Daily Life, Daily Strife

Even though we love each other very, very much, there are times between Martin and me which are not exactly at top harmony level. Yesterday evening was one of them. He really annoyed me.

Before I go further, I'd like to just stop and point out that I am always, every day, grateful for being able to stay home and homeschool my girls. If I had the choice every day to stay home or go to an office, I would chose this route every single morning. But as we all know, loving something doesn't automatically mean it is EASY.

Yesterday Martin got home at about twenty after five, just like every day. I was in the back room where Ingrid was having her ballet class via Zoom. Baby Sylvi was with me, and I was also monitoring Elka and Greta who were playing in the backyard. Sylvi had barely napped all day, and she wasn't grumpy, but I was way behind on my work and hadn't even gotten the meat out to thaw for dinner yet. (So we didn't have meat, in the end.)

Now, Martin has a bad habit of not eating lunch. He will graze on little things all day long, but it's like one cookie, or a handful of raisins he found on the sidewalk. It's never real food. So I wasn't surprised when I came into the kitchen and found him making himself a snack of crackers left on the table from lunch (likely licked by the dog or children) and cutting up some Colby Jack cheese that he had liberated from the darkest recesses of the refrigerator. Not surprised, but thoroughly grossed out. That cheese was OLD. It wasn't moldy, but that doesn't matter. It was yucky.

After he'd eaten and we had chatted, I handed him the baby and asked him to monitor the ballet class a little bit so I could get dinner started. I got to work, and he sat down at the table with the baby. He did that thing where he sighs a lot. Just sits in a chair staring. Like he's "tired." I asked him if he'd like me to make him coffee. "If you want some, I'd drink some. But don't make it for me." (That sentence is best read in an Eeyore voice.) What the heck. If it was the cheese, that was his own poor choice. If it was something else, he wasn't saying, so I was feeling zero sympathy.

I know Martin's job is taxing. And like I said at the beginning, I would never want it. I mean, his co-workers are great, I really like all of them, and he works at a church where currently no one else is allowed to visit, so complete and utter peace is mere footsteps away at all times. But he works hard all day long, and has dozens of irons in the fire all at once, constantly.

THAT DOESN'T MEAN I FELT SYMPATHETIC.

Because here's the thing that bugged me: He was tired after his long day at work, so he got to sit at the table and sigh mournfully and tell me in his Eeyore voice that he was "just tired." This is while I'm scrambling to get dinner for the family, clean up the disaster of a kitchen, make sure the kids aren't getting nabbed from the backyard, making sure they also don't kill each other, etc. My day doesn't stop at 5:00. Actually, my job never stops because I've got the mammary glands. And the Zoom ballet class was going way over the scheduled end-time, and you can't just leave someone who puts her leotard on backwards and dances with a perpetual wedgie without noticing to manage a virtual dance class alone.

So I got annoyed. And then--AND THEN!--he started BURPING. It was the cheese. He was making these repulsive ancient-cheese burps and telling me he was tired. Then he shuffled off to our bedroom to lie down.

Oh, GIVE ME A BREAK.

Every day I'm dealing with about 900 tasks per hour. (This is less than when I had four tiny children at once--then it was more like 2,900 things at once, but 900 is still a lot.) These tasks are usually Things I Need to Do for The Good of the Family, and don't include things like "breathing," or "using the facilities." It's things like feeding the children, feeding the children, feeding the children, and feeding the children, sprinkled with running baths for the children, changing diapers, changing clothes when tags are itchy, Finding Lost Things, and staying in the bathroom with Ingrid while she washes her hands because she is afraid of the noise of running water.

