Bopril

Thanksgiving 2020

After much contemplation and planning, we ended up traveling to Charleston for Thanksgiving so that we could be there for a while in advance of my brother's December wedding. It is beyond difficult to navigate the dynamics of the holidays and travel and the realities of COVID against the importance of family and the need to be present for milestone life moments. In the end, we decided to go, incorporating every safety measure at our disposal along the way. 

The travel itself was straightforward and seamless, the planes as clean and efficient as I've ever seen them. Airports were not overly crowded, and we felt safe throughout the day, able to carve out spaces away from others.

Once there, we settled deep into the heart of family and celebrated the holiday alongside the normal cadence of our recent days, homeschooling from various spots in my parents' house, setting up to work remotely in other available nooks and crannies. BJ cooked the entirety of the holiday meal as he is overjoyed to do (I think of Thanksgiving as his super bowl), and it was delicious. I offered a prayer that I love and that has never felt more relevant or true:

For food in a world where many are hungry.

For friends and this treasured family in a world where many walk alone.

For faith in a world where many live in fear.

For these and infinite other blessings, we give you thanks, O' Lord. 

I am grateful for so much this year, but the ability to be together, to be healthy and to celebrate important moments with those I love the most top the list. 

We are back in LA as I type this, finishing up our quarantine post travel to be extra safe, although it isn't terribly different from what all Angelenos are doing, given we are in the throes of another stay at home order. I am praying for a light at the end of the tunnel for all of us as vaccines loom on the horizon. I'm offering up my thanks to our healthcare heroes who give it their all day after day to fight for the most vulnerable among us. I'm praying for peace and unity to trump anger and division, for us to remember that our similarities really do outweigh our differences. I am eager to welcome a new year, but I'll close the door to this one with a grateful heart, eyes open and aware, spirit welcoming and humbled. It was a lovely Thanksgiving. I'm grateful for that, too. xo 

 

Halloween 2020

This holiday season is certainly different from any other, but we've managed to keep traditions in tact and the holiday spirit present and eager. 

Halloween was a quiet affair, gathered with our small group of treasured families that we've bubbled up with to weather the remainder of this epidemic while giving our kids some semblance of social normalcy. 

The costumes were terrific, the food and company even better. And the smiles on the kids' faces as they swung at pinatas and played together were a great reminder of resilience and of what really matters. They didn't get to trick-or-treat, but in the end, I don't think they even noticed. 

Such strange times we are living through, but I am grateful for the ability to celebrate the good stuff with my family and will never again take for granted the immense joy of a holiday gathering. 

Rowan's First Communion

Rowan received her first holy communion a couple of months ago, and it is the sort of thing I want to document, so I find myself here playing a bit of catch-up. 

The event was supposed to have happened in May, but was caught up in the COVID onslaught, like so much else. We waited patiently for it to be rescheduled, the weeks and months of prep she and her classmates had done fading quietly into the background. And then, it was here. And I didn't know what to expect, but as always, I was blown away by the beauty and grace and thoughtfulness of this church community. They made it beautiful and special and in spite of all the world was enduring as we sat in the courtyard that day, I know I'll always remember it for its joy and peace and poignance. 

Rowan was a vision in all white, mask included, and eight years kept playing on a loop in my mind and heart as I watched her receive this special sacrament. I'm left to wonder where the time has gone from her first white baptismal gown until now, but mostly, I am just so grateful for her beautiful spirit and the privilege of guiding her into each new life stage. 

Rowan Marie Carretta received her first holy communion at St. Paul the Apostle Catholic Church on Sunday, October 4th, 2020. It was our honor to stand by her side and bless her as she took another important step on her spiritual journey. It was a beautiful day, chock full of blessings. We love this girl with all our hearts, and we thank God for entrusting her to us. 

Congratulations, my beautiful girl. xo

 

 

Quarantine Notes: Week Four and Happy Easter!

