Adventures In Motherhood

My alarm sounds at 7:45am. Still dark outside, I remind myself I am doing this for my children. The pitter-patter of rain in the gutters makes me want to roll over and snuggle in, freeing myself of parental responsibility today. I imagine it would be easier if unlimited screen time weren’t an April Fools' joke. I shove my feet into cold fuzzy slippers and mentally prepare for Covid Mom-School. What really gets to me is the lack of order. Our days blend together without a semblance of schedule. Is it taco Tuesday or take-out Thursday? Without my iPhone I'd never know. Now there's Covid homeschool. My four children, 4th grade, 7th grade, 9th grade and 11th are my educational responsibility. It's telling what happens to public education when left to the states to decide. On week three of our endless 'spring break', frustrated teachers assure us Portland Public Schools is working on a plan for online learning but have been given 'very little information' o...

Sitting alone at my kitchen table holding a glass of Cabernet, I feel my shoulders release from captivity. Staring at my grandparents' mission style table, its dark wood and deep scratches from a century of abuse, straw no longer poking out of the wooden chairs I've since recovered, I remembered my dad tried to repair the wood; long gone are our table conversations. It's Valentine's Day and my husband is of course working late, because every day is Valentine's Day after four kids and nearly 24 years of marriage, right? I breathe a sigh of relief. At least the three boys are playing Wii in the basement; their noises of negotiation ensure me I am safe to let down my guard. Dinner can wait. I swirl my glass of wine watching it lap the sides of my stemmed glass. God damnit, why is she still affecting me? The bitch, the teacher who questioned my judgment, walking away and waving me off like a child today.  Staring at the deep groove in the table that sits six, a ...