Last month of school

So far, so good. The boys endured their second school-administered covid test yesterday; waiting on Bobby’s but Theo’s came back negative (every time they have a test I can’t help but reference the Chris Rock joke about taking an HIV test - “I passed - I got a 65”). I’m actually kind of surprised by how smoothly the whole transition back to school has been, for everyone. I think it’s one of those things where everyone is just so happy to be there and so full of joy at finally coming out of this nightmare that it just makes everything work. I anticipate a similar response to my event, when it happens - mostly, people will be so glad to be there they’ll let some of our mistakes slide. I know I would.

Since I don’t talk about their personalities much, here’s a snapshot of what these boys are like at nine and seven:

Bobby is the quintessential older brother: bossy, entitled, introverted, a bit of a loner, and yet is whip smart, very funny and ironic, and can be very sensitive and loving. He’s still a very sweet boy. He’s not someone I would ever worry about being a bully or cruel. He’s so much like me it’s scary - always on the periphery, preferring others to have the attention, not speaking unless spoken to. I think my favorite thing is his sense of humor, though. He’s got that sharp, sardonic wit that I just love. I think that will help him in life overcome whatever social insecurities he may have. 

Theo is a social butterfly and a little performer. As we’re entering or exiting school, he says hello to everyone - even the girls, good boy - and is very polite and respectful. Right now he’s in a people-pleasing mode - always does his work, is happy to help, asks permission for things. I worry when that phase passes, which it must. He’s hard to pin down - he spaces out and zooms into things and you have to repeat yourself a thousand times - but I long ago learned to find joy in rolling that stone up that hill; I could lose my mind over how often I have to repeat myself because they don’t listen, and have a household where I’m constantly frustrated and angry and they’re sad and scared of me, or I could accept that this is how kids’ brains work and just roll with it. I choose the latter. 

I spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about when it’s all going to go horribly wrong - when these boys will declare their hatred of me, start sulking as a default, and become victim to the hurricane of hormones that’s coming for them. But then I remember a great deal of this is projecting my own puberty experience onto them, which is unfair. When I was that age, things fell apart - my anxiety and depression kicked into high gear, my trichotillomania took over and made my life a torment, I was left alone in a small apartment with no TV most of the time, I was in a large dangerous city at one of the worst times to be there, I was the only poor kid in a performing arts school full of wealthy kids, and I was trying to be a little actress and facing endless rejection. And it was the 80s, with all the toxicity that entails. Not that these boys won’t have their own unique struggles with peers and school and whatever is going on with the adults in their lives, but it just can’t be the same as what I went through. The BF and I have often looked at our turbulent teen years where we were, essentially, thrown away and left to our own devices, and just can’t fathom that for our kids - I picture them excelling at school, in lots of activities with groups of friends, working towards their futures and planning for college. I don’t picture them in a situation where they would decide they hate us or think we’re so unfair. Because we’re not. We’re reasonable, and I always aim for more freedom for these kids vs more control for me - I want them to stretch their wings and try things, even if it’s scary for me. So will their adolescence be different, better, even with all the heartbreak and embarrassment and bad choices and disappoint bound to happen? I sincerely hope so.

I so wish my aunt were here so I could pick her brain about raising two boys close in age. But she’s not. Ironically, these boys are a direct result of her untimely death. So there’s that.

After a stressful day of back-and-forth texts with the desert contractor, we made arrangements to meet him out there on Sunday. I’m so relieved. I didn’t think he understood what we really want from the place (or half the time he sort of did, but then would try to upsell us on landscaping and fencing and all this stuff we don’t want) and it was getting extremely frustrating to have to explain the same things over and over - and also to have to make decisions about things we don’t understand, like window placement and where to put the outhouse, etc etc. I did get him to tell me there might be a couple of month-long projects ahead of ours, which means he wouldn’t start until late summer, maybe. But that’s cool. I’m just excited to get it settled. Hopefully things go well on Sunday, fingers crossed. 

Also, in case I never mentioned it, neither the BF nor I had any ill effects from the second Moderna shot at all. Go figure. Fully vaxxed by next Wednesday, woot!