I know this feeling well. The restlessness, the irritation, the pushing away, the short tempers, the to do lists, the half-packed bags, the distance, the tension between too much time and not enough time before D-day . . .
but I wasn’t able to identify it until this past weekend because it’s my son who is leaving this time. He’s not going to college, he’s deploying, literally and figuratively. And all the what-ifs and unknowns loom large and his desire to hurry up and go is matched by my desire to have him gone because anticipation of leaving is usually worse than the leaving itself.
I’m proud of him, but he’s working hard to make sure that I know that he doesn’t need me and that he’s “got this,” but if he would just listen I think I could save him some pain.
I’m not worried about his safety, but I do worry how much he’ll change and I wonder what he’ll be like when I see him again — the same fears I held each time Josh left.
He’ll fly to America on Saturday — inshallah, because flights from here keep getting cancelled and right now we’re still in crazy quarantine which deserves a blog post of its own. After 14 days in the US he’ll report, enlist, and get his ship date to boot camp. I hope he texts me to let me know what his plans are. Bless him — his idea of communication and mine are like night and day.
I’ve been feeling a bit blue lately. What this time of quarantine has magnified for me is that I am practically obsolete. My kids do not need me. Ironically back when my flock was 4 little ducklings I always got questions like, “how do you raise such independent, capable kids?” as mine toddled around loading the dishwasher, running the vacuum, and packed their own snacks for school. The secret to raising independent kids is having a wide tolerance for acceptable combined with overwhelming fatigue: “They dumped the silverware in the drawer, mixing up all the utensils, but hey, the dishwasher is empty and I didn’t have to do it myself. Winning.” or “Would we call this shirt folded or crumpled? Eh, wrinkles never hurt anybody and it’s going to get dirty again in two seconds when kid #2 wipes his blueberry stained hands on it . . . moving on.”
So dang it! I really have worked myself out of a job. I joke that I’m an excellent baby mama as I wear them all the time, feed them on demand, and give them all of myself. Then I try to set them up for success by making their lives their job and doing less and less for them as they can do more.
So they learn to fill out their own permission slips for school and other events and drop them in front of me when they are ready to be signed, emails from school get forwarded to them with my message, “Take care of this,” and if they want me to do something they have to learn to put it on the family calendar to make sure I’m available. There’s a fine line between training for independence and neglect and sometimes I wonder if I’m on the right side of the line . . . but when I see how involved some other parents are (remember, I work at a High School), I’m reassured that my kids may need a therapist someday, but at least they’ll be able to figure out how to schedule the appointment for themselves.
So when the 15 year old oversleeps for his online class at 10 am, that’s on him. (And yes, it has happened more than once). He has to figure out how to make things right with his teacher and for the next while, isn’t allowed to set his own bedtime. When he’s back on track he’ll get that freedom back.
The 4th grader manages her own school schedule and assignments and shows up for her online meetings on time (bless her) and puts a sign on her door warning us not to come in her room when she’s in class. This week she missed one of her meetings and was stressing. I told her to message her teacher and work it out. She did and was able to join in with another group the next day. The ability to solve your own problems gives you confidence and power and that’s the gift I want to give to my kids.
The senior is like a caged tiger — wanting to be an adult with the freedom of an adult and bristling under these restrictions. We’ve had some ups and downs trying to navigate a compromise that allows him the freedom to game all night, but not be a selfish asshat all day while other people are working. I think we’ve achieved a truce, but when both parties were searching for any available flight to get the ingrate out of the house/escape from the worst parents ever it wasn’t pretty.
I’m finding in this time of quarantine, my last vital job has been rendered obsolete — cheerleader. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, and certainly nothing to cheer for. I’m proud of all of them, but we’re all sort of sitting around in the muck together. No purpose, no prospects. Except for Josh who is working his butt off from the crack of dawn until the middle of the night.
The graduate. He’s been done with classes for week, but took his online AP stats exam at 10pm last night (worldwide exam) and now his high school career is complete. :throws confetti in an empty room: Not quite the finish he imagined.
Doing my job well means that I no longer have a job. And as you’ve seen over and over again on my blog, a meaningful life has to have purpose. One of the struggles of quarantine is that a lot of that purpose has been stripped away. We are home with nothing to do outside of pursuing our own selfish interests. And that doesn’t make for a satisfying life. We will be fine, we’ll get through it, blah, blah, blah, but I’m acknowledging that this is hard. And I’m lacking the mental energy and motivation to find a new purpose.
