The new normal

After six weeks in quarantine, the rush of guilt is now familiar when people ask, "How are you?" I'm fine. I'm better than fine. If I could block out the knowledge that people are sick and dying and depressed and out of work, the truth is that, most days, this is the happiest I've been in a long time.

There is nothing wrong with my normal life. I have beautiful, healthy children, an intellectually stimulating job, a home, church, schools, husband, and neighborhood that I love. It's just the nonstop, never-ending, exhausting to do list of working motherhood that perpetually makes me feel like I'm not doing enough at work and I'm not doing enough at home. It's a series of "oh crap" moments when I realize I forgot it was picture day, that it was Harper's day to bring snack at preschool, that Aidan is behind in history and I need to contact his teacher, that I haven't even glanced at the Sunday School lesson I'm supposed to deliver in 30 minutes, that it's been three days since my family has sat down at the dinner table together, that I have to teach a class at 8:30 am and it's 10:00 pm and I am just too tired to update my slides, that I haven't yet responded to my best friend's text from yesterday, that I need to follow up with Aidan's orthodontist, Ashton's speech therapist, and Harper's summer camp schedule. My life is exhausting in a way few people can understand unless they have been there, deep in the trenches, trying to be everything to everyone. As it's so often put, trying to work as if I don't have kids and have kids as if I don't work.

That feeling of "never enough" evaporated six weeks ago. My calendar cleared, my hour-on-the-hour meetings, classes, doctors appointments, gymnastics, Boy Scouts, church and social commitments were canceled. That wedding shower and end-of-the-school-year BBQ I was supposed to host? Canceled. That conference where I was supposed to deliver three presentations in three days? Canceled. Those plane tickets I was supposed to purchase? Thank goodness I kept forgetting to do that because that trip is probably canceled too.

What has filled the vacuum? Simple, life-giving, soul-healing activities that I normally push to the margins. Cooking, baking, hiking, playing, reading, arts and crafts, bike riding, airplane rides, dance parties, Frozen sing-a-longs, neighborhood walks, and daily hot tub excursions have all come to the fore. I still work from home. Every day I answer emails, have virtual meetings, work on my tenure packet, and try to make progress on various writing projects. But with three kids at home, work has been happening where it can and when it can. This pandemic has thrown into sharp relief what matters and where my energy needs to be directed.

People have referred to this moment as "the Great Pause" and I feel the truth of that description daily. I'm still exhausted at the end of the day. Being with a 2 year old, a strong-willed 4 year old, and a 14 year old while trying to work from home isn't exactly leisurely. But that "never enough, can't catch up" feeling? Gone. Even though there are still things I should be doing that I'm not, like making sure Aidan does every online assignment, I have culled life down to its most essential elements and found the ability to actually be present most of the time.

As I write this, that familiar feeling rises up -- you know, that guilt I referred to in the first sentence? -- and I feel the need to acknowledge the myriad ways in which privilege facilitates my pandemic experience. Ten years ago, when I was a single mom working in sales, living in an apartment with a 4 year old, trying to finish my bachelor's degree, this experience would look pretty different. I'd like to think I would still be able to hone in on Aidan's well-being and be grateful for the extra time together, but realistically, I would have had far more concerns and restrictions on my plate. My current job allows me to work from home and is more likely to weather the vicissitudes of a global economy in flux. I have an au pair and partner at home to tag team the kids so I can get a few hours of work done every day and make time for one-on-one adventures with each kid. My backyard has a playground, a hot tub, and every possible ride-on toy. Walking around my neighborhood as it explodes with tulips, daffodils, forsythia, and cherry blossom trees is a delight and retreating into the nearby forest a convenient, socially-distanced escape. There is no end to the amount of privilege and fortune that undergirds this experience.

