After last night and then today's tally of 19 kids killed in their elementary school in Texas just a week after the Buffalo shootings, I look back at a moment from an ordinary part of the day and it looks absurd and impossible.
Can puppies really be that fuzzy? Do we really get to take a walk like the world isn't ending?
And now I'm behind on a bunch of stuff I was supposed to get done. I did start--and finish--the new Emily St. John Mandel, Sea of Tranquility, overnight though.
My people returned home over the course of the day. At to pick up packages, and stuff; Nu sleepy from his sleepover; Big A from two days away at work.
At was darling, Nu was grumpy, Big A was doting.
Notable quotes:
At: (holding an armful of books from his room) I wish I could just get all this in my brain instantly.
Nu: (about many things) No.
Big A: (who had gotten copped for speeding) I couldn't wait to get home, that's why I was speeding. Also, I was listening to The Strokes.
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Pic: Hagadorn Woods with L. I feel lighter just looking at this.
I started this garden in 2020 for Nu, but like many other things, I seem to be the one holding on to something after the kid(s) seems to have lost interest. Nu was the best gardening companion, I hope this'll be something he's interested in again when summer break starts. In the meantime, I'm lucky that Scout and Huck will keep me company for hours while I garden.
Today--it's just the puppies and me at home. Nu is off at a sleepover and Big A is at work. A glimpse of times to come? I suppose.
[I will note that not having to feed a growing child with allergies or a fussy spouse is very liberating in terms of food choices. I made such a delicious spicy mango salad with peanuts for my dinner.]
We'd read Pachinko (2017 and ancient, I know), but someone had liked it a lot. We were fairly divided on it, but some interesting discussion as always.
One of the things I love about about book club is how even reading the book on my own becomes communal, because I found myself wondering how certain members would react to this or that.
I hosted this month, and I'd been excited to research a Korean menu--I went with (three kinds of) mandu, (three flavors of) jumeokbap, and an assortment of mochi. I made the jumeokbap rice balls from scratch, found the mochi readymade, and the mandu dumplings semi-prepped at the asian grocery store. It all came together pretty easily--I even had tons of time to putter around in the garden, take a long soak, and read before people showed up.
Scout and Huck loved all the extra attention, Nu took off with his cell phone to practice "self-care" in his room, reemerging for dinner, a show, cuddles, and clean up after everyone had left.
Pic: The people of book club. I'm in this picture (albeit happily blending into the shadows like a ninja).
While on rockstars, I read the entirety of Taylor Swift's--Dr. Taylor Swift's--commencement speech to the NYU class of 22. It was all good advice, honest, confidently self-deprecating, and very well crafted. Recommended. Wish there had been something about service and the greater good, but other than that--no notes. I think I might share with students. Here's a snippet: "How will you know what the right choice is in these crucial moments? You won’t. How do I give advice to this many people about their life choices? I won’t. Scary news is: You’re on your own now. Cool news is: You’re on your own now."
Pic: Family of geese by the Red Cedar on a walk with L this morning.
Just keeping this Mary Oliver quote--that KV made into a card I'm now using as a bookmark--as my mantra.
Have to say Big A and Nu have been arbitrary and weird about At's Covid. Nu didn't want to eat in the same room (he'd have been over 8-10 feet away) and Big A thought At shouldn't share a bathroom with anyone (although we've been at airports and work and stuff).
Hmm. They've also said I was "not taking it seriously enough" and must be "wrongly feeling invincible" although I thought I was being careful in masking with a K-95 any time I was in his room. My family is weird is all I can say.
Later in the day, At took a negative Covid test and took off for his apartment since he "has" to be at work tomorrow. His work didn't require a test; I did.
Anyway--perhaps it was the gardening and outside time that helped, because I have the same things hanging over me, but I was way less flustered today.
Nu has been amazing about keeping everyone else fed, watered, medicated, and quarantined. At looked much better than I'd imagined although he does have a fever and a sore throat (plus his asthma is kicking in). Ibuprofen and lots of love and care for now.
Although At thinks it's bad timing (when would a good time for Covid be?!) since he was supposed to be in charge of the younger sibs while we were gone, I wonder if it works out for the best. He's here where we can care for him rather than by himself in his apartment. I remember that time when was in college and so sick his worried housemates called me.
Anyway: Home and hoping--as Nicole put it--that his "symptoms are mild and the recovery is quick."
Pic: Sunset as we were landing in Detroit last night.
At is 23--and I don't think all 23 of my Mother's Days have been happy ones. All the recent ones have been, but it took a while to get there. It was fine when the kids were younger--elementary school teachers (bless them!) made sure the kids had a card to give me on Mother's Day. I think they would talk about what to do on Mother's Day, so the kids would pick flowers sometimes, and they always had that card they made in class to produce with such a proud flourish. There were some gems in those early days: At saying he loves me because I "make refreshing drinks;" Nu saying they love me because I gave them "their blood and bones." 🤣 Both of those statements are still in regular rotation over here.
But when the kids were too young to do stuff themselves, Big A was very hands off. I remember asking him to help the kids plan and him saying "but you're not my mother"--which I thought was missing the point. On top of that, I frequently have to to be the one reminding him to call/plan for his mom too. As this long-ago post references, I wallowed in self-pity because I loved mothering and wanted Mother's Day to be special--but it was mostly Hallmark media telling me what it ought to be, and I could see it not happening in my life.
But at some point in the last ten years or so, I realized that I did not want breakfast in bed (I'm not a breakfast person at all although I make the kids breakfast every day) or presents (I already have too much stuff)--what I really want is some meaningful time with the kids doing something together. So in more recent years, I've just said what I'd like for us to be doing: some years it's been yoga and spa, some years it has been gardening. And all of it has made me very happy. And although I do not need presents, the kids have started giving me the sweetest, most meaningful things--last year they gave me a water backpack for hiking, and this year they gave me a toddler Ganesh.
