The Surprise Homemaker

 (Picnic lunch with the Princeton H.S. Marching Band)

Same Day, Different Sweater

Before the pandemic, I thought my life was monotonous. I had a silly mantra for this feeling: "same day, different sweater". There seemed to be little time for creativity, spontaneity, or deviation. (I can no longer believe how many times a day I yelled "MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT!!!!) Then we "sheltered-in-place" and I got a whole new perspective on monotony. Time seemed to stop, giving the perception of a gift of space to be creative and spontaneous. But I lacked the capacity for creativity and couldn't understand why. Turns out it was grief and I didn't know it. (Reference any of the articles or podcasts featuring grief expert David Kessler https://grief.com/covid-19/ between April 2020 and now.) Remember in Groundhog Day when Bill Murray finally realizes what's happening and he lays around in his pajamas for the first (few) days? Yeah, I'm definitely putting that movie on my list to watch again through the lens of the pandemic. I think it might be eerily prophetic.

Fast forward 6 months to today. Now, six month into this, I feel like I have the capacity for creativity and spontaneity. Six months, all the stages of grief, AND giving up my paid day job which occupied at least 75% of my mental space. (So if you're still not there, give yourself a break.) I have finally gotten to the point of realizing that this period I'm in that feels like I'm stuck on Groundhog Day, is actually a gift of pause. Each day is a unique opportunity to learn something new within the exact same context, without fear of losing time, missing an opportunity, or never getting this day back. Because tomorrow will be exactly the same and I get to start all over. (ala end-of-the-movie Bill Murray.)

I want to take a moment to acknowledge that for many of you, the pandemic did NOT push the pause button in your life, but instead it pushed the hyper-drive button with an anxiety booster. And then for most everyone else, the 'daily grind' climbed slowly but surely right back into place. I am certain both of these scenarios came with their own shitload of emotional and physical baggage, but since that is not my experience, I cannot directly speak to it. I acknowledge my privilege and I see you.

So my shift in perspective allows me to pack a lunch and walk across the street to watch marching band practice. It allows me to say "yes" to paint or games or books when they're requested, turning them into spontaneous teachable moments. It allows me to focus an entire day through the lens of a stupid holiday. It also allows me the grace of saying "no" whenever I don't feel like any of the above, because "Stay-At-Home-Moming" is a full-time job with even fewer breaks than teaching. So some days, much to my surprise, I have more patience than I did when I was teaching full-time (because my heart only has to hold two children as opposed to 500?). And yet most days my patience (and answers) are completely gone by 5:00 because see above re: full-time job with minimal breaks. And so I continue to be a walking, breathing contradiction. Except now, it feels a little more like "different day, same pants".