Easter looked different than we had planned or than it has ever looked before, but it wasn't bad. Blessings were there, they just required us to look a little harder and to embrace the way things are with grateful hearts. Our church hosted beautiful masses throughout holy week, and Easter Sunday mass was no exception - it is a gift to be part of our school and church community, and I loved listening to the heartfelt blessings our priests poured out into our (virtual) parish. We listened to Andrea Bocceli from The Duomo -- I've perhaps never felt such meaning in a rendition of Ave Maria, and then Amazing Grace. So lovely of him to use that God-given gift to bring a moment of peace and joy to the world. 

There was brunch and bubbly and excited kiddos tearing through the backyard in search of plastic eggs. Oh, and the easter bunny found us thanks to the generosity and love of our sweet Nana Bunny. 

We were supposed to be in Charleston this week with my entire family for spring break, and I'll admit that I am feeling the distance from them in an especially acute way right now. But I am grateful for near daily FaceTimes or zoom calls and text exchanges that keep us close. I remind myself to focus on the true gift of family and the sort of closeness that no virus (or anything else) can touch or change or break. And when we are all together again, I know everyone will understand and be grateful in a new way for the gift of each another. 

We are ensconced in week five of quarantine now, and this week is less structured given we aren't in "school." We are embracing slower mornings and just seeing where the days take us. I have a loose goal of one activity per day outside the norm: yesterday the kids painted outside, but today they seem content with their legos and their play structure and each other, so perhaps we'll wait to pull out another activity until tomorrow. And so it goes. 

I still fill out my planner and derive great joy from crossing off tasks, whether for work or to help keep sanity in check. Daily vitamins, daily tea, tracking water intake, planning out workouts, setting goals to write here a couple of times each week. And then being ok with it when it all goes to hell for a day (like yesterday) and I do mostly nothing. That's alright too. 

And above all, I remain so grateful for our health, that we have each other, that we're able to work from home, for deep breaths and the ability to move, for cerulean skies and sunshine, for carefree drives along the coast. For our frontline heroes battling this beast every day (my God, the stories are endless and brutal and beautiful and I cry every single day at the beauty of the helpers and the resilience of humanity). As everyone says, we're in this together. Let's remember that when we are able to return to some semblance of normal, too.

Sending love far and wide! xo

 

 

 

Scenes from a Kindergarten Zoom

Graham has a pretty steady weekly schedule of zoom meeting across various classes. I typically sit across the table from him and work so I can listen in and help him if needed (to grab supplies or prompt him to answer a question, for example). 

But today, I just got to witness a precious and hilarious 30 minutes. These quotes are too good to keep to myself -- enjoy! 

He is mid-zoom with his library class and the teacher is reading a story to the kids. Every 30 seconds or so, we hear a rooster in the background. G's eyes get huge every time and after the third, he looks at me and says "Mom! Do you hear that?! Ms. Oliver's rooster won't stop cock-a-doodle-doing!" 

A little later, she showed them a video of a giraffe being born and then they talked about the baby's abilities and why they were necessary in the wild. G was pensive and quiet for a bit, and then:

 "Mom! This giraffe just pooped out its baby!

Me: "How neat that you get to see how a baby giraffe is born!"

"Well, that's weird."

After another brief pause: "AWKWARD!" And he adds a head smack to drive home the point. 

You're welcome, friends. 

Quarantine Notes: Week Three

This week, our third in quarantine, I thought so much about the concept of boredom. I have had many discussions with friends about it, sent lists of suggestions to fight it, read endless articles on the art of accepting it. But it isn't really a concept that I relate to in my daily life. In general, I am not bored. There are endless things to read, activities to design, rooms and closets and nooks and crannies to clean, walks to enjoy, habits to break and habits to establish. I am ok to sit. To think. To just be. I don't have a compulsive need to fill every minute, not for myself or for my kids. And right now, I am really grateful for that. 

We carried on with homeschool this week: we completed assignments, we showed up for our Zoom classes, we baked cookies for Foodie Friday, we rolled out our yoga mats with fellow kindergartners, we made a butterfly with moving wings. We spelled words and wrote sentences. Practiced site words and began learning to tell time in an analog way. We sang songs and joined wacky dances and workouts sent by our P.E. teacher. All of this to say, we thought about things. We worked on things. We learned. 

