I was looking through a book I had printed with images from 2019… a year we’ll all probably regard as the year “before”. And we’ll all have a collective understanding of what “before” refers to, no matter how we view this pandemic.

I flipped through the pages of the cotton-candy-colored sky of Sayulita, Mexico…. days where we could find deserted beaches to have all to ourselves in far-away lands. Days spent with my best friend, who I haven’t seen since this all went down, since “before”.

And I got to thinking about how exciting that day will be… when we can return to normal and all of these things we’ve been deprived of for all these months; all these friends and connections and adventures and opportunities will be enjoyed again. And how sweet that day will be.

I certainly do have the freedom now to hop on a plane, meet up with my best friend, and have a margarita on the beach in a far-away land (preferably somewhere further than Mexico, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers). It would be different than before, sure, but if I wanted to – today – I could buy a flight to Mexico and meet up with my girl.

Yet I’ve made the choice not to.

I’m somewhere in the middle; where I’m not ready to shack up entirely in my home for until who-knows-when. But also not willing to buy a plane ticket to Mexico. I’ve taken this opportunity to tighten my pod and to change how we do things; taking safety into consideration with a gentle balance of humanity. Because surely we need humanity too. We need each other, in so many ways. In ways that seem to even contradict each other.

Maybe what keeps someone else balanced is different than what keeps me balanced. Maybe we’re not even using the same scale or the same unit of measurement. Maybe we’re just…. different.

And so where’s the happy medium? How do we get our needs met without imposing the consequences of our needs onto others? Where does my freedom get twisted up into yours? Smoke lingers and yet I never took a puff. Trails follow where we go and we don’t all go in a single direction. We are tied together. A ball of yarn with a million knots.

It feels very white of people to be protesting a mask as a hindrance on their freedom. As if wearing something to protect others during a (hopefully) once-in-a-lifetime pandemic is oppressive. Imagine how privileged one has to be to feel a facial covering during a time where thousands are dying daily is imposing too much, on THEM. Imagine how entitled one has to be. I can’t wrap my head around it.

Outside of the hospital I used to work at there’s a large storage container made of metal. It looks like one of the backs of a semi truck. Maybe it is. Only it’s refrigerated and it’s being used as backup for the morgue.

Thus far I’ve had the privilege of saying “I don’t work on the Covid unit”. And yet, now the unit I work on has red tape to delineate us from them; the uniquely infected from the standard infected. They’re seeping through all the cracks and crevices, taking over one taped off portion at a time. I’m now being asked to work more making me realize just how grateful I was / am to primarily work for myself. Feeling the duty to step up for a career that I’ve only ever viewed as my back up plan for the last few years. Have pity on the medical system, it’s drowning. Don’t get sick right now, the hospital is not where you want to be. Safe patient handling – by way of nurse to patient ratio – are going to the wayside. We were waiting until times got desperate and we are here.

And when I say “uniquely” infected, let me be clear: you can’t learn what hasn’t been written. The damn story is writing itself as we live. Of course there are things that make no sense. If anything this pandemic is showing us very clearly where our holes are. And sure, yes, absolutely, THERE ARE SO MANY HOLES.

I took my kids to the skatepark the first day schools here reopened. We figured everyone would be at school and having the freedom that comes with online learning, we headed to the skatepark. And yet, the skatepark was closed due to Covid. I laughed to myself, thinking that at that very moment kids were sitting inside a classroom and yet this outdoor open space is shut down?

That’s a small hole that highlights the fact there’s no playbook… and that the rules are being made as we go on the limited information we have.

Us humans, always thinking we’re in control. Sometimes I think we needed something as big as this pandemic to smack us in the face.

And yet it has and there’s STILL those who don’t see.

Makes me think about my own journey post-divorce and the hard truth that people will only see what they are ready and willing to see. Gulp. That was such a tough pill for me to swallow. I’ve really struggled with wanting others to see things the way I see things. Perhaps the better question is does it matter?

I digress.

I turn back to the book on my lap; the book from 2019, from the year “before”. I return to my original thought; that I can’t wait until this is all over. We didn’t know how good we had it and I think there’s a lesson for all of us; no matter if we agree or disagree, there’s a lesson in gratitude. Whether we went without willingly or didn’t go without as an act of rebellion, I think we are all more aware of what we ought to be grateful for.