This is the point at which I stop wanting to post this publicly. It's a fine line between acknowledging privilege and bragging to people who are going through legitimately tough times. Although gratitude and reflection (which parts of normal are worth rushing back to?) are the focus of this post, this time is certainly bittersweet. In the last two weeks, my sister-in-law and a colleague have both passed away. I have no doubt over the next year or two, we will lose more people to this virus, depression, or an overwhelmed healthcare system that will have less time to monitor pregnancies, treat cancer, and provide emergent care. It's scary, and that fear is part of the reason I'm focusing on my home and family with renewed perspective. There's nothing like a pandemic to make you start living every day as if it's your last.

With that final thought, I bring you pics from the last three weeks, specifically curated for the grandparents who are missing Harper, Ashton, and Aidan with every bone in their body:

Quaranteam 2020 - Robert, Rebekah, C-Game, Aidan, Harper, Ashton, and Stan (not pictured)

Aidan and I ditched the babies for a slightly more adventurous hike up to Hidden Falls. The rocks were slippery, the falls were fast moving, and we made our way across fallen trees over rivers. 

I'm not someone who usually takes pictures of my food but these white chicken enchiladas were to die for. 

Last food pic. U of U pancakes.

Taking a break from Elsa dresses with an Anna dress.

Ashton showing off his Batman shirt.

One of the truly amazing experiences we had in quarantine was officiating and witnessing our beloved au pair C-Game's quarantine wedding. Here is Robert kicking off the ceremony with ceremonial hand sanitizer. 

Love in the time of coronavirus.

The only people in attendance were the two households of the bride and groom under quarantine. We only hugged or touch people from our respective houses. Here is Cody's lovely family.

Me and C-Game. I have been so blessed in this program to get to know amazing young women from all over the world and make them part of our family! This was a particularly special day as a host mom.  

Aidan putting in a little social distance from us even in the picture. Teenagers.

Cummings Family 2020

You'll start to notice a trend in these pictures. Ashton has been anti-pants in quarantine. He is, however, pro-hot tub.

No, mom, I'm not going to spit water at you. 

Haha, I spit water at you! 

Our street is full of gorgeous white, pink, and green trees. Such a treat after a long, cold winter. 

My pink tree.

Getting ready for a walk

Some particularly pretty tulips

We drove by the cherry blossom trees at the Capitol, but didn't get out because there were crowds everywhere.  

Liberty Park was a little calmer that day and we enjoyed visiting the ducks. 

The rare alone hike at Millcreek Canyon.

Salt Lake City peaking through the canyon.

Love the way businesses are innovating. Drive through baby animal festival at Cross E Ranch

We were going one mile an hour on a farm so the kids were allowed out of their seatbelts.

Baby goats

Ashton liked the tractors and balers as much as the animals

In typical Harper fashion, pushing the envelope of safety

Baby cow 

Back in her seatbelt, safe with blankie.

Makeshift mask

Very strange not to attend church or do a neighborhood egg hunt, but Easter came just the same.

Dying Easter eggs

Harper and Dad did PJ Masks; Ashton and Mom did Paw Patrol.

I caught Harper trying on Dad's bunny suit later that day. 

Cutest little bunny.

Since we had all day, we hunted these eggs multiple times. 

Line outside of Costco day after Easter

What you won't find inside.

Those eyes

What, mom? 

C-Game taught Harper how to write her name!

At first Harper just followed the dots, then she learned to write on her own. 

Hike alone with Aidan to Hidden Falls.

Frozen waterfall

Aidan, 14 years.

Every waterfall in Big Cottonwood was an ice sculpture worthy of a gallery.

Harper learned how to ride a bike! 

Picnic at Ledgemere. We wiped the table first with anti-bacterial wipes.

So glad it's not a high water year like last year where we couldn't go near a river until July.

Climbing gym is closed, but we still have rocks.

Sugar House Park

Chips and Salsa in bed... I'll allow it.

I love the way our street looks in the spring. 

Grandma sent us monster bubbles. 

Dilworth Elementary

Desolation Trail

Harper was telling Stan they can't leave Ashton because he might get eaten by a bear.

Hike up to Ensign Peak with Harper

View from the top

Utah has called this phase of coronavirus response the urgent phase. The irony, of course, is that nothing feels urgent right now except making my kids feel safe and loved in this world turned upside down. If that's the new normal, I'll take it.