The Art of Becoming

Captain's Log: day 70. Socialization deprivation continues. Yesterday at 5:15pm, the children requested granola bars as a "snack." The cheapest box of granola bars that can be found at Aldi has chocolate chips, puffed oats and fructose corn syrup in it; perfect empty fuel for their limping, lethargic bodies on a family hike. Not perfect for filling up their mouths to ease the taste of boredom right before dinner. They were denied the granola bars. Anger ensued; terse words were spoken. Life is unfair. Instead they were forced to eat round, sweet objects with fibrous skins and nutrient-packed juices flowing inside. After they chewed through the minerals their bodies really need, they stomped off, smoke leaving their ears, while they silently cursed their captors. Once a week, they must stay in their quarters long enough to pick up dirty clothes, throw away trash, and hide things sufficiently so that they can walk across their room. This arduous task - referred to by t...

Mother's Day was lovely. Tom made a big breakfast, he had fresh flowers and new book for me, and the kids gave me homemade cards. Audrey found an old laminated picture of herself from 3 years ago, and inscribed it with her name. She said it was a signed autograph for Mother's Day. Her audacious likeness to me is both stupefying and endearing. But as the day went on, the quarantine malaise set in: our children vacillate between boredom, overwhelmed, underwhelmed, and engaged in something meaningful. Distance learning school work took some of the sting out of this emotional pendulum, but now school is finished. We stare down the calendar days of May knowing that summer hasn't yet begun. The unusually cool spring we're experiencing feels more like fall, and the DIY pool in our backyard (read: horse's trough or stock tank from Tractor Supply Store) is a better place to ice your injured foot than it is to swim. So Mother's Day and quarantine malaise eventually le...

Sometimes the babies know. We've instituted a check in during dinner time, a way to see who everyone handled the day. Sometimes I have my own opinions about how one child or the other moved through their day, but often their assessment of their day lines up with my lived experience of being with them. Most often this check-in happens at the dinner table. me: So how is everyone feeling about their day today? Sean: I don't know... maybe a 50 or 60%? Audrey: 60 or 70% - this has been a pretty good day. Frankie: 100%!  me: oh really? Frankie: Yeah. But I did feel tired, so tired is a 1%. It's more of an art than a science. Two days ago there was an emotional blow up because because I asked Sean to empty the dishwasher. Last night there was a blow up because I asked Audrey to remove herself from the bathroom where she and Frankie were goofing off with their toothbrushes instead of brushing their teeth. I don't mind when the emotional blow u...

Last week I took the compost out to the compost bin. I hate this job: the sight of decomposing food is not pleasant. However, I love putting food scraps in the compost bin instead of the trash, so I suffer through the unpleasant visuals. One this particular morning, I wanted to take my chore one step further: turning the compost over so that it could more evenly decompose. I locked the door and prepared to spin. I wouldn't say I'm extremely fit and strong, so it took a couple big pushes to get the bin rolling, just as I was really putting my back into it, really getting excited that I was going to roll this sucker one complete rotation, the faulty lock swung open and the compost dumped at my feet. Weeks of decomposing food piled before me, steam rising from its core, I cursed myself. The only way to get through this was to imagine myself a farmer. I went in search of a shovel. As I shoveled slop back into the bin, I thought about farmers who work all day on the land. Is the...