A reflection on the rollercoaster that is 2020

I’m going to be honest.

 

I thought we would be through the worst of the covid scare by the end of May. I thought we might need to be a little careful in June, but surely, surely, the world would be going back to “normal” by mid-summer.

 

Spoiler alert – I was quite wrong.

 

One of the main reasons I blog is to document our journey as a family. And 2020 is definitely a year that has us shook. This February, we couldn’t make Addie’s school Valentine Day dance, and I told her, don’t worry, there will be so many more events we’ll be going to this year. LOLZ. Sorry, Addie. Less than a month later, all the schools shut down. The world holed up for months in attempts to flatten the curve. We wiped down our groceries we got from pick-up; we researched articles and listened to press conferences; we cherished things like toilet paper and Clorox wipes; we ordered masks; we homeschooled our kids (see previous blog detailing hilarious attempts to educate while entertaining three small humans). We explored outside away from the world; we zoom-ed, from Sophia to Jean to all the fam and friends in between. Once it was allowed, we only saw family or friends outside. The kids still haven’t been inside a store, although they’ve had to wear their mask outside a few times. I haven’t seen the inside of Target since January. You know, really hard stuff.  Thank goodness we’ve had grandparents’ visits and the Farmhouse as a saltwater and sand-filled reprieve.

 

Now that we’ve exited the extreme quarantine bubble, the kids and grown-ups are thrilled to be seeing friends in small doses and adventuring again. But this summer has been weird. We haven’t gone to the pool; we don’t have our usual rounds of Amazement Square, the library, playgrounds. We love places like Otter Creek but try to avoid them in “peak hours” so that we aren’t in crowds. We went to Holiday Lake and while the girls were thrilled trying to make a new friend there while splashing around, I kept grimacing and trying to subtly and awkwardly remind them to stay 6-ish feet apart. Bria kept yelling “BUT MOM, HER IS OUR NEW FRIEND!!”

 

I thought covid would get better, but our city is seeing a huge spike in cases. Over 200 in one week alone. As a parent, you can remind yourself over and over that we will most likely be fine, but it doesn’t change the fact that your husband or children could be hooked up to a ventilator fighting for their life because this disease is an awful one. We worry constantly for our parents, who are at higher risk simply because of their age. There is no brushing aside the fear for me, for the people I love the most in this world.

 

So while trying to personally survive the pandemic, the national culture is kind of a polarized disaster, with a too-large population proclaiming conspiracies, whining about masks, literally making up “life threatening illnesses” that masks cause, etc. Meanwhile, the other side hopes that maybe one more simple, hilarious yet on-point meme explaining the validity of science might make the message stick. The frustration is as real as the disease. In less than a year, 150,000 lives have been taken by COVID in the United States. Our response and lack of planning/prevention/action is embarrassing and deadly.

 

If we thought entertaining kids this summer was difficult, now we’re back to making decisions about how school will start. Decisions that waffle and flip flop hourly. Five half days. Hybrid with two in person days. All virtual. Homeschooling. Switching schools. Parents trying to figure out how the hell they are going to work and coordinate school. Parents trying to figure out how the hell they are going to keep their child, themselves, their teachers, their loved ones safe in school. Communities trying to figure out public health. Communities trying to figure out how to open for the kids for whom school is their safe place, their only meals of the day, the only place they can learn.  It’s a mess. There are no easy answers, but all of us are mulling every option, constantly. This is while we are putting on a steady, optimistic face for the kiddos, who have handled every change from “the virus” with a whole lot of resilience and positive attitude. I love them for it.

As a parent, if you’re not worried about how you’re screwing up your kid in 2020, then you’re just not paying attention (or you live in a country that’s making better choices that Merica right now).  Have they been too lonely? Are they too overstimulated now? Behind in school? Socially stunted? Emotionally deprived? OCD? Am I making the right choice for fall? Are we talking about this in a positive enough way? Has the extra screen time totally fried their brain already? Will they ever learn to swim since we cancelled swim lessons this year? All the things. 

