For the past three days I've felt lower than I have in a very long time, as many of us have. After my frenzied early-morning cleaning on Wednesday, I've found it tough to care about basics like eating. I haven't cooked anything since Monday. My family is subsisting on pizza and whatever we can pull out of the freezer. Yesterday afternoon I came home from conferences, takeout in hand. I was short with the kids, who were fighting with each other and probably picking up on my own feelings. I banished them to different parts of the house before sinking into the couch. I slept numbly for a couple of hours. Isaac played quietly in the family room, and Suzannah curled up in the chair next to me. She read until I got up.
Today was better. Last night I went to bed around midnight, but I slept for seven hours. It's a start.
The kids were cheerful this morning. Suzannah curled up in her usual spot to read after breakfast (she does this every morning, including weekends) and Isaac busied himself with toys. I poured a giant mug of coffee and graded the papers I couldn't concentrate on in my free moments during conferences. Grading papers is not the favorite chore of any teacher, obviously, but something about it soothed me today. Just seeing my kids' names, and the way some of them draw little smiley faces at the top of the rubric. Reading their earnest, sometimes awkward, often thoughtful writing. I think about all the conversations I've had with them and with their parents over the past few days. My kids are working hard in a really tough class, and some of the kids that would have had a fit over not getting an A last year are recognizing that sometimes, B's happen. One boy, completely unprompted, spoke about having a growth mindset, about how if his GPA was the only thing he cared about he wouldn't have done full IB but the payoff in learning and college preparation is worth so much more. This same student goes out of his way to introduce himself to new students in class. Like, he walks over and shakes their hands, and somehow it just works. He approaches kids who makes other kids uncomfortable. He approaches the kids who seem unapproachable. He approaches the kid who comes back after a suspension from fighting and draws him into a group.
I could not be more proud of these kids, and I could not be more proud to work where I do. Yes, this is the community in which I want to raise my children, absolutely. These are the kids I want them to learn from. To those of you who have all of your opinions about public schools and think you need to share them with me: you probably need to do a better job of reading your audience. And know that this week, more than ever, I am so grateful to be exactly where I'm at, so proud of the people I work with, and absolutely determined to show up and work my hardest for these kids. And I am proud to raise my children among them.
A night of okayish sleep, combined with a renewed commitment to show up for these students, makes grading their papers a little less painful. Today, I am seeing it as one more way to connect with them. Yes, babies, I'm gonna ask you to develop this idea a little more, or rework this frightful sentence that doesn't make any sense, or suggest that you proofread or read the assignment a little more carefully, but you can also be sure that I won't pass up an opportunity to draw my own smiley face somewhere on your paper or write a jubilant "yes!" in the margin.
It wasn't a bad way to start the day.
"What are we doing today, Mommy?" Isaac asked eventually.
"Everything," I replied.
We went to get his hair cut. I've been meaning to get that done for about two weeks.
We went looking for rain boots for Suzannah and me. We were unsuccessful at the first store, but I bought a completely unnecessary pair of shoes for myself. I never buy unnecessary shoes; I hate shoes. I think other people look really cute in all kinds of them but I just do not give a damn about them for myself. I would go barefoot all the time if I could. But I bought myself a new pair of shoes. Is this what retail therapy is like?
We went to Bath & Body Works and I bought a candle that was not strictly necessary except that I love and adore candles in the fall and winter and this was half-price. I bought a bunch of festive hand soap. I bought body wash that promises to make me smell like a snowflake.
Suzannah knocked over an entire display of lotion. It cascaded to the floor with spectacular sound and fury and I wanted to die.
"Oops," she said.
But then three teenage girls nearby rushed over to help her pick it all up. This is my community, friends. There are good people here.
We went to Target and I bought Ninja Turtle bubble bath for Isaac, a winter coat for Suzannah, and cleaning supplies for me.
