We were getting ready to leave for a “drive through dinosaur” event at the Rose Bowl when it happened. I told the kids to go to the bathroom and was pouring soy milk into my decaf coffee when I heard a crash and then a scream.

Screams happen all the time in the Novak house. There are screams of indignation when one child annoys the other. Then there are screams of frustration, often about something related to distance learning; pretend screams that are part of a make believe game; screams when someone is being chased by Daddy…

But this scream was different. I knew immediately that Pippa was hurt and that she was not overreacting. When I got to her, she looked fine. Then, a little blood trickled out of a nostril. And then, her nose started to change shape. I called for Nathan, but he was already there.

We mobilized quickly. We were already about to leave for the dinosaur event, so I just had to grab Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows so I could read it to Pippa at the ER. Nathan dropped us off and we were quickly checked in by several friendly and helpful staff members.

On the drive over, I wondered what the scene would be like at the ER. There have been a lot of gruesome headlines about Covid-19 in California. The media makes it sound like the hospitals are completely overwhelmed with the latest surge. Would we even be able to get inside the ER?

When we arrived, I immediately saw there would be no issue getting medical care for Pippa. There was only one patient in the ER’s waiting room, but we did not get the chance to join her. We were ushered into a triage area and a doctor met with us within a few minutes of our arrival. He thought Pippa’s nose was broken and sent us for an x-ray to confirm.

We did not have to wait very long for the x-ray. The technician looked at the x-ray and thought the nose might not be broken. I did not tell Pippa this. She was very upset at the idea of breaking her nose and I did not want to get her hopes up.

We were taken to a private room with a bed. Pippa enjoyed getting to use the remote control to adjust the bed’s position. I read a chapter of Harry Potter and then a physician assistant arrived. He announced that the nose was broken but there’s just a hairline fracture. It should heal on its own just fine.

From the moment Pippa broke her nose until the moment we were discharged, I felt a few strong surges of emotions – mostly, heartbreak because my daughter was in pain – but I stayed calm. I did not panic. I did not feel angry at the unexpected chaos. I did not rail against the inhumanity of the Universe for adding another woe to my daughter’s life.

I remember the last time I had to take Julian to urgent care. That was before the pandemic, before life went upside down. I felt so overwhelmed and helpless because he needed stitches. I called my parents and had them watch Pippa so Nathan could help me at urgent care.

Today, I knew that because of Covid-19, only one parent could accompany Pippa into ER, and I knew that parent would be me. I did not feel stranded or panicked or overwhelmed or annoyed. I just felt calm.

2020 was a shit show, but thanks to its challenges, I have become more resilient and flexible. My daughter broke her freaking nose, and I did not freak out.

Well, it took 244 years, but we finally have a woman as Vice President of the United States.

I watched the Inauguration with Pippa. Her teacher gave special asynchronous time for the kids to watch the coverage at home, but if he had not, I would have let her miss school. I wanted her to witness history as Kamala Harris took the oath of office.

I teared up as Kamala Harris spoke the words. The phrase “chills going down my spine” gets a bit overused BUT that was what happened to me. Chills. Down my spine. In the best possible way.

I told Pippa that I had waited forty-two years for this moment. She was appalled. “I only had to wait seven!”

Thank god. I am so glad my daughter gets to grow up in a world where a woman is finally the Vice President of the United States.

And when a woman is elected President of the United States? My head might just explode with joy.

I have noticed the past couple of months that I feel my best when I am living in the space between hope and despair. Now, what the hell does that mean? Well, I tried my best in Episode 20 of Adventures With My Forties to explain myself. And I’ll attempt that again here…

“Despair” is the loss of hope. The feeling that all is lost. Nothing will ever improve. Woe is me! I will always be miserable. When I had postpartum depression, after about three months of progressively feeling worse and worse, I succumbed to despair. I believed that I was broken and no one could ever fix me. I would feel like a zombie for the rest of my life. I wished I could die.

That’s despair.