It doesn’t help that as the rest of the world is opening up, we are heading into our time of natural quarantine here in the Middle East. Every summer we hit an emotional slump as it gets hotter and more humid than is bearable and we basically have to hibernate from June until September. We get cranky and sluggish and annoyed that there’s nothing to do and nowhere to go and those are years when we haven’t been locked up since the first week of March. Our do-nothing reserves are already depleted, so this summer is going to be interesting.
That’s the latest from here. Next steps are finding a flight for Carter to go back to the US so he can enlist in the Navy. Thankfully he’s had lots of practice traveling by himself and filling out his own paperwork, so he should be ready to go when the Navy calls. We think we can get him a flight around June 15th and we’ve had a few people offer support to take him in if his ship date is delayed.
Quit your life and stay with me We’ll order in and watch TV We’ll paint the house and wash the car We’ll take a walk but not too far So quit your life and stay with me — MxPx
Quit Your Life has been “our song” for the past 15 years. It came out right around the time my agoraphobia peaked and Josh sent it to me joking that it was perfect song for me because taking a walk, “but not too far” was my ideal. It might seem a bit mean to joke about mental illness, but at that point I was on meds and regaining my mental health and it was really funny.
On top of that, it talks about traveling all over, but home with the one you love being the best place of all. Check. Between Josh’s absences for deployments and now our travels in the Middle East, you can always count on me to say, “There’s no place like home.”
And now the entire world has gotten on board. Stay home, watch TV, order food, walk around the neighborhood, and that’s about it. My love song in a nutshell. Play it again. On repeat.
It’s a good thing I love home since it looks like we’ll be here for the foreseeable future. We’ve made the decision that we won’t be coming to the US to visit this summer, but will instead stay in Abu Dhabi until the borders open up and people are free to come and go.
Right now it looks like people may be able to fly out starting in Mid June or July, but we don’t know when residents or tourists will be allowed back into the country. And since this is where we have a roof over our heads and a job, we won’t leave until we are sure we will be allowed back in. There are approximately 30,000 residents of UAE stuck outside the country at the moment. Moms separated from kids, husbands separated from families, and kids separated from parents. One friend of a friend went on vacation with his wife to the Philippines, leaving the kids here with grandparents, and they’ve been stuck at their resort for almost 6 weeks with at least 30 days more in front of them. If you’re not an Emirati citizen, even if you’ve lived here your entire life, you’re out of luck.
Thankfully we love our home and love Abu Dhabi so our only regrets will be missing time with family and having to send Carter off solo to enlist in the Navy. I’m confident he will be fine, and right now the swearing in ceremonies are all restricted (because of Corona) so we couldn’t be there in person even if we were in the US with him. I’m counting on his big brother to step in and help out until Uncle Sam takes responsibility for him. (Thank you, Calvin!)
Ideally by the time Carter graduates from boot camp (His ship date + 9 weeks) we will be able to travel back to the US and be there for that milestone. I’m thinking Fall/Winter 2020?
Meanwhile, making the most of our allowed exercise time. It might be almost 100 degrees out and weirdly humid as we keep having rain showers (in May!), but it feels great to have the sun on our faces (the little bit that shows from behind our masks) and wind in our hair.
All week long this saying has been bouncing around my head. Credit to the original writer, S.M. Lockridge, for his vivid word picture in his message it’s Friday . . . but Sunday’s coming! A reminder that we have glorious hope in the midst of our troubles.
Not to be sacrilegious, but I am soooo looking forward to this Sunday, because the laundry baskets are overflowing, I vacuum without effect, dishes become dirty as soon as I wash them, but praise God, Sunday is coming and this Sunday finally brings back Amy, my housekeeper.
7 weeks of us at home 24/7 with no outside help, teenage boys that have a different definition of clean than I do, and I’m am holding on by my fingernails, waiting for Sunday to come. We’ve mopped, scrubbed, dusted and sorted, but she is a professional and we are professional mess makers apparently.