We drove to Tacoma and met Kyanne for lunch at the Rosewood Cafe. I ordered clam chowder (their soup is always perfect on Fridays) and a turkey sandwich, even though I rarely eat grains and not very long ago I was a vegetarian. Most of the time I still want to be, especially when I eat out, but this week is ridiculous so whatever. I also ordered a glass of pinot grigio, because. Because. It was all delicious. Afterwards, we walked a few blocks to a store where we bought a few whimsical Christmas presents for my nephews. The afternoon was so beautiful -- cloudy, but so warm, warm enough not to need a jacket. More and more leaves have fallen over the sidewalks, but the trees lining the streets still burst with orange and red branches. Puget Sound shimmered down the hill, beyond the trees.
On the way home, we stopped by Fred Meyer and found our rain boots. Suzannah's are a lovely shade of mauve, because those are the ones that fit her. She can't wear kids' boots anymore, but there aren't many women's boots in her size, either. I had more choices, and I let the kids vote, so mine have ducks all over them. Her soccer coach says I'm going to need good boots for tomorrow's away game, because we're playing at a field that is apparently the muddiest field in the state of Washington.
Back at the house, I changed into running clothes and the kids donned their bike helmets and we headed for the school playground. We stopped by their friends' house on the way, so I collected a couple of extra boys. The kids played and I ran on the little gravel track until it started to get dark. The last few days have felt so heavy; I just needed to move and breathe and listen to my children laugh. I ran for fifteen minutes longer than I planned, and I felt better than I have all week.
This evening, my son asked, "What will Hillary do now?"
And I said, "Well, she has spent her whole life working to help people, so she will keep doing that, even if she's not the president. Just like President Obama and Michelle Obama. They've spent their whole lives helping people, so they'll find ways to keep doing that."
My kids nodded thoughtfully, and we talked about how very important it is for us to work hard and to be kind. I've been reading all kinds of things about "How to talk to your kids after the election" (because my own frame of mind has been pretty rough this week and I'm not sure I trust myself to do this well) and the things that stand out are these: Make sure they feel safe and protected. Tell them that while we honor the outcome of the election, we will not support bigotry. My kids and I talk a lot about this: we stand with our Muslim, black, Latinx, gay, transgender, immigrant, and disabled friends and their families. (When Isaac asks a question about what gay means, Suzannah steps in, reminds him of the time we went to a friend's wedding when he married his partner, and doesn't he remember that? And he says, "Oh! Yeah!") We talk about being good friends, and about making sure people feel safe. We talk about being good friends to people who might seem lonely or afraid. We talk about why they might feel that way.
And I have to say that right now, I am deeply grateful to live where we do. My children attend school in a diverse district, and we don't see a lot of Trump signs in our neighborhood. My daughter and her classmates feel safe expressing themselves. (She's apparently less safe at church, where an older man felt he had the right to tell her that "Hillary will be in prison by November 8." I wasn't present. And it's not okay to say that to someone else's child. That, I promise you, will not happen again.)
A few weeks ago, a well-meaning friend thought that maybe I should consider living somewhere "safer." He comes at this from a perspective vastly different from my own, and I try to remember this and appreciate that he seems to be speaking out of love and concern. But the places he suggested as "safe" are are basically entirely white, and I have come to distrust those places. Yes, my children would be perfectly fine and, I suppose, "safe"; they are white, and raised by white, Christian ("Christian"?), straight parents. But the red places on the maps terrify me. One friend had her car vandalized because of her bumper sticker; others report having men shout lewd things at them about baby-killing and N***** loving. But that's to be expected at this point; Salon tweeted a reminder that our first black president must hand over the office to a man openly celebrated by the fucking KKK. (Every once in awhile I get a little side-eye about the language on my blog, usually from a "Christian." Getting a little side-eye from a "Christian" who defends a man who talks openly about grabbing a woman's pussy is...interesting.) My point is that for all of the issues in my own community, I certainly feel no draw to leave it.
I'm still so afraid, and given to despair. The number of incidents in which kids are targeted at school across the country is skyrocketing in the days following the election BECAUSE WE FUCKING ELECTED A PRESIDENT WHO NORMALIZES THIS, and if this doesn't shake you to the core of your soul, then please, please unfollow and unfriend me right. now.
But I'm surrounded by so much goodness, and that's worth showing up for. We roll up our sleeves and we keep working. I'm still not ready to cook dinner, but I'm not going to stay on the couch.
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