I was going to post a closing message about how I hope everyone does the right thing tomorrow.
It was going to be poetic and meaningful and thoughtful.
I mean one person reached out to me last Presidential cycle and asked me to justify a vote for Clinton. I'm pretty sure I won her over.
But the truth is that I.... like many of you... am exhausted.
I'm exhausted by the politics and the rhetoric and the pandemic and the meals to cook and the emotions to regulate and the Seesaw, ST Math, Epic, Google Classroom, Typing Club, CodeSmart, ChessKids web of brain and Montessori fry.
I'm exhausted knowing that we are in for at least three more months of trying to keep up this tempo and fearing we're going to round up to 18 months before we even look a little normal.
I'm exhausted by the not knowing. Not knowing how these months will change our kids. Not knowing what imprint it is having in their lives.
I'm exhausted that a five year old knows you back up when someone gets too close. "Social distancing, you know, mama".
I'm exhausted washing those tiny masks that have a big old gross saliva ring in the middle from being breathed in and out in playground and soccer romps.
I'm exhausted by picking up your colored pencils and paper pieces and craft sticks and draft paragraphs. AND SOCKS WHY WITH THE SOCKS SERIOUSLY??
I'm exhausted by being one of only two physical, mental and emotional touchpoints for tiny pure souls.
And I'm just talking about the parenting side of this job.
What am I missing?
I realized it the other day when we stopped by to help weed the school garden and the gardening teacher was there.
Our kids lit up.
They bubbled over with words and kindness and helpfulness and gratitude. And she bubbled back. It was the happiest I have seen them in months. And everyone left feeling affirmed.
It happened again... our quaranteammate jumped in, Dad style, and learned how to double dutch last weekend. And told our kids how amazing they are that they stepped in, tried something new, and conquered it.
And again with "reverse trick or treating" drop offs on Saturday. Every adult took the time to look at Annie. Speak to her. Really speak to her. Asking real questions. Affirming her. Seeing her. Hearing her. Listening to her. Lots of listening.
Getting encouraged to lead trivia during Wednesday lunch.
Planning a Girl Scouts food drive.
Petting a llama at the living nativity.
Reading to our kids every single night over Zoom. Every night.
Indulging in useless riddles and Clemson trivia.
Drawing pictures once a week following YouTube videos.
You guys. I know what our kids miss and crave most.
The herd and its shepherds.
I was raised by one. You know, the village. The Allegas and Nolins and Smyres and Turzas and McDonalds and Whittenburgs and Davis and Eskridge families moved us all around as their own.
And while the kid friends were an added benefit for bike riding and basket shooting and roller skating, I think I underestimated the imprint those adults left on my childhood self.
They named and affirmed us kids. They got us out of bad trouble and encouraged our good trouble. They saw our gifts.
Our kids are craving the herd. Craving those shepherds.
They know the power of gentle kindness from a caring adult. We picked them up at school on March 13th, and since that time, can you imagine the tiny moments they haven't had?
The Head of School who gave them a place to calm down. The Guide six classrooms down who answered their 15th survey of the day.
The Sunday school teacher who always knew the right flavor of applesauce pouch. The choir friend who brought their own knitting bag too, or the one who foisted her up on a chair so everyone could see her sing.
The neighbor who called one over for dinner because she knew just how much Annie loved her homemade fried fish.
The adults they vacillate between calling "Mr/Ms" and "Uncle/Aunt" because they understand they are framily.
Or the scout leader who saw that amazing aerodynamic car design.
When we all lean into choosing positivity and hope and goodness and kindness amazing things happen.
It imprints on our kids.
They notice more than you realize.
They understand the difference positive adult figures are making in their life. They know it is a choice and an action, not a given.
It feels too simple.
Can you imagine the imprint it could have on our country?