And because I'm a Mom, I've learned to multitask at every possible moment. Bath-running is also a scary sound for Ingrid, so while I am held captive in the bathroom waiting for the tub to fill, I wipe down the counters or clean the mirror or toilet. I sweep floors while helping with fractions, I make food while discussing art or vocabulary. I am skilled at using as few limbs as possible for any given task, so that I can also hold the baby. If the girls are playing outside and there is a wasp, I can be outside protecting them from stings while also sweeping the sidewalk or doing some light yard cleanup. Then there's a whole area of my job that is purely "listening." I listen to ideas that don't make a lot of sense. Jokes that aren't at all funny. Stories that never end. Dreams. (SO MANY DREAMS.) Likewise, there's a lot of "watching" in my job. "MAMA! Watch me do this cool thing!... wait, that wasn't right, WATCH AGAIN!" And this doesn't even include another enormous part of my job: Combat Control. (I took that term from my friend who is a #boymom, she's got serious skill in that area.)

And five kids might sound like a lot to juggle, but we also have four beloved pets. So added to caring for the children is taking action when Elka is worried that her pet mouse is dead. (She worries about this at least once a day and so I have to wake up the mouse, who has never yet been dead.) There's the turtle in the bathtub who needs feeding and housecleaning, the cat who is everyone's favorite that we have to go searching the closets for when we haven't seen her in awhile, and the dog who is hands down the most stressful living thing in my charge.

And then we can talk about my anxieties that are streaming through the rivers of my brain every day. We can just start with the pet mouse: One of these times that thing IS going to be dead when I try to wake it up. And do you realize what a disaster that's going to be? Elka loves that mouse more than she loves ME. She tells me every night: "I love Sunflower the most, then you the next most." It's going to be awful. AWFUL! This fear sits more heavily on my mind with every passing day because that mouse is more than a year old. Elka rescued her for $2 from the feeder box at the local pet supply store on Feburary 28, 2019. We're now nearing the end of April, 2020, and that mouse is fit as a fiddle. BUT IT WON'T LIVE FOREVER, WILL IT. And then it's going to be bad.

You know what, I'm not going to list any more of my anxieties because just discussing that one has me worn out.

Let's get back to Tired Martin. Sometimes he'll call me during one of his little few minute breaks in his day. Admittedly, there aren't many, and he usually has to let me go abruptly when something comes up. But still, I can tell he gets kind of irritated when he's trying to tell me something and I am obviously distracted. He'll be talking and I'm listening hard with one ear, but I'm also doing any number of the things mentioned a few paragraphs back, and so sometimes he doesn't know if I'm answering him or talking to someone else. Heck, sometimes I don't know either. My life can be confusing.

But let's focus on Right Now for a minute as a perfect example. Right now, while I'm typing this (which I started yesterday and wasn't able to finish, so anywhere it says "yesterday," it was actually two days ago) I am still in my pajamas at 10:30 in the morning because I haven't been able to take a shower and get dressed yet. Ingrid is in the bathtub and I'm monitoring her while also listening for the baby to wake up. Ingrid has lots of questions and she gets easily freaked out by weird sounds, so every so often I have to go into the bathroom (it's just right next to me, so I can answer her questions from where I am, but if there's a sound I need to go investigate) and listen to some nonexistent noise, then make up some believable reason for it to set her mind at ease. Some questions that have come from the bathroom in the last few minutes have been: "What makes people faint?" "What is a cone?" (like for a dog.) "Is today a ballet day for Anja?" "When will Coronavirus be over?" "Are you still sitting in your chair?" "Are you still there?" "Are you still in the kitchen?" "Do you think these drips of water are really mouse pee-pee?" And just now, "Mama? ….(exceptionally long silence)…. I forget."

HE CAN'T POSSIBLY BE AS COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED AS I AM AT FIVE O'CLOCK. HE CAN'T. HE CAN'T!!!

For awhile I got pretty grouchy with him. Since his stomach was upset and he was burping so much, I didn't serve him any dinner. (Isn't that childish of me?!) And I insisted on doing all the cleanup, while holding the baby. I might have even started sighing loudly myself a little bit. I said things like, "No, no! I'll get it! It's fine!" (But then later he was holding the baby and washing a mug for tea with one hand, real struggly-like. Do you know how many mugs we own? Dozens! The one he was washing was the ONLY dirty mug! It was just for show!)

