Reasons Like Seasons

When   you  are with me, I am scared. Scared of what is going to happen. Scared of what is going to come out of my mouth. Scared that I will say everything or nothing, And scared of the consequences of either and both and everything. When   you  are away, I miss  you . I want to know what  you  are doing. I want to know what  you  are thinking. I want to know that  you  know that I am still here, And desperate to be with  you  again. Moments are unbearable In the silent spaces between our breaths, In the empty hours of parting, In the cluttered chasms of thought. And I want to be with  you , Scared, missing, and incomplete. I want  you  and all of the desperate consequences. I want  you  with me.

When   you  are with me, I am scared. Scared of what is going to happen. Scared of what is going to come out of my mouth. Scared that I will say everything or nothing, And scared of the consequences of either and both and anything. When   you  are away, I miss  you . I want to know what  you  are doing. I want to know what  you  are thinking. I want to know that  you  know that I am still here, And desperate to be with  you  again. Moments are unbearable In the silent spaces between our breaths, In the empty hours of parting, In the cluttered chasms of thought. And I want to be with  you , Scared, missing, and incomplete. I want  you  and all of the desperate consequences. I want  you  with me forever. 

I am sitting in the stairway between the first and second floors of my appartment building. Why would I be doing that, you ask? Well, apparently this is how Evan has chosen to punish me for taking away his screen time. Because taking away screen time is punishment. For everybody. We came to an agreement that he was to go to camp three days a week. Just three. All the other days he can lounge to his heart's content and watch 20 year old men children play Minecraft and yell a lot. I get three days. Just three.  Today was the first of these days. I front loaded the situation, asked him what time he wanted to get up so that he could watch a video before going. He was all on board last night. This morning was a different story. I woke him up when I got up, just as he'd asked, and let him watch videos while I prepped tea and checked my email. Then, as soon as I got out his clothes to get him dressed, he flipped out, screaming that he couldn't go to camp. I insisted that yes, he r

There is so much going on right now, that I don't know really how to begin. Ian, 10, is scared of martial law. Evan, 6, refuses to go to camp because he rather watch YouTube videos all day. I am tied to the news, expecting terrible things to happen any minute. I don't know how to proceed. I called a friend and my in-laws, which helped a bit. Connecting with people who love me can't hurt. But now, it's almost bedtime, and my mind reels. I don't see a clear path forward. Yesterday, I went on a bike ride. I went past the beach, which was full of people not wearing masks and not practicing social distancing. It made me sad, thinking of all the people who could get sick, but there was nothing I could do. Trying to explain the protests to my son made me cry. How do you tell a ten year old that there are bad people in the world who thwart the plans of good people and make good people look like criminals. He is scared that we won't be allowed outside. I understand his f

Apparently,  I need to cook pasta by the package now. When I picked Ian (10) up from day camp, they said he had eaten Ramen, two corn dogs, and an otter pop. Evan (6) had an otter pop and a quesadilla. This was not sufficient for their sustenance. Immediately upon arrival home, they asked for more food. Both got seaweed and watermelon. More food was requested. Ian got pita chips with hummus. All was well in the world. An hour later, they were hungry. I cooked half a box of pasta. Evan got noodles and sausage; I thought Ian had had enough so I prepared the rest of the pasta with turkey meatballs and tomato sauce. Ian was still hungry. Ian ate my dinner. Now, I can cook more pasta or eat chips for dinner. I'll leave that up to you to decide which option I chose. May you and yours be well or better.

When my alarm went off this morning, I set the timer for ten more minutes. Five minutes is enough time to get ready to work, right? I made it work. Checked some email, had a meeting. Taught my Live Lesson on monetary policy. It was as exciting as it sounds. Boys woke up toward the end of my lesson, but were quiet enough that nobody noticed. After my lesson, I got them all dressed and ready for camp, but Evan (6) was complaining that he hadn't had enough screen time. Ian (10) convinced him to walk with his tablet to school, so I hoped that was good enough. It wasn't. About half way along the four minute walk to school, Evan runs into the ivy and cries that he didn't have enough screen time, so he couldn't go to school. It got worse from there. He yelled a lot; I pulled the tablet from his clutching hands and said that if he wouldn't go to camp, there would be no screen time. He complained. He lost his shoe. He threw his shoe farther into the ivy and I had to retrieve