girl at large

Timing Is Everything

(Delivery truck and crew by Viv, circa 2018)

Pro Tip: when supporting small and mid-sized businesses, keep to the services and products they have OFFERED. Don’t ask for more. Don’t ask for an exception. Don’t ask for shit Karen. 

The phased back to work plan can work, but only if we observe all the safety guidelines. The next phase can’t happen is the first phase fails.

Don’t assume everyone has the capabilities to meet those safety procedures right this minute. Just because they technically CAN do business doesn’t mean they are READY to do business.

Many businesses laid off and furloughed their staff.  Bringing staff back too soon is financially risky, and not the right decision for folks who make $50k or less. Many staff CAN’T come back because they have underlying health conditions or are caring for their own families. Or they don’t want to because they know their job functions are inherently risky or that their employer may not be capable of making their work environment safe. Or they may just not be ready to come back for WHATEVER DAMN REASON THEY HAVE THAT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS ACTUALLY.

Businesses literally probably cannot physically do more than what they offered you. Be grateful.

Covid Kids

Easter is a bit different this year. No big beautiful family meal at Aunt Lisa’s, no dressing up fancy and no Easter egg hunt at the park. Instead only six eggs to color, scrounging up strange kitchen drawer candy, raiding the present closet for a basket filler.

This is week four of the quarantine, week four of the emotional roller coaster, first full week of homeschooling, second week where I have no sales team left to work with, fourth week of no customers, fourth week of no answers. 

What will the kids remember? The tears and arguments? The short tempered parents? Being separated from friends and grandparents?

Probably not. They are ages three and seven. They will remember the year the Easter Bunny brought legos instead of marshmallow eggs. (It’s a dangerous precedent really.)

I remember in tough times, not the trouble itself so much as the comfort my mom employed. Sometimes it was for her comfort, like her favorite food (creamed eggs on toast), sometimes for our comfort like holding my head in a certain squeeze, or reading at the end of her bed.

I don’t need the iron this morning, or a fresh pair of tights, or a pan of food to bring, or to rush out the door hollering to “get in the car or else!”.

But I sure do need some hope.

Some hope to help me take these six eggs and, like the lemon to lemonade adage, make something of them. Maybe egg salad. 

But not creamed eggs on toast. Because it’s gross.

At Home Learning

I’ll always question why I asssumed it was safe to have the kids at Grandmas house the first week and half. Once I developed a cold (only one day of low fever, no other covid symptoms), it came crashing down on me just how selfish and risky that was. I hope that lesson wasn’t learned too late.

Now that they are at home with us all day every day, I’m learning first-hand how amazing Grandma time was —activities, schedule, lessons schoolwork. And the snacks! Oh the snacks. I’m finding out just how impossible is it to Work From Home and Parent At Home and Also Be A Teacher. It is impossible.

You know those work-from-home memes about discovering the “work personality” of your spouse? Paulie is about exactly what I expected, though slightly more organized. In contrast, during their first classroom video meeting, I was surprised to find out my kid, my very quiet kid, is the bold over-sharer! Good to know.

And one final lesson during this pandemic—the entire first two weeks I thought “WFH” stood for What Fucking Hell, not Work From Home.

I like my version better.

The World on Fire

This has been one of the hardest weeks of my life. We say that and then something worse happens. I began this blog because of 9/11. 

This is worse. Worse personally because I have more to lose. Professionally because I have more responsibility. Emotionally because I also lost a friend to fucking murder last week. And for the world, because it involves the entire world. (Though the fallout of the wars after 9/11 would also qualify but who’s keeping track).

In trying to make sense of what we are facing with this virus, I’ve been overwhelmed by the scientific information, underwhelmed by the government response, and feel generally confused.

The post copied below really helped me today.

I was finally successful in quitting smoking years ago because I heard a radio snippet beautifully describing what is actually happening to your lungs during morning cough. The lungs sweepers are waking up and sweeping out the junk like seaweed in the waves and when you take that first delicious morning smoke, that puts them to sleep and they wilt and stop working and that is why the cough subsides.

This firebreak analogy speaks to me in the same powerful way:

——————————-

 

Hi Friends:  It has been a week since my last post.  If you understood it, you realize that the increasing numbers of people with Covid 19 in the US are what we would have expected.  We have had an escalation of interventions as a reaction to the numbers which might give us pause to think we are worse off.  This is not true.  If you shoot an arrow, it takes time to hit the target.  If you intervene in a pandemic, it takes 4 weeks to know if the intervention was successful. On March 9th, the cover of the New Yorker showed our president with a mask over his eyes. Since then, the arrows have been launched..  Let me provide an example of what is happening that I hope helps you understand our current situation.