The weather was nice all week, and we know how lucky that is. We walked and rode bikes and played with chalk and sand and swings and the basketballs and dolls. We watched movies and read books. Played Roblox (a lot) and joined Adventure Academy. Dad cooked every meal but one, and we devoured them all (he enjoyed a break Saturday night when we ordered pizza - it was delicious, too.). We delighted in almost nightly "happy hours" with a friend at our school who is also a DJ. He spins tunes live on instagram, and we pour a glass of wine and dance in the kitchen while our friends all across the city do the same. It is a gift. 

Today is Palm Sunday. We watched mass via livestream and it was beautiful. I missed holding an actual palm in my hand, fumbling around trying to tie it into one of those crosses that I'm never quite able to craft. It is strange to enter holy week this way. And yet, it is also beautiful and quite fitting in a way. Today's readings and homily worked around the important (and so timely) question: "Oh God, why have you abandoned me?" And I was blessed to leave the experience knowing in my heart that He has not. He is there in all of it: the healthcare workers who never waver even though they have families at home too, the neighbors who check on each other and feed each other, the kids who laugh and play, the friends who drive by each other's houses just for a wave, the generous gestures of those who donate what they can, the dawn of each new day as we carry on. We can do hard things. He taught us that. He showed us that.

Tomorrow brings week four and the beginning of spring break in addition to holy week. None of it will look like we planned, but all of it will happen just the same. We will carry on and make it great. We will wave to you as we do. We are honored to be alone together with you. xo 

Quarantine Notes: Week Two

Tomorrow begins week three of our quarantine and homeschool life. In an effort to remember these strange (but not altogether awful) days, I'm back to share highlights. 

Week two continued in a very similar vein as week one. I am finding that tackling most of the academic work in the mornings works best for us, which means I tend to schedule most work meetings in the afternoon. I spend a few minutes each night (and a good chunk of time on Sunday evenings) planning out what's next, printing any needed documents, and scheduling in workouts and other things likely to fall by the wayside if not specifically and dutifully written into the schedule. 

Our homeschool sessions find me rotating between each kid, but I've created a staggered start that sets us up for less frustration and better output. I'll get Rowan set up with a solid understanding of the lesson at hand, and then can leave her for bits of time to work through self-led exercises and computer assignments, responding to any questions she has along the way. Graham requires more diligence as once would expect. We watch videos and complete assignments together, checking off our lists as we go. His morning zoom meetings with his teacher and class are precious and earnest in a way that really pierces my heart. I'm grateful to be able to glimpse them and participate during this period. On Friday, a classmate celebrated a birthday and G's sweet teacher offered a blessing that had me bawling. "Why are you crying, Mom?! Danny's birthday is fun, not sad!" This is a sweet and fleeting age, and I'm happy to have access to this view of his learning. 

We go outside daily - the backyard continues to be great for stretches of independent play. We find them playing school and house and acting out sports games and driving their playhouse-turned-boat. They make good use of chalk and kinetic sand and bubbles, and we are grateful for outdoor space to facilitate their play. We continued our daily walks this week, but we upped the ante with new bikes for Mom and Dad. Family bike rides have become our new thing, and I really love it. It's a nostalgic throwback to the countless hours my brother and I spent tearing thru neighborhood streets on our bikes, and it has been amazing to watch Graham go from a tentative pedlar to a passionate biking pro in the span of a few days. His eyes are barely open for the day before he's asking when our next ride will be. 

The rest is a mundane mix of everything else: we wash our hands (a lot), we disinfect countertops and electronic devices, light switches and doorknobs, faucets and toilets and everything else. We follow the news on a schedule that balances our need for information against our need not to be overwhelmed with dramatic headlines and a never ending flow of sadness and uncertainty. We read books, and lots of them. We workout and take vitamins. We eat three meals a day together. That's such a nice change of pace from normal meals which are largely separate and even when together, hurried. And yes, the kids (and us) watch movies and shows and play games. We try to limit yelling and frustration - I must confess that BJ is better at this than me, but I have a new week ahead to try again. 

