Motherhood in the Time of COVID-19: It's okay to vent.

As moms, it's our job to fix everything. Always. We kiss away the pain of scraped knees, comfort the broken hearts of teen romances, and console the disappointed dreams of failed exams, sports losses, and college rejection letters. We are always on the frontline, first to offer support and encouragement. We make it all better. It's our job.

But what about when we can't?

Sometimes life brings such challenging circumstances that even a mom's love isn't enough. Sometimes we simply don't have the energy to meet all the needs of every kid all the time. Sometimes, though well intended, we just mess up. The truth is every one of our children will one day have reason to sit in a therapist's office, burdened with some demon that is the result of an unmet childhood need. I often wonder what that might look like for my kids. Am I too protective? Not protective enough? Will my anxiety ultimately make them anxious? Is my focus on fitness and body image causing them harm? Do I worry too much about the little things? Do I not worry enough about the big ones? The list goes on.

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I take comfort in the promise that the atonement of Christ has the power to heal and to make up the difference where I fall short in their lives. I think of my Heavenly Parents and their unyielding love for each of us. They were the only perfect parents, and even they lost a third of their kids. Somehow, this gives me solace.

But COVID-19 has thrown me right off the parenting rails, especially with regard to my two unmarried sons, Isaiah and Seth. This virus has halted both their lives, just as it has for almost everyone, but I feel like I should be able to fix it for these two. I should be able to make their lives better. Because that's my job. I realize it's irrational. I can't eradicate the virus. I can't make it less dangerous. I can't decide it's safe to cease social distancing when clearly, it is not.

For Isaiah, COVID has stifled the two passions of his life: the NBA and international travel. All he has left is his job, which he does here at home, day after day. He rarely leaves the house. On the one hand, that means he's very safe; on the other hand, it's a recipe for depression. More than anything, I want him to be able to travel. He has a trip to Japan with some friends planned for November, but will they even be able to go?

For Seth, it's a matter of his absent social life. He was abruptly taken out of his mission in Paraguay five months early, and returned to 14 days of total quarantine, followed by social distancing. Unfortunately, the Gen Z community, with its still developing cognitive maturity, seems to mostly ignore COVID-19. Seth has just one friend who practices social distancing as we do (Thank you, Kara!). All the others are gathering in groups, dating, throwing parties, eating in restaurants. Every day Seth turns down at least one invitation to something or other. It makes me so sad. I want to help. I want to fix it. I want him to be happy.

Seth doesn't complain much. He has no desire to cease social distancing because he understands its importance. His two grandmas will be 82 and 90 this year. He cares about older people. But it's so hard to feel so left out of a social scene that was once so important to him, friends he hasn't seen for two years and still can't see, other than 6 ft. apart, wearing protective masks. It's no life for a young single adult.

AND I WANT SO DESPERATELY TO FIX IT FOR HIM! But I don't know how. When will he be able to see his friends? I have no idea.When will he get to go to college? No idea. When will his current circumstances change? No clue. No timeline. That is the most frustrating part.

Last night he was voicing some of that frustration, and I immediately felt that "mom need" to fix it. I began talking in circles, searching for the right thing to say, something that would give him hope. Finally, he said, "I know you can't solve this thing, Mom. I just needed to vent."

Well, it's okay to vent. Perfectly okay. Social media has produced some posts recently, shaming people for their feelings of frustration over prolonged social isolation. Some even go so far as to remind us of our Jewish brothers and sisters, who hid for months in small spaces, barely allowed to speak or move or do anything at all. And here we sit with our laptops, TVs, iPads, and smart phones.

But a wise therapist I once sought out for help with my dumb anxiety told me something I won't soon forget: "You can't compare pain," she said. She's right. Always there will be those who suffered more than we did. Always there will be circumstances so much worse than our own. That doesn't mean it's not okay to feel our feelings.

Motherhood in the time of COVID-19. It's okay to vent.

"There is NOTHING you have to do": Anxiety dreams? Anxiety non-dreams?

I just wrote a note to myself on an actual piece of paper that I will place strategically here on my nightstand, easily accessible throughout the night. In big letters, it reads "There is NOTHING you have to do for school or on your computer: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! (Go to sleep!)"

Who remembers the student anxiety dream? You come to the very end of the semester. Finals week looms just ahead, and suddenly you realize you were registered for a class that you never attended. Somehow, some way, this whole class slipped past you. Now you're going to earn an "F," which will plague your GPA for the rest of your natural life. You'll probably never graduate from college, and if you manage to somehow squeak by with a degree, one look at that transcript and no one will ever hire you. The classic student anxiety dream.