Well, in the end I apologized for not being nicer, and explained that I'd been feeling a little overwhelmed that day. He apologized for eating sketchy cheese and for not helping out more. It all ended well. We had a nice evening. We still love each other lots and lots.

And now I just got Ingrid out of the bathtub, and I hear Sylvi making snuffly awake noises in the next room, so I'll get to the point: It's okay to be Eeyore. It's okay to be grouchy. It's okay to be overwhelmed. The important thing is to get back to harmonious love as soon as you can!

P.S. He really is as tired as I am at 5 o'clock. And that's okay too.

The Things We Can Control

Pssst... I have to tell you something: THE TREES ARE GREENING.

Spring is here! Nevermind that it snowed here in Indiana this morning (sadly typical for April here,) last night I was driving on an *essential* grocery run and I looked up the hill at the edge of our neighborhood, which is lined with beautiful trees and historic homes, and it all was a lovely misty green, speckled with the pink and white of Magnolia and Crabapple blossoms. It was so beautiful, so cheerful, so hopeful.

Spring used to be nothing to me, but over the years it has become one of my favorite times. There is nothing quite like the early green of the trees leafing out, the flowering everything, the slant of light through my kitchen window to cheer my weary heart after a long Indiana winter. Now, I do love winter... in fact, I adore winter. It's a restful time of Slow & Cozy, plus I love snow, but come March I'm usually ready for spring... sadly, I'm usually ready for it before Mother Nature is. (Take today's snow, for example...) 

This winter ended on an especially draggy note, didn't it? What with this virus and all; Staying at home, day after day. Add to the simple monotony the stresses of job insecurity, food insecurity, financial insecurity, life insecurity, and that doesn't add up to a very cheery end to the season, nor beginning of the next. Isn't this baseball season? Aren't we missing out on a lot of springy stuff? Why is everything getting so hard and sad all of a sudden? 

There have been many times in my life (especially recently) when I've wondered about myself. I've wondered why I'm not more upset when things around me seem very unfortunate. I ask myself, "Have I achieved Enlightenment? Or am I just emotionally stunted?" (Likely the latter...) But in this specific case, I am looking around at society and seeing a lot of people who are really struggling right now due to all the reasons listed above and more, while I am ....oddly fine. I even try to make myself worry, and I can't. Maybe it has something to do with my choice of husband--I mean, knowing that my life partner can make a fire out of sticks and build animal traps with rocks and branches does provide some level of confidence that we won't starve or freeze in the event that things get really bonkers--but I think it has more to do with the fact that Martin and I have been through hard times before, and we made it through okay. Mostly our hard times have been/stemmed from financial trouble... we've had some exceptionally lean seasons. (A few times it wasn't just lean, it was famine.) And it WAS hard. But we kept our eyes on that teeniest pinprick of light at the end of a long, long tunnel of struggle until we made it through. 

Keep in mind, I'm an expert on exactly NOTHING, and I'm certainly not a life coach or anything like it, but I have a few thoughts to offer than have gotten me through tough times, and maybe one or two of them can help you, if you find yourself feeling "not okay." 

In talking to others about this current situation, one of the most difficult parts is feeling like we aren't in control. Everything seems so unpredictable and uncertain. When will things get rolling again? When will people go back to work? When can we rejoin our friends on the playgrounds? We seem to have no definite answers. Frustrating! But there is hope in the small things we CAN control. At times when we have been flatter than flat broke, holding tight to things I can actually control has made a world of difference in my daily outlook. Here are some things you can *do* that are in your control and brought to you by either nature, or this unique experience. 

YOU CAN:

-Open your window before dawn and listen to the birds sing in the morning. The birds are still singing their twilight songs and their morning songs. Birds are everywhere; I live in the heart of a city and still, in the predawn, the cacophony of birdsong is glorious. It's worth waking up early for. 

