The familiarity of a pandemic

It's been six weeks since our family moved towards what we now call, quarantine life.
A month and a half, already.
That amount was shocking for the kids.

No friends at school.
No coffee chats with the ladies at work.
No commute.

I've been trying all week to come up with the words to explain how we've adjusted as a family. This new life of ours is all at once very, very different.

But also,
familiar.

I know that probably sounds wild, but over the last six weeks I've noticed that many of the feelings other people have expressed during this global pandemic, have been lived in our home before now.

Frustration.
Difficulty with blurred lines between work and home.

For many who now find themselves working from home while supporting the distance learning of their children, many days are ending in tears, arguments and a sense of helplessness. I sit very comfortably in this feeling, however, because I freelanced for nearly five years. Never once during that time did I have boundaries between home and career, often working with a baby on my lap. It was some of the most exhausting work I ever experienced, and while it is truly difficult, I feel well-prepared this time around, for the most part.

Fear.
Intense, debilitating fear.

We know this beast well. We looked cancer in the eye and genuinely wondered if it would take our daughter. Fear of loss and sickness continues to rear it's ugly head when triggered, especially right now. We continue to look it in the eye at a distance, as we meet new childhood cancer families and stand behind, but always part, of their support network. This one requires the strongest mindfulness techniques to combat, from my experience.

Anxious, debilitating worry.
Never-ended rumination about what could happen.

This is our life with anaphylaxis. We legitimately worry about dairy attacking our son the way many describe their ongoing concerns about COVID-19. It's stop-you-in-your-tracks worry, but it's literally our life, every day. It's not going away. And just as the world hopes for a cure, we pray for new therapy to reduce the life-threatening nature of a simple allergen. From experience, anxious thought requires open, honest communication to lessen the rumination.

Isolation.
Being alone and feeling unconnected to others.

Ah, this feeling was also prominent during Brooklyn's cancer journey. Whether it was isolation in a hospital room, or in our home, we felt incredibly detached from our usual community. At some points we stopped reaching out to others because we were just trying to survive. My guess is that this is a very normal feeling when dealing with life-changing health events.

Who knew that five years of freelancing, a cancer journey and living with food allergy, along with a conscious choice to buy less 'stuff' and slow down our family lifestyle, could have prepared us for a pandemic.

But it has.

And I find myself oddly comforted by these familiar feelings. I lean into this crazy, wild time and find myself thinking,
if we survived all of that, we'll get through this too.
And I believe we will.
All of us.

But that doesn't mean it's been easy.

We endured two weeks of very scary germs, in the last six weeks.
Said goodbye to our sweet old dog, Moses.
I have had near daily dreams about scarcity, forgetting important items and not knowing what to do.
I cry, a lot. In fact, every one of us cries pretty regularly.

I MISS HUGGING THE PEOPLE I LOVE.
This one deserves capitals. It's not enough to see their lovely faces, I am a hugger and miss the transfer of love that comes when family and friends embrace for a moment or two, to say they care.

This is an exceptionally difficult time to be alive.
But if I am right, it's one we will look back on someday and feel really proud about.

We're learning a lot about ourselves.
Other people.
Bad habits.
Things we really didn't need.
How the earth can heal.

How will the world awaken from this pandemic?
What will people never go back to doing?
Will people see how much 'stuff' they never needed?
What family values will change as a result of this time?
Will the earth finally receive the respect it deserves?
Will healthcare heroes continue to feel the love through long-lasting changes in the availability of PPE to keep them safe?
Will frontline workers finally get the living wages they deserve?
Will the world idolize the wealthy few less, and the collective community more?

I am so curious.
And optimistic.

And I hope you are, too.
Hang in there. Ride the waves. Anchor in self-care.

We can do this.

Performance indicators of a life well-lived

Today marks exactly five years since I announced I was leaving an awesome full time job to become a freelance work-at-home mom. It was a very scary decision, but it felt innately comfortable.

Five years and a lifetime ago.

What astounds me about the last five years is that I do not have a single regret.

I do not regret putting my career on the back burner.
I do not regret the late, late work nights.

Not the burn out.
Not the exhaustion.
Not even the lack of 'me time'.

Don't get me wrong, the last five years have been incredibly difficult.
Painful at times, both physically and emotionally.

But my performance indicators were simple.
My decision to leave my career was based on the desire for simple things.

Balance in our home.
Time with our children.
A deeper family love.

I say 'our' in each of those first two statements because this wasn't a decision I made alone. I made it with my greatest cheerleader and best friend in life and parenting. We made this decision together.

To have less vacations.
But more time.

To buy less stuff.
But share more meaningful moments.

The performance indicators of my freelance business were not what a student reads in business texts.

I did not intend to build a large clientele.
I had no desire to work entrepreneurial hours to grow financially.

I chose balance.
I worked some, but less than full time.
I said no to projects, if they threatened my ability to be a mom.
I turned down dozens, dare I say hundreds of networking opportunities.

All to be with my family. At home. Together.
And I regret none of it.