 

Imagine a huge forest.  Lightening hits a tree, a fire starts and begins to grow.  Smoke is seen but no sky jumpers are sent in because the lookout person is probably exaggerating. (This is the point at which we could have confined the virus).   The fire grows out in all directions getting larger and larger.   It becomes impossible to ignore and the decision is made to create a firebreak.  The firebreak needs to encircle the entire fire. Measures are taken and creation of the firebreak is underway.  (Increased testing, social distancing, and closing public places) The bosses know the fire is increasing, and nothing can be done to save the trees between the firebreak and the flames.  (The current numbers we are seeing).  Will their intervention hold?  As the fire comes closer, the bosses question whether it is big enough to hold back the umrelenting inferno.  They evacuate houses on the non-fire side (Telling people at high risk to stay home and call for extra help.)  The bosses recognize that when the fire hits the firebreak, sparks will fall all over the forest and they will need to be aggressive in trying to put them out.(Without testing, the sparks are landing and we do not know where to start stomping them out.)  If there are too many new fires started, the firebreak only slows things down but still allows time for more help to arrive in the form of more weapons (Testing, drugs(Remdesivir is going into a large study) and vaccines) or rain (Summertime and the realization that the vast majority of trees will withstand the fire, i.e. big Minnesota pines survive and then release pine cones only after heat! )

 

Our fire, Covid 19, is a nasty bug that first emerged in an outdoor open marketplace in Wuhan, China in early December.  The person who contracted the virus unfortunately got on a subway in a metropolis of 11 million people. The virus was officially recognized when 41 people came down with pneumonia 27 of whom had been in this same market and 14 from other parts of the city.  On Jan 1, China informed the World Health Organization (WHO) and closed the market. CV 19 then spread from Wuhan to a cruise ship, to a megachurch in South Korea and to a mosque in Iran. The germ loves crowds and hitching rides on asymptomatic people. Italy went from 3 dead to 3000 in one month. 

 

In three weeks or so, we should be able to see if our current actions, our firebreak (Social distancing and school closings etc.) have helped.   Nothing has happened this week in the U.S. that was unexpected with regard to the number of people infected. All of these infections are the result of our past inaction.

 

So, what to do? Try to ignore the daily heat being generated in the media.  Limit your TV watching of news and social media because it is designed to increase anxiety. There is a lot of nonsense, too.  NPR is calm and does a nice summary.  (Yesterday’s newscast ended with a performance by Yo Yo Mah, the famed cellist.  ‘Songs of Comfort’ provides a way to use the arts as a positive resource in times of crisis). If you are restricted to a home quarantine, stay put along with anyone who lives with you. (My suggestion.)  Interestingly, we are in a phase where the absolute risk of an individual contracting Covid 19 in the next three weeks is low. (The fire is small compared to the forest).  The reason we have built a firewall is to eliminate the possibility of a person with Covid 19 from passing it on to others.  If restricted to home… learn from the cloistered nuns.  Set up a daily schedule of routines. For example,  I no longer have a swimming pool to go to, so I started Yoga. Joan is learning the Ukulele.  Bake bread.  The Washington Post reminds us that Isaac Newton had to leave the university in 1665 because of a plague.  He went to a farm to think.  It was during this time that he began his work in calculus, theories on gravity and light. Thinking and research at home may lead to something.  Have your uninfected neighbors help you by bringing supplies to your doorstep when they go out.  (Work out a neighborhood system).

 

The average incubation period for Covid 19 is about six days, and the main symptoms last on average six days.  Then recovery. The average time to hospitalization from onset of symptoms is about six days and marked with shortness of breath and fever. If you have symptoms of “flu” at this stage in the epidemic, you probably do have the flu, and not Covid 19. It would be nice to have testing available to find out and we will soon.  The recognized cases will rise as we do more testing and stop missing mild cases.  the death rate is the number to watch regarding progress.  Four weeks from now, we will see if we have slowed this thing down. It will be brutal for awhile.   It is hard watching a maelstrom rushing toward you hoping the firebreak will hold. We live with anxiety or faith.  Personally, I do believe I hear planes coming with lots of fire retardants!

 

If you want to imagine killing the nasty virus, imagine doing this experiment.  Fill a sink with water.  Pour some cooking oil over the water’s surface.  Then add one drop of liquid soap.  Instantly, the oil’s film will disappear.  Just like a virus membrane!  That is what soap does to this virus.  Wash your hands frequently and always for 20 seconds to get that soap in all the little crevices.   In the end, there is no doubt, Covid 19, the fire, will end, and we will move on. We will be funding NIH and CDC a lot more! I hope these thoughts provide additional context for whatever you are experiencing and help with your understanding.  (John Bachman Facebook 3/19/20)

Unlearning Society

I honest to god was shocked when I found out intersex “correction” surgeries on newborn babies are still happening. I thought that doctors would use some other more modern scientific method to determine gender. Of course at the time I ignorantly assumed gender was always in some way physical (chromosomes?). I know better now.

