It seems that every day I find another card from that red deck of cards. My older boys are into magic, so they often have a deck of cards they’re carrying around for practicing tricks. My toddler twins are more into cards than I could ever have imagined. Seriously, one of them will sort Paw Patrol Uno cards by character for 20 minutes, just to dump them all on the floor again and start over. Between the four of them, though, I literally find one of these red playing cards hiding in our house every day--under the couch, in my bed, stuck to my foot, in the fridge (seriously!), or some other random location. It’s as if these cards are pushing this metaphor of life on me as I collect them one at a time, day by day, hoping that the deck will be full very soon, but never actually having enough time or energy (or perhaps even desire to know) to count the deck. The good news, though, is that the deck is definitely more than half full!
Carrying the metaphor forward, these days are increasingly about piecing it together bit by bit, ignoring the absence of energy, feigning enthusiasm, bootstrapping those last shreds of motivation. And while I may be noticing those missing cards, I’m simultaneously feeling ever so grateful for the cards I’ve been dealt. Put those phenomena together, and humor keeps finding us. Here’s an example:
My kids always have questions. They start like this: “Mom, I have a question.” I wait. Did they want me to acknowledge that before the actual question? “Yes. Go ahead. What’s your question?” I guess it’s good that they are making sure I’m listening because, let’s face it, most of the time I’m probably not listening. Today I answered, “My time for questions is between 9:24 and 9:27. The window has closed. I am open for comments. Can you rephrase your question as a comment?” (Oops! That was a question. Hope they didn’t notice.) Lo and behold, laughter was followed by rephrased questions as comments. That was more fun than fielding questions. And to be honest, responding to comments takes less energy than answering a question. There are fewer possibilities, and more opportunities for the speaker to actually state what they want rather than leaving me guessing. Oh yeah. I did learn about “I statements” at some point! Next I said, “In about 5 minutes my window for comments will close, and it will be the time of day where I accept exclamatory remarks.” Turned out this was the most hilarious part of the grammar lesson! (Note the exclamation!) Give it a try. Say whatever you feel like in the most excited way you can. “I’m opening the mail!” “Your underwear is in the drawers!” (Pun intended.)
While we’re on the topic of absurdity and arguably not playing with a full deck, what were we thinking trying to potty train our twins during the pandemic?? Well, our twins are almost 3 and they are girls. Everyone says girls potty train before boys, and our boys were potty trained at 3. And we’re at home, which is a great place to potty train, and the weather is getting nice so they can be outside. What could possibly go wrong? I’ll tell you what. I seriously am not prepared to clean up another puddle on the floor or mess on the carpet while cheerfully talking about how everybody has an oops sometimes (even a Beautiful Oops) one more time! (On the plus side, they do usually know when they need to go, at which point they insist on a diaper because why use a toilet when it’s right there?!)
Finally, it’s always nice to remember that we are not alone in this “adventure,” and that sharing in it can help us find our own lost cards or realize that a Paw Patrol Uno one can be a great replacement. This article is full of great first-hand accounts of what survival looks like in pandemic parenting. And I got this tip out of it: “We also created a code word: ‘Space Attack!’ Whenever one of us says it, we all have to scatter so we don’t lose our tempers at each other.”
I had better end there because those little aliens are arriving, and I anticipate a “Space Attack!” I just hope I didn’t miss that short window during the day when exclamatory remarks are allowed.
Carrying the metaphor forward, these days are increasingly about piecing it together bit by bit, ignoring the absence of energy, feigning enthusiasm, bootstrapping those last shreds of motivation. And while I may be noticing those missing cards, I’m simultaneously feeling ever so grateful for the cards I’ve been dealt. Put those phenomena together, and humor keeps finding us. Here’s an example:
My kids always have questions. They start like this: “Mom, I have a question.” I wait. Did they want me to acknowledge that before the actual question? “Yes. Go ahead. What’s your question?” I guess it’s good that they are making sure I’m listening because, let’s face it, most of the time I’m probably not listening. Today I answered, “My time for questions is between 9:24 and 9:27. The window has closed. I am open for comments. Can you rephrase your question as a comment?” (Oops! That was a question. Hope they didn’t notice.) Lo and behold, laughter was followed by rephrased questions as comments. That was more fun than fielding questions. And to be honest, responding to comments takes less energy than answering a question. There are fewer possibilities, and more opportunities for the speaker to actually state what they want rather than leaving me guessing. Oh yeah. I did learn about “I statements” at some point! Next I said, “In about 5 minutes my window for comments will close, and it will be the time of day where I accept exclamatory remarks.” Turned out this was the most hilarious part of the grammar lesson! (Note the exclamation!) Give it a try. Say whatever you feel like in the most excited way you can. “I’m opening the mail!” “Your underwear is in the drawers!” (Pun intended.)
While we’re on the topic of absurdity and arguably not playing with a full deck, what were we thinking trying to potty train our twins during the pandemic?? Well, our twins are almost 3 and they are girls. Everyone says girls potty train before boys, and our boys were potty trained at 3. And we’re at home, which is a great place to potty train, and the weather is getting nice so they can be outside. What could possibly go wrong? I’ll tell you what. I seriously am not prepared to clean up another puddle on the floor or mess on the carpet while cheerfully talking about how everybody has an oops sometimes (even a Beautiful Oops) one more time! (On the plus side, they do usually know when they need to go, at which point they insist on a diaper because why use a toilet when it’s right there?!)
Finally, it’s always nice to remember that we are not alone in this “adventure,” and that sharing in it can help us find our own lost cards or realize that a Paw Patrol Uno one can be a great replacement. This article is full of great first-hand accounts of what survival looks like in pandemic parenting. And I got this tip out of it: “We also created a code word: ‘Space Attack!’ Whenever one of us says it, we all have to scatter so we don’t lose our tempers at each other.”
I had better end there because those little aliens are arriving, and I anticipate a “Space Attack!” I just hope I didn’t miss that short window during the day when exclamatory remarks are allowed.
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