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COVID Chronicles: Day 2

It is bewildering to me how wildly different children from the same gene pool can be in personality. Truly mind-boggling. Today, we started full-fledged “school work” in an effort to stay on top of things. I kept it light and simple and let the boys know that they were under no circumstances on a “time limit”, per se, but that the faster they completed their work, the faster they could make way for free-time. I knew two things going in:

  1. Connor would be overly enthusiastic and foam at the mouth to do all the things and,
  2. Gabe would all but do a sit-in to protest any and all things academic.

This is nothing new and is what it is, but Lord have MERCY, y’all — help me, help you.

Let me backtrack a bit and say that Con woke me up at the butt-crack of dawn asking when we would do classwork.

SIX O’FREAKING CLOCK IN THE MORNING, AND THIS KID WANTS TO DO HOMEWORK. AND IT AIN’T EVEN FOR A GRADE.

I let him know in no uncertain terms that if he did not release the death-grip on my cheeks and get out of my face that he would have zero homework and we’d move straight to naps (savage move). He grudgingly let go of my face and then asked for Pop Tarts and cereal. Kid doesn’t exactly take a hint.

So we finally got to what I thought was a more manageable time for homework shenanigans. Connor, ever eager, jumped right in and flew through five or six sheets (front & back) in about 15 minutes. And then there was Gabe. Bless him.

Gabe is not my homework fan. Having a double whammy of Sensory Processing Disorder & ADHD has left him wanting to do literally anything but anything classwork related. It’s not that he can’t, it’s just not his jam. It took him about forty-five minutes of complaining and the removal of screen privileges before he finally conceded and went through the multiplication motions. But he got it done and, after realizing momma ain’t playin’ around, decided that he would rip it off like a Band-Aid tomorrow to avoid losing further device time.

Gabe did do something today that pulled at my heartstrings, though. He’s such a sweet, goofy kid, anyway — but today… this was special. Like I said yesterday, Ev & I have been stressing over work and whatnot. We set off hard this morning/early afternoon trying to find some resolutions that would work best for the family, and I think Gabe knew we were overwhelmed. He went to the office letting us know that he’d prepared lunch for the whole family and was so proud. I gotta say, I was proud for him. Sometimes I have a hard time seeing him grow up, and then other times I see this little boy growing into a big guy and, gah. It just gets me right in my gut. It was nothing fancy, but man it felt like a million bucks. Just when you think your kids aren’t paying attention, you know?

Ham sandwiches, courtesy Chef Gabe.

He made everyone ham & cheese sandwiches and was in the process of grabbing drinks and chips when Ev & I made our way to the kitchen. He even thought to make Mason ham and cheese roll-ups rather than a big sandwich.

The rest of the day was spent playing, catching up on laundry, napping, watching dragonflies on the deck, and ending with baths and a ZOOM call with Connor’s teacher. She’s been calling her class to read them bedtime stories and to ask about the kids’ day and Connor LOVES it.

Watching dragonflies.

We’re currently watching old episodes of Scooby-Doo for the millionth time and are settling in for the night. I’m not sure what the day holds tomorrow. Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

I think of all the things I’m hoping to gain from all this COVID business is some patience and maybe a little boost on my faith. It’s been severely lacking for quite some time, and at no one’s fault but my own. I think we could probably all find some kind of life lesson from this situation if we open our minds to it — hard as that may be.

pc: Brooke Wilkerson of Coffee & Chaos (fb)

Going to get these feral children off to bed, now. Talk soon.

xoxo
Sarah

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Mom Genes.

I’m a product of the eighties and brought up in the nineties.

 

I’ve seen some pretty crazy things as far as fashion goes. Designs, cuts, and fabrics all over the spectrum. I wore l.e.i. jeans from Mervyn’s, jelly shoes, butterfly clips, and white eye shadow (shudder). I lived in my Doc Martens only to alternate in on occasion my black platform sandals. I begged my mom to buy me ponchos and Juice Bar body spray and loved perusing the walls of Claire’s & Icing.

 

In short: I was a very typical, 1990’s tween girl.

