Real Life

I've begun to feel that I'm living two lives: the life I document here on the blog and the actual life I'm living. I don't like that disparity. I aim for authenticity and transparency. I don't want to be one thing and pretend to be another. The life I record in these posts is real, but it's sanitized, the good parts version.

Why do I hold some things back? In part, because it's not all mine to share. I can write about struggles that my kids have when they're little, those stories are relatable and cute and only mildly embarrassing but not in a way that will cause harm in the future. Big kid struggles are different. Teenager struggles are different. They are part of a bigger story, one that the protagonist may not wish to remember.

Another reason is that real life is hard. So so so so hard. I've marveled recently that we had the foresight (which came from inspiration) to adopt We Can Do Hard Things as our family motto so many years ago. We had no idea how often we would need to refer back to it. I know the past year has been especially hard for so many people. I feel that our family keeps getting hit with bigger and harder trials. We move through one, or into the beginning of one, and I think, "How are we going to deal with this? How are we going to get through this?" And then we're hit with something even bigger.

The overwhelm that I feel on a daily basis is suffocating. I consciously narrow my vision so I can see the trials directly in front of me, otherwise I would drown.

And that's why I don't write about it too much. This real life business is not so pleasant to read about. Even when I do talk about it, it's usually with a laugh and a joke as a way to be honest, but not so honest that I drive people away, or worse, become someone's project.

In the past when people have asked me how I'm doing I have been known to answer, "How honest do you want me to be?" And that's a problem, because honesty is very important to me. But few people are truly interested in that kind of honesty, or are prepared to hear it.

I realize I'm painting a bleak picture. This is the part of the post where I would normally find something positive to write, some kind of silver lining about all of these hard things that I'm vaguely referencing. That's what I do. I lighten the hard things. I make them more palatable. I don't want people to worry.

But I need to get this down, I need to be able to look back at this time and remember these hard things. These hard things help me to have understanding and compassion for other people experiencing their own hard things. These hard things connect me to the Atonement. There's always a lesson in the hard things, I just have trouble seeing the lesson while I'm in the middle of it, but I can often see it when I look back.

The Groundhog Wasn't Kidding

It snowed again. There is so much snow outside. I'm not complaining, I know the moisture is important and it is winter and all, and I don't have to be outside in it like I would in a normal year. I'm just amazed at how much there's been.

One Stitch At a Time

I think it's amazing that even during a year when we aren't trick or treating and most Halloween activities are canceled I still find myself sitting at my sewing machine late at night trying to make sense of a pattern and instructions as I put together a costume.

I'll let you know how it turns out.

My Brain Hurts

We made it through the first day.

We got up reasonably early at 7am, though much too late if we'd been rushing to catch the bus. I made blueberry muffins and we turned on the computers around 9:30. The first two days are called Onboarding, they're all about how to use the software that the school uses for assignments and assessments. I read that it would be good for me to sit with each child and watch all the tutorials with them.

This did not happen.

After getting everyone set up and realizing that there simply weren't enough hours in the day, I let the older three work independently (except for the occasional question) while I sat with Sophie. And by sat with, I really mean ran around chasing Topher while listening to the instructional videos and coming back to read whatever wasn't in video format. She's a strong enough reader that she could read most of it, but there were a few words that she needed help with.

Topher seemed extra energetic today, probably because I couldn't shadow him like usual. He made it all the way upstairs twice today. I don't think that's ever happened before. Both times I found him snuggled in Peter's bed, surrounded by stuffed animals. I think he was out of my sight for maybe thirty seconds? That kid is fast.

From all the research I've done, once this onboarding is done, school will be much more fun. I sure hope so.

Embrace the Change

As a family we made the prayerful decision to pull the kids from our local school district and sign them up with an established cyber school. We finished the applications a few days before they announced a cap on new enrollments. Last week we docu-signed the official paperwork. On Friday morning we got an email with the kids new user names and passwords and instructions on how to access the school website.

Since then I've spent several hours each day (and I didn't realize I had any extra to spare) learning how the new school will work, reading questions and answers from other parents on the Facebook pages, ordering supplies off the lists that we now have access to, urging the kids to plow through as much of the summer reading homework as possible, and continuing to prepare our house to become school on Monday.

