Embracing Next

I walked past a woman in the supermarket today and made a judgement about her. I put her in a box without her saying a word.

There’s no need to describe her. For once, my writing is better without going into description.

In a matter of seconds she did something that threw me. She stepped out of the box I’d snapped her into.

Humans make judgments as a manner of survival (okay, not you, you are the exception). Will this person kill me? Yes? No? Good, moving on. This person in a hoodie. This person in a dress with polka dots on it and green hair. Is this person safe?

We judge to understand. If they are parenting like that and their kids are behaving so well, should I parent like that? Man, if that lady looks like that maybe I should eat what she’s eating!

We judge for a variety of reasons we might not even be clear on.

I have tried to stop. I’ve yelled in my head, “she is not you!” I have been gentle with myself and murmured, “sweetheart, it doesn’t matter.” But the judgmental thoughts keep rolling in.

Then I encounter a moment like today. When someone I judged one way showed me, essentially, we are not always one way all the time.

Have I yelled at my children? Yes. Someone at the store might think I’m a rotten parent and may consider calling child services on me. Have I also showered them with kind words, love, food, shelter, and Disney World goodness? Also, yes.

Have I had days when I have inhaled a pan full of cookies and stumbled from too much wine? Absolutely, yes. But am I also someone who focuses on organic vegetables, tofu once a week, and moderation? Also, yes.

Put me in a box for an hour, a day, that moment you encounter me as you will, but I will jump into a new box in an hour. A day. A week.

We are not always and never. Most of us anyway – that believer in Big Foot I met one summer seemed fairly committed, but maybe even had moments when he shrugged it off and thought, nah, no way. We are sometimes and maybe.

I will keep making judgments, despite my best attempts not to. But each time I do I will remember moments like today, in the grocery store, when I was reminded of the variability humanity offers.

That is who she was five minutes ago. She was absolutely that. But she is also this, right now. Standing in front of me a whole new someone.

It’s hard not to be present on a rollercoaster ride. The curving of the track, the hill that catches you on the way down. The slow climb up the tracks as they click and clack along the way.

There is so much behind the building and construction of a rollercoaster. Mechanics. Technology. Safety. But I wonder if there is that one person who knows, this ride will bring joy and thrills because they can’t help be present.

After each ride today my family and I jumped off the coaster with huge, goofy grins. We felt the water splash our faces, twisted our bodies into the curves of the tracks, and could still hear the sounds of whatever ambiance the ride was hoping to build.

“Again!” My youngest shouted after each one.

“That was awesome,” my oldest yelled each time.

“What’s the next ride?” my middle asked.

We couldn’t wait to live in the moment quite as completely as the ride allowed us too.

At least, that’s how I see it now. In the moment I remained as long as a good in the present. The screams of delight still fading into the distance.

I haven’t gotten sick in…do you hear crickets questioning? Which means my body probably hasn’t experienced germs and the amount of people I have mingled with these past few days at Disney.

Children wailing in strollers. Toddlers throwing themselves onto the ground in kicking tantrums. The couple passing by me coughing with masks half on. Germs were everywhere and discovered me, a fresh customer unaware.

Likely, I got the cold from my oldest who began sneezing non-stop on our second evening of the visit. But I assumed allergies because he improved the next day after Zrytec and Flonase. Now I wonder if it was a cold that quickly moved through his system and into mine.

I’m not sure how long it will last but I’m hoping it will move through my system quickly as well.

In the meantime, I people watch as we all rest snd I wonder who else is on the verge of sickness. Maybe Covid. Maybe a cold. The flu.

All of us were just eager to do something. Get out into the world and live! I find it interesting and sad that when I finally do let loose (I have been cautious) it takes a mere four days before I get knocked down.

Am I that vulnerable since I’ve been wrapped in bubble wrap for so long? Or are there just too many others suddenly standing beside me when, just days before, I was in a frozen tundra and well protected by parka, scarf, fleece wrap, mask, and sunglasses?

Is it worth it? Since I didn’t get Covid…maybe? If my immune system roars to defeat this in time for me to return to the parks for the last days of our trip then maybe.

The jury is still out.

What day is it? On vacations it’s never clear. Sunday? Tuesday? Does it matter?

I love vacation because it’s all of us together all the time. To some, this would be hell, but on vacation it means I’m no longer the lead parent. Now we can co-lead. Take turns. It also means I get quality time with each child at various points throughout the day.

On the bus between Disney Springs and our resort I sat next to my eldest and he described the world of the Mandalorian to me. This is a world I have tried to invest in. When he watches I sit with him for a few minutes. When he picks up a book about it I glance at the text inside. But only as I listen to him explain and ask more questions, tonight, am I really able to gain some ground on what it’s all about.

I sit next to my youngest on one of the rides today and he leans toward me and clasps my hand.

