March 31. Starting a little late here - but might as well jump in. Almost three weeks ago, I stopped going in to my office. The office officially closed on Monday, March 16 - but I figured it was safer to stay at home ASAP, so I stopped commuting on Wednesday, March 11.
Connor stopped being able to attend school on March 13 (which I think is the first day Ed worked from home) and Helen's school system closed on the following Monday, March 16.
On March 13, our governor announced that schools would be closed through the remainder of the school year, and the students and teachers would instead engage in "distance learning". Hearing that schools were closed for the duration of the year was hard.
Yesterday, March 30, Virginia got a stay home order, which doesn't change our lives too terribly much since we've been mostly hunkered down - but the stay home order is in place until JUNE 10. JUNE 10 is a LONG ways away. That was hard to hear.
April 1. There is an interesting model that attempts to project hospital needs, based on a few inputs including when schools were closed, when a stay home order was put in place, when non-essesntial services were shut down, and when travael was severely restricted. Also feeding into the model are reported cases and death. The analysis is state-by-state, and in some cases, it's pretty comforting.
But not today.
Yesterday, the data did not include the date of Virginia's stay-home order, which should have the effect of pushing our peak resource need out considerably. It also wasn't totally up to date on deaths and confirmed cases.
The model suggested that peak usage would be May 28 in Virginia. And, because I have family in Kansas, I recorded the peak usage day in Kansas as well - April 27. The US peak usage day was projected to be April 15 - but given the unevenness of this mess, it's hard to derive much meaning from that date.
Overnight, the model was updated. For the US, the peak usage date was pushed back one day - to April 16. But here in Virginia, our peak usage day was MOVED FORWARD! Our peak usage predicted date is now May 20. Kansas was pushed back a day to April 28.
So...when an input that should have pushed our date back was added - it wasn't enough to outweigh the inputs that move the date forward, which is presumably identified cases. Maybe the first date was false, because testing has been so inconsistent, so the change doesn't really mean anything. But when I look at the numbers - and I really see it as there being very little else we could do, personally - today slots solidly into the "hard days" column. These days are thankfully rare, but really overwhelming.
Wednesday, April 1, 2020
Friday, March 6, 2020
Election 2020: Self Fulfilling Prophesy
Another democratic primary season is coming to a close, and despite this season starting out with many qualified women, not a one remains in the race. Inside, I feel like 2016 all over again. Kick me now, lest I ever be able to stand up again.
In some ways, maybe this is better than 2016. At least I won't have to watch my gal lose to a monster.
In other ways, it's worse.
For a while, I could pretend that people uniquely hated HRC, so that must be why she lost. Maybe it was because she was a woman, but maybe...it was something else? (Please, let it be something else!) It wasn't qualifications. Our current president is not more qualified. As of right now, he's pretending that a virus that is spreading rapidly is a hoax brought to bring down his presidency. He's suggesting that a flu vaccine could be the answer and every day I am assualted by another news article about how he's let this get more out of control than it should have. And seriously, I could write this post any day in the past two years or until he's out of office and there will be an equally inane story about his incompetence to tell.
But now, with Elizabeth Warren's candidacy ending, I think it's appropriate to call a spade a spade. We hate smart women. We find them "condescending". And even though we promise that we personally like women and would vote for one - we just cannot do that this time because she's not electable. And truly, it is taking everything I have not to punch a friend who sent me a note about how I just have to vote for her old white guy because he is electable - even if my gal, Warren, is smarter and better at governing. And then followed it up with a remark about someone having a "social media tantrum" shortly after I called the plea to vote for her guy out for the BS that it was.
The stats on the share of people voting for Old White Guy who did so because they changed their mind in the last 48 hours before voting is punishing. Fear, no doubt, is a powerful motivator.