I feel like I should be stressed and overwhelmed and nervous about how this is all going to go down. I mean, all the other parents seem pretty nervous. And, honestly, I am stressed and overwhelmed, but not about this. I'm approaching this school year with much less stress and anxiety than usual. When I realized that I started pondering why. Why am I not riddled with nerves? Why am I not freaking out with questions about how I'm going to effectively supervise the real schoolwork (the end of last year was rough on families and teachers alike and did not conclude with much real schoolwork) of four kids at four levels while still running the house and engaging Topher?

And here's the answer I've come to: because it's the right choice. This is the right thing for our family right now. Peter is adamant that this will only last a year. Phoebe is ready to embrace it long-term. I have no idea what will happen educationally for our children when this school year is done. But I do recognize that peaceful assurance that comes from seeking divine guidance, then following it.

When You Feel Discouraged

I feel like most of my posts recently have been short and light and kind of on the fluffy side. And that's totally fine, they're things I want to remember. But our daily reality is much more stressful. And hard. This week in particular has been sad on many levels. Unfortunately I'm going to leave this vague and not go into details since the sad things impact me, but are not about me and therefore not really mine to tell.

So, as is my custom, I'm going to look for silver linings about this hard time. Ready?

We've been getting rid of things for some time without seeing progress, but just yesterday I started to feel a difference in our house. It's like I can breathe again. We've still got a ways to go, but we're moving in the right direction.

Tonight Bryan and I signed the final paperwork to sign the kids up for one of the top cyber charter schools in Pennsylvania. We didn't feel good about the plan our local district put in place, so we looked for other options. School is supposed to start August 31, hopefully we'll be able to start then, but it will depend on if we have our school supplies yet.

I had a hard, but good, conversation with a loved one today. It was emotional and long-overdue, but I think we both benefited from it.

I love my family. All of them, those inside and outside my house.

Okay, that's enough blessing counting for the moment.

Cool As a Cucumber

It was pointed out to me recently that I never followed up on the story of our broken AC. Good news: it was only broken for five days this time because we let the landlord know right away and he moved to fix the problem quickly. 

Two weeks ago today a repairman spent the entire day totally replacing the unit. That means that the kids and I spent the entire day sweating buckets in the upstairs of our house in an attempt to stay as far away as possible from the repairman that kept removing his mask inside our house. I think after the third time Bryan asked him to keep it on he stopped pulling it down onto his chin, at least as far as we know. By about 5pm that evening cool air was beginning to flow from the vents. 

It was glorious.

Only Take What You Need

For years Bryan has been half seriously/half jokingly saying that we should get rid of everything we own except for what we could fit in one suitcase per person. I've always brushed aside the idea as impractical and over-the-top. But I've also gotten the impression more times than I can count that we need to get rid of many of the things taking up space in our house.

 

After weeks of trying to stay on top of kids doing chores and putting away things that they've gotten out and being at home all the time and therefore having more messes than usual, I came to a conclusion. Today I told Bryan, "Well, you've just about got me on board with only having enough stuff to fit in a suitcase for each of us."

He laughed in a surprised kind of way. And I was kind of joking. And kind of not.

We Lost Our Cool

We had AC for ten days. Ten days of the kids complaining that 77 degrees was too cold. Ten days of regular humidity inside the house. Ten days of putting Topher to bed in actual pajamas instead of just a diaper.

On Saturday I noticed that the temperature inside the house was getting warmer and warmer. I bumped the thermostat down to 76 degrees, then watched as the heat crept into the eighties on the main floor. After we determined that cold air was no longer coming out of the vents, we got this message on the thermostat.

We shut it down, opened the windows to let in only slightly cooler air, turned on the fans, and emailed the landlord. Our house has been hot and humid since. Even the carpet feels sticky. I like humidity, but this is a bit oppressive.

A repair technician (from a different company than fixed it two weeks ago) should be at our house this morning, hopefully with good news and appropriate social distancing.