Pic: This year's amazing card and present. I plan to use the card as a bookmark in my planner; the toddler Ganesha will sit on my reading table.
Woke up to a bonus kid (Nu had had a sleepover). Over breakfast, we put together a vase of flowers for the sleepover kid to take home to their mom from all the flowers people had brought to the party yesterday. Spent the rest of the morning at UU. It was nice to see the small bidding war over my UU auction item ("An Evening in India"), then some fun at the food truck, and back home to read in the sun.
Over lunch, Big A and I watched the final episode of Mrs. America and the epilogue summarizing the slow death of the ERA made me sob. This is my THIRD time watching the mini series (I previously watched it with Nu and At separately), but this week felt "too soon" after the SCOTUS Roe opinion leak.
At came by after his shift, and he looked so tired, I didn't have the heart to ask the kids to help with the garden plots like they usually do. Instead, we took a small walk before settling in to dinner where all of us just lingered at the table forever talking and admiring their card and present. The kids usually pick me dandelions for Mother's Day (as a cutesy reminder of how they used to pick them for me when they were toddlers), but we have none in our yard. We don't use pesticides, so I suppose they're delayed this year... like so many things... like most of us.
Pic: Me and the kids outside; Huckie is airborne in excitement.
Looking forward to having all the kids around for Mother's Day tomorrow!
As it turns out, Big A is the only one dutifully posing for me this year.
If he's smiling somewhat smugly in this picture, it's probably because he's thinking of what he said to me this afternoon. He asked me where I'd been and then answered his own question. "Most people," (he said) "would assume you'd had some torrid affair because your hair's all messy and you look glassy-eyed and blissed out, but I'm going to guess you got a massage."
He was right.
I woke up a 4 am, landed in MI around noon, napped in the car after Big A picked me up, cooked till 4 pm (biriyani and sides) while Big A made the cupcakes (red velvet) and Nu made a birthday card (My Little Pony) and wrapped presents, and then... At was here!
No big presents this year, but we got him some pre-revolution short story collections (Chekov, Gorky, Gogol, and Tolstoy) and a small bookshelf Big A and I found for his growing library.
Scout and Huck were delirious with happiness (and so were we).
At lunch, one of the servers asked what we were up to and when I told her we were arranging a huge women's studies conference, she said she wished she'd taken a class when she was in college... in the 70s. She remembers the fight over ERA and how it laid the "foundation for everything." So I was telling her about the Mrs. America show on Hulu, and her name was Sally--so we sang a bit of "Ride, Sally, Ride."
At the end of the meeting I was so tired, especially as there was a lot of new (to me) software and platform-ware. I went back to my room caught up with the fam, and napped for a bit.
Those of us from the meeting still in town met up for a great dinner at a small Somali restaurant where they gave us a private booth because we were the only women there. This was my first time meeting in person (all of our other meetings had been on Zoom) so there was a strange mixture of familiarity and the excitement of sharing some of our favorite stories about ourselves.
We were still joking and laughing at something and calling goodbye to our servers as we were walking out of the restaurant, and then we started to fall silent as we passed the TV on the counter and each of us silently read the blithe chyron stating there was a leaked "Supreme Court draft opinion that would overturn Roe v. Wade."
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Pic: Sharing on family chat the fancy welcome swag bag the hotel gave me when I checked in and the uninspiring view from my room.
In the midst of the slowdown and the disruption, a few insights:
My general humor is greatly impacted by pain. I have so much less patience and do so much less for people. I wonder who I would be if I had had a history of chronic physical pain.
I'm more likely to take medication for the pain if I remind myself that it'll help reduce the inflammation--apparently, I don't think I deserve to take it just for the pain alone.
Nu and Big A are really good at waiting on me hand and foot and I should ask them more often.
I should try to get my treadmill desk up again so I can move as I work tomorrow--sitting and getting up from sitting are the worst.
Pic: Daffodil Hill (we think at its peak) with L this morning.
And this is not at all unusual--I've been averaging between 3-6 hours of sleep for years now... and put like that, I'm worried there's going to be some spectacular comeuppance for this.
In some ways I'm a perfect candidate for fractured sleep because I have family from other continents and time zones--so no matter what the time, I have people on hand to have heart-to-hearts and to text links to hilarious songs like Rowdy Baby (no babies were harmed in the making of this video).
But also Big A works nights, so we're usually texting and chatting about stuff and keeping in touch and being silly as well. And if he's home, his sleep schedule is messed up by working nights, so I'm hanging out with him then too. And tonight At seems to be up and feeling chatty and is sending me Langston Hughes poems about Lenin and I sent him that clip of Paul Robeson singing to Scottish miners (cross cultural solidarity is my favorite and my boy knows me).
Anyway, this will all work itself out, or won't. If I'm going to be up all night anyway, I feel like there ought to be a cuddly baby to keep me company at least 😁.
Pic: The Red Cedar was flooding its banks on our walk yesterday.
"For young people experiencing grief, he suggests Bridge to Terabithia, a novel about two children who create a magical land that allows them to escape a personal tragedy. For people dealing with indecision, he recommends “Eveline,” a short story by James Joyce about a young woman who plans to leave Dublin with her lover and is forced to decide whether to abandon her family. Cheu prompts clients by asking them, “If you were Eveline, what would you do?” Turning the question on the reader, he says, uses the story to ease them into sharing more about themselves. “That is how you allow the discussion to move away from a very personal direct confrontation to an imaginary alternative,” he says, “which allows them to imagine a different life for themselves.” Literature essentially helps clients be seen without being exposed."
Pic: Scout giving us high-fives for the week that was. (I think Big A and I may have taught our baby a new trick!)
