One Thing

The next great American novel.

Painting that blank canvas sitting in the hall closet.

Knitting something other than a scarf.

Finishing the cookbook I've been working on.

Starting an urban farm complete with chickens.

Starting a business.

Anyone else enter CORVID-19 Season with a list of accomplishments and a 24-pack of toilet paper, just beaming with the amount of time on our exceptionally capable hands to finally knock out things there never seems to be time enough to tackle?

How long did it take you to realize the joke was on us?

It took me about a week. 

A week that flew by in a blur of zoom meeting tabs, text messages the length of Russian novels, questions piled up to the ceiling I couldn't get around to answering from all directions--professional, personal, maternal, and internal. Time morphed into something that no longer followed its metronome, and days lost their individualism. My routine vanished, replaced by an imposter pretending to be my life but altogether different. The places were the same but the life in them vanished. The bustling board game of my life and routine resembled a ghost town.

I don't have cable, but the news of the encroaching enemy in a war that's too quiet flashed relentlessly across the tools I use to access the world. The purposeful energy typical of my mornings on a middle school campus exchanged for anxious expediency from wide-eyed voices on the phone, asking rapid-fire questions I can't answer yet. Because we didn't yet know the answers to simple questions in this new reality rampant with moving parts.

My 10-hour days became 16-hour days, at the end of which I had my own children to care for, check on, wonder about how their days went from the silent boxes of their bedrooms where their lives are now compacted. I realize I've had two pots of coffee and a piece of cheese. I also realized I wasn't hungry, so I immediately knew this was NOT normal.

Nothing about this new routine is normal. I feel this twinge like I'm walking somewhere way up high and realize the distance to the ground. I wonder in that flash of a moment if Normal will ever be normal again. I dismiss the thought because this is just a few weeks of locking ourselves away from a microscopic question mark hell bent on taking us out. I took a deep breath, resolved to eat a decent breakfast in the morning, less coffee, more water, and promise myself I'll finally download that yoga app.

Fast forward a number of weeks. I'd have to check the calendar on my phone to tell you how many because well, time is just a number that tells me when I'm supposed to do things.

Obviously, this shake up moved my cheese more than a little. Like to another planet! Did it? Or did it just feel that way because things feel and work so differently than when I was comfortable and I fit into the little world I'd created?

I had to hit the breaks on trying to process everything at once. Making Sense as a thing wasn't going to apply to everything that had changed all at once. I needed to get my head around one thing.

One Thing.

Because when the people and places and activities I felt so connected to were gone, what was left?

So so much. I have given myself permission to live completely in the present moment. If I'm tired, I rest. If I'm hungry, I eat. If I'm scared, I pray. If I'm bored, I find something worthwhile to do with a thankful heart, grateful for the time and ability to read or cook or call someone to talk about nothing. When someone asks me a question, I answer it or say I don't know but I'll find out. I gave myself permission to be OK with incompleteness.

Then I started small with one thing. I started growing microgreens for a lot of reasons. I've done it before and wanted to do it again. They are delicious and extremely healthy. They are ready to harvest in about a week. I got to see them sprout and grow then open up and now I can eat them. One small, uncomplicated thing that I can't control but can respond to the conditions and do my part to bring about a successful outcome.

What's your one thing?

All the Single Ladies...

If you don't hear Beyonce in your head right now, I'm not sure we can be friends...

In all seriousness, I hatched these intricate daydreamy plans of how I would spend my COVID-19 Quarantine downtime, and let me tell you that whole thing went out the window in a big ole hurry.

I work twice the hours to support students and teachers, troubleshoot issues that some up in the moment, and wake up at 3:27am with astonishing regularity devising plans to stay ahead of what might come next. Working and serving in education right now equates with laying the pavement two seconds ahead of an Indy car. It's the second-best thing I can be doing with my time right now.

The role I'm finding the most puzzling is the one I usually feel like I'm navigating well--Mom-ness.

My kids aren't little anymore. They are 16 and 18 now. Little adults. And this has hit them in vastly different ways.

My senior is struggling. The tug-o-war between understanding that this unprecedented time in our history will define the future of the world versus the unfairness of missing out on so many huge milestones versus getting our heads around how each individual's choices and behaviors can absolutely impact the livelihood of those in our community. It's A LOT.

My heart really breaks for her. It breaks for me. I have been playing the tape in my head of her last little girl everythings for so song, and those things aren't going to happen. Her last solo performance singing on a stage, her last dance, her last day of walking through the halls at school, saying bye to this part of her life and stepping into the next chapter of her life. It will all just be so different.

And then there's me.

Which brings me back to the title.

If you're a single mom, this is hard. It was already hard, but we'd figured out our way in doing this thing, right? Now it's just us minus distractions. I can't go to yoga, the gym, the movies, to my favorite little spots to see people I adore. I'm staying home, just like I hope you're doing.

I talked with another single mom friend of mine this week who asked me, "Is it just me or is this just REALLY isolating?" Yes, it is. I have a million amazing friends.  And they are busy taking care of their families. Like we all should be taking advantage of this time to reflect and focus on those closest to us. They are focused on their husbands and children.

I'll just say it.

The world feels uncertain. It feels a little too quiet. A little too isolated. A little bit scary because we don't know what tomorrow looks like. There's something to be said for having someone to tell you that it'll be alright. That you'll get through this together. That whatever happens, you aren't walking through it all by yourself.

So that sounds super Gen X!

Time for a solution! This evening, I scheduled girls' night online. I made a silly invitation and texted it with Zoom code to a bunch of my girlfriends. We all just needed to see some familiar, smiling faces and talk about completely random things like we usually would. Making time and expending a tiny bit of effort meant that my kitchen was filled with friends again, full of laughing and getting the scoop on what's new with everyone.

The simple things.

The important things.

Investing in people and in ourselves, being grateful for our relationships, and nurturing them in the midst of what has to be the craziest time for our generation.

So connect. Reach out. Be available. And take care of yourself because this is not a contest and the only way we get through this is together. But 6 feet apart.

Big air hugs, friends!