Clucking Nuts!

On a hike with my kids this week, one of my sons ran ahead and we came upon him awkwardly lying facedown on a sand dune looking like a corpse. We tried to joke with him, told him we wanted to keep walking… he didn’t stir. His younger brother ran up and jumped on his back. In the space between breaths, he shot up, furious, grabbed his brother’s hair, and slammed his face into the ground. My heart broke. My kids are not okay. I mean, they are resilient and strong, and I have been stunned by how beautiful and kind and creative and tough they have been these last few weeks. But they are also not okay. They are raw. Their emotions churn unsteadily below the surface. Quarantine is hard. Let’s be honest: This is not healthy. Isolating my kids, standing between them and their community, making them dependent on only me for all their needs, while I have no one meeting mine... It’s a recipe for trauma. In foster training, they taught us that trauma happens when stress exceeds a person’s...

One afternoon when I was multitasking as I was helping my daughter with math, she asked me, “Mom, what is 37 minus 23?” And at that precise moment, I clumsily slammed my funny bone on the corner of a counter. Out of my mouth shot, “Ow! Fuuuuh-” and I stopped myself. My son across the counter, asked, “Fuuuuh-ourteen?” We all chuckled. I’m really honest with my kids about words. I tell them what they mean. We talk about picking good ones, and we talk about communication being only half what you deliver, and the other half being what the person receives. Early on in raising these fabulous people, they started repeating some swear words, some of which they had heard from me. So I made a homeschool lesson out of it. I wrote out all the common 4 letter words, explained what they actually mean, what they mean to the general public, and how they will likely be received if you choose to use them. It was a great lesson in etymology, the evolution of our language, and how culture affects ...

I was quarantined with a twelve year old boy on April Fool’s Day. I would imagine that after the pandemic is over and we all start sorting through our trauma, there will be a support group for this. I’m joking... but only a little. He unscrewed my light bulbs, put lemon juice on my toothbrush, wooden blocks in my pillowcase, an “out of order” sign on the toilets, and smeared toothpaste on the toilet seats. When I discovered that last one, I calmly hissed through clenched teeth, “If you have laid any other pranks that involve sticky messes, I strongly advise you go clean them up immediately and never tell me about them.” His eyes went wide and he flushed a little, then he rushed out of the room to go take care of some things I don’t need to know about. Ever. I will say, though, his piece de resistance was photocopying a painting I had done, a portrait of our cat, painting a mustache and glasses on it, and replacing the original with his vandalized copy. Genius.  But goodness! ...

Last week, every afternoon there was a new guideline imposed about social distancing: no gatherings over 100 people, now only 10 people, libraries closing, playgrounds off limits, stay at home if you can… and my children watched me erase one thing after another off our family calendar, until it was just a book of blank pages. Their feelings were intense. It had started to get really ugly here. One of my kids even tearfully shouted, “I’m just tired of being here with all of you , I need to see other people!” Bitterness was settling in. The announcement about playgrounds incited a small riot in my home. And I was like, “Guys! How many times were we going to play on a playground in the next few weeks? It’s March! The slides are all wet anyway.”  The tension continued building until everyone’s nerves were over tightened. I had a heart-to-heart with my kids and said, “Listen, I know this is hard. But looking at the world news and talking to our friends that live in othe...

This one is for the parents who have found themselves suddenly home with their children, setting up a makeshift homeschool life, in the midst of unprecedented social turmoil. Has it really only been a week since schools closed? I’m that crazy homeschooling mama that chose this lifestyle… well, without the whole “shelter in place” order thing (that sure puts a damper on home education). I am writing to tell you I see you. I do not envy you. The rug has been pulled out from under you and your kids. Maybe you have imposed a rigorous schedule and they are fighting you on it, venting all their feelings of confusion and frustration on the only authority present: you. Or maybe you haven’t even bothered planning, because the news changes by the hour, so what is the point of even looking at the packet the teacher sent you, when you can’t even find toilet paper?! Others of you may have begun by throwing off your schedules with gleeful abandon, celebrating a longer spring break, but are becomin...

I have taken a long break from blogging. I’ve always intended to go back to it, but never felt it was time. In hindsight, I think I needed to grow up and build some more confidence. Being connected to social media does not make me confident. In fact, every time I post something online, I feel like I am handing out measuring sticks and asking everyone to size me up.  But I love writing. My husband tells me he can always tell the difference in me after I have written. In this new year, he has set aside two times every week to give me space to write/draw/journal, to let the things building up inside me flow out into something meaningful. I love words. I believe they are powerful. And I believe choosing good ones matters. I have a great quote on my wall by Mike Rowe that says: “When Hamlet was pondering suicide, he didn’t say, ‘I can’t decide if I want to live;’ he said, ‘To be or not to be…’  When Nathan Hale was asked if he had any last words, he didn’t say, ‘Go ahead...