We can do hard things

Our homeschooling stint wraps up this week, and it's bittersweet. As we honor our promise to N. that she could return to her school once she is fully vaccinated, the bittersweetness of our default-homeschooling-due-to-the-pandemic causes me to take in a deep breath and remind myself, We can do hard things.

Aaahh, and a sigh of relief because I have done the hard thing, WE have done the hard thing. While I've always been curious about homeschooling (Supplement? Sure I can do that.) and work intentionally to parent mindfully, I never thought I had it in me to homeschool. But I've done it (with the support of my partner, outsourcing math and veteran homeschooling mom friends)! And we thrived. Sure, we had challenging moments here and there, but we've experienced the delight of homeschooling, including the learning freedom without the maddening pressures of time or testing. I've tried to follow my kid's genuine interests and stoke her learning flames so that schooling is not a race, but scenic wishfulness.

Like wishing I could see the much awaited Comet Leonard in the night's sky. And I did! Kept looking up at the stars, scanning the nightfall for a flash of something. And there it was . . . a silent swish across the sky. I wondered, Did I just see that?! 

I hope that we've met our homeschooling days with that same questioning surprise, and I trust that N. will continue to kindle that same amazement upon her return to the traditional classroom in the new year. 

may we stroll beneath the stars

samba across the jazzy scape

where beryl bursts across the sky

and we let our wishes dazzle our spirit

Goodbye November

As December approaches, I continue to tread one breath and one day at a time. That's about all I can handle. I'll wake multiple times in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and check to make sure everyone's breathing. Walks with the dog have been my saving grace, moments to quiet my mind as I trek mesmerized by the leaves swing dancing in the autumn breeze before they kiss the path and sail into the softly babbling creek. 

During our Thanksgiving morning trot at the lake, remembering those who have walked these lands before us too as well as those we keep in our hearts, we picked up some twigs for our traditional Thanksgiving centerpiece, where we write our blessings on leaves and hang them on the twigs: N. is thankful for her dog, A. is grateful for health, family and learning, and I am thankful we have flourished wellness- and homeschool-wise this far into the pandemic. Patiently awaiting until it's much more manageable. We've gotten our covid boosters, and N.'s scheduled to get her second vaccine dose next week in hopes for a smooth return to school in person and extra protected in the new year. In the meantime, we've decided to lay low through the holiday season.

while we wonder at the anxieties 

that we confer within us

may we feel compassion
for ourselves and others

most magnificently
in the sweetness of our response

To heartful thanksgivings in the year ahead.

Cathartic Awooooo!

Homeschooling has taken over my life even when we've outsourced math to a tutor. After eight weeks, we decided to take advantage of this unique learning time and spend a week in our happy place at the Jersey Shore where we're able to refill our cups and visit with family and friends too while we celebrate A.'s 53 years young. Each of us started to hit a wall of madness regardless of what progress we've been making in our work and new ways of experiencing and learning, each of us taking some opportunity to lash out at the ridiculously everyday mishaps. Practicing fourth grade math, negotiating with a colleague, or obligingly co-leading a girl scout troop. Call it pandemic exhaustion. Tired of having to be super cautious in the simplest of daily tasks. Tired of domestic engineering, including figuring out meals along with lesson plans for the week. Tired of not seeing dearly missed schoolmates. Tired of people not wanting to do what's right for the health of our communities. In the meantime, our nine-year-old patiently awaits her chance at the covid vaccine so that she can protect herself and others against covid and just maybe return to school in person next semester. 

It's not really the homeschooling that has been getting to me. It's more the -- I cannot believe we are still at this and haven't found a way to beat this pandemic quite yet while many have moved on with their lives brazenly participating in indoor recreation and traveling as if nothing's wrong. I realize our personal risk taking comfort levels during the pandemic are ever shifting and dependent on how well we know others and their risk taking behaviors. I know that our family will probably choose to keep safe by continuing to wear masks in public, as well as when we reconnect in social meetups. Who knows what the winter months will bring? 

photo by sonsart

In the meantime, I soak up the autumn sun and shoreside breeze, wade in the warm Gulf Stream water and briny air that urge me to take pause. Hinga . . . humihinga. Deep inhale . . . slow exhale. I remind myself to be grateful that we've healthfully made it this far, and as dusk gives the Hunter's Full Moon a peck, I let out a deeply cathartic heart-howl . . . Awooooo!