-Instead of reading the news, read poetry. You can find a vast collection at poetryfoundation.org . It's full of treasures! Read one a day and let it sit with you. Find friends for a virtual poetry study. Delve into the works of one specific poet and let yourself become moderately obsessed. Even better: read a poem while listening to the predawn song of the birds.  

-It's easy to fall into thinking you have no helpful role in this crisis. "But I'm not a healthcare worker!" "I can't make masks to donate, I don't know how to sew!" "I don't have enough food for myself, let alone for my neighbors or the food pantry!" But you know what? There are a huge, huge number of people stuck at home, alone, struggling. You could start a Facebook group or a regularly scheduled video meeting. Call it "The Break Room," a place where work-from-home folks can check in on other work-from-home folks. "The Teacher's Lounge," where teachers who are overloaded and missing their students can commiserate with each other. "The Local Bar," where you join friends for a socially distant glass of wine. You could start an online book club! You could start an online POETRY club! You could start an online poetry club that meets at sunrise so you can all hear each other's neighborhood birds welcoming the day! (Okay, that's the last time I'm going to build ideas off the birdsong, I promise.) 

-Only you can control your Focus of Gratitude. I always find it comforting to focus on this one thought: "We are all together." Now, that's not the case for everyone, and for some, the togetherness of late is just a wee bit TOO togethery. It's something that works for me, though. Maybe your focus of gratitude could be the fact that technology allows connections to be maintained despite physical distance. Maybe you're able to practice hobbies that you haven't had time for before now. Maybe you're picking up new hobbies. Maybe you've adopted a pet. There's always something to be grateful for. (Even if it's just the birdsong --I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I HAD TO.) 

-Look at the flowers. I mean, really look at them. Flowers are incredible. Right now in our yard we have an assortment of dandelion, wild violet, tulips, grape hyacinth, and some pretty little white flowers I can't identify. They are all just so marvelous to look at, and they won't last very long at all. Now is the moment! 

-Listen to the music being made around you/Look at the art being made around you: there are geniuses making music and art for all of us to enjoy in this unique time. When the world gets moving again, it's unlikely that YoYo Ma will have the time to sit and perform specially for us from his home and post it on YouTube. Carson Ellis won't be hosting "Quarantine Art Club" when the quarantine is in the past. There won't be free streamings of broadway shows forever. These are the parts of this time that we'll remember fondly. The way the arts were in the spotlight. The way human connection was so valued. The way superstars were able to reach all of us on a level of equality: we're ALL experiencing this. That is so bizarre! 

-Write a letter to someone. Okay, I stink at this one, but it's a good idea. Pick up your pen and some paper and take advantage of that first grade education and the fact that the U.S. Mail is still in service. Revive your cursive! Or your bubble letters! You once again have all the time in the world to write every sentence in a different color of gel pen. C'mon, you know you want to. 

-Reconnect. How often is the whole world experiencing some form of the exact same catastrophe? Understanding comes in great quantities these days. Chances are that pal you lost touch with a few years back has at least one thing in common with you now: It starts with a C and ends with "oronavirus." Some people are seeing some really crappy outcomes from this, and think of how meaningful it might be to know that someone from long ago is thinking of them enough to look them up and say hey. I actually gag a little bit every time I hear the phrase "reach out," but I'm going to say it now: Reach Out to someone. Reconnect. Share. Make memories happen. 

But most of all, hang in there!

Back to Blogging... Where to Begin?

Someday we'll remember odd details about this Global Pandemic, when we are sitting in our quiet living rooms with our loved ones. We'll say things like, "Remember how the jewelry store on Main Street put up boards over their windows to deter thieves?" and "Remember watching the magnolia trees blossom on our evening walks?" and most of all we'll say, "OMG, remember that hilarious meme...." because this actually is 2020 and not 1934. 

