Day 9 Small but Mighty

What’s weird about this time is that after the kids are in bed I start to go through my mental checklist. Who do I need to pack a snack for? What do I need to prepare so that things will go smoothly and quickly in the morning?

And then I remember–I don’t need to prepare anything for the morning. For a minute it feels like a holiday or a long weekend. I get kind of excited. I think, Oh, maybe I should drink some champagne or eat some ice cream! Maybe I can watch something and stay up late!

When you’re a mom with kids who are awake by 6, there really aren’t “weekends.” And right now all the days are nearly identical. Nevertheless, I do stay up late. When I finally get in bed, my mind doesn’t stop. Then I have weird dreams. Recently one about a possum. Ew. And naturally those are the nights when the kids don’t sleep well.

In the morning I wake up feeling hungover even though I never ended up drinking that champagne. It’s a Covid-19 hangover. Despite the fact that we haven’t seen anyone outside our immediate family in over a week, I feel bombarded with statistics and press conferences and fear masked by frustrated tones. In between the sweet songs from the balconies of Italy and the ballet classes being broadcast over social media, in spite of the morning mental health time I’ve been able to squeeze in, the constant input, updates, and the underlying worry that my sore throat or Little Bean’s runny nose is actually the Coronavirus, doesn’t stop. Although the pace right now is slower and we can’t go anywhere, there’s something frantic about it.

Today passed with very little fanfare and nothing exciting was planned. It was some tv time, some backyard play, thoughtful memes, hopeful messages and a lot of hanging around the house. It was one kid who didn’t want to nap and another who could not manage to stay in her room for an hour of quiet play time. And then a miracle happened.

As I went upstairs to confront the little one, who was running around and refusing to stay in her bed, Big Sister peeked out of her own room. With the authority of a seasoned professional she walked right by me into Little Bean’s room. Kneeling down next to her bed Big Sis explained that if she didn’t take a nap we wouldn’t be able to do a craft later. Then she took Little Bean’s hand and began singing a lullaby. Little Bean started snoring almost immediately. Big Sister left the room and went back to her own room without a word.

Just when you are about to lose it because you think you are the only person who is there to manage the situation, someone will come along to show you how it’s really done.

So, for today–Whatever you hope for–it is not in vain. Whatever you wish or visualize as the positive outcome to this Coronavirus situation, it can come to pass. With the wisdom of a sage and the empathy of a humanitarian, my four year old just sang her sister to sleep. Anything is possible.

Though she be but little, she is fierce– William Shakespeare

With love until tomorrow,

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