Hope is the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best. It’s a belief that the future will be better. If you rely on dictionary definitions, hope and despair seem to be opposites.

I think they are actually the same thing.

Yes, despair is pessimistic and hope is optimistic, but they are both a type of mindset that looks to the future. Both despair and hope place contingencies and conditions on our future happiness. Both mindsets take us out of the present moment and place our wellbeing in the future.

Let’s take a look at distance learning through the lens of hope and despair. Pippa has not been to school since mid-March 2020. To date, second grade has happened entirely on the computer. Our school district claims they are ready to start hybrid school in February if the numbers allow. Now, how do I react to that possibility?

From a despair perspective, I would think, Schools are never reopening, not in the foreseeable future, everything is fucked, we will be stuck in this distance learning hell forever.

From a hope perspective, I might think, It could happen! Pippa could have hybrid school in February! That would be amazing! I would be so happy if that happens!

From both perspectives, hope and despair, I’m living for the future and deciding, I will be happy or I will be totally fucked depending on whether Pippa gets to start hybrid school in February.

But what if I live in the space between hope and despair?

From that space, I learn that our school district is preparing for hybrid learning in February, and I think, It would be nice if Pippa could go to school in person, but we have everything we need to be happy right now. We’ll be fine if hybrid does not happen.

This is the crucial part of the space between hope and despair: we have everything we need to be happy right now.

We have everything we need.

Right now.

When I manage to live in the place between hope and despair, I feel like my best most authentic self. I live in the present moment and sure, I acknowledge the difficulties of the present, but I also see the blessings and magic.

When I live in the space between hope and despair, I do not place contingencies and contingencies on my future happiness because I am already happy.

If I am living with hope, that means I have said, If X happens, then I’ll be happy. That means I can’t be happy until X happens, which means I am not happy now.

If I am living with despair, then I think, X will never happen, so I’ll never be happy. That means I’ve already decided I’m miserable.

Hope might seem more optimistic than despair, but with both hope and despair, I’ve already decided that I’m not happy. I’ve rejected the present moment. I’ve rejected my present happiness.

I am trying my best these days to live in the space between hope and despair, but I’ll tell you, it’s not easy. Not with the pandemic and distance learning. It is so easy for me to get lost in thinking about the end of distance learning and the pandemic and the return of “normal” life. That happened to me last week on my birthday! I was grumpy AF and had most definitely placed conditions on my happiness. I kept thinking that I couldn’t have a good birthday unless I could go to a nice restaurant with Nathan, send my kids to school, get a massage, and celebrate in person with loved ones. I thought hopefully to my next birthday – but that made me feel worse about the birthday I was having. Then I flipped over to despair. When I go to hope, it’s so easy to slip into despair. And when I’m in despair, it’s so easy to rely on hope to get out of that darkness. – which sends me tumbling back into despair. It’s a vicious cycle!

But in the space between hope and despair, I shake away contingencies and conditions and embrace the present moment with all its imperfections. That’s where I want to live. It’s not easy. But I’m trying my damnedest to live in the space between hope and despair.

I have been the room mom for Pippa’s class since kindergarten. During my first months as room mom, I sent dry, sterile messages to the class about potlucks and volunteering opportunities. I was trying to write the way I imagined a wholesome room mom would write.

But that’s not my style.

After a few months, my messages became a little more … authentic. In fact, one could say they became snarky. A lot of parents have thanked me for sending funny emails. They are my target audience. Some of the parents probably think I’m a crackpot, but I have stopped caring about what any haters might be thinking. (No one has actually complained to me about the tone of my emails yet, but if they do, at least it will be good material for my fiction.)

This is the email I sent today regarding our distance learning Valentine festivities:

First order of business: Happy New Year! Or, since we are still stuck in distance learning, I should probably just say, Mediocre New Year!

Valentine’s Day is coming, and in the darkness that is distance learning, our kids deserve a little light. So we are going to do our best to have a Valentine’s Party! (Because let’s face it, in a few years, when hormones kick in, Valentine’s Day will become a sordid source of drama, so let’s enjoy it when it is still hormone-free.)

