And off she goes

 How's the saying go?

"The days are long but the years are short"...

Oh Chloe Louise, out of all my children, you made my days the longest.

I'm not sure what I expected when you were born. I think I expected you to be like your sisters. I think I expected you to be easy.

All I know for sure is I was incredibly unprepared.

I was pregnant during 9/11, and so when you were born the following spring it felt so good to feel happy again. I had a water delivery with you, and when you were born I pulled you out of the water and looked right into your deep, steady brown eyes. I was so excited, I finally had a baby that had brown eyes like me. You didn't even really cry much at first. Just kind of looked around, maybe a little annoyed you weren't as warm as you were just a few minutes prior.

You could tell you were born in water because you loved any chance to swim. By the time you were 15 months old, I could put you in a bathing suit with the life jacket floaties built in, and you could swim complete laps in our in-ground pool. Nothing scared you. Not your sisters, not your parents. Nothing.

It was like you were born with this baby fierceness. We laughed about it at first. Like when you were about 2 and you started, for no reason at all, kicking your great uncle Bud in the shins every time you saw him. Why? We have no idea. We figured you'd forget about him by the next year. Nope. You'd see him across the room, talking to your great grandma Tillie. Then you'd muster up all the strength you had in your 28 pound body, and march over to deliver a sharp roundhouse kick in Bud's shins once again. It became an unfortunate annual event. Luckily our family has a warped sense of humor and is very forgiving.

Maybe because you were the third child or maybe because it was just your personality, but you never waited for permission for anything. You saw an opportunity and you seized it. Unknowingly you embraced one of my mottos: It's always easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission (most likely a contributing factor in my divorce, but I digress...)

You challenged your daycare and preschool teachers daily, and carried it into elementary school. Do you know how nervously I laughed when your kindergarten teacher had to inform me that you mooned the cafeteria and yelled, "Everybody, check it OUT!" You were 5.

I used to think you did it all because you liked attention. I understood that, I like attention too. But then I began to see that you knew from the very beginning that you were going to seize the opportunity in front of you, and not even bat an eyelash to someone or something that stood in your way.

You always made us laugh. You were an entertainer and a natural athlete. Dramatic and over the top. You demanded my attention, constantly. And woe is me if I didn't give you the attention you craved and needed at that very moment.

Sometimes you would be so relentless that I would snap. "Chloe Louise! Jesus, just give me a minute... I have shit to do." You didn't care. You'd follow me around and never let up.

Now in total fairness to you, there were times it was necessary. Like when you kept telling me your arm hurt and I brushed it off, only to find out a week later it was broken. There we were, standing in the doctor's office, looking at the xray as he pointed out the obvious fracture. You were about waist high, and the glare you were shooting me could have set my skin on fire. "What did I tell you MOM?" I tried not to make eye contact with you because you were in no mood to let me off the hook.

One time I took you and your brother to the park where I had a workout session planned with my trainer, The Tin Man. You were 8. After my workout we were all walking back to my car. The Tin Man looked at you and tried to make a joke. "What are you looking at?" he laughed.

You stopped, with your arms crossed across your chest and your hip slightly jutted off to the side. You gave him a slow and deliberate up and down scan with your eyes, finally looking at him straight on.

You scoffed. "You ain't all that."

The Tin Man laughed nervously and said to me in all seriousness, "She scares the shit out of me."

I nodded. "Me too. Since birth."

When I was unemployed and watching "Maury" during the day with my friend Mandy, you'd overhear us talking about how some day we were going to fly out and be in the audience for the show. Imagine how fun it was at your next school conference when your teacher mentioned, "So I understand you're going to be ON the Maury show. As a guest?" I'm not sure if you announced at Show & Tell your mom was going to take a DNA test or what, but that was one of the most memorable conferences I ever had. I always ended up doing a lot of fake laughter and hurried explanations at those meetings. Hoping like hell a social worker wasn't going to follow up with me later.

Through the years it felt like sometimes I was merely attempting just to survive being your mama. It was never easy. You were always work. You never allowed anyone to get lulled into the thought you were just one of the kids. You required attention constantly. And sorry is the person who thought they could get away with just treating you like everyone else.

But you know what else came with that package of terrifying dynamite that made up you? An amazing and beautiful explosion of love and personality and loyalty and humor and a wit so strong it takes my breath away still.

You've used your talent to create incredible art. You're able to see possibility and beauty in not only objects but in people too. Your desire to create masterpieces seems to drive you, and your ability to see beauty in others is what warms my heart. Your creativity and your talent seem endless at times, so it seems only fitting you start your next adventure at Aveda.

When your senior year in high school ended abruptly because of the pandemic, I was heartbroken for you. No prom, no senior trip to Florida. In your typical fashion, you shrugged it off and started planning for your post high school life, not wasting time with something you couldn't control.

