Disclaimer: These are my thoughts and opinions. You are not obligated to read them. They are not all sunshine and roses. But this is how I deal. This is my therapy. This is how I get it out and this is how I roll on. Read at your own risk. Also, I use the fuck word. A lot.

I knew that everybody getting all psyched up about 2020 coming to an end was going to be a mistake. Just because time continues to march on does not mean that anything has changed. I saw a meme just today that said “New year, new me….ntal breakdown” and nothing in my life has ever been more fucking accurate.

Today our school board met to determine if our children should remain in remote learning or return to school on some kind of from home/in school hybrid basis. I did not get my hopes up. For the most part anyway. I understand the county I live in, I understand the people that make the decisions and I understand that my opinion really doesn’t count for shit. Hence why I’m here writing about it because it’s the only way I really know how to express myself. Not that I really need to say, but they chose to stay in 100% remote. What. The. Fuck.

My children are my life. They kind of have to be seeing as how I’m basically all they have. That’s not true. There are a good amount of people that love and care for them. However, on the regular, all they get is me. And I’m a pretty good mom. I do ok. They could definitely do worse. As a matter of fact, I have a coffee mug that states “Not the worst mom”, so I have that going for me (and them), which is nice. But they need more than me. And that has never been more evident than it is now.

Warning: Here’s where I get super whiney – but I’m going to whine, I’m going to get it out of my system, I’m going to play the woe is me card – and then I’m going to be ok. And then I’m going to wine. (See what I did there?!)

My children have not known normal for about 3 years now. They watched their father die. For 13 months. They watched him wither away. They watched him throw up. They watch him sleep. They watched us constantly leave them for nonstop doctor appointments. They watched him get admitted to the hospital countless times. THEY WATCHED THEIR FATHER DIE. They were shuffled back and forth between grandparents and uncles and friends. And they handled it like the little champions that they are. Because they are fucking champions.

But my little fucking champions are fucking breaking. Their abnormal lives are just now taking their/its/a (I’m not sure what’s grammatically proper here) fucking toll. My 11 year old cries. All. The. Time. He had a routine doctor appointment just last week. The tears started when returning to therapy was mentioned. They continued when he was informed he was due for 3 vaccines. And they really started fucking rolling when his twig and two berries were checked out (twig and berries accounted for and progressing as they should FYI). He cried the whole way home. He sat on the porch and cried and wouldn’t come in the fucking house. Because he is fucking breaking. Last night, we decided to watch a family movie (which, as a side note, has been kind of difficult for us – watching family movies that is – because our “family” is abnormal. For us.). We watched “The One and Only Ivan”. We read the book last year so we knew exactly what to expect. *Spoiler Alert* We knew it got sad, we knew Stella died. We knew Ivan saved Ruby. We knew everything that was going to happen. However, knowing it and actually watching it happen are two very different things. Do you know how many times Jack had “to go to the bathroom” last night during this 1 hour and 37 minute movie? It was seven. Do you know why he went to the bathroom 7 times? It’s because he was so upset about everything that he couldn’t even handle being in the room with the 2 people he trusts most in this world – his brother and his mother.

I will admit that my eyes were not dry either. We are all quicker to cry these days. Nothing is normal for anyone. I get that. However, my 11 year old son was inconsolable last night. I will be honest and say that he never grieved when his father actually passed away. He maybe cried about 4 tears and returned to business as usual. So I’m not saying that his behavior is abnormal at this moment. I am grateful that he is feeling. That is necessary. He had a lot of questions last night that he never asked at the time of death. How did I know daddy was dead? What happened? What was I doing? Why did daddy never hug me before I left? Why is all he did was sleep? Daddy never said goodbye. All things that I didn’t realize were happening at the time. I didn’t realize my children didn’t officially say goodbye to their father. I didn’t realize that Ash didn’t officially say goodbye to Jack and Colt. I should have noticed, but I was so busy being wrapped up in easing Ash’s pain, that I guess I forgot. How awful is that? But clearly they (and especially Jack) haven’t forgotten. Jack is pulling away from all of his friends. He never wants to see them. He never wants to play. He only wants to be around his brother and me. We are his safety net, I get that. However, it begs the question, if he were in school, if there were some sense of normalcy to his life, would he feel the same way? I tend to lean towards no.

Colt is also having his own difficulties. Virtual school for a 6 year old is not ideal. He does ok. I do ok with him. But he breaks down all the time also. He can’t sit still for google meets, because what 6 year old can? I have to be right next to him at all times to keep him on task and even then, he’s rarely ever on task. He’s wildly brilliant, though, in an outside the box kind of way (just like his father). And educationally, I know he will be fine. Socially? That’s another story. He’s different. He’s not naturally social. And that’s ok. We all march to the beat of our own drum. But he’s been out of the “normal” social scene for so long, I’m afraid of what it looks like for him when it does eventually return. He also breaks down far more often. He’s good about talking about his dad, unlike his older brother, but he is not good at handling adversity. He doesn’t like it when things change. It makes sense, given that the biggest change of maybe his entire life happened when he was 5 years old. He wants everything. And I do mean everything. Like acquiring more shit will fill the gaping hole that has been left in his beautiful heart.

I get it. The world is in turmoil. The world is fucking crazy. My kids deserve better than that, though. Your kids deserve better than that. We all deserve better than that. I don’t know what the answer is. Faith. Love. God. And maybe, just maybe, a little more fucking normalcy. For everyone.

PS – It’s also the fucking 12th of the month. Fucking figures. (If you’ve forgotten, Jonesie passed away November 12, 2019 – that’s exactly 14 months ago. But who’s counting? It’s me. I’m fucking counting.)