The last first day of school

Yep, we've now had it. The last first day of school. Of course, there's the first day of second semester still ahead, and then the first day of college, perhaps, but I still think this was the real last first day. And I was sick with Covid and couldn't really appreciate it. But it happened, it's over, and now the semester is underway.

I was so sorry not to be able to do lots of fun things that last week before school started. I wanted us to go out for ice cream at lots of places, go see "Freakier Friday," go do SOMETHING fun before summer ended. (Note that "us" would have mostly meant me and Teen B; Teen A was off with friends.) Instead we stayed home and I spent a lot of time in bed. Or just sitting still, playing with my phone. I did some reading, but it was hard to concentrate. My head hurt, my eyes hurt.

But you know, I'm not sure the kids (i.e., Teen B) were so disappointed. They don't really want to do stuff with their mom. And a few ice cream excursions would not have made up for the fact that we didn't do anything special all summer. So it may not have been the tragedy I thought it was. That's good to remember.

We had an earthquake on Friday morning, the second day of school. OK, not a REAL earthquake -- this is Colorado, not California. An emotional earthquake. Teen A came home from TEC at lunchtime to announce that he had dropped OUT of TEC, and would now be going to regular high school fulltime. Taking physics. He is really serious about this college thing!

Of course, I'm not 100% sure he would have done this if they hadn't cancelled internships for the fall. What he was initially expecting to do was have an internship as an electrician, but at the end of the year they announced that nobody could have an internship until winter term. So he was going to spend another semester in the "Mod" -- the modular-housing assembly building that he worked in all last semester. I thought the Mod was really cool, but apparently he had gotten tired of it. "It's the same thing, over and over," he told me. "So boring." I thought, hmm, sounds like most jobs. Sounds like probably whatever job you end up getting even if you go to college. But I didn't say that. 

I was impressed at his initiative. Thursday night he asked me who his counselor was. This is a complicated question, because his old counselor had left the school and his new counselor was on maternity leave. They sent out an email explaining which remaining counselor was covering for which group of the maternity leave counselor's students, but I couldn't remember who it was. "Check your email," I said. Amazingly enough, he did, and he must have sent the counselor an email that night, because he met with him Friday at lunchtime and set all this up.  

So now this means that he and Teen B will drive to school every day together -- if they don't want to take the bus. Which they probably won't want to. The bus is FREE, and much more ecofriendly. But they won a parking place in the senior lot in the lottery -- lots of people didn't -- and I paid $50 for it -- so I guess they're going to drive every day. It's fine. We walked to school all through elementary, they took the school bus all through middle school (when they weren't home during the pandemic), and they took the city bus through the first three years of high school (well, Teen B did, and Teen A took it in the mornings). So I guess it's OK if they drive, this one last year.

I keep thinking I'm done with Covid, but I'm not, quite. That is, I feel much better -- my head has cleared -- but I'm still having intestinal problems, and I'm still shaky. The shakiness was weird. When I started going for walks again, on Wednesday, I couldn't believe how hard it was to control my legs. We just did a little walk that night, maybe half a mile (I didn't bring my phone), and then went a little bit farther on Thursday (just .65 mile). I skipped Friday, because we went out to eat, but yesterday I did a normal walk, 1.48 miles, and I was really feeling it when I got home. I had the energy to walk that far, but my legs couldn't keep up. I lost a couple of pounds during the week of illness, and I keep having diarrhea (and one episode of vomiting), so I'm probably undernourished or something. Dehydrated? Even though Covid is a respiratory illness, and I certainly had the congestion and all that, I don't have a lingering cough and I never felt short of breath. So that's good.

What was really hard about the week was keeping up with the responsibilities of home life. Every morning I would work on chores, but I did not have the energy to do very much. I would do one thing -- start a load of laundry, put away the clean dishes, feed the cats -- and then go back to bed and rest, for a long time. In the evening, trying to finish up (put away the clean laundry, load the dishwasher, feed the cats) was so so hard. Because my head hurt, I couldn't bend down to clean the litter boxes. I lost my sense of smell, so that helped, but they looked worse and worse. Finally I pointed this out to Rocket Boy (who hates hates hates cleaning the litter boxes) and so he did it, once. (They normally get cleaned every 2 days.) Yesterday I finally cleaned them myself, for the second time in over a week. Poor cats.

