And while you might read that and say, “DUH, mom” that moment truly struck me. This is what any parent wants for her child, to grow up to be strong and have ideas of her own…and that is exactly what is happening to you. 

The thing is? You choosing the clothes you wear and the stuff you like? I think kids actually want to hang out with you even MORE because of that. You are so funny. You have comedic timing that I am so proud of. That might sound weird, but the ONE thing I think human beings must have to be successful members of society is a good sense of humor. I honestly worried a little bit before I had you two that my kids wouldn’t be funny. Being funny is maybe the number one trait I look for in people I want to be friends with, and I worried that you two might not get that. Turns out, that was a completely unfounded worry, because both you and your sister are hilarious. You, however, have a knack for timing. For dropping a comment at just the right moment, and that, sweet girl, is a gift. You do weird voices and accents like you were born in those countries. I don’t know if it’s because you are also fluent in French and have been surrounded with people from other countries and cultures your whole life, but that, too, is a gift, and never fails to make me laugh. 

In less than three days, you will leave with your eighth grade class to go to New Orleans for a week long service project. I’m so excited for you. And you, in true Lucy fashion, are worried sick about it. “Nervous-cited” is what you like to call it.  I know that once you get on that bus, you will relax and have a wonderful time. I would like to go on this trip – you’re going to do so many cool things in a city I’ve always wanted to visit!  And? You get to spend your 14^th birthday in the French Quarter with your friends. How great is that? Being away from you on your birthday will be weird, but you should know that as you get older, you may spend less of your actual birthdays with your family. Birthdays can and should last for at least a week, don’t you think? We’ll more than make up for it upon your return. I am certain that this trip will change you in some way. I was 17 when I traveled to Spain with my dance group. In hindsight, there are things about that trip that I would have changed, but being away from my parents and traveling with my friends changed who I was. It boosted my confidence. It made me more independent. It made me know I could get around in this huge world. I know I was a little older, but I suspect you’ll have a similar experience. 

And then? You’ll be off to high school. You have so much amazing stuff coming for you. I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself, but I’m already excited to look back in a year and see what your 14^th year brought for you. New school, new friends, new teachers and experiences. I am beyond excited to see you navigate the next year of your life. And, once again, I need you to know how proud I am to be your mama. You’re a good friend, a good humanitarian who believes strongly in justice and inclusion, and you don’t act like a shitty teenager (at least not yet!), and I’m just so thankful that I get to watch you grow into this amazing person you’ve become. Happy birthday, Lu. I sure do love you.

Mama

Twelve

Tomorrow is Zoe’s twelfth birthday. TWELVE. Twelve is one of those weird ages. It’s the in-between…part teenager, part child. Zoe is definitely a little of both, not equally in either camp, which is just fine with me. This has been a good year for all of us, and Zoe has really begun to show who she is going to be when she’s older. She is kind, and thoughtful, and respectful and accepting of every human she spends time with. More people could stand to have the same qualities, and I could not be more proud of her if I tried.

Zoe has chosen friends who are, for lack of a better term, the misfits. She is much like her mama in this regard, and I love that she doesn’t care one bit what people think of her social choices. This year was a little sad at school when a friend that she’s known since preschool moved to another school. I don’t think even I knew how much it upset her until recently I saw an email between the two girls. “I miss you SOOOO much!” “You’ll always be my best friend even if we don’t see each other every day!” Zoe has a lovely sense of loyalty to her people, which is a wonderful way to be.

Zoe still loves to cook and often helps in the kitchen at home, but this year has been the year of anime and cosplay. She has read all of the anime comics she can get her hands on, and she’s OBSESSED with My Hero Academia. Sometimes we have conversations about this show and about halfway through, I realize I have absolutely ZERO clue what we’ve been talking about. For her birthday this year, Zoe is going to the Planet Comic Con with her dad and Lucy. She’s invited a friend who has never attended such a spectacle, and she’s spent lots of time talking with her friend about what to expect so she’s not overwhelmed. What a sweet friend Zoe is.

