Waves

We’re on week 8 of responding to the global pandemic that is COVID-19. Week 8 of going nowhere, homeschooling my 3 boys, and cooking 17.5 meals per day.

I’ve experienced a full range of emotions in the past 8 weeks, and I’m guessing I’m not the only one.

Week 1 was denial and complete disbelief of what was going on around me. I would wake up every morning and, for a split second in between that sleep/wake space, feel a lightness before the reality sunk in.

“Oh yeah. Lockdown. Quarantine. Social distancing.”

Week 2 was more productive as I began homeschooling the boys, getting us all back on a schedule, meal planning, working out, and having my daily quiet time with the Lord. Corona got nothing on me!

Weeks 3-4 were my lowest points. I stopped working out, started screaming a LOT more, battled the desire to stay in bed all day long, resorted to hours of screen time for my boys, and melted into a mess of tears at the drop of a hat. I would take a bite of dinner and then start crying. Or watch a commercial on tv and start crying. Or walk into the living room, amid the mess of toys and puzzle pieces, and start crying. I missed my friends, my parents and in-laws, childcare, quiet, and the ability to go places by myself to breathe and think.

“And then I gave in.”

I stopped fighting this “new normal”. I stopped trying to force my family into our old routines and our old schedules. I stopped punishing my children for “acting out” when they were, in fact, responding to this dramatic change in our lives. The more I fought with the waves of life that were now enveloping me, the more I exhausted myself physically, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally.

I vividly remember a time where I almost drowned. I was about 8 or 9 years old, living in Heidelberg, Germany. My family and I were spending the day at Bellamar, a swim park in Schwetzingen. I was swimming in the wave pool and found myself at the deepest end. As I tried desperately to swim back to the shallow end, the waves continued to crash over my head… over and over. The more I fought the current, the less energy I had to keep my head afloat. So I stopped swimming and clung to the edge of the pool until a lifeguard saw me and dragged me out. I’m sure the entire experience lasted less than 2 minutes. But to me, it felt like HOURS of my life were spent fighting for air and an escape.

This time in our lives, which currently feels never-ending, will eventually pass. And if we are fortunate enough, we will look back to these pandemic-days and see the beauty in them.

For instance, I am LOVING sleeping in until 8 or 9 every morning. (Don’t get too jealous - my kids are still up between 5 and 6 but have learned to get a granola bar, turn on the tv, and enjoy the pre-school/pre-responsiblity time of the day.)

I love the comfort of changing from my PM sweats to my AM sweats and vice versa. And don’t even get me started on the whole no-underwired-bra situation. Praise be.

I have been trying a lot of new gluten-free recipes (most of which have turned out well) and am learning that substituting almond flour for all purpose flour will not usually warrant the same result.

The slow-paced day, with little to no schedule, is a breath of fresh air… and something I could really get used to.

Last week, my husband and I made a big decision - to break our quarantine and go to his family lake house with his parents. This was our first time to be around anyone other than our Party of Five. The kids swam in the lake, the adults played spade every night (sandbagging caused BIG arguments), and for the first time in 2 months, my boys were able to hug their Nana and Papa. It was glorious. A welcome respite.

So now I’m on week three of allowing the waves of my life to push and pull me into new directions. Giving myself grace, taking lots of deep breaths, and trying to be present. Instead of fighting this new shift, I am trying to appreciate my alternate views.