4,745 days

 My sweet son,

As I sit and write this, I'm thinking about this last year in the world and what a crazy ride it has been. I could have never predicted when the pandemic began that we would still be dealing with it 18 months later nor could I have guessed that the reason we're still in it is the inherent selfishness of a lot of people. Like, a surprising amount of people. A year and a half into a virus that has already mutated more than once, we're still arguing about vaccines and masks and the efficacy of physical distancing. It's a hot mess, m'boy. 

The one thing I haven't worried about, though, is whether or not the craziness of the world would change you. In my heart, I knew it wouldn't, and it hasn't. Well, maybe that isn't entirely true. I think it has changed you for the better. You seem more aware of other people and that your life isn't lived entirely independently of them. You have never once complained about wearing a mask, and you were first in line to get the vaccine as soon as it was available to you. Being selfless is a big part of who you are, and it makes me so incredibly proud. 

Pandemic aside, it has been a good year for you. You made it through your first year of middle school the last school year with little to no issues, and now you're on to seventh grade. I know you wish that you could have made it through the whole year in-person at school during sixth grade, but you made the best of remote learning Wednesdays and everything that went with it. Truth be told, I enjoyed having you and Lottie home once a week so we could get some time to chill and reconnect. Plus, sleeping in makes everyone happy. I know it's difficult to be one of two teens in the house, and sometimes, things can get dicey between you and your sibling. In the end, I know that you two will always have each other's backs when it matters the most. 

You have a knack of coming up with the best random facts to share with me. Most of our conversations start with you saying to me, "Did you know...?" and I usually didn't know. We end up having some wonderful and insightful discussions, and you always stun me with your intelligence and ability to see beyond the surface of a thing. Then again, sometimes you tell me statistics about butts, and then it's easy to remember that you're a teenaged boy. Overall, your sense of humor is pretty sophisticated, and I love when we catch something very subtle that makes us laugh and you give me the side eye to let me know you think it's funny, too. 

One thing that I love about you is your willingness to show your appreciation and gratitude. If it has been a bad day or even a bad week, you find something positive to be thankful for. It's a nice reminder of how truly lucky we are and that it's important to take a step back to recognize it. 

You were fortunate enough to take three vacations this year, and you had a ball on all of them. You got to drive down to Destin with a friend and his dad to stay in their condo. The weather wasn't super cooperative, but you braved the ocean and spent time at the pool. That was also the first big road trip that you have taken that you would remember, the first one being when you were six months old. It was bittersweet for me to watch you drive away on a vacation without us, but I was thrilled that you had a chance to go. Walt Disney World is one of our favorite places to visit,as a family, and you and Lottie got to explore some on your own in April. Riding Expedition Everest eight times in a row might have been your favorite part of that vacation. We also went to Tybee Island in Georgia and had a relaxing beach visit. During that trip, we spent some time in Savannah, and I love that you're as into the history of a place as Dad and I are. 

Thank you for staying true to yourself as you grow up. I know it won't always be an easy road, but I think you're up to the challenge. I love your tender heart, your love for all animals, and your ability to see the best in everything.  Don't ever let anyone tell you to toughen up: just be yourself. Be sure to always see the best in yourself, too, because you're a pretty incredible human being. I'm so proud to be your mom. Happy 13th birthday, Dallas Simon. 

Love you the mostest,

Ma 

Mowers and sweat and masks, oh my!

 So, it has been a hot minute since I have written anything on this blog. My hopes of 2021 being much easier than 2020 are long gone. My excuse is the same as everyone else's, I suppose: the never-ending pandemic has somewhat sucked the joi de vivre from the marrow of my bones. Sitting down to write hasn't been on the forefront of my mind, but it should be.

I thought about it today because it was one of those days where things sort of slowly fell apart. It was mowing day, and although I normally love mowing the grass, I knew today would be more difficult. You see, we had some sod installed in the backyard around our new pool (Trust me, the pool construction is a rollercoaster of a story in and of itself. Let's not focus on that now. You want a tiny tidbit? I will only communicate with the pool contractor in writing now because I don't trust anything he says, and I want written proof of his shenanigans.) If you know about sod, you know that a riding mower can't be used on it for a while because the roots still need to take hold and it can't handle the weight of a machine that big. No problem. I fired up our trusty electric push mower that we bought in Lexington 9+ years ago, and I hopped to it.

If you haven't been to our fair state during the summer, let me explain humidity to you. Walking out of the door in the morning is like walking smack into a huge, soaking wet washcloth that wraps itself around your body for the day. Being "fluffy" and the age I am doesn't help anything. I spend most of the summer, even when it's a balmy 70 degrees, sweating so much that strangers have actually stopped me to ask if I'm okay. Keep that in mind when I tell you that I started pushing the mower on the very long sod, and I realized that the mower wasn't self-propelled. Sweet JAYSUS. It took a stupidly long time for me to mow just the backyard with that thing, and I was thrilled when I wearily walked it back into the garage. The rest of the lawn could be done with my riding mower, so I put on some tunes and got ready to rock. Things were going along well, and as usual, I had forgotten that my yard is on a well-travelled corner of the neighborhood and I was singing some classic rock at the top of my lungs. As I made a turn, I noticed that the engine kind of hitched a little. I didn't think too much of it until it did it again and then simply stopped. I had gassed it up before I started, so I knew it wasn't that. I opened the hood and stared down at the mower innards. Other than the fact that it was filthy, I registered nothing. I sat, I waited a minute, and then I tried again. This time, it wouldn't even turn over. Donezo. I did the first thing that came to my mind, and I called my parents. My mom commiserated, and my dad came right over. He was pushing *their* electric mower that was, HALLELUJAH, self-propelled. He, too, stared at the mower innards and shrugged. He left me with the new mower, and all was right with the world. 

