Writer's Note: This was written over the course of a few days.
Perspective ...and time... allows us to not just puke all the garbage everywhere,
but to really see things for what they are.)
Yesterday was the pits.
Not the entire day, gratefully, but a lot of it.
And the thing is, the really pitty part only lasted for so long, but the residual effects haunted me like a fat cloud on my shoulders, almost all day long.
The cause of this pitty, fat-cloud, weight?
School.
...and laziness.
...and impatience.
...and overwhelm.
So, here's the deal: Now that Pennsylvania school buildings are closed for the duration of the 2019-2020 school year, all remaining schooling is done over the computer- which is fine...until it is not.
With two of my sons insisting that they "don't do this much work in school", many of our at-home school days are chaotic. We have yet to find a groove that works exceedingly, abundantly, overwhelmingly good for us.
So one son typically sits at the computer in the living room, another at the laptop in the dining room, and the third at the table. These are their designated "school areas".
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| www.cdc.gov/ |
In the mornings, I generally try to open every file, download, and tab teacher 1 sends and have them ready for son 1. In this way, he can sit down to the computer and work on page after page, tab after tab, until his work is complete.
I do the same for teacher 2 and son 2.
(Son 3 rarely has anything online, and so we work on practicing letters, numbers, and both speech and occupational objectives.)
Because I am trying to help them, I generally run back and forth between the two rooms, saving and sending documents, helping to restore passwords which have expired in their wait, and trying to help them understand what their worksheets are asking them to complete.
If you have a school-aged child, you are doing this as well. Congratulations and God-Bless: we are semi-homeschooling our children. (Least all the FOR REAL homeschooling parents lose their crap.)
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The setting:
Yesterday one of my sons- who shall remain nameless- was having a moment. These moments happen semi-regularly and many times throughout the course of the week.
He was overwhelmed.
This overwhelm is understandable when I see the work he has and I try to put myself in his place.
Do I think there is too much work?
No.
Do I think, as a boy who does not want to sit and do schoolwork in the first place that it is too much? Absolutely.
To be fair, my sons rarely had homework at all prior to this quarantine because they attend a Montessori school and *bless* Montessori believes schoolwork should be at school and home time for home and family.
So the overwhelm is understandable, but there is also a perceived laziness for which my patience is zero.
Get 'er done, son!
Make it happen!
Don't give up!
You've got this!
The reality:
At some point, all of these fun quips give way to the more sinister side of me and the patience within me dries up instantly. This is, of course, a terrible combination because it means I am going to blow.
Just. Do. Your. Work.
Actually... (pause) Try.
I cannot care more about your work than you do.
And my personal favorites:
You do not yell at...( roll on the floor in front of... refuse to do anything for...fill in the blank...) your teacher- so stop doing it to me!
The part where I freaked the crap out:
He did not want to do his work.
This, naturally, made sure that everything was TOO MUCH for him, and so, as he came to his schoolwork, he already had a defeatist mentality.
He was miserable and misery loves company. (And here is SOUL ASYLUM to remind us.)
So he complained.
And he did nothing.
And he moaned and groaned at the situation which is online-school-from-home during the national pandemic. And just when he thought he could run to his room and take a break (which has been the case in the past), I demanded that he sit back down and do his work.
There were tears. (his)
There was screaming. (Mine)
In the past, and truly even then, we encourage our sons to take some time and breath. -To ask for a few minutes and take a break.
But I remembered the previous week.
I remembered how, given the option to sit and complete his school work or spend the day in his room, he opted for the latter and there was eventually a panicked rush to get caught up.
So when he thought he could escape to his room and ignore his school work, I stopped him and demanded he sit.
Work! I barked like an angry dog.
Sit there and do your schoolwork!! I continued, voice loud and angry.
Big Strong Man heard us crying and screaming and came storming into the house in an attempt to remedy what was falling apart.
This, of course, made me more angry because he doesn't deal with these weekly meltdowns and almost daily tantrums. He hears second-hand accounts of who complained about what and for how long when he returns home in the evening, at which time we have all collected ourselves, school work has been completed, and we all love one another with sweet voices and renewed energy.