We remain grateful for our health and for each other, and we pray diligently for our family and friends and loved ones near and far, for our heroic healthcare workers, for world leaders and for our fellow humans all over the world. I hope we will soon be able to relish in a new way the gift of hugs and time together. And I hope we'll keep some of what we've learned with us forever. 

Be well, friends. xo 

Quarantine

We are living through a strange time, and it occurred to me today that it was worth documenting so we could all remember some day when it is (hopefully) a very distant memory. 

It is unsettling to have life upended, to go from full speed working, social schedules, extracurriculars, school and nanny to the four of us at home, wading thru all of the above. 

It is nice though, the space. The knowledge that we're on our own schedule, responsible for our own days, actions, accomplishments, energy. Our kids are definitely not accustomed to boredom, and it is interesting to watch them navigate their new expanse, even as it can feel quite restrictive. Truthfully, their first instinct is to turn to screens, and during these early days, we have mostly let them. I'm hoping though, that as we get our legs with this new normal (as it seems like it will be prolonged), they'll remember their imaginations and let them run wild. Just tonight I found them "driving in the car" (our stairs) with dolls and stuffed animals behind them, intent on arrival at their new destination. Their creativity is so rich at these ages, and I am finding the revival of it to be a silver lining of this crazy time. 

I am running the kids' homeschool curriculum alongside my day job, and this is tough and exhausting. Teachers have always been superheroes in my mind, but this has catapulted my appreciation well beyond what I've known, even though I'm the daughter of a retired teacher.

I thrive in the scheduling and organizing of it all: I've got calendars and checklists and color coded everything. I mostly ensure everyone shows up in whatever virtual spot they're supposed to (and on time). But what I have in those traits, I more than lack in the actual patience required to sit with them in the learning. Kindergarten and second grade require much shepherding through this process, and managing their wavering attention spans, shifting moods and attitudes, all while ensuring they remain on track has definitely had my head spinning. It's a work in progress. We will get there, and in the meantime, I take deep breaths and remind myself to try to give us all a lot of grace. I screw up. Yell at them. Apologize. Take another deep breath. Try again. And this is the way it goes. I am grateful to be able to work from home, and to get this up close glimpse of their learning, of their becoming at this stage of their development. The rest is gravy, and we'll figure it out. 

We are finding time outside to be critical for sanity. The backyard is a treasured respite. They run and play, shoot hoops, draw with chalk, blow bubbles, and participate in daily "PE" sessions with Dad. We sit out there, too. Soak up the sun, change the scenery as we work, read a book, enjoy a glass of wine. We go for walks and bike rides in the neighborhood, load up in the car when we are feeling particularly squirly, roll down all the windows and cruise. 

BJ cooks every meal and we serve every snack at home. That has been an interesting shift, too. To see how we manage shopping, especially with certain items in short supply. To wonder what the long term impact will be on our spending, how much will we save by spending time together at home? How will it feel to live with less...less going out, less packed schedules, less external interaction, just LESS?

Our community rises like always. Zoom playdates for the kiddos, Zoom happy hours for the parents. Organized birthday greetings and drive-bys for kids whose parties have been cancelled. Group texts and emails that keep sanity in check, keep camaraderie alive. FaceTime sessions with grandparents, cousins, aunts/uncles and friends. As ever, I am unspeakably grateful for our village. 

Week two starts tomorrow. Onward we go. Be well, friends. Stay safe and stay home. Let's kick this thing and gleefully return to the normal we will never again (I hope) take for granted. 

Mamaw

In the midst of holiday revelry this year, we lost my sweet Mamaw. It was unexpected and left us reeling, but also (so fitting given her spirit and uniquely loving heart) gifted us treasured family time as we celebrated her life.

She had become a full social media convert in recent years and via those pages, she kept tabs on grandchildren and great-grandchildren near and far. Facebook in particular was her chosen community and I've found myself frequently scrolling back through my photos on there to read her comments. In that vein, I posted a little goodbye to her there, but also wanted to post it here so I can always find it, and so my memory of her sticks in as many places as I can architect. 