 

Meanwhile, while we’re on the rollercoaster of a pandemic and the small and large challenges that come with it, America may have reached a new boiling point on racism, something needed long before this year, but nonetheless, here we are. This Spring, we ran 2.23 miles for Ahmaud Arbery, tears mixing in the rain for a man who was shot for simply going for a run and being black. Tears for a system that hadn’t even arrested the white men who murdered him. Running showed solidarity, but it wasn’t enough. More hashtags continued flooding newsfeeds. #saytheirnames #justiceforbreonna #blacklivesmatter. Then a police officer, watched by multiple fellow officers and filmed for the world to see, knelt on the neck of a black man named George Floyd for 8 minutes and killed him. Our country erupted into peaceful protests, raging riots, demands for change, a microscope on how freedom doesn’t apply to everyone in this country…  Black people are tired, tired of being scared for their sons and daughters, tired of the injustices faced daily. And white people, well, white people are all over the place. As a white parent, 2020 has brought to light what world my kids live in, and the importance of raising kids who are not shielded and sheltered from injustice, but rather believe in equality and seek opportunities to stand up for it.

 

Like many, I have always cared deeply about equality, but that is simply not enough. This year sparks a journey to look inward more deeply. I know I have white privilege; I know I cannot understand what it’s like to walk in a person of color’s shoes; I know even though I believe with all my heart that Black Lives Matter and that systematic racism runs down to the very roots of our country, I still need to be better. I need to learn more. I need to listen more. I need to read more black voices to understand. I need to examine my own implicit biases; my own falls of white apathy; my own comfort of living in a white privileged world. I’m working on that as a person, as a teacher and as a mother.

Also, there's a huge presidential election in less than a 100 days.

Also, it's like 100 degrees outside.

 

If you’re someone with a heart consisting of any feeling whatsoever or a brain that leans towards thinking or your hair grows by 10 feet in significant humidity, 2020 has been a doozie.

 

But honestly, I’m trying really hard to hang on to something I learned in quarantine – those weeks when it was just us….Yeah we got on each other’s nerves. But when we didn’t have to be anywhere, when we weren’t overscheduling ourselves for once, when we got to just settle into life with each other, it really wasn’t so bad. I felt so close to our little nuclear unit. Mom loves to remind me about how our grandparents grew up – sure they had school, but they had to entertain themselves a whole lot using no screens, and a whole lot of outside, a whole lot of chores, a whole lot of just each other, and they survived. Our kids will, too. (That is, if you wear a freaking mask.)

 

After months of hoping that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, I’m not sure where the light is, or if we’re even in a tunnel anymore. But if 2020 stays consistent, chances are, there’s going to be something new and crazy ahead.  In the meantime, I am hoping for health, for masks, for belief in science. I am hoping for continued support for the Black Lives Movement, for white people to stay angry at the injustices people of color face every single day. I am hoping that November of 2020 sucks less than November of 2016. And I am hoping that at the end of the day, I still have my family here, a little stir-crazy, a little frazzled, but a little more ready for what the world throws at us, taking a lot less for granted.

 

As Hamilton, our summer obsession (and I mean that very seriously), has reminded us ….Look around, look around. How lucky we are to be alive right now. A revolution is happening. We are not throwing away our shot, even when it’s quiet uptown. In 2021, we’ll be all like uh, what did I miss? Still young scrappy and hungry…we’ll be back if we just wait for it, looking for a mind at work. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll come out a little bit better at the end of all this. As I sing regularly to my littles…..

 

You will come of age with our young nation

We'll bleed and fight for you, we'll make it right for you

If we lay a strong enough foundation

We'll pass it on to you, we'll give the world to you

And you'll blow us all away

Someday, someday

Yeah, you'll blow us all away

Someday, someday