“We’ve got each other,” he says to me as we enter another dark tunnel.

My middle finds me on our walks between rides and grabs my hand as he skips beside me. The sun blinks down at us through passing clouds as Florida warms herself.

He tells me about a conversation he and his buddy had recently about how Dinosaurs really became extinct.

“We just can’t decide Mom,” he says, “it’s either the meteor strike or a volcano explosion.”

“You and your buddy chat about this when you’re playing together?” I say.

In my mind, six and seven year olds talk about games they’re playing or the next imaginary world they will create.

“This is what we talked about before we played Mom. We had a good chat.”

And my husband and I take moments. Glancing at each other; kissing each other with masks smooshing if we’re inside (kissing with masks on is a whole new level); holding each other’s hands across the backs of our boys as another ride takes us down a waterway.

What would life be like if we were always on vacation? Not as sweet. The rarity of weeks like these makes all of us close our eyes for a moment to savor, linger, capture, and appreciate.

It’s not over yet…

My husband and I had energy today. Despite rain, despite a chill in the air that wasn’t there yesterday. He had gotten nine hours of sleep last night and because of that we had energy.

I would never have considered myself co-dependent. It was one of the reasons I struggled with relationships.

Ugh, I’d think, when I couple would pass me by wrapped up in each other. Can’t she handle her own body, her own arm, her own life??

But I also have also longed for a partner. Someone who might think of me and put me ahead of others. Someone who would see me as special and amazing; and I’d find the same feelings toward him.

It’s a strange place to be, and yet common among manner life matters. I wanted something but didn’t want the other thing.

When I met my husband he had a kind smile. He made me feel at ease and made me laugh. I could feel myself unconsciously leaning toward him and didn’t feel like stopping myself.

Alone I would panic. Did he really like me? Did I really like him? Did I want to go down that path of needing someone? Depending?

I will now classify myself as co-dependent. There are things I am grateful he does so I don’t have to fumble my way through it. He is just better at it, or it comes easier to him than to me.

I realized how co-dependent I had become when I took a trip to the west coast by myself. I hailed my own taxi, found the bus lines, discovered the restaurants, checked in and did it all.

And I was just fine.

It’s a slow descent. But when I had the first baby and nursing became my full time job, I think I shoved everything I could toward my husband. My nipples cracked, the baby wailed, I wailed, I pumped around the clock, the only thing I had time for was feeding that gorgeous child and maybe squeezing in a shower.

I am finally starting to come up for air. I’m taking back some of the things I sent his way. Or some of the things we do together. A few days ago we laughed as we shoveled together and the boys played.

Co-dependency is still something I struggle with. I don’t want to be lost if something to happen to my husband. But I also like how we care for each other and take on the tasks each one is better at to make the life of the other partner easier. Toilets? Not his thing. Fixing the door handle? Not my thing.

But every now and again I take on an errand or a job I’m not comfortable with just to make sure I am capable. I can.

I love traveling. Trips, vacations, any experience that involves me taking a little sabbatical from my home is a win in my book.

This one is a trip because it involves my boys. But, there is something to be said for traveling with our youngest at age four versus the many, many trips we have taken with babies and toddlers.

Trips with toddlers and babies involve much less sleep, tantrums (of which I witnessed one or two parents survive today), and lots of tears. Usually either myself or my husband ends up having a meltdown (often both of us at alternating moments) and we squeeze in a few lovely family moments that make the trip worth all the hassle.

But this time around it’s different. Dare I say, we are having fun?

There was the poor sleep last night (oldest is allergic to Florida – who knew?). A lifeguard rescue of the middle after he pleaded we let them swim until 8pm. And some misplaced resort arrangements. But outside of that, we are having fun!

No complaints; lots of thank you’s; many mentions of “that was awesome” and my oldest shed tears as we descended into the Star Wars arena.

Dreams do come true.

I walk through the Mall of America today. Middle of the day means fewer people and interesting stories I try to interpret.

My purpose involves preparing for our big trip by purchasing a long searched for rain coat.

But I take the long way there.

Past the man with a long wig, hairs tucked behind his ears, high heels, and gown with straps slipping off his shoulders. He stumbles past me and I try not to stare. Do we call him “she” or “they”? I am behind the times maybe or not well researched but describing only what I see.

I pass a man without a mask holding the hand of a woman wearing a mask. I contemplate what masks are able to hide as I take in his unshaven chin that has doubled. Why is she masked and he not? Is it a sign of political differences? Perhaps she is immunocompromised and extra careful? But then, if he loves her, why wouldn’t he as well?

I pass the woman and man pausing to rearrange their three children. She looks longingly at a shop with home goods while he sighs as he works with the stroller that isn’t working right. The oldest two boys are twins and their eyes are ringed with a skipped nap. The youngest, in a stroller, cries freely of her own nap free day. Maybe they came to escape with hopes naps would ensue and it didn’t work?

