It doesn't matter until it does. It's not relevant until it hits home, and when it hits, it slams. There's not a quiet rapping at the door, a little "ding dong" from the push of a porch button, a tiny "hello? anyone there?"
What happens is the GO GO GO! SWAT bust, the chaos entry, the "WE'RE HERE! GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR" of it.
We watch the news. We pray. We see, from a distance, on a screen, the IV lines, the wheelchairs, and hear the coughs and the window-pane hand touches. The heroes in healthcare live it. The victims' families grieve through it. We hear the guidelines, we follow the rules, we stop hugging, stop sharing space, and maintain the distance. We shuffle- no, SLOG- through the politics and the germs of a pandemic re-election existence.
And is that all we're trudging through?
Is this global and political and viral life the only one we're dealing with?
No.
We mom and we dad and we teach and we bake and we "turn it off and turn it back on again" and we graduate and we fight with our parents and we cook dinners and we have babies and we clock in and we clock out, attempting normal.
Even without the 'rona.
But WITH this covid craziness, we breathe through life, we do our things, but it's like we're living with a weird, grey filter over the snaps of our meanderings.
Have you ever made a terrarium? Or seen one?
I feel like we're these frogs or plants or lizards in an observation tank of some kind. I mean, we're there, doing the stuff, trying to make sense and routine out of surroundings that seem kinda normal, kinda what we're used to, but in no way is the BIG of it at all normal. It's not at all conducive to growth or positive or sunshine. We have food and a heat lamp and the plants on which we're accustomed to noshing, but beyond the green and the dirt and the survival, it's not what was intended. We don't know what TO do, but we don't know what NOT to do, either.
So we do the best we can.
Under close, close scrutiny.
It was brought to my attention yesterday that KJ has been to youth group with 3 kiddos that have tested positive for THE VIRUS.
And let me just interject here...
What is with the stigma attached to this thing?
What's with the guilt and the shaming and the blaming and the attacking? Why do we feel a hesitance at the thought of - oh no- telling someone the test came back positive. It's like if someone sees a roach in your kitchen or knows you've jacked your kid full of Tylenol to get them through the morning at school... oh, the SHAME...
Why?
Anyway so yeah. KJ's friends. 3 of them. Positive. They have the 'rona.
And my kid played youth group games with them, breathed their air, bounced the same dodge balls, held hands and prayed (well, I don't know that last part for sure, actually...)
First of all, there wasn't one percent of me that even felt an inclination toward blame.
Secondly, I shifted into "OK. Now. What do we DO?" mode.
Trying not to venture into paranoia territory, but keeping my toes out of "ignore it," too.
It's a fine line, believe me.
Thanks, news channels and social media.
NO ONE KNOWS WHAT TO DO.
I say all this to say that.
NO ONE.
Every bit of this is speculation.
Volumes of politics layer into this. Tons of social media "experts," and medial professionals (my mother law has worked for a bajillion years in infection control and I have parents who are a doctor and an RN, not even to mention my nurse sister and close friends in dr's offices...) swear by research supporting THEIR side- "we're right, they're wrong, listen to us."
It's impossible to navigate.
And, I have to say, taxing- emotionally and physically, whether you have the 'rona or not.
So I found out about KJ's exposure yesteday.
Cancelled cake orders, wedding order, and dropped the bomb on the household that we're moving back into a more stringent Phase 1. Scraped myself off the ground several times from the verbal and bx responses from the kiddos upon learning there won't be any comings or goings for at least 8 days. I mean really? like I want to miss out on seeing my grombeebe?
Slogging through.
Then just a bit ago, a dear friend of mine called me and has, too, been given the "positive" news. I saw her a few weeks ago, and am supposed to share space with her soon, but quarantine will dictate otherwise. She's frustrated, and has received scads of conflicting information.
What are the regs and rules and protocols?
We know what the CDC and WHO and CNN and FOX and Dr. Zhivago and Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds tell us, but do we REALLY know?
NO ONE KNOWS WHAT TO DO.
And somehow, it has turned into a "the dems say" and "those radical Republicans think..."
Also, our self-quarantine has made mom the bad guy and our home a prison, according to the attitude of the kids.
I've beat myself up. I've cried, I've talked to Aaron, I've prayed, I've sought wisdom and holy spirit discernment. I've listened to the admonishment from people saying "well you never should have..." and "this is why you shouldn't have let her..."
And the fact is, well, yeah, maybe.
But here's where Covid intersects with our lives.
It's not just the virus dictating our inhales and exhales.
In the masks and the circles on the floor at Target, we still have to live. We still have to do what we're expected to do. As moms and kids and husbands, as humans.
So I'll type the mantra here that has been on verbal and emotional repeat in my head and in my house: I'm doing the best I can.
I'm a person, I'm still human, I still feel.
I will still discipline and make my kids mad and provide boundaries. But maybe survival one day might mean picking battles and making what I feel like is the best choice at that particular time. Maybe a "yes" 2 months ago does contribute to tons of self-deprecation now that looks like "oh my gosh I should have been more strict." and maybe the "no" last week was the perfect choice.
I don't know.
NO ONE KNOWS WHAT TO DO.
As a parent, first of all, and for SURE as a parent during Covid.
We are all doing the best we can, like, for real.
Don't judge.
No, I mean, REALLY.
Don't judge.
This is hard.
I just want to hear "well done..."
I don't think He'll say "well done except for that time you let your daughter go to youth camp" or "well done except when you asked your daughter to pick up noodles for you in Cary..."
I'm doing the best I can.
Crap happens, y’all.
I. Blame. No one.
This is not even remotely a blameable situation. It just IS what it is.
I’m just tired, y’all. xo
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