But I stand with women. [And I am nearly brought to my knees knowing that I will be at least FIFTY before I see a woman President and Helen will be driving. Don't tell my enlightened 12 year old self this because she will laugh at you if you tell her she has to wait until she's at least FIFTY to see a woman occupy the highest seat in government. She just knows we're better than this. - Sorry, 12 year old self, we were super wrong.]
One of my earlier political memories is that of Anita Hill. In 1991, just after I had graduated from high school, she testified before Congress that the Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her when he was her employer. The story gained a lot of traction, presumably, because the nominee had spent very little time actually being a judge. But we were assured he was an excellent choice because of his outstanding character. Anita Hill's testimony put that character in doubt.
That man sits on the Supreme Court, still. And every time I see a photo of him it burns me.
It's not easy to forget how Anita Hill was treated. And yes, I am fully aware Old White Guy has apologized profusely for how he crapped on Hill when he was a Senator and she was testifying. But that apology doesn't mean much when Thomas gets to sit on the Supreme Court - for life.
And this is just the tip of the iceberg.
You may have won, but I assure you, when Elizabeth Warren dropped out of the race - we lost.
Again.
In some ways, maybe this is better than 2016. At least I won't have to watch my gal lose to a monster.
In other ways, it's worse.
For a while, I could pretend that people uniquely hated HRC, so that must be why she lost. Maybe it was because she was a woman, but maybe...it was something else? (Please, let it be something else!) It wasn't qualifications. Our current president is not more qualified. As of right now, he's pretending that a virus that is spreading rapidly is a hoax brought to bring down his presidency. He's suggesting that a flu vaccine could be the answer and every day I am assualted by another news article about how he's let this get more out of control than it should have. And seriously, I could write this post any day in the past two years or until he's out of office and there will be an equally inane story about his incompetence to tell.
But now, with Elizabeth Warren's candidacy ending, I think it's appropriate to call a spade a spade. We hate smart women. We find them "condescending". And even though we promise that we personally like women and would vote for one - we just cannot do that this time because she's not electable. And truly, it is taking everything I have not to punch a friend who sent me a note about how I just have to vote for her old white guy because he is electable - even if my gal, Warren, is smarter and better at governing. And then followed it up with a remark about someone having a "social media tantrum" shortly after I called the plea to vote for her guy out for the BS that it was.
The stats on the share of people voting for Old White Guy who did so because they changed their mind in the last 48 hours before voting is punishing. Fear, no doubt, is a powerful motivator.
But I stand with women. [And I am nearly brought to my knees knowing that I will be at least FIFTY before I see a woman President and Helen will be driving. Don't tell my enlightened 12 year old self this because she will laugh at you if you tell her she has to wait until she's at least FIFTY to see a woman occupy the highest seat in government. She just knows we're better than this. - Sorry, 12 year old self, we were super wrong.]
One of my earlier political memories is that of Anita Hill. In 1991, just after I had graduated from high school, she testified before Congress that the Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her when he was her employer. The story gained a lot of traction, presumably, because the nominee had spent very little time actually being a judge. But we were assured he was an excellent choice because of his outstanding character. Anita Hill's testimony put that character in doubt.
That man sits on the Supreme Court, still. And every time I see a photo of him it burns me.
It's not easy to forget how Anita Hill was treated. And yes, I am fully aware Old White Guy has apologized profusely for how he crapped on Hill when he was a Senator and she was testifying. But that apology doesn't mean much when Thomas gets to sit on the Supreme Court - for life.
And this is just the tip of the iceberg.
You may have won, but I assure you, when Elizabeth Warren dropped out of the race - we lost.
Again.
Tuesday, January 7, 2020
Good Guys, Bad Guys
Last night, one of the moms in my Girl Scout troop arranged to have a canine expert from the police department provide a presentation. It will, without a doubt, be the most memorable meeting of the year that the girls all loved. DOGS!!