The Big Picture

Here's something that I think is amazing: I can have a conversation with Peter and see his nearly 6'2" frame that almost outweighs me and hear his deep, close-to-adult sounding voice, while simultaneously seeing newborn Peter taking in the world around him, and fifteen-month-old Peter when he was sick and only wanted me to hold him, and three-year-old Peter who always had a silly joke to share, and five-year-old Peter who was continually creating scenes out of paper and crayons, and nine-year-old Peter who was so insecure and aware that he was different from the other kids at school and wanted to talk out those feelings with me long past bedtime. I can see him in all of these stages, remember experiencing them with him, and yet still be aware of this moment that we're in now.

I wonder if that's how Heavenly Father sees us, our past and present and future added in, all rolled into one complete picture of who we are.

Burning the Candle at Both Ends

The three youngest kids still have early-ish bedtimes and wake up early.

The two big boys have later bedtimes and sleep in.

That means I wake up early with the younger kids and stay up late with the big kids.

I'm really tired.

Tomorrow

It's 11:01 on the night of June 26. This is my last hour being thirty-nine, my last hour before I turn forty.

It's weird.

I fully recognize that in the grand scheme of things forty is not a big number. But it feels kind of big. Several times today Sophie has commented on my impending birthday including the gem, "Tomorrow you'll be old!"

I've been reflecting about the changes that have happened during the last ten years. When I turned thirty I was expecting Phoebe, so I've had three additional children in my thirties. We went through the MBA adventure and zigzagged our way across the country as we moved and moved and moved and moved and moved and moved and moved. I made some very dear friends in the last ten years. I've read hundreds of books. I've made blankets. I've cooked more meals from scratch than I thought possible. I've gone through life-changing trials. But I've learned and grown and been refined by those trials.

When I turned thirty I wrote about my tenth and twentieth birthdays and I pondered about how I would spend my fortieth birthday. Never would I have guessed that I would turn forty in the middle of a global pandemic and a national racism awakening. Tomorrow there will be no parties or gatherings with friends. Bryan and I won't go out to dinner or a movie to celebrate. I'll sleep in and exercise and open gifts, many of which the kids covertly created and wrapped today. I'll (probably) gets texts and Facebook messages wishing me happy birthday and maybe even a call or two. I'll eat watermelon and sugar-free cake and snuggle with these six people that I love so very much.

What do the next ten years hold? The world is still upside-down, so I have no idea. I'd like us to buy a house at some point. Peter starts high school in the fall, though I don't know what that will look like. I'd like to send kids on missions and to college. I'd like to really learn to play the piano and the ukulele and the guitar. I'd like to work toward a Master's degree and maybe figure out what I want to be when I grow up. I'd like to be healthy and have energy to keep up with these kids as they grow.

It's 11:40 on the night of June 26. This is my last twenty minutes being thirty-nine, my last twenty minutes before I turn forty.

It's going to be fine.

It's Too Darn Hot

It got hot enough yesterday that Topher only wore lightweight shorts and Sophie never changed out of her warm weather pajamas at all.

It got hot enough yesterday that I texted my friend and said yes, we would take them up on their offer to borrow some box fans.

It got hot enough yesterday that I could spike Topher's hair with nothing but sweat.

It got hot enough yesterday that our house was still eighty-four degrees on the main floor and eighty-five in the basement at nearly eleven o'clock at night.

It got hot enough yesterday that we're actually talking about having someone come in and fix the AC.

Sanity

I was asked recently about what I'm doing to stay sane. I haven't actually answered that question yet, but I've thought about it. A lot.

In the regular, pre-pandemic world, I did quite a few things to keep myself sane. I was careful not to over-schedule the kids, thereby not over-scheduling myself. I prioritized exercise and was getting better about prioritizing sleep. I focused on healthy foods for my family and we all worked hard to keep the house in order. I took time each day for Gospel study and prayer.

Writing it out like that makes me sound super organized and probably pretty zen. That's not how I felt at all, but I was making good choices.

Now, in this brave new world (which is not a book I enjoy, by the way), what have I been doing to stay sane?