My kids tell me there's a similar dream for servers. You suddenly realize that you haven't greeted half your tables, and all your food comes up at the same time, except for the one table whose food you forgot to ring in. Then you deliver the food, but it's all wrong. Every order is completely messed up, everyone is yelling at you, and every time you pick up a glass to pour a beverage, it breaks. The classic server anxiety dream.

But what about anxiety non-dreams? Lately, I spend way too much time awake at night, certain there is something urgent I need to do for one of my classes, something on the computer, but hard as I try, I can't figure out what it is. It feels like it's right on the edge of my brain, so close, but I can't quite access it. This is not a dream. I am not asleep. I lie in bed, convinced I have forgotten to do this critical thing for my students, always on my computer. I've even gotten up, opened my laptop, and tried remember what it is, always to no avail. Why? Because it's a pile of crap. It doesn't exist. There IS. NO. THING.

This anxiety non-dream makes a small degree of sense during the semester, you know, when I actually have classes. With real students. Right now, I'm between semesters. I submitted final grades for spring last Wednesday. I'm officially off contract. I'm not getting paid, meaning I'm essentially unemployed until mid-June, and yet....and yet. This stupid anxiety non-dream continues to haunt me practically every night.

Last night was especially bad. I was awake at least three hours trying so hard to remember. This "thing" was right there in front of me, I felt like, but I couldn't grasp it. At least with anxiety dreams, you wake up. You wake up! And you realize none of it was true. But I'm already awake. It's way scarier.

So tonight, I try a new plan: this note. Wish me luck, dear readers, because this super sucks. I need to sleep, uninterrupted. I'm on break, for heaven's sake. I shouldn't be thinking about school. Or students.

Or make-believe stuff I forgot to do.

Mother's Day 2020: You five are my everything.

Yesterday morning, during our social-distancing walk, Emily and I dove right into the most natural conversation topic: "How was your Mother's Day?" Of course there's the obvious. Quarantined holidays don't quite measure up. Since the shelter-in-place advice was first issued, our family has celebrated three birthdays, plus General Conference, Easter, and now Mother's Day. We also welcomed our missionary home, abruptly and prematurely. Life goes forward, COVID-19 or not, just differently.

Emily mentioned that she and Trent got to go somewhere together, kid free, courtesy of two of her sisters, who are currently staying at their house. Where did they go? I don't think I asked. Because really, where could they go? Maybe for a walk in a park? For a drive? To get some takeout? When they returned, her sweet sisters commented on the experience of caring for a 4-year-old and a 2-month-old. "Jeffrey cries and needs soothing, but then the second he is better, Evelyn needs a drink. Then Jeffrey is unhappy again because we put him down."

Rinse and repeat, the cycle continues.

"Welcome to my life!" Emily replied. Then she said something that resonated right through me. I'm paraphrasing here, but she noted how through this cycle of helping each kid as much as you can, then switching to the other, back and forth, you come out of it all feeling like no one's needs are getting met perfectly, and that you're not ever doing quite enough, even though you're trying with all your might. I told her I wish I could tell her that gets better, but I really can't. Cuz even though her kids are tiny and mine are older, I feel exactly the same.

Motherhood is the craziest gig. It's simultaneously challenging and joyful, frustrating and fabulous, heart wrenching and heartwarming. It makes us doubt ourselves on the daily, while highlighting more clearly than anything else, our divine nature. It tests us to our very core, as it digs deep to find the absolute best we have to offer. It's a paradox of feelings, often surfacing one on top of the other, as we move from kid to kid, from need to need, stretching in ways we never thought possible.

I often comment that I was a better mom to little kids and teens than I am to young adults. The former always felt like a a better fit. Seth is still technically a "teen," thank heavens! No idea what I'll do when he turns 20 next month. Let's not talk about it. Regardless, I am grateful beyond description for the chance to be a mom; no other role makes me happier, and this Mother's Day, though unusual, was still lots of fun.

Here are some highlights:

A few days prior to Sunday, Shulamith and I went on a hike to a place called Mill B South. I use the word "hike" loosely; it was just 0.5 miles. But the rushing water alongside the short trail was beautiful, and it was a great day. I see more hikes in our future this summer.

A few days before that, we decided to bathe both the dogs. We didn't get a picture of Waffles, but here's Woof:

On Mother's Day, itself, I awoke to Seth, carrying a plate full of eggs and chocolate chip pancakes. He has been bringing me breakfast in bed on Mother's Day ever since he was a little boy, and with the exception of last year (when he was in Paraguay), he hasn't missed a year. Over the years, the cuisine has definitely improved. He learned how to cook eggs on his mission. Protein was scarce in parts of Paraguay, so they threw an egg on just about everything.

