The thought of saying goodbye to Joe never crossed my mind. Perhaps because I knew we were in this together- wherever I was going, he was coming along with me. I thought about our boys back at home; Conner was five and Hudson was three at the time. I thought about calling them. It seemed like the thing to do. I thought about what I would say. FaceTime wasn’t a consideration because seeing their sweet innocent faces would make me cry instantly…like ugly cry in a way that I wouldn’t even be able to utter a single word. I didn’t want to my boys to have that last memory of me. I then realized that even a regular phone call to them would make me breakdown. My heart started to pound at just the thought of it and I decided to keep my calm and not call them, or anyone for that matter. What was the point of that last phone call anyway? To tell them I love them? I knew that they all already know that.
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Any white person can post an image of a black box--a BLM hashtag--a MLK quote--and then move on with their day—as many did on Black Out Tuesday. As white people, we have always had this luxury. We have the luxury of being able to choose to focus on the issue of racism as much or as little as we’d like. THIS is the epitome of white privilege. We need to acknowledge the elephant in the room and talk about racism so we can better understand it and understand the part we ALL play in it. We (white people) are ALL a part of the problem and like Maya Angelou said, “when you know better, do better”. So let’s start!
I have learned that writing is just as much about the reader as it is about the writer. It connects us. What I write is about me and my experiences and my perspective on things, but it is also about my readers and what they take away from reading what I choose to write about. I discovered that I actually do care how many people see my writings because the more people who see it, the more people I can possibly help in some small but meaningful way. I never know what battles you’re fighting in your life when you choose to read my blog. I don’t know how my words will be interpreted by you or how my stories will make you feel, but OMG the biggest gift for me so far is when I get to find out the answers to this!
As our special time together was coming to an end and we turned onto our street, he asked me so innocently from the backseat, “Mommy, one day when I am a grownup, who will be my mom?”. I replied, “Hudson, I will always be your mom”. He then rephrased slightly and said, “no, when I am an adult, who will be my mom THEN?”, and again I told him, “I will be! Even when you are 100 years old, I will still be your mom”. He seemed to be pleased with this answer, and it helped me find some inspiration for today’s blog.
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I read somewhere that week 5 of quarantine is where shit gets real. The novelty of it all wears off and you are hit with the stark reality that this is real and it isn’t going away any time soon. What I have learned this week is that as much as I love the togetherness of it all, as highlighted in my previous blog about the quarantine and how in many ways it has brought us closer as a family. And as much as I love getting more creative and thinking outside the box for fun activities to keep our minds occupied and our bodies active. And as much I have loved the rewarding feeling of giving back to others during this time; right now, on day 36 of the quarantine I am feeling a strong need to break away and ironically enough, I find myself in need of some “me time”.
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Instead of killing time with quick trips to Target to buy more things that they don’t need, we are killing time in the backyard together, laying on our backs and discussing what animal shapes each cloud in the sky makes. I hear myself sounding more and more like my mom and dad. I say things that I never have said before to my own kids, things that my parents used to say to me, like the silly rhyme, “birdie birdie in the sky, why’d you do that in my eye”, to which they crack up! I taught my boys the old rhyme “star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight. I wish I may I wish I might, please have the wish I wish tonight”. How did I miss this before?
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Every single motherless daughter (or son) knows the depths of their mother’s love. The distinct feeling of their mother’s love. It’s a love that cannot be described adequately in words but can only be felt deep within their hearts for the rest of their lives. She is with me and a part of me always. She is in my voice when we hop into the car and I announce to my two boys, my world, “and we’re off like a herd of turtles”. She is in my silly facial expressions and dance moves throughout the house. She is in the greenest parts of my eyes and the tips of my eyelashes that sweep my children’s cheeks each night as they lay in bed begging for one more butterfly kiss. She’s in the songs I sing to them. The stories I share with them. The laughter that comes with dinner time shenanigans. She’s in every ugga mugga. Every hand squeeze. Every wink. Every embrace. Every booboo kissed. She’s in every orange butterfly we spy. She’s everywhere for us.
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Friendship is such a tricky thing to navigate and fully comprehend at such a young age. There are times where our talks seem to be going over their little heads or in one ear and out the other. Often times I find myself overthinking what is simple child’s play, the same nonsense that I dealt with as a kid and without much guidance from my parents or teachers, but I stick to my crazy ways of turning each experience into a lesson in the hopes that it will eventually click and that my sons will grow up to be good friends to their friends. The other goal is that they, in turn, will learn to surround themselves with good friends who will treat them with the same love and respect.
Still, like most parent/child conversations I don’t always have the perfect answer but one statement that I came up with and that never fails is when I tell them, “they are still learning to be a friend”.
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That all being said, at the end of each day I didn't feel any better about myself or my situation. I didn't feel like I was mom of the year or employee of the year, or wife of the year for that matter. I would put on a good face for my coworkers--I was the first to dial-in for meetings, the first to reply back to our company's instant messenger or emails, just to show them that I was always at my desk and available. Despite these efforts, and yes, my sales numbers staying at the top of the dashboard month after month, I felt defeated. I felt like as much as I wanted to do it all and have it all, I was failing in some way EVERY DAY.
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I often find myself saying no to him. “No Hudson you cannot climb up on the book shelves in the library”. “No, you cannot pee in the bushes when there is a bathroom just ten feet away”. “No, you cannot take off your seatbelt when I still haven’t parked the car”. “No, you cannot take your bowl of ice cream onto the couch with you”. “No, you cannot watch that show and try to reenact the slime challenge in our kitchen”.
I feel like a broken record at times and as much as I am sick of saying it, I know he is equally tired of hearing it. I am told that I was very much like him as a child, I guess this is payback! I declared today as our mommy and me “yes day”. Anything Hudson wanted to do with me I would say yes to—within reason of course. The result- we ended up having the best day together.
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We talked about the sea animals that would benefit from this activity and we also talked about how awful it is that so many people are so careless. The beach is lined with garbage bins and yet we found everything from large water bottles, bottle caps, plastic straws, spray bottles, Styrofoam pieces, to dirty diapers right at the water’s edge! It was eye opening.
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