I text. A lot. I still work to avoid being on my phone when the kids are up, but since they're up and near me almost all the hours that I'm up, I've had to adjust. I send notes checking in with people, asking how they're doing, how their week is progressing. I do it to see if they're okay and help my lonely extroverted heart feel less isolated.

I video chat and (occasionally, when I have a quiet moment) use Marco Polo to send video messages. Sophie uses Marco Polo way more than I do to chat with her church friends and cousins. It's nice to see people's faces and I get so much more information when I add facial expressions to the words they're saying.

I speak up. I'm juggling so many roles right now and have hit my Wall of Overwhelm multiple times in the last seven weeks. When that happens I let Bryan know that I need help. And I let the kids know that I need help. And then we work together to carry the load.

I exercise. I haven't done this the whole time. In fact, for the first month at home I didn't make time to workout at all because I was so busy facilitating school and feeding everyone. But my body is good at demanding that I take care of it by getting migraines when I haven't had enough physical activity. The last two weeks I've done a much better job of getting on the treadmill for thirty minutes or the rowing machine for ten or doing a short yoga video on YouTube. I have so much more energy and patience when I carve out that time.

I read my scriptures, everyday.

I pray, multiple times each day.

I read other books too. I had very little time in March to read and I missed it. I found/made more time in April. Reading and listening to books really make my heart and brain happy.

I'm still feeling exhausted and overworked. I still have to drag myself to bedtime, a long process since bedtimes are staggered. I still feel exceptional amounts of anxiety over the state of the world and those I love. But doing the things I talked about above goes a long way to keeping me mentally and emotionally healthy, which helps the rest of the people at my house do the same.

A Shift in Perspective

After last week I took Saturday easy. Sort of. I told Bryan that I wanted to spend time baking in preparation for Easter, so I spent several hours in the kitchen while he kept the kids alive. Baking all day doesn't sound easy, and it wasn't, but it was a treat for me since I love to bake. Then, after the kids were all in bed, I kept working in the kitchen and I listened to a wonderful book, Grace Where You Are by Emily Belle Freeman.

It had been on my list of books to read the week before Easter, but with the stress I was feeling I hadn't made it a priority. Then, during a conversation last week, my mom asked if I'd read it. That sent up a flag in my head, "Oh, this must be important, make time for it."

So I did. And it was exactly what I needed to calm my heart and my head. Our Easter was really nice, in part because I had prepared myself spiritually by reading this book.

I was surprised to see Phoebe's comment on yesterday's post. (She comments now, which I think is delightful.) She said that last week was a good week. Wow, was it? Thanks to her perspective, and some pondering of my own, I'm now able to look back and see the good parts of last week that accompanied the difficult.

Quarantine Week Four: The Pictures

Name Them One By One

This week has been hard. 

Tempers are running short, patience is running thin, stubborn refusal to do chores and schoolwork has been abundant. Cooper was up until 11 one night and 10 the next finishing the schoolwork that's only supposed to take two hours. Peter discovered today that he's not been checking the right places online for his assignments and he's missed several. Sophie switches between loving what we're doing for school and telling me how awful and stupid the work is. Phoebe is pretty self-sufficient, but is really missing her friends.

I'm feeling four weeks of no rest or break. Four weeks of only leaving the house a handful of times. Four weeks of getting almost no exercise and very little sleep. Four weeks of being "on" all the time for my job. Four weeks of incredible stress and worry. Four weeks of kids fighting with each other and with me while I work so hard to be the peacemaker. I feel it as a crushing heaviness in my chest. I feel it as a tightening of my breathing, my asthma on alert.

Yesterday the word came down from the Governor that our kids won't be going back to school during this academic school year. We weren't surprised, but we were sad. This means no volleyball team or engineering team competition to Alabama for Peter. My kids all had really exceptional teachers this year and I'm sad they won't be able to benefit from being in their classrooms anymore.

