I stopped scrolling as I came upon what looked to be a photo of myself:
A mountain goat hanging onto a completely vertical cliff with just four small hooves and what appeared to be also the tip of it’s little goaty tongue.
Looking like it was no big deal.
Looking like it did this for fun.
I laughed identifying with that mountain goat,
because that has been me this week –
Clinging to my remaining sanity while losing crumbling bits.
Weary like so many of us.
Feeling bothered. Worn thin.
Feeling like a toddler pushing food off of their tray to let you know they are all done.
Distance learning started up again for my middle two.
We felt pretty proud of ourselves and our printed schedules, pencils even in a cute cup.
Fingers, once again, on the pulse of learning.
But that was when the internet stopped connecting first thing on day one,
and the meltdowns that happened as a result had me about to paint a giant “X” on our front door with the words “Dead Inside” as a warning for all who might try to come.
I made the woefully terrible suggestion
(Really – some nerve I have)
that my girls try to get to their Zooms early on day one to make sure everything was set up fine, and they were ready to go when their classes began.
You would have thought I had suggested they both show up the first day wearing full head-gear.
Apparently no one wants to just sit and stare at their teacher, and
would I please stop peddling my suggestions of social suicide here?!
They really should have listened, though, because it turns out everything was NOT OK.
Our wifi wasn’t working, causing them to burst from their rooms in hysterics five minutes into their day.
(Jr. Highers are good at bursting through doorways)
Because, If there is anything more tormenting than being IN Jr. High,
it’s being in Jr. High and having your Zoom image lurch along coming in and out of being frozen due to spotty WiFi while you’re in your very first Zoom.
Related:
Jr. High distance learning should come with shock blankets and a medic.
Let’s note that for the future’s sake, OK?
I know this is new to us all, but now that we know that, let’s make some notes and also whatever changes that we all need to make.
After racing across town to procure an internet hotspot while the girls panic texted me from home,
I finally got both of them up and running, thinking I had saved the whole day,
until our closest next door neighbor decided in that very moment,
for his very first time ever,
it might be great to try his hand at playing a Bongo drum.
Never once have I heard any music coming from this man’s home.
Never once have I seen this man do anything other than pick a plum, ride a bike, and, for some mysterious reason,
mow and water only half of his lawn.
But today…
Today he was going to begin his day with loud, outdoor drumming.
Because of course he was.
For a full hour he drummed outside, as fervently as he could.
He wasn’t even rhythmic, or remotely good.
What he was, however, was directly outside my 11 year old’s open window while she was in her first, finally successful after much trial and error
working Zoom.
Just after I had finally soothed her initial meltdown.
Just after the internet was finally working well.
Her text messages that would follow the start of his drumming dinging every three seconds begging me to PLEASE MAKE IT STOP were all it took for me to mentally give up on succeeding any more for that day,
and to think of how I could at least do something to laugh to keep from crying, instead.
Also of note: It was now only 10:05.
We were barely one hour in.
I envisioned myself in that moment doing all that seemed logical to do:
Strapping on a homemade loin cloth and entering the background of her Zoom screen,
dancing in a hopping circle, taking the focus off of whether or not she, herself, looked lurchy,
as a distraction to make her classmates laugh and wonder just what exactly was going on in Tessa’s room.
As if any of us know what’s going on.
Maybe I should also take up drumming.
Who even knows anymore?
To add to all this soothing beauty,
this week half our county caught on fire.
We took a short break from trying to figure out how to do schooling without pulling out our hair to figure out what things we would want to pack into the car, pointed out and ready to go, in case our whole town burned down.
But just a short break because, you know,
the show just keeps going on.
“Are you unmuted?”
*Check the fire map*
“What time will dinner be done?”
So now, not only are we Zooming lurchy on the internet,
and bongo drumming in our yard,
but we’re doing it in thick smoke.
“This mask, Mama?”
*holds one up*
“No. That’s for smoke. Put your other one on.”
Lately life just won’t stop feeling hard.
My one hoof climbs up one step higher.
My wide-eyed goaty self barely holds on.
I researched goats a little today after that picture and right away nodded reading the headline:
“Mountain goats can pull themselves up an incline with only one hoof,” and thought
“Yes. These goats are like family of mine.”
We’ve been through fires here for the last 4 years.
Being evacuated, huddled and watching for news, tracking the fire’s spread from a satellite in the sky.
I thought once was bad enough, but now apparently our state’s seasons actually go
Fall, Winter, Spring, and Fire.
We’ve never done this in a pandemic, though,
So that’s a whole new level of fun.
Where either way, if you go or stay home, there are things that could make you die.
“It’s cool. It’s cool.
This is fine,” I say from my perch.
My husband’s autoimmune condition and rigorous work schedule mean he needs a lot of rest.
This also means I am on my own a lot, managing these ever increasing issues.
Fanning figurative and literal smoke.
Trying to contain the stress.
Feeling like even one more small thing and I’ll lose my grip and go crashing to the ground.
Being a mom these days has meant my adrenal glands feel like shriveled up dried apricots.
I don’t know if I could pour out even one more drop.
And did I mention that I’m homeschooling my youngest?
Yeah. Good thing she is already smart,
Because two words into writing my very first lesson plan for homeschool and I had misspelled the word “Spelling.”
In other words: Off to a solid start.
So,
In review:
Jr. Highers in Zooms while in the fetal position,
Poorly drumming neighbor,
Global pandemic,
Mom with a recent stroke,
Sick, and sound asleep husband,
Homeschooling an active 8 year old,
Fires everywhere,
and
Don’t forget dinner.
Now, if anyone needs me,
I’ll be clinging to the side of a cliff,
But maybe by just by the tip of my tongue.
This article was written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