As the police officer was giving his spiel, he noted that his dog was trained to go after the "bad guys" and although I'm sure he was using simplified language for the girls, I couldn't help but think was an easy life he projected. He seemed to be able to divide the world into "bad guys" - the ones that get chased by dogs and "good guys" - the ones who send the dogs chasing. How quaint, I thought.
Because it is not lost on me that the world is - quite literally, but also figuratively - on fire today, and has been for some time. And it's going to remain that way for a long time - and I can't help but think it's because we have no collective clue of who the good guys are and who the bad guys are.
Sigh.
As the police officer was giving his spiel, he noted that his dog was trained to go after the "bad guys" and although I'm sure he was using simplified language for the girls, I couldn't help but think was an easy life he projected. He seemed to be able to divide the world into "bad guys" - the ones that get chased by dogs and "good guys" - the ones who send the dogs chasing. How quaint, I thought.
Because it is not lost on me that the world is - quite literally, but also figuratively - on fire today, and has been for some time. And it's going to remain that way for a long time - and I can't help but think it's because we have no collective clue of who the good guys are and who the bad guys are.
Sigh.
Monday, October 21, 2019
Bravo
Nathan is my friend that is an opera singer. When I went to operas with Nathan in college, he would - from the balcony - stand up at the end of the event and shout BRAVO so loudly and clearly that I am certain everyone in the theater heard him.
Next to Nathan, my voice felt small. My applause felt like not enough. I was in awe. But I couldn't bring myself to shout my cheers. I stood next to him and applauded.
When I became a parent, and I first saw my children do something - I was so overwhelmed with how awesome the world is - that a small child can just DO SOMETHING - ANYTHING - that at the end, I summoned my inner Nathan and shouted "Bravo". And I noticed that no one else did this. I thought it was a little odd, but I think that a lot, so I didn't dwell on it much.
I realize now that many people might have taken that moment as a cue and become a little more subtle. I did not. I have not. And I don't regret it.
When my niece graduated from high school -which felt like such a big and important deal to me, she walked across the stage and I could not help myself. I shouted "Bravo". And immediately, I cringed inside a tiny bit because I knew it would end up on my brother-in-law's video, and I was thinking that I should have been a little more reserved so that my voice wouldn't be blotting out whatever other cool things were happening. But I was so proud of her and I was awash in happy feelings of my own graduation and if there was any chance for her to hear me, I wanted to take it.
A few months ago, she reposted the video, and she was not at all miffed that my "bravo" stood out, but instead said it was how she knew I was there, and that it meant a lot to her. I told her that was how I was going to wake her from a coma if she ever fell into one - and I was only a little bit joking.
This summer, Helen was in a theater production and on the way there, she said "Mom, at the end, just clap. Do not say "bravo". Everyone knows it's you and it's embarrassing". To which I said "For real? Don't you want to know I'm there. Don't you think how boring all the other people in the audience must be?" And she said "actually, yes, do whatever you want". And I could tell, the way only a parent can, that she was actually having this conversation to point out that I better keep being me.
At the performance, I shouted my "bravo" at the end, and her friend next to her looked at her and said "Helen, your mom is here!". And they had a little conversation about it, and Helen was beaming. That other girl's mom? Sitting right in front of me.
I think a lot about what I'm leaving for my kids when I'm gone. And I really do hope that when they are older, and I am no longer in the audience, there's a little voice in their head, that mimics mine.
Next to Nathan, my voice felt small. My applause felt like not enough. I was in awe. But I couldn't bring myself to shout my cheers. I stood next to him and applauded.
When I became a parent, and I first saw my children do something - I was so overwhelmed with how awesome the world is - that a small child can just DO SOMETHING - ANYTHING - that at the end, I summoned my inner Nathan and shouted "Bravo". And I noticed that no one else did this. I thought it was a little odd, but I think that a lot, so I didn't dwell on it much.
I realize now that many people might have taken that moment as a cue and become a little more subtle. I did not. I have not. And I don't regret it.