Fast forward a bit to the 2000’s. Gone were the days of baggy jeans (thanks, I’m sure, to Rachel Green) and in waltzed a more hip pair of bottoms: low cut jeans. Low-cut jeans weren’t a new thing — they were pretty popular in the late sixties and seventies. But for those of us not born in the Flower Power days, they were new and they were what everyone wanted. Everyone except me and anyone else born with mom hips — regardless of whether they had kids or not.

rach

 
For a while, low-cut jeans were all you could find unless you wanted tapered-leg, boob-holstering denim. Obviously, being a teen girl and not an eighty-year-old woman, I wanted nothing to do with tapered-leg anything. So I took my chances and wore low cut jeans — for better or for worse.
 
Low rider denim ain’t for everybody, y’all, and they certainly weren’t for me. I found myself even more awkward than usual in the butt-crack bearing britches and took to wearing excessively long tank tops under every shirt I owned. Tucking in? Think again. These were not jeans that took tucked in shirts into consideration. You either wielded that plumber’s crack/thong with pride or you blocked views and drafts with your neon pink, French tip manicured hand.
 

I am one of the former, for sure. You won’t catch this three-times a momma in low cut ANYTHING. Or, at least, not on purpose. I am an avid believer in high-waisted jeans and thick ponte leggings. I wear shirts so long that some might confuse them as short-ish dresses. If you catch me wearing a tee shirt, you’ll also note that I’m wearing a tunic style tank top underneath. I’ve got no shame in my mom fashion game, y’all. No. Shame. At. All.

History repeats itself to those of us who choose to hide those high school yearbooks from our kids. Pretty soon we’re going to be subject to hormone-raged tweens and teens leaving very little to the imagination where their backside is concerned. I’m not ready, guys. My kids aren’t ready. And, no, I’m not relying on the old stand-by, “Boys will be boys”. I hate that phrase as it puts forth the idea that little guys (and grown ass men) are only capable of Neanderthal-esque tendencies.

With that said, I’m doing my best to ensure that my boys are confident in their own masculinity but also hold to respectfulness and mindfulness of women and young ladies in general. Even at their young ages, we are doing our best to instill in them common courtesy and a “hands off at all times” policy. We’re not messing around and they know it.

Nevertheless, they are little boys which brings me to an entirely different issue: potty humor. Potty humor is very much a thing, which means that butt crack humor is very. much. a. thing. You boy moms know my grief, I’m sure. I don’t even try to hide it anymore. I feel I can confidently say that if my five and nine-year-old boys laugh when someone passes gas, they’re going to laugh at a random buttcrack in Target. I mean, really, Jiffy Lube mechanic guy, if you don’t want a five-year-old to laugh at your hairy buttcrack, keep it covered.

 
Thankfully, low-cut jeans took a back seat to mid-rise, boot cut jeans pretty quickly. I still catch myself guarding my backside with my hand on occasion, though, even though I’ve since moved on to high-rise skinnies. But(t), alas: low cut jeans are making a comeback. Former wearers of the pant can be found all over Facebook and Twitter in either utter disgust or in total excitement.
 
lego drop box
 
 
If it were up to me, low-cut jeans would stay forever locked on the sets of Friends and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, a distant, slightly embarrassing memory that we can regale to our kids. A scary campfire story-type thing, if you will. I guess, however, this is really all coming from someone who does not and will likely never fully understand “fashion”. Don’t get me wrong — I can dress myself. But my clothing style is definitely more classic-casual. I’ve only recently started stepping out of my comfort zone. But a huge factor for clothing for me is COMFORT. If I’m having to constantly pull down, pull up, push up, button up, or cover up, then it ain’t for me. Being a mom to three boys? Comfort and practicality are key.
 
I’m not talking sacrificing on-trend for practical, though; I’m not buying my wardrobe from a ’95 Sears catalog. In fact, I get most of my things from Target or Old Navy (because: budget). But I am talking decency and modesty. Because I’m a mom to all boys, I don’t want them to grow up thinking women have to be frumpy to be classy, but I equally don’t want them to grow up believing that women are only sexy or attractive if they’re baring all constantly. Obviously, they’re going to form their own opinions in their own time. However, I’m a firm believer that living by example is key. A frustrating process, but key, nonetheless.
 
Jumping off the soapbox, I am curious to see how long this on-again-off-again trend will fare this go around. Honestly, though — I think I’m even more curious to see how long the corduroy jumpers I saw at Target a few weeks ago will last. If anything should have stayed in the 90s (besides JNCOs and white eyeshadow), it was corduroy.
 
Anything making a comeback fashion-related that makes you wince? Comment below!