I learned that these surgeries were still happening during a casual discussion of all the various ways gender occurs naturally and how far we’ve progressed in understanding. Or so I thought.

As my physician father said, “It’s not a medical problem, it’s a society problem”.

Ok boomer, you’re right on this one. :)

(I’m referencing this article:https://www.cnn.com/2020/01/10/us/intersex-surgeries-gothere/index.html)

 

 

 

These Are The Best Days

Today three-year-old Charlie grasped me from behind with both of his little stick arms, buried his face in my ass crack and said “Your butt is amaaaaaazing!”

Happy Birthday me.

Dad Jokes

Thanksgiving at the Osthoff, 2019.

This is the first weekend away that we forgot to pack the stroller...and turns out we don’t need it. Another parenting milestone. Paulie has also reached a new level...a new level of Dadness.

We treated ourselves to a couples massage.

Me: “This will be fun, we’ve never done a “couple” thing before!”

Paulie: “Sure we have, we have a “couple” of kids!”

ba dum bum

Thanksgiving Wishes

It was a year ago next week that we packed up and moved into the temporary ‘partment (as Charlie called it) across the street so that our entire first floor could be gutted and an actual kitchen installed. We crossed our fingers that we had chosen the contractor wisely, grateful we could finally take the leap and do it. 

This year I am grateful daily for the comfort, the function, the new found CLEAN that is our now lovely home. It is a dream, a six years long wish, a vision come true.

But can I get one more holiday wish?

Recipes. Actual recipes. Not blogs, not editorials, not profiles, not photo essays. I don’t care how you FEEL about the turnips Bethany, I. just. want. the. recipe.

Imagine if Aunt Fern had used fifteen index cards for the ambrosia.

Home Is Where The Mortgage Is

 

This fall’s early snow delayed taking the best “After” shots, but I don’t hate the way it camouflaged the crummy roof. The house exterior looks amazing, but it’s 58 degrees and breezy inside. Next year, storm windows. The year after that, condo.

Mama’s Little Acorn

Charlie is at my favorite age (so far). He wants to be a helper, his language is exploding, and he still wants to cuddle. He is also a smart ass.

I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to understand what a “cat load” is and why the absence of one would cause so much distress and so many tears. Catalog. He wanted the catalog. 

After that was resolved, and our Sunday morning was once again peaceful, I asked him to clean up his playroom:

“No, Mama, I’m not available”.

Come Out with Tits Swinging

A middle-aged dude just rolled up in his Mercedes, slowed down, pulled close to the curb, and TOSSED HIS GARBAGE BOTTLE IN MY COMPOST BIN. I am over 45, bra-less in a nightgown and slippers and I am enraged. All I need is curlers and you can see the picture. I ran out to the street. If I'd been faster and if it wasn't so early in the morning, I would have thrown it back at his sedan and yelled. This is what home ownership does to a person.

 

My favorite part of these incidents is that SHOREWOOD IS REALLY SMALL. Dude, I know your car. Dude, I know YOU.

 

I'm currently taking suggestions for the note I'll leave when I return the bottle to the hood of his car. Nice detail: the bottle is full of HIS SUNFLOWER SEED SHELLS.

 

Also, currently taking suggestions on paint colors for the house trim. Home ownership has many curses.

Resting Mom Face

 

I’m in my chair having a beer.

 

Viv just asked me to come see if the tv show she wants to watch is one we have to pay for. 

 

I gave her my phone to go take a picture of the tv screen and walk it back over to me. 

 

My parenting skills have peaked.

 

This Is Your Brain On Anxiety

Mama, making pancakes: “Viv, is it one egg or two? I can never remember”

Viv: “One. It’s one egg.”

Charlie, running past at top speed, naked:  “Or TWO, maybe TWO!”

Still Life with Fake Poop

It’s hard to have the energy at the end of a work day, when you’ve given all your “nice” to everyone else, to listen to a toddler tell a story. It’s impossible to remember the cute thing a kid said a day later. I’m hoping my camera lens and a few zingers we managed to capture on paper will be enough to remind us years from now (should we survive that long) of that time the kids did that thing once with the stuff at that place.

Also, it will always be “Butt Lightyear”.

Traffic and Weather Together on the 8s

Charliepants: "Mama, can you put on your talking show?".