Perhaps we can meet there, and see each other.

I know we’re all overwhelmed and I know we’re all in varying degrees of sinking ships, BUT I’m trying (my best) to stay in gratitude these days and want to be, perhaps, the lone voice that says schooling from home isn’t that bad (yet).

I can’t say what I’m about to say without prefacing it with some degree of awareness to my own ingrained privileges; like the fact that I work primarily from home (minus the shifts I work in the hospital). And the fact I have an amazingly supportive family who will most always make themselves available to myself and my boys. The list goes on.

Our school gave us three options to choose from: 100% at school, 50% at school and 50% from home, and 100% from home. I chose the last option and here’s why. Covid is not going away anytime soon and after summer comes fall and the start of flu season. Flu symptoms are going to mimic Covid symptoms. The schools will not be able to stay open, there’s just no way. If given the choice, which we are and I’m grateful for, I also don’t want to be a part of the spread. Schools don’t exist on an island, they’re part of the community, and while I’m grateful we have the privilege of making the choice, I’m also not sure that’s an option we ought to be given. Case in point, I don’t agree with schools opening during a pandemic. Moreover, I think the hybrid choice will lend itself to segmented learning; adjusting to online, then adjusting to the classroom, then having to bounce back to online once the virus infects as it’s likely to do.

That said, I made the decision to put Sonny back at his Montessori school, which I’ve had to grapple with as it seems contrary to some of the points I just made. And yet, I’m learning that life is so often this AND that, not this OR that. And the truth of the matter is that I cannot homeschool the older two, or even facilitate their online learning / maintain a quiet environment, and run my business with a four-year-old at home. What’s been happening during our summer school sessions (I had the older boys keep up with work here and there over the summer so the transition back wouldn’t be as rough and I’m so glad we did) is that Sonny sneaks away upstairs, finds the iPod and rests quietly in bed watching YouTube. And the silence is so golden I can’t bear to interrupt it and then I spend the entire time that I’m getting through emails or working with the boys feeling guilty. Or he’s throwing an all-out tantrum and I’m wishing he were just quietly watching YouTube in his bed. Ha. In any event, I had to weigh the pros and the cons and this is what’s best for us in the here and now. His school is very small and while I’m going with it for the time being, I know no decision is permanent and I can change my mind at any time. It’s all a clusterfuck, even my thoughts on it. Hashtag: when there’s lots of balls in the air and they all seem to be made of glass.

Back to the older boys and my decision to commit to online learning all year long.  Here’s why I’m celebrating my decision: I’ve taken back my power. The last few months of  last school year, when everything abruptly shut down, was so anxiety ridden. The not knowing killed me. But now, I know what to expect because I’ve already committed myself. I’m not having to check numbers to see when our county is off whatever list it’s on, I’m not having to readjust to a forever changing schedule or setting. Point being, I know what to expect and I can build confidently off that solid foundation. And I’m doing just that. I spent several hours yesterday researching lessons, finding whatever crossovers I could between their two grade levels so I could kill two birds with one stone, and organizing my next two weeks of lessons. Sure they’re doing online school with a teacher but as I’ve explained it to them, we will be supplementing on the side to be sure their education remains strong. Because we can. I can. They also get to be a part of it, which I hope over time is appealing to them. Meaning next week we are going to learn about Kelly Slater (their request) and we’re going to create a writing assignment around it. And writing is my jam so I’m stoked on that. And I’m stoked to make them a part of it. And I’m stoked I get to be a part of it. It’s only a year, right?

And surely whatever we do in-home will be heavily doused with phys ed periods of surfing and skating and working out. My goal: to show them the well roundedness of self-care; mind, body, soul. Each morning, they write in their gratitude journals. Around the dinner table we’re talking about our emotions. I’m pointing out motherfucking similes like they’re birds in the sky and, as I told the boys, we’re gonna take Covid by the balls, twist them in a knot, and smack them down on the goddamn wood table.

At least that’s my spirit one week in. I’m also granting myself grace and expecting there to be days I want to bury my head in the sand. But hey, maybe I can invite them to do so and we can call it a science experiment. Test how long I can survive without oxygen. See my good attitude? Please remind me of this a few months from now when I’m putting subtitles on TV and calling it reading and teaching them how the microwave works so they can cook their own goddamn meals and filing it under Home Economics.