So, as is my habit, I've been working hard to find the positives: 

• I am thankful that we're all home.
• I'm thankful that we have food to eat.
• I'm thankful that Bryan can work from home.
• I'm thankful that Bryan has a job.
• I would prefer setting my kids' curriculum myself, but I'm thankful that I have the ability to teach what the teachers have set. 
• I'm thankful that we have enough electronic devices for everyone to do school at the same time.
• I'm thankful that we have enough bandwidth for everyone to be online at the same time.
• I'm thankful that we established chore charts and daily expectations several years ago so the house keeps running.
• I'm thankful that today starts our four-day weekend Spring Break. 
• I'm thankful that I've got fourteen years of experience as a stay-at-home parent so this isn't completely new territory for me. 
• I'm thankful we are all still healthy. 
• I'm thankful that we can sleep in instead of rushing to the bus every morning.
• I'm thankful for Bryan's mom for giving me a sewing machine when I graduated from BYU in 2004, even though I had absolutely no idea how to use it at the time.
• I'm thankful that I've learned to sew so I can make face masks for my family.
• I'm thankful for video calls to helps us feel connected to family and friends.
• I'm thankful that we have a vast home library.
• I'm thankful that we're in this house at this time and have more room than in any previous house.
• I'm thankful that Bryan and I both are good cooks.
• I'm thankful that we have more time to study scriptures as a family.

I'm thankful for the messages that came from Conference last weekend. The talks that spoke to my soul were from Bonnie H. Cordon, Quentin L. Cook, Dale G. Renlund, Neil L. Andersen, and especially Jeffery R. Holland. His talks always go right to my heart. The most profound quote for me came near the end: 

We pray for those who have lost loved ones in this modern plague, as well as for those currently infected or at risk. We certainly pray for those who are giving such magnificent healthcare. When we have conquered it—and we will—may we be equally committed to freeing the world from the virus of hunger and freeing neighborhoods and nations from the virus of poverty. May we hope for schools where students are taught—not terrified they will be shot—and for the gift of personal dignity for every child of God, unmarred by any form of racial, ethnic, or religious prejudice.Undergirding all of this is our relentless hope for greater devotion to the two greatest of all commandments: to love God by keeping His counsel and to love our neighbors by showing kindness and compassion, patience and forgiveness. These two divine directives are still—and forever will be—the only real hope we have for giving our children a better world than the one they now know.

On Saturday night President Russell M. Nelson asked us to hold a worldwide fast today, Good Friday. He asked that we fast "that the present pandemic may be controlled, caregivers protected, the economy strengthened, and life normalized." We are adding our faith to that fast. 

This week has been hard. But I have hope for better times ahead.

Crisis Management

Tomorrow marks two weeks into this brave new world of living inside our house all the time. Here are my thoughts so far, in no particular order:

• I'm a confusing combination of extrovert and homebody, so I'm happy staying in, but I miss people. 
• I really wish we could spend more time outside. The park/walking trail that we visited last week is now locked down, so that's out. We tried to play outside our house but found at least a dozen peanut shells around our home. There weren't any around our neighbor's homes. It's been going on since shortly after we moved here, but never so many at once. For a long time I wanted to think maybe it was someone snacking while working on the grounds crew (but they haven't been here in months) or a squirrel (but that would be a very particular rodent to only choose our house). Whatever the reason, we can't play outside. 
• I wish we had a yard.
• We have eaten very well. Bryan and I both like to cook and we've jumped right in to making use of time to prepare meals. And we're being extra diligent about eating all the leftovers.
• We go through a lot of food.
• I learned how to make Tartar Sauce this week.
• And coleslaw.
• And hoagie rolls.
• Our regular weekly shopping trips look like we're hoarding. Bryan got groceries yesterday and overheard another pair of shoppers judging the abundance of items in his cart. He turned to them and said, "I have seven people in my house, this is just a regular shopping trip." They scoffed and walked away.
• This whole thing is pretty scary.
• Our school district will officially begin distance learning on Monday. Thankfully they're not requiring daily teleconferencing meetings for each child (imagine a class full of Kindergartners on a video conference), but instead will post daily assignments to be completed by the students that day. We'll see how that goes.
• Peter is going stir-crazy at the lack of socialization. He really wants access to online gaming all day long so he can talk to his friends. He'll have to make do with what I think is a generous hour and a half. Yeah, he's an extrovert too.
• I asked Cooper if he wanted to video chat with his good friend from church and school. He said, "No, I'm okay." He is not an extrovert.
• Phoebe has a daily check-in with her class where they type messages to each other on a Google Doc. I think it's the highlight of her day. She's also an extrovert.
• I'm not sure if Sophie is an introvert or an extrovert, but I do know that she's loud. So loud. 
• Topher really, really, really loves having all the kids and Bryan home.
• I love it too.