When my niece graduated from high school -which felt like such a big and important deal to me, she walked across the stage and I could not help myself. I shouted "Bravo". And immediately, I cringed inside a tiny bit because I knew it would end up on my brother-in-law's video, and I was thinking that I should have been a little more reserved so that my voice wouldn't be blotting out whatever other cool things were happening. But I was so proud of her and I was awash in happy feelings of my own graduation and if there was any chance for her to hear me, I wanted to take it.
A few months ago, she reposted the video, and she was not at all miffed that my "bravo" stood out, but instead said it was how she knew I was there, and that it meant a lot to her. I told her that was how I was going to wake her from a coma if she ever fell into one - and I was only a little bit joking.
This summer, Helen was in a theater production and on the way there, she said "Mom, at the end, just clap. Do not say "bravo". Everyone knows it's you and it's embarrassing". To which I said "For real? Don't you want to know I'm there. Don't you think how boring all the other people in the audience must be?" And she said "actually, yes, do whatever you want". And I could tell, the way only a parent can, that she was actually having this conversation to point out that I better keep being me.
At the performance, I shouted my "bravo" at the end, and her friend next to her looked at her and said "Helen, your mom is here!". And they had a little conversation about it, and Helen was beaming. That other girl's mom? Sitting right in front of me.
I think a lot about what I'm leaving for my kids when I'm gone. And I really do hope that when they are older, and I am no longer in the audience, there's a little voice in their head, that mimics mine.
Thursday, March 28, 2019
Mom
Being the mom inevitably involves a lot of driving, cajoling, praising, holding back, supporting, reminding, questioning, disciplining, and losing sleep. But I have noticed something - almost every time an athlete finishes a race, he or she looks up for his or her mom. And whenever he or she sits for an interview, the first thanks go to the mom for always being there. Sometimes, the looks and thanks go to the parents, but I have yet to see an athlete finish an event and give the dad top billing.
And I think I know why. Because the moment motherhood happens, there is some fierce belief in this child that takes place. Moms are endowed with the knowledge that, given the right conditions, her child can succeed. And it's as if the whole relationship from there on out is infused with this knowledge which can never be taken away. Moms have their kids' backs, even when it makes no sense to do so.
I'm not saying dads aren't fiercely loyal, and my own dad attended more softball games than I can count, and even drove me to Dallas to audition for a school he would never allow me to attend (I'm almost NOT bitter about that any more, Dad, thanks to a recent epiphany I had).
But for better or worse, I think a lot of moms are the ones who get the meal on the table, get the laundry started, and pick up the pieces when they all fall apart.
And while it often feels like the hardest, thankless task that exists, it gets noticed.
Thanks, Mom.
Elaine
And I think I know why. Because the moment motherhood happens, there is some fierce belief in this child that takes place. Moms are endowed with the knowledge that, given the right conditions, her child can succeed. And it's as if the whole relationship from there on out is infused with this knowledge which can never be taken away. Moms have their kids' backs, even when it makes no sense to do so.
I'm not saying dads aren't fiercely loyal, and my own dad attended more softball games than I can count, and even drove me to Dallas to audition for a school he would never allow me to attend (I'm almost NOT bitter about that any more, Dad, thanks to a recent epiphany I had).
But for better or worse, I think a lot of moms are the ones who get the meal on the table, get the laundry started, and pick up the pieces when they all fall apart.
And while it often feels like the hardest, thankless task that exists, it gets noticed.
Thanks, Mom.
Elaine
Thursday, January 10, 2019
Washington-Loving High School?
Living in Virginia is somewhat bizarre. Unlike our neighbors in Maryland who like to pretend their from the North even though *cough* Mason-Dixon Lind *cough*, we in Virginia know we are part of the South. But in Northern Virginia, we like our Democrats, have turned our state from a swing state to a solid blue state, and we generally adopt progressive policies. So while we have a legacy of being in the South, we govern like our friends in the North.
