It is What It Is!

This is the last week of homeschooling, praise the Lord and all of his Saints! Mission Accomplished, one less battle.  However, like with all battles in life, this one brought it´s corresponding debris with it.

Bipolar Disorder

Homeschooling for me was an alien concept.  The only people that did it, I imagined belonging to an extremist cult that mils their cows and makes their own cheese in their backyards or something.  When I had to do it myself, I panicked. I created a defense mechanism in order to not go mad.  When I lay down at night, I divided in two. One part of me was the serene, wise woman that repeated phrases like… oh come on, it can´t be that bad…you´re exaggerating.  The other woman, a crazy psycho, wailing on the pillow… ¿what do you mean it´s not that bad? Have you forgotten what it was to sit down for seven straight hours in a classroom?  Have you not forgotten what Geometry, Trigonometry, Grammar, Algebra means? …These words pound in my head like insults, like bad words that some demented serial killer shouts at me in the street.

Even when I go out for a walk, the crazy lady that lives in my head is counting minutes backwards… you only have 23 minutes of being all by yourself….22, 21, 20…. My God!  Please be quiet! Enjoy your last minutes…. Let´s see… breathe in and out… these are my mental dialogues.  I´m telling you, Jenkyll and Hyde are my new best friends nowadays.

Stupidity

I mean, it´s not like I was an A plus student, but for crying out loud…. Now that Isabel is learning the time tables, I realize that indeed, I have developed some mental lagoons in the times seven one… seven times eight, seven times nine… I mean come on! That´s just embarrassing! Might it be because of using my cell phone so much? And the worst thing of all is that I not only realize my stupidity, but during this lockdown my kids have also discovered I´m stupid!  Because of course, when you’re not with them half the time, it´s easy to have your secrets well hidden.  Now, with this pandemic business, being a little mysterious is impossible.  This is totally unfair.  Hiding little secrets must be a mother’s right.

Humiliation

Now that we have been spending more time together…. Well, let me rephrase… now that we have been spending the WHOLE time together with no escape whatsoever, I realize that I have become an entertainment for mi kids.  Because I can´t go to the gym now, I have been taking yoga classes from Youtube.  One day, while I was in the so called Downward Facing Dog position and my “spiritual serenity” was interrupted by giggles from my children.  Turns out, my yoga pants had a hole that stretched out more and more.  This hole was a result of my weight gain during the lockdown.  I had to order three more pairs of yoga pants (my new uniform) now, a larger size than the past era, because all this so called “creativity” in the kitchen has billed an expensive invoice to my butt.  

Impunity

To contributye to my madness, the rules of this house have very much relaxed these days.  As of always, my kids are strictly forbidden to wander about in the pantry.  In this matter I am like the Gestapo.  I hate to find breadcrumbs or little bits of this or that on the floor.  If I discover my children in the pantry, they immediately know they will not be allowed to access any sort of video game or electronic device for three days.  But, the other day, it was I that was discovered binging on cookies, hiding in a corner, lights out and everything.  To my defense…it was midnight! At that time, any vice of character is legal because kids should be in bed.  But, with this disorder of schedule, everything is screwed up.   They gazed at me eyes wide open.  Isabel told me that I should be forbidden to use my cell phone for three days.  Of course I yelled at them, projecting cookie crumbs from my mouth as I sent them to their rooms immediately.  I could hear them bursting in laughter while climbing up the stairs.  This is what my authority and government looks like lately.

So here you have it, a bipolar lady that hides to binge on cookies, that is forgetting her time tables, that disobeys her own rules.  That’s right.  Now, every time my kids discover me with a cookie in hand, cussing on the phone, or with a hole in my pants…. I repeat my new mantra… Hey… It is What it Is!   This woman, this new mother that you have discovered during Covid, she’s the only one you have, like it or not, so…. Deal with it!

Regina Moya, Day 70 of lockdown.