And I could not even deal with the THOUGHT of dinner, much less stand up for the amount of time it would take to cook it. I handed it over to Rocket Boy, who recovered much faster than I did. But he struggled with this. I think he did salmon, rice, and broccoli for three nights, then he got a pizza, and then he was out of ideas. "No one likes what I cook!" he complained. "Nobody likes pot pie, nobody likes French onion soup..." It was in the 90s -- I thought he could have thought of something other than pot pie. But he had no ideas. Sigh. This week I will cook. I didn't eat any of his dinners, too nauseated -- I'd have a yogurt, maybe -- so it will be good for me to cook and eat some real food.

Yesterday, before going to the grocery store for the first time in 9 days, I filled a compost bag with the contents of the vegetable and fruit crispers -- stuff I'd bought right before I got sick. (I did this while Rocket Boy was working in the yard, so he didn't have to watch.) A whole clamshell of beautiful red strawberries, completely covered in mold. Cabbage, lettuce, parsley, green onions. Other stuff. Oh well. Start again tomorrow.

I realized yesterday that I was missing my mother so much during this time. It's not that I wanted her here to do things for me -- no no no no no. I wanted to be able to call her on the phone and say, "I'm sick and the litter boxes need cleaning and Rocket Boy can't think of anything to have for dinner! I threw up in a wastebasket and my stomach hurts and I have diarrhea and my legs shake when I walk!" And she would have been so sympathetic. She would have said, "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey," and she would have sounded like she meant it. And after I'd complained a little more, I would think of something that was funny about it, and we would laugh together, and pretty soon we'd be hysterical. That was me and my mother, and I miss it SO MUCH. I do not have anyone in my life who can be so so sorry -- and then laugh with me. I will probably never have someone like that again. All I can do is remember my mother, recreate a call with her in my mind. That works, if I remember to do it. I forgot, last week, just remembered yesterday. I should have been talking to her in my head all week. That would have helped.

Yesterday, trying to catch up, I spent time with each of my boys, separately. In the morning, Teen B reluctantly agreed to go with me to the credit union and the grocery store, because I was not sure I could do it on my own. He does not like going to the store with me, and yet we almost always have a good time. We discuss what we see on the shelves, he makes fun of me. I buy him ridiculous things that he does not need. We laugh. 

And then in the afternoon, Teen A and I went shopping for school supplies. Teen B claimed to only need a composition notebook and one folder, so I said he didn't have to come. But Teen A needed a fancy graphing calculator for Algebra 2, plus various other items, so I made him come with me. We went to Office Depot and just had a grand old time. Both boys enjoy making fun of me, and I admit I sometimes act a little more decrepit than is absolutely necessary, to inspire them. "Mom! Can you walk any slower?" is a common complaint. Also "eat any slower," "do [fill in the blank] any slower." Teen A tried to get me to buy silly things for Teen B, such as a purple folder (I got him an orange one), a teal notebook (I got him a black one), and a sparkly pink pen (I passed). We made fun of the pencils. When we were done, he suggested Jamba Juice, so we went there. A really nice outing.

I think the most important piece of advice I ever got from my parent support group is "the relationship comes first." Don't worry about making sure your kids do everything right. Put your relationship with them first, whatever that ends up meaning. Stay on good terms. Let them know you love them more than you care about them doing something or other. I think I have probably the best relationship with my kids that it's possible to have. It's certainly better than the relationship I had with my mother at this age, although I think she did the best she could. Teenage boys are easier than girls, I think. I mean, not that mine are easy, but there isn't the drama. And they don't identify with me in the way teenage girls identify with their mothers (and are consequently horrified by them). My boys enjoy making fun of me -- they don't think, euw, why does she look like that.

OK, good enough. Onward with the week ahead. Back to School night on Monday, and then a regular full week of classes. I hope I have the strength to do what I need to do. It's going to be in the 90s every day; 95 on Wednesday, 96 on Thursday. One foot in front of the other. We'll get through it.