And tomorrow morning, you move to your new apartment in Minneapolis.

It's hard for me to imagine my daily life without you part of it. I've gotten used to the effort it takes in being your mom. Slackers need not apply ~ you wouldn't last a hot minute being this girl's mother.

As much physical and emotional work as you've been Chloe, and as many tears and fights and exhaustion we've shared, I know there will always be even more love and laughter. You are addictive in that sense. We are all lucky to be in your path. I can't believe how lucky I've been to be able to be your mama.

You have been a formidable, unstoppable and unforgiving FORCE since the beginning. Combined with power and sweetness, determination and love.

I'm just in awe I gave birth to the storm.

Pandemic Parenting...WTF

Good lord, how are y'all doing?
I think I speak for most of us when I say these last four weeks feel like it's been going on for a good six months at least.
So far 2020 has been a real kick in the ass, wouldn't you agree?
Within a matter of weeks, all of our lives were turned upside down. Schools started doing e-learning, people were working at home, and almost everyone started following states' stay-at-home orders. Toilet paper suddenly became as rare as a nun in a strip club.
When I realized that my kids weren't going to be going to school for the foreseeable future and would do their homework online, I was secretly relieved. Relieved because my two youngest are in high school and pretty self sufficient. I wasn't going to have to do much, unlike those other poor souls. And by poor souls I mean the parents who are going to have to actually HOME SCHOOL their kids. I would fail my kids so miserably if I had to do that, they'd undoubtedly be repeating the same grade next year.
I'm sure there are parents out there who are CRUSHING it with this at-home stuff.
I am not one of those parents.
I'm letting them sleep in, stay up late. I don't hound them about their homework unless I get an email or call from a teacher. Then I try to pretend I'm totally aware of it and assure them it will be turned in.
I don't know what I'm doing when it comes to parenting during this pandemic. Am I talking about it enough with them? Should I bring it up more? I know they're aware of what's going on.
Before the school shut down, my daughter Chloe, a senior, said "It's bad enough we have to worry about school shootings, now we have to worry about a virus that can kill us too??"
I had no answer for her. Maybe that's why I keep things lax at home. Half the time I don't even know what day of the week it is, I just wander around the kitchen aimlessly and open the fridge 17 times in an hour. We're all just kind of surviving in our "new normal."
The other day as I was taking a shower I raised my arms to wash my hair and let out a little scream. I can't remember the last time I had that much armpit hair. I glanced at my legs and shuddered. Yikes.
"Okay little buddy," I said as I picked up the razor. "Get ready. You're gonna have your work cut out for you." Once I got done weed-whacking my legs, I felt a little more normal.
Aside from my grown out roots and my disastrous attempt to cut some layers and trim my bangs, I'm just settling into my new identity of quarantine chic.
As a mom of older children, I have to admit there are some incredible benefits of everyone being forced to stay home.
I can't remember the last time we all had a movie night, so I suggested one at the beginning of all this. At the time a couple of my daughters weren't really talking to each other; they had been mad about something for a couple weeks and it was tense at times. You can't force teens and young adults to get along like when they're little and you can threaten them with both having to wear a single over-sized  "Get Along" shirt . But when everyone was sitting on the couch watching "Contagion" and eating snacks and laughing and getting along, I actually teared up because I was so giddy. Of course they made fun of me but I didn't care. Different things make me happy as a mom now.
When I told Chloe she couldn't go on the spring break trip to Florida with her friends at the end of March, I felt awful. She was already missing prom and her birthday party and all the fun at the end of senior year.
I may have felt awful, but Chloe was furious. For some reason I was the only mom sounding the alarm on this trip. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone... none of the other moms seem worried.
Luckily Clearwater's beaches officially closed, so I quickly sent the article to the mom planning the trip.
"Ok, we'll reschedule" she replied.
Whew, at least it wasn't just me being the overly cautious mom in the group.
Chloe was still angry. She stormed down to her room when I told her.
"Why are you mad at me?" I asked incredulously. "The trip HAS to be postponed, the beaches are closed. It's not just me saying you shouldn't go."
"Well, you saw to that didn't you?" she yelled back.
"So now I'm to blame for a GLOBAL PANDEMIC?? Ok, got it." I rolled my eyes.
If I'm getting blamed for things out of my control, then maybe things aren't all that different after all in our house. It's a little bit of"regular life" creeping back into our lives, and I'll take it.
I know in my heart things will go back to normal eventually. So I'm going to try not and beat myself up for watching too much Netflix and not enforcing stricter routines with the kids. I'm going to enjoy the nights home when we're all together, and make peace with my continual wardrobe of sweats.
We're all going to get through this, that's what is important.