So while a textbook may say that, by growth standards, I have failed, I am proud to have succeeded in business the last five years based on the deeply personal and engaging relationships I have with all three of my children as well as the equally strong and loving relationship I have with my husband.

Life is not always about income.
A position title on a business card.
Professional growth.

For some of us, at one time or for a long time, the performance indicators of a life well-lived are simply based on love, family and balance.

My riding partners

Have you ever been on the Drop Zone ride at Canada's Wonderland?

It's the one where you strap yourself in and then slowly, but surely, head straight up the very tall pole until you stop. In the moments that follow, you feel equal parts amazed at the view from up high and terrified as you know what comes next will be an epic thrill.

Your feet dangle.

Your heart races.

You look around at the faces of family members riding along side you and your eyes meet... 'what the heck were we thinking?' you say silently.

Then, you drop.

Fast. Hard.

Insanely quick.

And just like that, the ride is over. Your heart is still racing. You legs are weak. You stumble off, grab the arm of your riding partner and decide that, for now, ice cream is about all you can handle. Then you wander off to find that yummy chocolate-chip-cookie-with-chocolate- chips-treat they sell for too much money.

That about sums up my life at the moment.

The drop is a near-daily occurrence for me. A roller coaster of emotions as I struggle to be a great mom, great wife, great instructor, great freelance professional.

I'm exhausted. Actually I've never felt more exhausted in my life. Yet I strap myself in every morning, say a silent prayer that I'll be 'great' today and prepare myself for the inevitable rise.

I try, whenever possible, to enjoy the view. My kids are beautiful, growing and smarter than I ever imagined. In those moments, I am comforted by their hugs and smiles.

Then, I panic.

How in the world am I ever going to get (insert project, prep, other work-related requirement) done in time to sleep tonight? How can I possibly be a great mom/wife if all I do is work?

I can feel my feet dangling, The inevitable about to happen.

I'm going to drop.

Thankfully for me, I have two amazing riding partners.

One is Jay. He is calm, loving and ever-supportive. He reminds me that - yes - we are about to drop. But the ride is purposeful, fun and there's a treat at the end so just hang in there.

The other is my mom. She is warm, empathetic and an excellent listener. She too, reminds me that the ride is worth enjoying, that it's ok to be scared and that, no matter how much I scream, she will love me and my family just the same.

Best. Riding. Partners. Ever.

I love you both.
xo

One year later... the marathon continues...

I cannot believe I'm approaching one year since my 'big move' to work-at-home mama. The last 12 months have absolutely flown by, and yet I feel as though many more 'aha moments' were captured as a result. It obviously suits our family, as I'm now 26 weeks pregnant with a little man who 'ninja turtles' my belly all day and night, apparently anxious to arrive early and meet his siblings. I've learned so much about myself, my kids and my husband as a result.

First up, let me share my thoughts as the know-it-all at Hummingbird Communications...

One year of freelancing, it feels like a bit of a marathon. No one warned me how difficult freelancing would be! Recall that feeling of beginning a new job and attempting to learn the culture, social norms and communication style of your peers and superiors. It's exhausting right? Well lucky me, I've had to do it about six times over this last year. Ha!

While I shine bright gold on the true colours personality scale, I'm also a strong blue - highly tuned to the emotions of others. As a result, I've often found myself struggling to understand the nuances of emails from clients more so than necessary. As most of my work takes place virtually, it can be difficult to go lengthy periods of time between face-to-face communications. I've learned to ask for clarification and request additional background information in order to best serve my clients.

Freelancing also requires intense discipline. I knew this, but I still struggle to sit down at 8pm to 'work' after 'working' all day with my kids. The most difficult times are on weekends... I have to visualize myself duct-taped to the desk just to meet deadlines... and you would too, if your kiddos were playing spy agents around your PC and screaming and fighting with each other in the same room (or one room above or below you). Ear plugs are my friend.

My relationship with my kids is stronger, and more meaningful than ever. Not to suggest career moms have any less a relationship with their kids - kudos to each and every one of you for balancing both worlds - but for our family, this was the only way. I shudder to think of where we'd be if I hadn't spoken up and had an honest, frank discussion with my hubby. Our family is fiercely loving, enormously joyful and man oh man, we are busy! I feel blessed to see N take giant leaps in his literacy skills right in front of my eyes. I send prayers of thanks for witnessing B's incredible speech development. I LOVE THESE KIDS. And I love being home with them.

Most of all, this last year has taught me that without a doubt, without the tinest second thought, my hubby is the absolute perfect partner and best friend I could ever ask for. He supports my work, my parenting decisions and reminds me when its time to take a break. He lives and breathes for our kids, and his love for me is written all over his face. I love him and couldn't do this without him.

This summer will present challenges for us that we've never experienced... a third child, our first newborn experience without the support of maternity benefits... however I know we're still in the right place, the right space, to make this possible.

"Act, as if everything depended upon you. And pray, as if everything depended upon God."

Off to the races folks...