I'm Just So Sick of It

This has been a hard week. I'm not going to sugar coat it. I'm just

going to say it, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of it all.

I'm sick of dirty cups and mugs left next to chairs because "I'm going to get them later."

I'm sick of dishes left in the sink because either, "I didn't have time." or "The dishwasher was clean." (that brings up a whole other set of issues)

I'm sick of language I don't like, and while they are trying really hard to not offend me, we live in 2800 square feet, and there are 7 of us so even when they're talking to each other or are on the phone or online, I hear it. And I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of having to wait to take a shower.

I'm sick of figuring out meals.

I'm sick of arguing about why they can't see their friends even from social distancing when so many others are doing it.

I'm REALLY sick of people not following the guidelines, so I have to have the above argument.

I'm sick of the internet going in and out when we're all trying to work, go to school, or stream movies.

And to be fair, I'm sure they're sick of me too. I mean, being quarantined with a premenopausal woman cannot be fun.

So yeah, I'm sick of all of so many things, and this week I'm just going to say it.

Chris went to get SK and Patrick (and my wonderful Goddog who I am NOT sick of) on March 18. Two days later, SK told us her office was going to be closed until at least May 17. I remember thinking, "That is ridiculous. How do they know they're going to have to stay closed that long? It's just March." Well turns out, when you're listening to the experts, you do know what you're doing." And can I just add, I'm sick of people not listening to the experts?

The next week the other three returned home. Boss lives here in Louisville, but we told him he couldn't go back and forth between his house and ours (because we are freaking RULE followers and I'm sick of people who aren't), so he moved in with us. He's been furloughed but still in school. The Babies spring semester abruptly went online, and they returned home without a chance to say goodbye or clean out their dorm rooms (so yeah that's looming...). We settled in for the long haul and tried to figure out our new normal.

Here's the thing y'all. There is no new normal. THIS IS NOT NORMAL! This is not normal time. Normal time would be...

Normal time is the time when young adults are figuring out their own way--they're figuring out who they are--they're growing into the people God created them to be and not the people I tried to mold (you can read manipulate if you choose)--they're figuring out what's important to them and how to differentiate from the family while still being part of the family. And we, as recent empty nesters, are trying to figure out who we are as a couple. We're trying to figure out what we want to do with our newfound free time. We're trying to figure out what we enjoy doing and not just what we are supposed to do. And for the record, Chris and I were thoroughly enjoying it.

So we are in this tug-of-war with ourselves and each other. On the one hand, we are still trying to live into these new roles that are developmentally appropriate and healthy and good. On the other hand, we are finding it very easy and somewhat comfortable to slip back into the roles we spent years perfecting--the bossy one, the annoying one, the baby, the slob, the funny one, the fill in the blank....

Our family has always thrived on traditions--all kinds of traditions, and I love it. We all do, and we

don't adjust well to change. (Chris reminds me I created this monster which most of the time is a lovely Barney style monster but every once in awhile is more like the loch ness monster, and that is why he got the same birthday cake last night that he has had for TEN years.) I stupidly and nostalgically thought holding tight to these traditions during this time was going to be what sustained us. We could still have Easter the way we always do. We still have the same Easter baskets they've had since birth; we still know what the Easter dinner menu has to be. I can still hide the baskets, and they can find them when they wake up. It'll be just the same, I ignorantly assumed.

Here's what really happened. The Easter baskets were filled minus Easter grass--couldn't find any of that. I hid them before I left for church, but they didn't file in to join me for service fussing about how hard it was to find them. They didn't try to make me laugh as they entered the church, where I was trying to maintain some sort of decorum as I lined up for the processional. We couldn't find any fresh rosemary to stuff the leg of lamb. We didn't take pictures in front of the flowered cross. We didn't even dress up.

While there were parts of being able to maintain our Easter traditions that brought me peace and some happiness, here's what else I discovered.  For years, as a family, we have been clinging to our traditions. We have, led by me, falsely believed those traditions are what define us. Those traditions have brought us comfort through some really difficult years, for that, I am incredibly grateful. But, traditions, I am figuring out, have to be held lightly, and our family does not do that. We tight fist our traditions as though they are the bonds that hold us together. But they're not--our love for one another and our love for God and our supporting one another as we all live into our best selves, being vulnerable and exposing our most broken places. That's what holds us together. That's what defines who we are as a family. That's what is both beautiful and brutal.

And the whole thing is flipping hard (not the f word they more regularly choose--see above), but we can do it together. We can do it through our laughter and our tears, through our frustrations and our fun, through our angst and our acceptance. But above all, through our love for one another.

Yeah, I'm sick of it, but love is the best medicine out there.