But still...we are encumbered with reminders of the South all the time. Ed's and my first shared living space was a few blocks away from Jefferson Davis Highway. For real. And pretty much every few blocks there's something named after General Lee or another guy famous for fighting for the South. Partly, it's because Virginia bred a ton of these guys. Partly, it's because after the Civil War ended discontented people were really good at getting major things named for their losing people. I suppose at the time it seemed like a nice gesture from the winners.
Now, amidst a national conversation on race and very painful histories, that gesture doesn't seem too appropriate. And I agree with the folks who think it's time to stop honoring all these folks who advanced terrible positions. Which is how the high school near me got caught up in a name change.
Today, it is called Washington-Lee. Tomorrow, it will likely be called Washington-Loving. What's up with the Loving? It's the Supreme Court case that legalized interracial marriage, and it was brought by Virginians. That feels like a better thing to honor than a commander of the Confederate Army.
Tonight, the school board will vote on whether to follow the committee recommendation and remove Lee from the school's name. No doubt, tomorrow will be filled with Lee apologists, and for years - the school will be called by the wrong moniker.
But, eh? I like the idea of not having Lee's name on a public building a few blocks from my home.
Elaine
But still...we are encumbered with reminders of the South all the time. Ed's and my first shared living space was a few blocks away from Jefferson Davis Highway. For real. And pretty much every few blocks there's something named after General Lee or another guy famous for fighting for the South. Partly, it's because Virginia bred a ton of these guys. Partly, it's because after the Civil War ended discontented people were really good at getting major things named for their losing people. I suppose at the time it seemed like a nice gesture from the winners.
Now, amidst a national conversation on race and very painful histories, that gesture doesn't seem too appropriate. And I agree with the folks who think it's time to stop honoring all these folks who advanced terrible positions. Which is how the high school near me got caught up in a name change.
Today, it is called Washington-Lee. Tomorrow, it will likely be called Washington-Loving. What's up with the Loving? It's the Supreme Court case that legalized interracial marriage, and it was brought by Virginians. That feels like a better thing to honor than a commander of the Confederate Army.
Tonight, the school board will vote on whether to follow the committee recommendation and remove Lee from the school's name. No doubt, tomorrow will be filled with Lee apologists, and for years - the school will be called by the wrong moniker.
But, eh? I like the idea of not having Lee's name on a public building a few blocks from my home.
Elaine
Friday, October 5, 2018
Bears!
This vacation actually took place in the summer of 2017. But...somehow the post got caught in my drafts, so I'm posting more than a year late!
We went way up North in Minnesota to check out the bears at the Vince Shute Wildlife Sanctuary. It's both a terrible and wonderful place.
Years ago, Vince Shute - a Minnesota Logger, was shooting black bears left and right so he could run his business. Eventually, he got tired of doing this, and decided the bears didn't want to mess up his business, they were hungry. So he started feeding them. And while this did solve the nuisance bear problem he faced - they stopped getting into his cabins and disrupting his business, it also created a problem that persists today - bears looking for food at what is now the Sanctuary (the logging business ended quite some time ago), rather than in the wild.
Today, of course, we would never open an operation like this. We know it's a bad idea to feed bears because they will, no doubt, start to rely on that food. But at this point, the operators of the Sanctuary don't see a way out. If they stopped feeding them tomorrow, the bears would become nuisance bears in the nearby town, and nobody wants that. They've opted, instead, to feed the bears the highest quality diet they can, emulating what the bears search for in the wild to the extent possible (no more sour-dough pancakes from Vince!). They do this for most of the non-hibernation months - and guess they feed about 400 bears a year. Some return a lot, some for brief periods (I'm not actually sure I believe that last bit).
From 5:00 - 8:00, Tuesday - Sunday, visitors can pay a small fee and enter the Sanctuary. From there, you can take a bus out to a platform, and then sit and watch bears.