My feet want me to go, and go. Stopping to browse isn’t on the menu today. Perhaps because I know school pick up time isn’t far away. Perhaps it’s because I believe the faster I move the better I will escape all the uncovered faces. Once upon a time, wearing a mask wasn’t part of my wardrobe. Now it feels permanent and I question why someone doesn’t wear one. It’s like a shirt. Pants. Shoes.

I reach my store and three boys, barely men, greet me heartily. I’m the only customer. They are well masked and I sigh with relief. I crack jokes; the eyes above their masks crinkle with smiles. They help me find my coat and I press on.

Past the rides in the center of the mall, whipping empty seats back and forth across the open air. Past the closed fountains that no longer offer water for free. Past the closed restaurants because they can’t stay open without enough people coming in. Past the unseen germs and particles in the air.

I am trying to push past the pandemic but it lingers, touching life in every single way.

I want to move on.

There’s a big trip coming.

My family and I are going on a big trip in a few days. We started planning for it months ago with the understanding that all this “Covid business” would be good and done with. If you’re alive and present in the world you know that isn’t the case.

Scrolling through Facebook I see friends in the town I grew up with at events and none of them are wearing masks.

Another friend returned from a trip down south and said many people aren’t wearing masks.

I keep putting mine on. Even after someone I’m close with sent me a message stating the value of masks is really low. I am vaccinated, boosted, and my youngest has antibodies from Covid while the rest are also vaccinated because they can be.

In temperatures hanging out around ten degrees I walk outside with friends. I haven’t eaten inside in months at a restaurant because I’d have to take my mask off.

An article came out recently stating that those who are the least concerned and the most likely to go about their normal lives are those who aren’t vaccinated.

Which finally brings me to the pervasive question curdling in my mind. Are we all crazy?

It’s a question many people around me are asking. We are trying to follow the science but it changes and the professionals admit it changes – welcome to science – new information leads to new recommendations. But people are tired. People are bored? People are angry. They are done.

And yet…I am not. Call me to slow to change or call me overly cautious. Or maybe call me self-involved? I want to go on that big trip my family and I have been planning for months so I will keep my mask on. I will see friends outside. I will keep doing the things I have learned might keep me safe.

I have heard the hospitals are overwhelmed. The healthcare system is struggling. And all the science I read tells me – not yet.

But, am I crazy? Still circles through me and I think the question beneath it could be, am I wrong?

We don’t know everything. The jury is still out as variant after variant walk through. But for now I am taking it one day at a time. Today I will error on the side of maybe.

Ever since my youngest started sleeping through the night I entered a new phase I like to call “sleep”.

Rumor has it hormones have plans for me down the road that might impact my sleep again so I am treasuring this time of sleep.

Making up for missing out on real sleep for five some years I make sure to hop into bed around nine in the evening so I can wake up at seven (or earlier) nearly every day. It’s glorious.

Except, I do still have young children who sometimes wake up at one in the morning and continue to stay awake until four. The difference between before and now is before maybe I endured the sleeplessness better? Or maybe before I was in such a state of little to no sleep that I didn’t notice when I got sleep versus when I didn’t?

Last night I fell asleep after a lovely conversation with my husband. Rarely, all three boys went to sleep before nine o’clock.

At one in the morning there was a knocking at our door and I knew my sleep was over.

Today I am cranky, struggling, and annoyed with myself. Plus, the four year old is home with me and has lots of energy.

He is singing upstairs. Coloring at my feet. Asking a million questions. Running the floor pants less.

He doesn’t have responsibilities. Or an alarm. Or other children to tend to.

He is also a bundle full of life, joy, and curiosity. He snuggles, offers hugs that linger, and is a reminder of what keeps me going in over all.

Sleep. It will come again another day.

Mites crawled around the soil of the plant I half tended to off and on for a over a year. I cradled my newborn and contemplated the dying plant.

Then I made a decision. At this point I was only keeping one thing alive. The baby cried, I looked down at his crinkled face and sighed with a love I hadn’t known before.

The plant understood, I’m sure.

Fast forward several years and after managing to successfully grow three boys and while doing so my younger sister gave me a spider plant I kept alive as well.

My sister in law gave us a new plant when we moved into our new home and that green houseplant (of the name I cannot recall) chugged along too.

These plants go on and off along with what I am able to invest but as of late they seem more on than off.

I bought a plant to add to the mix, and we got two new plants when we moved into our third new home. If you’re keeping track that means we are now the proud family (and I am the proud plant mama) to five plants.

I water them today as the snow kept the land outside white and cold. Inside there is green; life. My three boys raced around me, almost knocking the watering can from my hand.

Lots of life, and it’s all growing. Somedays better than others.