Here’s how it will go:

• Please drop off cards at my house by Friday, February 5. Cards should be addressed to “my friend” and then From “your kid’s name.” 
• There are 26 kids in the class, plus two teachers, so each child should drop off 27 cards. 
• Please drop off cards in some sort of bag, so they are easy to sort. If I get a big heap of loose cards, and all the cards get mixed up, that might break my spirit. 
• Cards will be sorted into bags for each kid.  Bags will be provided. Susan* and I have this under control. 
• Goody bags can then be picked up between February 9-11. (I’ll let you know when they are ready!) 
• There will also be a “Valentine’s Day Party” in a bag. There will be a Bingo card, some treats, maybe a craft project or two, etc. If you have ideas for the Party Bag, or would like to help with that, please let me know! What did I forget to tell you? I know I must be forgetting something because my brain is so depleted by distance learning … sorry in advance for anything that is confusing! I am open to questions, concerns, and interesting bribes.

I will send reminders because we all have a lot on our plates! 

Cheers,

Courtney

* name changed in case she does not want to be associated with my snarkiness. Which I totally get.

It’s not you, it’s me.

Actually, who am I kidding? IT IS YOU.

You have been treating me like garbage for ten months now and I’m getting just a bit tired of your mind games and emotional terrorism.

I have stayed in this relationship because you keep promising to change and switch to hybrid. You dirty rotten LIAR. Why must you toy with my emotions? You promised LAST FREAKING JUNE that you were changing, that you were going to let kids go to school, even if it was just for a few hours a week.

Now look at us. IT IS JANUARY AND STOP TELLING ME THAT THINGS MIGHT CHANGE IN FEBRUARY I CANNOT HANDLE THIS EMOTIONAL ABUSE.

I am giving you an ultimatum: figure out your shit, deal with your issues, AND LET MY KID GO BACK TO SCHOOL FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY AND SACRED. Or that’s it. I’m moving on.

That’s right. You heard me. I would rather home school a hundred children than deal with your bullshit anymore. I am only tolerating your abominable filth for a few more months because that’s all I’ve got left in me. I can’t do this indefinitely. I would rather move to Idaho.

If you have not let my daughter go to school before the end of second grade, WE ARE BREAKING UP. I will home school, so help me, Baby Yoda. Have I made myself clear?

Love,

Courtney

p.s.I HATE YOU and I throw up a little in my mouth every time I look at you.

A few days ago, I listened to the audiobook Goodbye,Things by Fumio Sasaki. It was a four and a half hour listen and came across my radar because it’s one of the books included in my Audible membership (as of right now). It’s also available in paperback but these distance learning days, I get most of my reading down with audiobooks.

Sasaki shares his journey from maximalist to minimalist and describes the benefits he has reaped from this lifestyle change. I thoroughly enjoyed the book and listened to the entire thing between Friday evening and Saturday afternoon. Translation: I could not stop listening!

I even did some decluttering while listening to the book. I doubt I will ever declutter enough to be considered a minimalist, but I would definitely like to reduce our possessions to only the things we need. Which would mean I was actually a minimalist, according to Sasaki’s definition, but I doubt anyone would accuse me of being minimalist with all the kids’ paraphanelia.

Chapter Three, 55 Tips to Say Goodbye to Your Things, was my personal favorite. Here are a few tips that I found extra inspiring:

• Think of the city as your floor plan. I do not need to own every book I love if I remember libraries are part of my floor plan. I do not need to amass huge collections of trinkets when I can visit museum with much better collections. (Except now, during the flipping pandemic. Pasadena libraries and museums have been closed for nearly a year.)
• Think of stores as your personal warehouses. I do not need to stockpile things like batteries, pens and laundry detergent. Sure, it might be cheaper to buy some things in bulk – but did I factor in the cost of dedicating space to bulk purchases? After the 2020 toilet paper shortages, it is tempting to buy All the Toilet Paper and create a massive stockpile. It feels like a security blanket against Armageddon. But if Armageddon strikes, am I really going to be worried about toilet paper?
• If you lost it, would you buy it again? If not, why are you holding on to it?