It's nuts. Truly. We saw 20 - 40 bears there every evening we visited. We saw baby bears climbing trees every evening we visited (what could be cuter?). We saw a bear that likes to lounge in front of a cabin, bears that went up on their hind legs and growled - everything you can imagine. It's the only sanctuary dedicated to black bears in the world, and getting there is not particularly easy.
My best friend from elementary school and her two daughters met us there. The four kids were perfect companions, with two introverts and two extroverts running around from sun up, when they would often relight a fire left smoking from the night before before playing a few games, paddling around a bit, and checking out the area our cabin was in.
We went way up North in Minnesota to check out the bears at the Vince Shute Wildlife Sanctuary. It's both a terrible and wonderful place.
Years ago, Vince Shute - a Minnesota Logger, was shooting black bears left and right so he could run his business. Eventually, he got tired of doing this, and decided the bears didn't want to mess up his business, they were hungry. So he started feeding them. And while this did solve the nuisance bear problem he faced - they stopped getting into his cabins and disrupting his business, it also created a problem that persists today - bears looking for food at what is now the Sanctuary (the logging business ended quite some time ago), rather than in the wild.
Today, of course, we would never open an operation like this. We know it's a bad idea to feed bears because they will, no doubt, start to rely on that food. But at this point, the operators of the Sanctuary don't see a way out. If they stopped feeding them tomorrow, the bears would become nuisance bears in the nearby town, and nobody wants that. They've opted, instead, to feed the bears the highest quality diet they can, emulating what the bears search for in the wild to the extent possible (no more sour-dough pancakes from Vince!). They do this for most of the non-hibernation months - and guess they feed about 400 bears a year. Some return a lot, some for brief periods (I'm not actually sure I believe that last bit).
From 5:00 - 8:00, Tuesday - Sunday, visitors can pay a small fee and enter the Sanctuary. From there, you can take a bus out to a platform, and then sit and watch bears.
It's nuts. Truly. We saw 20 - 40 bears there every evening we visited. We saw baby bears climbing trees every evening we visited (what could be cuter?). We saw a bear that likes to lounge in front of a cabin, bears that went up on their hind legs and growled - everything you can imagine. It's the only sanctuary dedicated to black bears in the world, and getting there is not particularly easy.
My best friend from elementary school and her two daughters met us there. The four kids were perfect companions, with two introverts and two extroverts running around from sun up, when they would often relight a fire left smoking from the night before before playing a few games, paddling around a bit, and checking out the area our cabin was in.
Thursday, September 27, 2018
The Air Kiss
A couple of days ago, I decided to run some errands with Helen while Connor was at his piano lesson. Helen has a few friends having bday parties soon - and sometimes it's nice to go to the toy store a few miles from our home rather than the one up the street to get a little variety. We moved deftly through the shopping process and had a few more minutes to spare, so I decided to go to the music store a few minutes away to pick up a book of music I've been needing to grab for Connor.
The music store was a madhouse. Is it possible that every single elementary student deciding whether to rent or buy their instrument had coordinated with each other to hit the music store? It felt like it. I couldn't find the book, and then it took a while to hail someone who worked at the store to help me, and it took her a few minutes as well.
After saying no to roughly ten million music doodads (think pencils, stickers, buttons), we were finally out of the store, with book in hand. Helen trotted around to the passenger side of the car, and I decided to toss my purchase into the backseat.
I was moving too fast and flustered, I suppose, but somehow I managed to smash my finger in the door. It was far enough in that I had to open the car door with my other hand to free my trapped finger.
The pain was so intense, I thought I might black out. Helen heard me scream and came running to my aid - immediately pronouncing that she knew I had smashed something in the door from the terror in my voice. My finger was bleeding, I was holding back tears, Helen was asking if I needed ice, I was groping for the first aid kit hoping for a band aid. It was a mess.
And then Helen said "I'm so sorry - do you want me to give it a kiss? Well, maybe just an air kiss?"