Until the battery died after about two swaths of the lawn. At that point, I had been doing this whole lawn nonsense for literal hours. Resigned, I pushed the mower into the garage, and I went inside to enjoy the AC and a big cup of water. I had been texting my brother and my BFF, and they both sort of thought maybe the Universe was telling me not to mow. I could get down with that. However, my dad is nothing if not persistent, and he brought over the OTHER battery and the charger. Neat. 

I finally finished mowing the lawn after four hours. Three mowers plus four hours equals me being even sweatier than normal and far dirtier. Most of my to-do list is being shunted to tomorrow because I don't wanna. 

The point of this story? I guess it's just to share the sort of things I have been up to in the last few months of not blogging. Some if it has been frustrating; some has been weird; some has been great fun. It's trending toward the unbelievable now as I watch the cases of Covid rise again, especially in our schools. The same people who complained about remote learning last year are the ones crying now about how masks hurt their children and impair their learning. I guarantee they don't see the irony of how wearing a mask would help kids remain in school without remote learning. My kids are both vaccinated, and they wear masks during the school day. They understand the importance of not only protecting themselves but of protecting others who are vulnerable in society. I wish the adults in the school system understood that or even acknowledged it, but I guess expecting the administration or the school board to listen to scientific reason is asking a bit too much. Pity. 

5,110 days

 My love,

I can hardly believe that you arrived in my life fourteen years ago. It feels like not too long ago that you were holding my hand in parking lots, sitting on my lap to hear a book, and falling asleep in the car with your thumb firmly tucked in your mouth. So many things have happened in the blink of an eye. 

This last year has been something for you and for everyone.  From the very beginning of the pandemic, you missed out on a lot. The day you all were sent home from school, you were supposed to do a performance of the variety show that you never got to do. You missed dances, sports, time with friends, and extra-curricular activities. There were no summer camps, no sleepovers, no vacations, no watching fireworks with pals. I know that you missed all of the socializing, and maybe school a teeny bit, but you were mature throughout all of the uncertainty. You very rarely complained, and when you did, it was only to blow off steam. You have always understood that Dad and I have been trying to keep our family as safe as possible, and you haven't held it against us. You have accepted what needs to be done better than many adults I know. 

Speaking of Dad and me, I know we drive you absolutely bananas sometimes most of the time. (I also know that it's mostly Dad, but I'll throw myself under the bus, too, so he doesn't feel so bad.) Despite how annoying we must be, you're pretty good about listening and letting us do our thing. Yes, there are eye rolls and stomping and door slamming from time to time, but even your teenaged behavior isn't terrible. You still make us laugh so much that it's difficult to stay mad at you. I don't know how Dad and I were so lucky to get such funny kids, but we're grateful for it every day. 

I have watched you grow an incredible amount in the last year. Physically, you're taller than I am now, and you get a disturbing sense of joy in reminding me how "low" I am. You'll be getting your braces off very soon, and what could have been a painful process has been smooth with you. On the rare occasions that you were in pain, you bore it with strength and the knowledge that it wouldn't last too long. You're working hard at school, and it shows. You're also always trying to get better organized. I know it isn't really your thing, but I appreciate the effort. The growth that has astonished me, though, is your emotional growth. I love how many new things you have tried: cross country, basketball, and even running for and winning president of Builders Club! Once you decide you're gong to do something, it's done. You have learned to stand up for what you feel is right even when it's a difficult or unpopular thing to do. I have seen you do this for your friends and for people you don't even particularly like: you always root for the underdog and for what is morally right. You have realized that having toxic people in your life isn't worth the pain they cause, and good friends are worth their weight in gold. I love that you still tell me every detail of your day; well, maybe not every detail but most of them. Every time you tell us a story about something that happened at school or on a Zoom with your friends, I feel like I know you a little better. For someone your age, you're not judgmental at all. You accept everyone for who and what they are, no matter what. You're kind, compassionate, forgiving, caring, and fierce: I can't think of a better combination. 

Everyone says how hard it is to watch your kids grow up. It's certainly bittersweet, but I'm having the best time watching who you are becoming. Keep fighting the good fight, even when you're tired or scared, and know we will always be right behind you. Continue to laugh as much as you can and stay close to your broham. I know you all like each other more than you're willing to admit. He'll forever be in your corner, too, just as I know you'll be in his. 

You are everything I never knew I longed for and exactly what I always wanted.  I am so damn proud of you, and I hope you never forget it. 

Love you the mostest,

Mom