I am sick of being owned by my things. It feels like there is always another mess to tidy, another drawer to empty, another cabinet to organize. I do not want to waste my precious time with the constant nagging sense that I am being buried by an avalanche of stuff.

Fumio Sasaki advances a convincing argument that when it comes to things, less stuff means more living. That ideas really resonates with me right now. While I do not see my family moving into a one room cabin any time soon, I would like to approach my 2021 decluttering efforts with a minimalist mindset.

Today is my birthday. I am 42 years old. Woot woot!

I told myself yesterday that I was going to use this day to celebrate myself. I baked myself a cake! And truly, what else do I need for my birthday?! So there’s a pandemic that has cancelled life in Pasadena. But that’s okay! I have my fabulous mindset! I can just rise over the circumstances because I have grown so much this past year, blah blah blah.

Yeah. Fuck all that shit I thought yesterday. Pandemic birthdays suuuuuuck soooooo muuuuuuch.

It’s a Tuesday. If this had been a non-pandemic year, I would have taken my children to school, done some writing, and then gotten myself a massage. Maybe I would have met some friends or my parents for lunch. On the weekend, I would go to my favorite day spa and get a Korean scrub. Then Nathan and I would go out for a fancy dinner, and I would wear the pretty green dress I bought less February, right before Le Shit Hit Le Fan.

Instead, I got a shitty night’s sleep. #ThanksPMS. Then Julian had a big breakdown over Covid-19 and having to wear a mask at preschool. Then I stomped my foot and threw a tantrum, telling my five year old that I did not want to deal with whining on my birthday. That made him cry. A lot. We hugged and made up and I apologized, but wow, what a shit lousy start to my forty-second year on Planet Earth.

I did not get to spend a couple of hours writing because #DistanceLearning.

I did not get a massage because #Pandemic.

I did not have lunch at a restaurant with friends because #DistanceLearningAndPandemic.

Yesterday, I tried to lower my expectations for my birthday because I knew I would be stuck in the distance learning shit hole. But sigh, my birthday has really underscored just how shitty my life is right now. I am doing my best to make the most of a crappy situation but it’s been a long, long time since Pippa’s school closed. I know we are all dealing with the same shittiness. I know my shittiness is better than a lot of people’s shittiness.

But it is still shitty.

However, venting about my feelings — in my journal, to Nathan, to parents at preschool when I picked up Julian, and now in this blog post — has been enormously cathartic. Also, I now fully appreciate why Pippa was devastated when we had to cancel her birthday party last March. I feel grumpy about having a pandemic birthday, and I’m 42! Poor kid, it must suck to have the pandemic crap all over your seventh birthday. And at the rate things are going here in Pasadena, it seems like the pandemic will be taking another dump on her eighth birthday. I had sympathy for her last March, but this March, I will have empathy.

Now please excuse me. There’s a birthday cake I have to go frost.

Over the summer, I skipped a period and my naturopath and I decided I should do some hormonal testing to see what was up. I assumed that I was entering early perimenopause since my mom started perimenopause when she was forty-one. (I turn forty-two tomorrow!) The test results indicated that I had not entered perimenopause but my testosterone levels were low.

My naturopath suggested I start taking supplemental testosterone. I could do this in one of two ways: a daily cream or a little “pill” that is inserted surgically into the thigh. I was concerned that either method would turn me into something like this:

My doctor assured me I would just feel more energized. I decided to try the testosterone cream and filled the prescription at a compounding pharmacy that mixed up my prescription. I applied the cream at bedtime and the next morning, I woke up and felt like this:

Every day, I felt more and more energized. It was like the best caffeine high but without the crash or jitters. The testosterone made me feel vibrant and extra alive.

Then I got used to it and took it for granted. My prescription ran out shortly after Christmas and I did not want to deal with the hassle of filling a prescription during the holidays. Heck, I thought, I probably did not need the testosterone that much anyway.