Mid morning, Seth and I drove to the stake center, where our awesome stake presidency hosted a drive-by for the women in the stake. They wished me a Happy Mother's Day, and gave me an ice-cold Diet Coke, a Haagen-Dazs ice cream bar, and a dark chocolate truffle. We're talking legit treats. They also had plants, but I suggested they not waste a perfectly good plant on me. No doubt it would be dead before we ever made it home.

Next, the plan was to gather at a park for lunch, takeout from Buffalo Wild Wings. Isaiah volunteered to take everyone's requests and order and pick up the food. I requested my favorite sauce, honey barbecue, and mounds of the best onion rings on the planet. If you haven't had them, you're missing out. As we were about to leave, we found out that Eli was feeling sick (JUST a stomach upset, NOT the virus), so he and Amanda weren't coming. That was the only sad part of the day. In addition to not having them with us, I had really wanted to get a picture of me with all four kids who live here in Utah (our oldest son lives in Maryland). It was not to be. Instead, Matt took this one picture, and then Shulamith took one of me with my new Bluetooth headphones. I got two presents (!) from my nice children: new walking shoes, plus these headphones, for the times I have to walk alone, without Emily or Seth. I can listen to music or talk to my mom on the phone, hands free. Yay! It was such a fun afternoon. We laughed so much!

For the past 10ish years, I have spent Mother's Day at Macaroni Grill, where one or more of my kids was working. This year was different. Social distancing. No eating inside restaurants. But it was still good.

Thank you Luke, Shulamith, Isaiah, Eli, and Seth for the profound privilege of being your mom. I wouldn't trade this role for anything. You five are my greatest accomplishment (which isn't saying much because I suck at most things), but still.

You are my everything.

Today, I Miss Corner Bakery

I'm trying hard not to whine today. It would be highly hypocritical if I did because I'm definitely one who supports continued social distancing. I think the decision to reopen certain public establishments and allow larger gatherings was dangerously premature, and now I'm even more terrified of this stupid virus than I was before. I am staying home. Other than my social-distanced walking regimen and sitting in wide-open parks eating takeout, I'm home.

That said, today, I'm also missing Corner Bakery. Once upon a time, I wasn't a fan of Corner Bakery, because I loved Paradise Bakery so much that I couldn't imagine switching. Paradise holds so many memories, even from way back before I lived in Utah. One time in 2009, when I was here visiting Shulamith, her internet was down, and we had to go to Paradise to get online.

But then in 2017, this happened. No more Paradise. I had to make a change, and that change turned out to be Corner Bakery by Fashion Place Mall in Murray. Corner Bakery is my respite from the world, especially during times when I have lots of grading to do. Here are some reasons why: grilled egg, cheese, and avocado paninis; pumpkin muffins; endless Diet Coke fountain with good ice; zero distractions from my family.

The semester at SLCC officially ended yesterday. That means the pressure's on to get stuff graded in order to submit final grades by the deadline next week. Where would I typically do this? Corner Bakery! No doubt under normal circumstances, I would spend many hours there in the next few days.

Instead, I'm stuck at home. There are no grilled egg, cheese, and avocado paninis here. There are no pumpkin muffins. There is no Diet Coke fountain, only dumb cans that get warm way too fast because I get involved in reading essays and forget to drink.

And let's talk about distractions. The biggest one these days is a ludicrous TV show called Survivor. We've already established that I'm a reality TV failure, but this one is particularly bad. Like most reality TV, every Survivor episode is the same. A bunch of emaciated people (because producers starve them half to death) are stuck out in some remote swampland, where it's so hot, they hardly wear any clothes. They do inane physical challenges in order to escape being voted off the island at the end of the show, or they find some statue thing that gives them immunity. Yep, it's as silly as it sounds. But you haven't even heard the worst part: the show is Rated "S." Indeed, those disgusting creatures are all over the place, popping up unexpectedly, plotting to give heart attacks to ophidiophobes like me.

For some reason, the newly returned Elder Erichsen (aka Seth) has decided to watch all 40 seasons of this S-rated show, one after the other, and Isaiah, who is "working from home," is rewatching all of them with him. Guys, it's literally the only show on my family room TV. Ever. For days. Which means I can't be in my family room. I'm banished to my bedroom to grade all this stuff.

Now I know what you're thinking: "Terrianne, it's your house. It's your family room. It's your TV." All true. But you see, I love these two guys so much. My heart delights at their simultaneous laughter when something funny happens on the show. (How could anything funny happen on this show? No idea.) Nevertheless, they didn't see each other for nearly 20 months. They missed each other. Sooner than later, Isaiah will go back to working at his office. Seth will go away to college. Despite the circumstances that created it, we will cherish the good parts of this quarantine, and this is one memory I will cherish.

I know I will. Just not so much today. Today, I miss Corner Bakery.