Rest well, sweet Mamaw. 

Posted to Facebook, December 2019:

We lost my amazing grandmother this week. I’d like to tell you a little about her.

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Peggy June Rains Brock was a force of gentle nurture and rock solid nature. She never suffered fools, but friend and foe alike found themselves around her table. All were welcomed there. Loved. Seen. Fed. Her table was a holy place, and she’d gather us there as often as possible and serve us home cooked meals that rivaled any Michelin rating. But when you finally pushed back your chair, it was your soul that was full to the brim.

She led a simple life, not in material measures but in a honed focus on what mattered: she served others. She loved with all her heart. She knew and followed God, always. She rested securely in the knowledge that what she had was more than enough.

I recall childhood mostly as an idyllic time with imagination to spare and expanse to run. I felt safe and loved, and she was central to that gift. As a grandmother, she was firm when she needed to be, but mostly she just showed up in all the ways that mattered. She assembled elaborate puzzles, played long and exacting games of house, answered every question, sat with me and taught me to string green beans and shuck corn to feed 20, all while talking through the day’s events, celebrating life’s latest melodies.

In later years, life and distance reshaped our relationship, and time around the table was largely replaced with time on the phone, on FaceTime, on text. In that new context, she came to know and love Rowan and Graham just as fiercely as she had us. She learned the ins and outs of social media, and leveraged it to know their faces and their hearts.

Every birthday and holiday brought a card in the mail for each of them, her love scrawled across the page and a twenty dollar bill tucked alongside her wishes for their upcoming year.

My only regret is that I did not bridge our distance quickly enough for her to hug them in person. She deserved that, and they would have been so blessed to have that experience. One last life lesson she folded into the creases…don’t wait, tomorrow is not a promise.

I returned to the mountains of my childhood this weekend to say goodbye. To touch her hands and kiss her cheeks and thank her for loving me better than I ever could have hoped. I hugged aunts and uncles and cousins that I haven’t seen in far too long, and celebrated her life from deep within the family that was her pride and joy. I watched as her six grandsons carried her to her final resting place on a majestic mountainside. My cousin lifted her beautiful voice to the heavens and sang Amazing Grace. I was so grateful to be there, so honored to be her granddaughter.

I will endeavor to live the rest of my life in the sparkling shadow of her quiet example. I love you, Mamaw. I will miss you beyond measure. I will love you beyond time.

Grateful

Rowan and Graham are ensconced in another school year - working and playing their way through second grade and kindergarten, respectively. At seven and five, they are so big. They have their own lives, friends, events, activities, proclivities, likes/dislikes, hopes, and dreams. 

My Mom sent me a video compilation this morning of Graham from ages one to three, and I miss those cheeks and chubby limbs to the point of aching, but still I am so happy and grateful to steward them during this -- and every -- season. Seven and five are sometimes frustrating, but mostly delightful and I'm fiercely proud of the humans they are becoming. 

It feels rusty to write here, but I love the looking back this space allows. It holds so many memories, so many seasons, and I am sad for the ones I've skipped. Maybe that means I'll be back, or maybe it just means today is an emotional, nostalgic kind of day. Time will tell, it always does. I just find that it tells with much more color and detail when I commit to documenting our days, so I'd like to do more of that...

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Every morning as the kids run off to school, I give each of them a hug and I say "work hard," and they reply, "be kind." I yell "slay the day" to their retreating backs, and they always glance at me and smile before the day swallows them.

At bedtime, we pray and read together alongside the more monotonous routines of jammies and teeth brushing and the like. I linger for just a minute once they're asleep, loveys and blankies still tucked into their sides, water glasses at the ready on nightstands, and I just close my eyes and whisper "thank you" before turning to my own nighttime rituals. 

I love routine, I always have. I cherish rituals and hope with my whole heart that they'll remember and be comforted by them well into adulthood, just as I am. 

And in the midst of a very hectic and busy life season, I'm just so grateful for this life and this little family, and I felt compelled to come here and say it. 'Tis the season of gratitude, after all.