Mama,smiling and thinking: See, all the NPR will pay off. Screw Paulie and his Arthur and his singalongs and his knowing all the names on Paw Patrol. Little kids DO like the things I like. I AM a fun mom.

"Oh honey, do you like mama's talking show?" 

Charliepants: "No, YOU do."

 

The Days Are So Long, The Years So Fast

When I give him food that is hot, with the predictable parental warning—“wait for it to cool down honey”, Charlie says “Warm, Mama, warm. I’m going to wait for it to get WARM.” 

Happy Birthday Charlie.

You adorable little shit.

 

Papa’s Day

A little tidbit to share in honor of my kids papa whom I could not have done a better job selecting. (Yes, I turned that accolade right back to myself. Sorry not sorry I’m really proud of that accomplishment; ie: powering through my fertile thirties solo and happy).

Me: “Thanks for picking up greek food, that’s just what I needed, I’m so tired from work tonight.”

Charming Husband: “Not all gyros wear capes!”

 

Always Believe The Kids

I just found out that what the kids call “Night Cat”, the creature I assumed was an imaginary figure of bedtime story imaginations and toddler conversations, is in fact, real. And now I have to move.

No Mama

”Whatcha doing?”

”Just hanging out.”

”No Mama! We are hanging IN. We are IN the house”.

 

Also I Have Toast In My Pocket Right Now

A millennial recently asked me what it’s like to have kids and be married. In summary: 

”Hey, look how cute these undies I got at Costco are!”

No One Right Way To Do It

I’m stuck. I’m mentally obsessing with work things I can’t control, that don’t really matter in the big picture, and in general my big picture is currently very hard to see. Now that the house is (mostly) done and the local election is over, I don’t have anything new to put my rushing brain to. I’m feeling a bit like a gerbil on a wheel. Lots of energy, no direction.

This isn’t unusual for me, it comes with the spring daylight (SAD likes to fuck with you coming and going). It too shall pass.

In the meantime, maybe I can try my kids approach to living in the moment and going with the flow.

On the other hand, maybe I should just teach them how to use a damn slide. 

Yellow Flag

The ruckus was terrible. Stomping feet up the stairs, the sound of the high pressure shower setting splashing water everywhere, the unmistakable whine of a resisting toddler.

What on earth is going on?

After some intervention, my best soothing voice and a little triage—it was poop. 

“Honey, poop is not an emergency”.

”It is when it happens during qualifying!!”

Point taken.

Totally Under Control

We’re on hour two of Easter basket amusement. Who says kids don’t like post it notes and twist ties? Also, Paulie is barfing downstairs. In the bathroom that has plastic garbage bags taped up on the walls where we ripped out the shower tile.  {Sips coffee}

Sounds About Right

 (photo cred Vivi)

Me: “You said ‘Aldi’s’ little while ago, now there’s an Aldi ad in my feed. I’ve never had an Aldi ad before.”

Mom: “So what?”

Me: “It’s listening, I swear the devices are listening”

Mom: “What? Ooh, that’s spooky....”

Also Mom: holds up iPad, “SEX!”

You Are A Beautiful Thing

Sunday is baking day at home.

”I like cookies when they are warm because they are soft. Soft cookies are better for sneaking up on people, because you can still have a snack while you are doing your sneaking, but because they aren’t crunchy, they can’t hear you.”

Worth It

     We are moved back in to the house, the temporary apartment has been emptied and cleaned. I still have boxes and boxes to go through in the basement, as well as furniture to move upstairs and art to rehang. Paulie is chipping away at painting ceilings, touching up walls, reinstalling blinds and installing light fixtures. But overall, it’s done. The kitchen, done. The mud room, done. The back family room, done. The floors, done. The Book Shower, done. 

    When I captured this moment, I thought, “Worth every penny”. And then I noticed it was Captain Underpants, and I thought, well, can’t win em all.

 

And Then Everybody Clapped

Some moments with toddlers are unforgettable, some are unbelievable, and some are one hundred percent the legacy of Pat Mikkelsen’s child rearing.

Me: “Oh Charlie, you are so fucking beautiful!”

Charlie: “Mama, you’re fucking beautiful every day!”

This Is Why We’re Married and I Love You

I’m standing in a contraption that stretches my calf and foot to relieve the pain of my plantar fasciitis, stretching my arms up along the wall, wishing for help to pull the ache out.

Me: ”Remember when they used to put people on the rack? Wouldn’t that feel good now?”

Paulie: “And throw a little heat underneath it” 

The Bright Side

Just when I feel overwhelmed by risk and debt and responsibilities, a little voice reminds me of how good we’ve got it.

