There is Nothing I Don't Miss

Over the past few weeks, I've seen a few posts on Facebook to the effect of, "What did you expect to miss during the quarantine that you don't?" 

The first time I saw one, I paused and considered, waiting for a revelation. What had seemed important to me before that was now trivial? The "aha" moment I anticipated didn't come. A new, minimalist perspective did not awaken in me, as I sort of expected it to.

The truth is, there is nothing I don't miss.

There are some things I don't miss as much as I thought I would. I don't miss taking the kids on outings as much as I thought I would - but a part of that is that they don't seem to miss it as much as I thought they would. I thought we'd go stir-crazy, but it's actually been...fine.

I, of course, miss the obvious things. Chatting at preschool pick-up, browsing Target, taking the kids to a playground or library. Sitting outside at a restaurant on a warm day, chatty and relaxed, not worrying about dinner or dishes. Oh, and not calculating every move when I go to a public place, and not wearing a suffocating mask. And, boy, could I use a haircut. 

But, I also miss unlikely things like squeezing in frenetic errands during school time. Dragging Mister P to the grocery store or Costco, because of the traditions we had woven into these trips. The questionable sanitation, but undeniable fun of bouncy houses. I even miss the morning hustle, because its cacophony culminated the blissful calm of two kids at school.

Maybe...I don't miss the kid junk scattered all over the back of the car. Or paying almost $3 for a gallon of gas. Not that it matters too much, considering I'm down just half a tank over the last two months.

The perspective that has changed for me is that I've been reminded how important it is to celebrate human relationships. I was keenly aware of this my last year of high school; in fact, I wrote a college entrance essay about it. I knew that my time with my school friends was fleeting and coming to a close, and I wanted to hug that time close. Since the pandemic, I've realized how much "friend-time" (and family-time) I'd been putting off until later...when we're not so busy, when it's more convenient, when we get around to it...and here we are, with so much time, and not able to spend it together. 

I think about Mister P's last morning of preschool. I ran around, doing a thousand errands with my last 2 hours of unencumbered free time for who knows how long. It felt necessary. One of my stops was for a coffee at a local coffee shop, where I saw a group of moms from a class that had graduated from our preschool - I knew most of them. I imagine they will always be thankful they spent that morning together.  I wonder if I should've spent my morning differently. Probably. If only I’d known.

So, when the world comes safely back online, I’m doing all the things and seeing all the people. Hopefully, with a renewed sense of joy and gratitude.

Violet Syrup

Just this past week in Maryland, local strawberries finally started popping up for sale. Strawberries love the warm sun, and we just haven't been getting a lot of that, lately. If you live in a place where you can get local strawberries, do it. There is no comparison to even the reddest of berries bought in a clam shell from California or Mexico.  

I bought these, but here is a funny story - the first time I picked berries, maybe ten or so years ago, I had a romantic image of berry-picking. I pictured myself wearing a sundress, hat, and flip-flops, dropping berries into a darling little basket. Lucky for me, the day we went was drizzly and gross, so I wore jeans, a windbreaker and tennis shoes, and learned that fruit-picking was not a dainty activity.

I get why some people view fruit-picking as a ridiculously romanticized activity. I understand why people mock it as something Pinterest Moms insist their families do so they can capture those Insta-perfect moments, and maybe theoretically teach their kids a lesson about where food comes from. It can be hot, buggy, and time-consuming. But I actually really enjoy it. I don't love gardening, but I love gathering. One of the first days Mister P went to preschool this past September, I raced a half-hour to my favorite fruit farm to get in an hour of raspberry picking unencumbered. Once I start picking, it's really hard to stop. On the way out, I'm always picking just "one more" berry. The "gathering" heritage resonates with me, but I can see why it might not with everyone!

I got the itch to pick a few weeks ago, when I saw a friend post pictures of violet syrup she had made from foraged violets. Hmmm....our yard was carpeted with violets...