Is our quarantine lifted? Not quite, but with Ramadan here, restrictions are easing. We are now allowed to exercise in the area of our home, in groups of up to 3 people, as long as everyone is wearing masks and keeping distance. We still are home all day long, but we can make trips out of the house until 10pm instead of 8pm. Hey, every little bit counts! Malls are preparing to reopen in a limited capacity, with restricted numbers and restaurants at only 30% occupancy. But it’s Ramadan! So daytime restaurant opening is quite novel in itself.
Of all the hassles of this quarantine, the biggest burden on the household and the most conflict has been over cleaning and laundry. Amy takes our mess and puts everything in order, spotless, and where I can find it. She brings us peace.
We have another High School graduate. This week is Carter’s last week of classes and today we were required to film us handing him his diploma so they can edit the pieces together and show it at fake/virtual graduation. We’re hoping for an in-person ceremony in June (even a stripped down version would be more satisfying than CouchGraduation), but I’m putting the odds at 20% or less at the moment.
It appears that I am putting as much effort into my look as I am into housecleaning this week. The activity of today was venturing out, after dark, to go into a coffee place (rather than just drive up and order from the car) so Josh could buy special filters. Then we ordered a coffee to go and drove home. Living on the wild side these days!
Edited to show a live update: why I am longing for Sunday. I asked the boys to clean the kitchen before they went to bed last night. I walked into the kitchen this morning to this. They loaded the dishwasher and touched nothing else. Good enough, right?
Today begins our 10th Ramadan in the Middle East. Usually Ramadan brings sweeping restriction to our normal lives, such as not being allowed to eat or drink in public during daylight hours, no chewing gum or music, shortened school days, and closed restaurants and cafes. Basically life comes grinding to a halt for 30 days.
Today I woke up and thought, “Ramadan. Huh.” Not one thing about today was different from the 5 previous Fridays. We woke up, dragged ourselves to the couch for pre-church prayer meeting. Woke the kids up 10 minutes before the live stream and attended Cornerstone CouchChurch.
She’s not normally this tired for 10am church, but playing Fortnite until midnight every night adds up.
For our game time last night, Caleb and Camille tried to teach me how to play Fortnite. I’m terrible at it because I turn right when I’m trying to turn left and I can’t manage to move my body and my head at the same time while choosing weapons and shooting at a target. Camille was in hysterics over my ineptness. Their ability to multi-task at lightning speeds is pretty impressive.
So our Ramadan day . . . Carter went back to sleep after church since he’s become nocturnal over the past 3 days. He’s pulled a few all nighters for school and then has been sleeping during the day. He says he works better that way and since he’s 18 and going to be on his own in about 20 minutes, I’m happy to leave him be as long as he’s getting everything done. Pretty soon he’ll have plenty of people up in his business as the Navy dictates his every movement so I’m happy to give him a tiny taste of college life before he leaves home.
What else did I do today? A lot of watching Psych and knitting. Some lying on my bed and the couch while doing those activities — gotta change the scenery a bit. I went up to the 3rd floor and worked on my toes to bar skills for 10 minutes (as assigned by my coach). Deciding if I’m going to post the video here or not . . . eh, why not?
Almost 4 reps. Woo hoo. Not a big deal/yes it is.
(It’s annoying me that I can’t turn off the suggested videos at the end of my video — a feature that YouTube used to support, but now doesn’t. Supposedly you can link to another playlist on your channel instead, but after 40 minutes of attempts, I haven’t gotten that to work. Boo. Be forewarned that the suggestions are based on your viewing habits, so if you get inappropriate suggestions, it’s not coming from me!)
I’ve been working with a personal trainer for a few months (Since January, once or 2x a week) on things that I can’t quite get the hang of through coaching in a normal class. We started with pull-ups and have added hand stand pushups, toes to bar, and some barbell work. Since we’ve been on home quarantine she has been coming to our house twice a week to make me work out since she does a much better job keeping me moving than if I’m left to myself.
The way I would work out is to do something for a bit, feel mildly winded and then think, eh that’s good enough. When she comes for our sessions I’m in the middle of a workout thinking, “I’m going to die. Literally I’m going to pick up this weight and then crumple to the ground. There is no way I can keep going.” And then she says, “3, 2, 1 . . . let’s go. Enough rest. Keep going!” And somehow I do and then she leaves and I think it’s a miracle that I’m still alive.
Twice a week we’re dead.
Oh to be a cat! Ramadan Kareem in this time of RamaTine!