Me, scooping up apple cores, baby wipes and Culver's bags: “Man, this car is a mess”.

Viv: ”At least it doesn't smell like old cheese anymore”.

Making The Best of It

In an effort to make a temporary, rather bleak one bedroom apartment more tolerable for the family, especially over the holiday, I’ve been thinking we will have some fun and try to make it a little adventure. 

 

Mama: ”Honey, let’s make the little apartment fun, we can decorate it anyway we want. How about a theme from one of your books?”

 

Viv: “Can it be Oliver Twist?

 

Baseline Overwhelmed

I have a sheet of stickers. Charlie comes over, asks for a sticker, gets a sticker and waddles in to the next room. In that room, he folds the sticker. A minute later, he is back, waving his hand around with the half folded sticker stuck to it and proclaiming that the sticker is broken. He asks for another sticker; I oblige.

We have passed an hour this way. And it is just about the right speed of activity and responsibility I can handle right now. The house construction starts on Tuesday. I am not ready. My brain is broken. Can I have another?

Little Monsters

Viv: “Are you going to do my scary face?”

 

Mama: “Yes, I’ll do it.”

 

“Are you sure you can?”

 

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I can make you look like Frankenstein.”

 

“Hmm, well, I recommend watching some youtube videos first.”

 

I’ve literally created a monster.

 

#imnotworthy

Tonight is Charliepant’s first night in his big kid bed. While I was doing laundry or Facebooking or reading or something, Paulie made him his very own cardboard version of Bert & Ernie’s headboards.

Because, as Charlie says: ERNIEBERT! ERNIEBERT! ERNIEBERT!

(Also, as I write this, Viv is sitting next to his new bed reading him a night night story because she “likes spending time with him”). 

What They See

It’s been an exhausting few weeks.

My community is in an uproar over the highschool production of To Kill A Mockingbird, which exposed the school’s ugly power dynamic, ineffective school board governance, and of course, very loud obnoxious white lady style racism.

We spent a week vacationing with family up north, with all the emotional weight, good and bad, that entails. Note: vacationing with a six year old and a two year old is not vacationing; it’s a trip away, yes, but not a vacation.The school district’s survey to gain support for a $55m to $120m referendum came out (I’m part of a small group trying to get the financial facts and consequences out to the public). I somehow got myself on the Beautification committee of the PTO. There are fliers to hand out, doors to knock on and troops to rally. And parent teacher conferences were on Thursday.

Oh, and while we’re were at it we refinanced the house, with all the paperwork and worry that involves. On Wednesday, after five years of doing everything else ourselves in this fixer upper, we finally signed the construction contract for the complete gutting renovation of the kitchen and first floor. Good grief. Also, I guess I really live here now.

I’ve spent a lot of time these past two weeks thinking about what I want my kids to be exposed to, what kind of community I want them to grow up in, how my values aren’t always reflected in this village.

I’ve also been caught out a few times on my own internal village, how we don’t always live our values right here in this house. Teacher conferences gave me a glimpse of Viv’s world (all week she’s been telling her class stories of the wonderful time she had at the cottage!). I’m freshly aware of how we talk to each other as Charlie explores the boundaries of being a bossy two year old, tests out “No!”, and imitiates Mama and Papa with his dollies. I’m not always proud of what is reflected. 

But, I learn. And I grow. And when ashamed, I try really hard to step forward with new approaches instead of retreating into old habits.

In the end, when they are grown and reflect on their upbringing, I hope their view of their family is like Viv’s clandestine photo portrait of us. There we are, tired and resigned. But together, and with faint smiles on our faces. At the table with each other and not too much yelling.

We Met for the First Time Six Years Ago Today

You are six years old today, and right now you are a humid little lump sleeping next to me in Mama’s bed. “Mama Time” you call it. 

It’s been six years, but I still don’t know exactly what I’m doing. Each time I get confident, each time I get the routine down, you go and change on me. In the proverbial leaps and bounds you make your way through stages of childhood, often leaving me behind in the cliche dust. 

But I do know these things:

Your first best friend was named Julian and you greeted each other with a hug every day and cried when you had to part.

You say Gwanma. And Nonna. And have never confused the two.

You want to be a monkey when you grow up. And also a teacher. And a race car driver.

You are 100% right when you say pants with pockets only in the back are stupid.

Charlie will never have a better guide than you.

You own your Papa’s heart, and almost more importantly, his growth from a pretty darn good person to an amazing person.

You bite your nails, out of nervousness, and I worry about that. But you also are trying to quit, of your own choice, and quitting a habit is the hardest thing a human brain can do. So if you can’t, I got you. That goes for every thing. Every single thing.