I'd like to imagine myself as a dainty ingenue, again, wearing a delicate sundress and floppy hat, and wiggling bare toes in the soft, green grass as I gracefully pop the blossoms off of the wild violets in our yard. Perhaps you could imagine me that way, too, instead of a thick, middle-aged mother of two wearing jeans, a stained sweatshirt, and garden clogs.

It was time-consuming, but really pleasant on that warm spring day. And the violets looked so pretty!

To make the syrup, I looked at a few different recipes. Many say to remove the calyx, the green thing at the bottom of the flower that holds the petals on. I had just spent an hour picking two cups of violet blossoms; I was not inclined to spend another one dissecting them. I may have been able to do it more easily when I initially picked them, but didn't realize I should, so...oh well. I did find a recipe or two that said it was fine to leave them on. So I did, and made a violet tea that sat overnight.

I strained it, and cooked it with sugar to make the syrup. It wasn't really a bright purple, but adding in some lemon juice brightened it up...it's hard to see, but...

The verdict: I think it smelled kind of grassy instead of sweet, which is probably due to those stinking calyxes. So, I might have been biased from the get-go, but I didn't think it had much of a flavor...just mostly sweet. Maybe I could've tried next to a batch of plain simple syrup to see for sure. I did use it in lemonade and also to make a violet soda with our SodaStream.

Not bad with a little gin and a squeeze of lime. 😉

This, too, shall pass...

Right around one month in to this quarantine, I noticed a shift. At first, it was just at our house. Mister P was especially sensitive and needy, wailing over seemingly little things and wanting to talk to someone almost every waking moment. I was getting tearful everyday, alternating between being lonely and wanting to be alone. Then, I saw it in my Facebook feed, too - lots of parents reporting that their kids' behavior was breaking down, and moms admitting their sadness, as well. I looked at our family, and looked at my friends and acquaintances online and realized that one month seemed to be some sort of milestone for a quarantine - and maybe other types of stressful times, as well. Did the novelty wear off? Were realizations sinking in?

I'm sharing what I noticed to let you know that, if you felt like things starting to fall apart around the middle of April, you, for sure, are not alone. 

I'm hesitant to share what continues to make me tearful everyday, when I know that others have far worse situations. Our family has so much to be thankful for, always, but especially now - Kevin is able to work from home, I am able to wrangle/teach the kids, our immediate family is low-risk, we have a yard for the kids to play in...I'm well-aware. 

Friends, I'm super-sad about my little boy missing his last months of preschool.

We have been a part of the amazing community at Forest Hill Nursery School for the past four years. It is a cooperative preschool, and as a stay-at-home mom, I have loved the chance to be in the classroom to see my kids socialize and learn. I love all those kiddos, the teachers, the routines, and the other parents. For the last two years, I've been on the executive board, and, maybe most of all, I have loved being able to work with grown-ups and use the grown-up part of my brain. 

Since Mister P is my baby, I know all the things he is missing now. Getting psyched for kindergarten. The field trips. The class parties. The special year-end traditions. Coming into the part of the year when the kids are mature enough and close enough to really play together and flourish. These kids have always loved to play together outside after school, no matter the weather. The last day they played together, Friday, March 13th, was a warm, sunny day. If I had known how likely it was to be the last day, I would've let him play until it was time to get Miss A off the bus. 

He doesn't really know what he's missing. But I do. And I cry for all those special memories that we won't make. I know, I know - we are making other memories. And, it's just preschool, and in the long run, he will remember very little of it, anyway. Here's the thing - I'm really sentimental; I would've cried, anyway. But this is not how this stage of our life was supposed to end. I want those end-of-year rituals to give me closure, to help me transition to the next part of this road to adulthood.

But, as I sit here, crying, I think of the high school seniors who are missing this most special part of their high school career. I know not everyone has a good high school experience, but I did, and this would have devastated me. And I think of the essential workers and the medical personnel, and people who can't weather this as well...and people who were suffering before this, like the homeless and refugees...and I get frustrated with myself for feeling so sad. We will move on and be okay, but not everyone will. I guess we (I, really) need to make the best of our situation, and do we what we can to support others.