After more than a year away from this dusty space (as if a space needs to be vacant in order to be dusty--HA! Come to my house and you will see us living vivaciously alongside our piles of dust!) I've decided it's a good time to get back to it. A lot of people seem to have extra time on their hands, and I thought I'd throw something into the void that is pretty much Corona-Unrelated. So, here we go. 

Where do I begin? Where I left off last winter our life was very different and very comfortable. Ingrid was about to turn five, homeschooling was fine, the kids were happy, and I was getting back into making music and sharing it on my Patreon platform and YouTube. I was getting back into folk music in an educational way also, learning old songs, origins, songwriters, performers, and bits of history along the way. It was nice! It was a good place to be in life. We'd started singing together as a family and planned a Summer Songtrip through the Eastern U.S., making the music of the areas all along the way. We did take that trip and got to visit with numerous friends and family members along the way as well. (We also got to hide out from a possibly tornadic thunderstorm in a Dollar General in rural Kentucky. That was one of those least-favorite-parts than a long time later actually becomes one of the favorites.) 

A few days after returning from our SongTrip we got a happy and welcome surprise--WHEE! Another baby! And that's where we are today: 

We welcomed our fifth daughter, Sylvi Joy in late February, via C-section Number Five. The cesarean was great, the recovery was great, and Sylvi herself is SO GREAT. She is a delight. She is my Sweet Sugar Dumpling. She was a long, long wait, our big exclamation point after drought and loss, and OH MY GOSH WE ARE SO HAPPY TO HAVE HER. 

However, there's not much else to say about life since the birth of Sylvi. I find I don't do much of anything but cuddle her. Stare at her. Make oogie-googie noises at her. Of course, there's a little bit of, "Don't smother the baby!!" and I do still have to school and feed my other four, so I guess I'm not really doing NOTHING.... but my daily To-Do List begins and ends with snuggles, and I'm not mad about it. 

I've been meaning to make a post about her name, so this seems like a good enough opportunity. SYLVI JOY! 

There's a traditional song I've been singing for a number of years called "Bring Me Little Water, Sylvie" or just "Sylvie," and ever since learning that song I have ADORED the name Sylvie. And I also love Sylvia, and I love all spelling variations. Sylvia comes from the Latin "Sylvan" meaning "of the woods," which is beautiful. In addition, Rhea Silvia is the traditional mother of Rome, being the mother of Romulus and Remus. So the roots of the name really moved me, but Martin wasn't sold on Sylvia, and neither of us felt like it really fit with the names of the other girls, whose names (Anja, Greta, Elka, Ingrid) are of German/Nordic root. 

So, we did a little research and we found a few interesting things. While it seems to be relatively modern, "Sylvi" is a sort of Norwegian nickname for Sylvia--BUT-- it's also a variation of a totally different Old Norse name: Solveig. 

I love the name Solveig (widely pronounced as "Soul-Vay") and I call Sylvi that sometimes. But Solveig means "Daughter of the Sun" rather than "Of the Woods." Both so beautiful! 

So we did a mashup, I guess. Sylvi fulfills the need for a patron saint as well: Saint Sylvia was the mother of Gregory the Great. A coincidental tidbit about that (which we could not have foreseen, I mean really, nobody expects the birth of their baby to kick off a plague and eternal quarantine) is that Gregory the Great is famous for having processed through the streets of Rome with the Holy Eucharist during the Roman Plague of 590. So we gave her a fitting name without even knowing it! 

And she is such a ray of sunshine. And she looks like a little woodland gnome. 

And Joy! We named her Joy for a lot of reasons... mostly because we were just so, so, SO happy to have her. 

Remember way back at the beginning of this post when I said I didn't really do anything? Turns out that's a lie. I've been conversing with children the entire time I've been writing this, and they all are wanting me to help them with different things from gluing knitting needles to trimming their hair, and we haven't even finished schooling for the day! 

Hoping to get back into the groove of being in this space frequently!