The part of Zoe that is still a child loves to snuggle and when I say I love her, she always says, “I love you more” and then my response is always “I know!” which cracks both of us up. The almost-teenager part of Zoe stays in her room a lot. She slams doors when she’s frustrated. She tells me that I don’t understand her. I see a lot of myself in her, for sure. But she’s also full of her own weird and wonderful personality, and a stubbornness that will one day serve her well.  Maybe it already does. This much I know: Zoe knows who she is and what she likes. She is unapologetic about it, and I am so excited to see what her twelfth year brings to her.

Doing the Work.

Last night in my best friend’s kitchen, our eighth grade girls were talking to us about a party that happened last weekend. Their mom and I had heard about the party, and were asking the girls what they knew. It got us talking about how naïve we both were when it came to things 14 year olds were doing.  Don’t get me wrong – I’m not stupid. I was a teenager once who tried plenty of things. I just don’t have one of those teenagers, at least not yet, anyway. What came up in this conversation over and over, and again later when Lucy wanted to talk more about it, were girls who were sending photos to boys. Either on their own accord, or sometimes when they were “being blackmailed” as the girls’ put it. It led to conversation about consent. It led to talk about how what you put out on the internet could ALWAYS come back to haunt you.  But mostly it led to a conversation about self-respect. People who respect you will not “blackmail” you for a photo of your body. People who have your best interest in mind will not ask you to do ANYTHING you don’t want to do. And if you have respect for yourself? You’ll tell those kids to fuck off when they ask for things you KNOW are wrong. Lucy suggested that maybe these girls weren’t getting attention other ways. We talked at length about people’s needs, and the need some girls feel to be seen. Especially in these days of instant gratification and social media.

Mostly, when Lucy went to bed last night I sat and thought about how the girls sending these kinds of photos AND THE BOYS RECEIVING THEM were likely not having these kinds of conversations with their parents. It made me think about the college admissions scandal and about the things we parents value in this country.  Recently, I took a personality quiz and one of the questions was something along the lines of “would you rather your child be kind or incredibly successful”? Kind. Duh. I’ve known a lot of people in my life. I’ve traveled many places and I’ve worked in jobs from retail, to the service industry, to arts to education, and I’ve learned that all the success in the world means nothing if you’re an asshole. Just look at your president. Sadly, though, this isn’t how the world works most of the time. People would rather have success and fame (or being “seen”) over being kind and doing the right thing.

We’d rather pay millions of dollars to get kids into college than to expect that they might actually work hard for it, or even maybe admit that they shouldn’t go to college if that’s not what they’re cut out to do. We’d rather post photos of our smiling kids on social media and tell all our friends about how amazing they are, but then never check their phones, know who their friends are, or have conversations with them about how sexting at 14 is NOT OK. EVER. Most people don’t want to do the hard work of parenting, because it’s just that: hard. We don’t want to have conversations that make us uncomfortable because that’s hard, too. Guess what else is uncomfortable and hard? Hearing that teenage girls you’ve known their whole lives are sending photos of their bodies to young boys. Mothers and fathers: do yourselves a favor and ask the hard questions. Get to know your kids. And by all means, get to know their friends.

No one ever really had these conversations with me, at least not in the ways that I’m having them with the girls. And I don’t know if it’s because I wasn’t outwardly told to be assertive or strong, or if it’s just who I was as a teenager, but I did a lot of things for the sake of being seen. Stupid and shitty things. I hung out with the wrong people because I thought it would make me popular, or worse, I didn’t want to say “no” or stand up for myself and look stupid. I listened to offensive jokes without stopping them. I allowed people to take advantage of my low self-esteem. Most days I wish I could go back and punch that Kate in the face. But other times, like now, I like to recall those days and remember why it’s important to me to talk with the girls about this kind of stuff. Times have changed, but people really haven’t.