It was so sweet, that I immediately thought of all those times when she was little and just needed a kiss to feel better and head on her way.
I guess the instinct to comfort sunk in - even if the kiss is not actually a physical healer. Indeed, an air kiss was just what I needed.
Elaine
The music store was a madhouse. Is it possible that every single elementary student deciding whether to rent or buy their instrument had coordinated with each other to hit the music store? It felt like it. I couldn't find the book, and then it took a while to hail someone who worked at the store to help me, and it took her a few minutes as well.
After saying no to roughly ten million music doodads (think pencils, stickers, buttons), we were finally out of the store, with book in hand. Helen trotted around to the passenger side of the car, and I decided to toss my purchase into the backseat.
I was moving too fast and flustered, I suppose, but somehow I managed to smash my finger in the door. It was far enough in that I had to open the car door with my other hand to free my trapped finger.
The pain was so intense, I thought I might black out. Helen heard me scream and came running to my aid - immediately pronouncing that she knew I had smashed something in the door from the terror in my voice. My finger was bleeding, I was holding back tears, Helen was asking if I needed ice, I was groping for the first aid kit hoping for a band aid. It was a mess.
And then Helen said "I'm so sorry - do you want me to give it a kiss? Well, maybe just an air kiss?"
It was so sweet, that I immediately thought of all those times when she was little and just needed a kiss to feel better and head on her way.
I guess the instinct to comfort sunk in - even if the kiss is not actually a physical healer. Indeed, an air kiss was just what I needed.
Elaine
Monday, September 10, 2018
Pocketknives
We took a family vacation that lasted 17 days. Our internet
was junky or nonexistent, and I’m not particularly enamored with my job right
now, so I just turned my work email off. I had warned people before I left that
I wouldn’t be available – and I wasn’t. That’s rare for me, because long ago
when I moved to part-time, I made a deal with my boss that I’d be available on
my days off if an emergency arose. Even though I’m full-time now, that habit is
a hard one to break.
In any case, on day 8 of the trip, the children acquired
pocket knives. The little one spent a car ride asking, from the backseat, for
things she could cut. I sat in the front, muttering to her father “it’s on you
to take her to the clinic when she cuts herself “. It was a good example of why
having parents willing to take different risks is nice for kids. I would’ve
just said “no” to the pocketknife. And in fact, when I was approached, I could
tell some negotiations had already taken place, and I made the quick decision
to let Ed be the bad guy. I told her to ask her father.
That was a huge mistake. Because while I see almost no
benefit to having the contraptions and plenty of risk, he sees dreams
fulfilled. How powerful is a girl wielding a pocketknife?
Thursday, September 6, 2018
Teen in the House
I am the mother of a teen. That’s the kind of news that
starts to sink in a few days before it actually happens, and then continues a
few weeks after that. It’s not that I either want or expect my children to stay
eternally young. I like all of the stages we’ve traversed together, and I look forward
to more.
But when you have a teen in the house, there is just no way
to deny that time is moving forward. Quickly.
We’re on vacation in Jackson, Wyoming, and while Ed and
Connor make their way through a ropes course together, I have opted to play the
role of chaperone to Helen. She’s too young- or more likely-too small to be
with them. She’s stuck on a smaller course. It kills her. I know.
And this is somewhat ironic, since just a few hours earlier
we went hiking to a rock that our travel book declared made a great place to
jump into the lake – at least 25 feet below. Helen was the first to take the
leap, and Connor only followed to save his pride.
Regardless, as I look up at Helen, it hits me like the
proverbial ton of bricks.
Parenting from here on out involves a lot of trust. Trust
that the world will provide a safe place to tether to, and trust that your
child will find those places and tether on.
It’s a series of moments when I realize that my heart is
doomed to dangle dangerously outside my body, and the best thing to do is let
that happen.
And even when I’m not sure what the ending will be, the
story must be written in someone else’s handwriting.
Elaine
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)