Breathing. Just breathing.

We hope that you had a wonderful Easter. We did.

Though Easter was nice, we may have officially bottomed out. The other day, Ben came to sit beside me on the couch for awhile as I did something. I don’t remember now what it was. Maybe providing feedback on student activities. Maybe playing Words With Friends. Maybe writing a grocery list with the precision of one planning an armed bank heist. I don’t remember. At a certain point, I asked Ben, “What’s up, Buddy?” He answered, “Breathing. Just breathing around here.”

I don’t think Ben was complaining of boredom, and I don’t think he understands that breathing difficulty is one of Covid 19’s hallmarks. I think he was just trying to give an accurate account of how he spent his morning. 

It seems impossible that I could be busier and more stressed now than I would be under normal circumstances. The numbers just don’t add up. Keeping my students engaged remotely should be easily combined with keeping the family fed and corralled, but somehow, every minute feels like aimless urgency. 

The circumstances of families during this time vary widely, and I believe that school districts are doing their best to provide educational activities without penalizing those who can’t access them. The struggles in our household are manageable, but the terrain is new.

Maybe I need to take a page out of Ben’s playbook and reframe my ideas of productivity and success. Ben seems to have an internal calibration mechanism that keeps him sunny-side up. 

Once when Ben was in grade school, Cate was over playing the board game Candyland with him. Though Cate transitioned beautifully into being his caretaker a few years ago, at the time, they were playmates. From another room, I overheard Ben asking Cate every three seconds, “Am I winning?  Am I winning?” 

This can be exasperating for anyone, but Cate was exceptionally poised, even as an 8 year old, and eventually replied, “Well, do you feel like a winner?” 

This was all Ben needed, “Yes! I’m a winner! I’m a winner!” 

Cate answered, “Well, there you go.”

I still have no idea who actually won the game of Candyland that day, but the fact that he had a friend that could frame it as a win for him was everything.

Maybe I don’t need to do a million things perfectly. Maybe the vacuuming can wait. Maybe lunch today is a box of macaroni and cheese. Maybe some days success has a new baseline: just breathing.