This (account from a distance) overwhelms him and, he also, is prone to raising his voice.
This is an issue we need plenty of help with.
So when he stormed into the house to put out the fire between my son and I, I was not ready to release the hose. I didn't want him to have any control of it (the situation) because he was not there
-and he was leaving- and so his little involvement inserted into the moment was more frustrating than it was helpful.
So, to be fair, he was calmer than I at that moment.
To be further fair, our son needed someone to offer him the way of grace and breath, and, in that moment, that was not coming from me.
So the three of us went round and round and eventually Big String Man had to leave for work and I demand that my son sit at the computer and do his work while I buried my hands three miles deep into the overflowing dishes we had created the day before.
We were miserable, all of us.
Not mentioned thus far are my other two sons who heard everything.
They always hear everything.
This is far-and-away one of my biggest areas of shame and guilt.
There is nothing inside of me which is proud of my screaming,
my impatience, and my judgement.
Most especially towards those I love the most.
Eventually my son finished his work. He asked me for help with every question and instead of freaking out further (because I, once again, kept thinking that he was just being lazy), I semi-calmly asked him if he understood the assignment? He did. I then asked him if he understood what he had read. He did.
And so, without understanding what could be the issue other than simply not wanting to try on his own, I helped him from a distance, asking him to read portions to me and then acknowledging that I heard the answer somewhere in that last part, but made him dive in to look for it.
It felt like forever until he completed it.
But he did.
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After all the work was completed, I had a head ache.
The weight took up residence on my shoulders and I wanted to throw the towel in on the day.
Once we had both calmed down some, I crawled over to where my son sat on the stairs, playing, and I put his face gently in my hands and asked him to forgive me.
I reminded him that my poor attitude, and how I react when I am upset, is sinful and wrong.
He did.
At one point, deciding against a nap, I turned on the 1961 version of The Parent Trap and had all of my sons with me while we sat and watched it.
It was redeeming in some ways- to laugh together and to watch something so simple.
It was a better story to write than that of napping, only to awake with a sore attitude.
At some point, 5:30 rolled around and I forced myself to move- head ache and all.
I got up and exercised and pushed myself through it because I knew I had a choice to make: stay in the funk or push my way through.
During my Dips and Weighted Box Steps and all the things I was doing, they stayed with me in the living room, playing Prodigy on the laptop and, later, listening to Pharrell sing "Happy" over and over again.
We were together and I wanted it that way.
And that was how I lost my ever-loving mind, only to find it (battered and bruised) later that day.
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| This is me. I stood in the rain after freaking out, working out, and asking me son for forgiveness. It was cold, but I needed it. |
Listen, this quarantine business is no joke.
It can be really difficult to be around the same people day in and day out. To be wholly responsible for them in new ways- even when it is understood that these are good and beneficial ways.
But I am no saint.
I have ZERO interest in homeschooling my children because I understand it to be a positive thing that we all have some space from one another. (Also, reference if you will, my personal favorite/least-favorite-of-all under the quips I wrote above- I have it underlined.) My sons can be angels- and they really are amazing kiddos...but they are human.
Same as I.
And we all get ugly.
We all stink sometimes.
And we all lose our crap (sorry Julie!).
If you find that this is something you relate to: the quarantine stress, school stress, kiddo stress, or even the stress of not being full of self-control, I get you and you are not alone.
I know I am not, either.
Let's make a pact to try. -And try, and try, and try.
Let's agree to give grace freely (to ourselves and others). -And ask for forgiveness when merited.
And let's get up every day with renewed strength. -Because we are grateful for another day.
Also, let's laugh! Sometimes, in the midst of the heat, a good dose of laughter is good medicine.
-This is Biblical Truth:
A cheerful disposition is good for your health;
gloom and doom leave you bone-tired.
Proverbs 17:22, Message Translation
We are not alone. Let's Get Together, friends!
Do you have a good rhythm during this time of quarantine?
Do you lose your crap and have a story to share?
Do you lose your crap and have a story to share?
Share your stories in the comments!
with hope and (when we're lucky) lots of laughter,
always,
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