For the first few days, I did not notice any change in my energy. But then, the fatigue hit. I felt drained no matter how well I had slept.

I had returned to my pre-testosterone levels which used to be perfectly tolerable. Except now I had had a taste of vibrantly alive I could feel. I did not want to return to those lower energy levels! II called my doctor’s office the first Monday of 2021 and requested a refill. When the pharmacy called and asked if I wanted them to mail the refill, I said, “No, thanks! I’ll pick it up when it’s ready!” I wanted my testosterone immediately if not sooner.

It was really annoying when I skipped my period last summer. I felt so edgy for weeks with all those pent up hormones. But now, I am glad that happened. Because I skipped my period, I decided to get some hormone testing; and because I got hormone testing, I learned my testosterone levels were low; and because I learned my testosterone levels were low, I started taking supplemental testosterone.

And it turns out that for me, a little testosterone creates a lot of magic!

It’s Friday. My second grader did not go to pod this week, and man oh man, I am drained.

Pippa has a pod with two boys in her second grade class. She loves pod because she gets to be with other kids. I love pod because a babysitter oversees it, which means I actually get to do some uninterrupted writing.

We did not have pod this past week because the babysitter who supervises pod was feeling under the weather. We are not having it next week because the Covid-19 numbers are high and the parents who host pod are not comfortable having everyone over right now.

I get it. I truly do.

But.

It’s really tough to do distance learning without our sweet little pod.

Yesterday, I was in really great spirits. Today, I feel defeated, drained and burned out. I know I am just riding the distance learning emotional rollercoaster. But I am also listening to my feelings. My feelings are not just there to torment me. They are messengers with calls to action.

I tuned into my feelings today.

They were shouting, Yo, Courtney! You are depleted! You need some downtime! And you need to write without being interrupted every two minutes!

My feelings were right. The kids have been quarrelsome this week. I don’t blame them. They have been through a lot. But still, it’s tough to be constantly breaking up their squabbles. Also, I had to manage Pippa’s distance learning without pod this week and I am bummed that pod is on hiatus. I am an introvert who needs time alone, to reflect, ruminate and write. I have not been getting that time for oh, nine and a half months now. It’s been a long slog.

That is why my kids are watching YouTube right now. At least, I assume they are still watching YouTube. I am at my desk, headphones on, door closed, and they have left me alone. They are watching YouTube so I do not have a nervous breakdown.

I am already feeling better. I’ve been trying to restrict screen time — there has been so much freaking screen time since we first went into lockdown last March — but damnit, my mental health matters. There are a lot of things that support my mental health, from exercise and fresh air to Zoloft and therapy. Letting the kids watch YouTube is one of the tools in my mental health kit. It was the tool I needed today.

Well, it is a new year and a new semester of second grade, but the same old distance learning shit show.

I had hoped my book would be irrelevant by now. Sadly, it is not.

We are still running a marathon with no hint of a finish line. I guess we are long past the standard marathon and are somewhere in the zone of a “ultra crazy mega infinite marathon.”

Oddly enough, my spirits are fine. I’m used to the abomination that is distance learning now. I sometimes get confused why I do not have more time to get things done. Then I remember: distance learning. I get interrupted by Pippa’s distance learning issues so much, it’s a wonder I even have time to shower.

Actually, I have not had a chance to shower yet today.

When I start to feel exasperated with my inability to finish my To Do list, I have to take a deep breath and remind myself, This is crazy tough and insane. This is demanding and emotional and draining. This is a total fuck.

I think about the day when both my kids are back in school full time. When will that be? Next fall? 2022? I do not know when that sweet day will arrive, but when it does, my life will seem so easy compared to the present fiasco. I will have oodles and oodles of time to declutter the house, revise my novel, and exercise. Hell, I might even take a painting class.

Distance learning is motherhood boot camp. When this is over, I’ll have some bitching abs.

Or at least a better appreciation of my free time.