Quarantine Week One: The Words

Last week went exceptionally well. We had a good balance of school and work and play and family time. We can't really play outside (I'll explain that in a later post), which has been hard, but opening the windows has helped.

Many states canceled school last week and had the kids jump right into online learning as their teachers were scrambling to set it up. The state of Pennsylvania just canceled school without sending home required work. Based on what the superintendent of our school district has said (that every child in the district needs access to a screen and the internet) and what's happening with the spread of COVID-19, it appears that our time at home will extend beyond the original two weeks. That means our teachers are spending these two weeks getting ready to move their classrooms to online formats. But for now, we don't have that in place. So while the rest of the country complains about being suddenly thrown into homeschooling, we could take the two weeks as time off.

We aren't.

I mentioned last week that we put a loose schedule in place. We also setup some ground rules for each weekday (chores and school) and we chose to make Saturday (fun breakfast, more chores) and Sunday (church at home, attempt at resting) feel different from the rest of the week. Here are the ground rules:

• get dressed everyday, no pajama days
• open all the blinds in the house and let in whatever sunlight we can
• the kitchen is only open during certain times of the day, no all-day grazing
• we study the scriptures as a family as soon as breakfast ends
• everyone does chores
• everyone does school
• everyone exercises
• each of the three big kids has a thirty minute turn taking care of/playing with Topher in the afternoon so I can make dinner

Depending on who you are these either sound restrictive or lax, but they were just right for us. These rules meant that by 3pm each day all the kids had their charts done and were eligible to play video games. Peter and Phoebe are good at getting stuff done when they want to, but Cooper and Sophie really struggle. This plan helped them a lot, which means Cooper and Sophie love the schedule while Peter and Phoebe are not fans.

School consisted of Khan Academy, Prodigy, First In Math, Scratch, Starfall, PBS Kids, piano, reading lessons for Sophie (a review), worksheets that her teacher emailed, and lots of reading. My mild obsession with having educational materials on hand has really paid off this week. I guess I'm still a homeschooler at heart.

We did have rough spots. 

I am now on the clock and working with at least one child all the time from about 7am to 9pm, depending on when kids wake up and if Peter goes to bed on-time, so I'm very worn out. I've eked out time for my personal scripture study, but beyond that my usual reading has taken a major hit. Plus, I am an extrovert and, while I do love the extra family time, I need other people too. This means I've been on Facebook waaaaaaaay too much after bedtime. It's not real social interaction, but it's something. I've texted with several friends and family members, checking in to see how they are, and we've started using the app Marco Polo to connect with people. That helps too, but it's still tough.

Overall though, it was a good first week.

It Will Be Okay

Remember when I wrote about not having any snow days? I lamented that I could really use a break and that an unexpected day off would be welcome.

Be careful what you wish for.

Because of the COVID-19 pandemic that is sweeping the world everything is canceled. Church will be held at home until further notice. The kids have the next two weeks off from school. There's no dance this week. Bryan will work from home until the end of April.

I think all of these cancellations are very wise. If we can do anything to slow the spread of the illness, then we should do it. And I'm certainly not complaining about having everyone at home. But there has been a heightened sense of anxiety at our house. We always have an undercurrent of anxiety, but this has kicked it up a notch. We've had lots of talks about what's happening and what we can do to help. The kids aren't complaining about being stuck inside, though I am really wishing we had a backyard right now.

We are safe. We have a fully stocked pantry and supply room. We have a daily schedule worked out. We're ready to do school and church at home, and that's good because we may be here for the duration. Aside from a case of the common cold, we are healthy. It will be okay. It's still scary, but it will be okay.