Every time our baby boy has an intense emotion, whether it be extreme contentment or raging anger, he lays on the floor for a bit to process then he gets up and resumes his tiny human life. Just like that, 15 to 25 seconds of “this is awesome” or “this is awful” and then it’s back to yanking on the dog or stealing the remote.
It is fascinating, funny and often jealousy-inducing all at the same time. You see I sit here on Day 4 of a house swirling with COVID-19 and all I want to do is lay on the warm floor where the sun is shining for about 20 seconds and then pop up and get on with my business. All better, all well. But then I think “you ain’t popping up off the floor, at least not quickly, and you better not lay on it at all, Ellen, because you know it hasn’t been swept since your nose got swabbed all the way to the frontal lobe a few days back.”
This is the kinda floor where the dog needs to be groomed. It’s been wet outside for three days and the kids have been eating Ritz crackers like they are trying to win a Coney Island contest. If the mother of the family contracts the Big O then a dirty house should be a symptom stated by the CDC.
Speaking of symptoms ours are mild. Weird but mild and we are so grateful for that. The weird thing is that I did not know my favorite T-shirt I have been wearing since 2007 could “hurt” but my skin is crazy sensitive to touch and my husband has sneezing fits where I am not sure he will get a breather. The kids are cool except the CDC failed AGAIN to mention the common pediatric symptoms of “extreme increases in volume and exponentially more urges to ask Mom and Dad unimportant questions right when they are trying to nap.”
I’ll stop with the anecdotes. I was even going to go on about how, at moments, I felt some resentment creeping in because I’m “supposed” to be “”resting” but that’s not a thing when you’re a momma. There was a moment while washing the dishes that the Holy Spirit reminded me to look at the kitchen towel a good friend gave me with the St. Teresa of Avila quote about how our Lord moves in the pots and pans. I remained hardened. I was still feeling sorry for myself until Our Mother gently stepped in.
When the pandemic first started I was three months pregnant and so crazy worried about everything going on. We all were. As a family we decided to pray the 54-day Rosary Novena. It fit perfectly into our routine and we didn’t really say the number 54 out loud for a while so the kids would not push back like it was something extra.
They ended up enjoying how we were giving the Blessed Mother roses every night. We asked for several intentions but we were mainly praying for safety through all of this; or all of this to just “be ok.” So while standing again later that day, washing the same resentful sink full of dirty bowls that I washed that morning, the Blessed Mother reminded me in my heart, “You are ok, aren’t you? Are you safe?” Yes, ma’am. I am ok. I am safe.
Truthfully, we are more than just ok and safe. We have a warm home, we have a sweet, snotty little baby boy running around, we have a pantry and fridge full of food because I made a giant grocery trip the day before the bottom fell out. We have zinc and Vitamin D. We have family to call, we have friends to check in on us.
The most gentle yet poignant nudge was the reminder that, yes this may be the second time today that you cleaned that green cereal bowl but it was also the second time today you had the strength to do so. The two days prior to today I did not clean that green bowl. I didn’t clean anything at all. Today, I also made a dump cake to raise spirits and I was able to work on my job without a headache.
I am OK. I am safe. We are OK. We are safe. So in a hardheaded conclusion I submit to the idea that it’s best not to lay on the floor to wish it all away. What’s also best is to not think I need to rest on the couch but I need to rest in him and to be reminded and acknowledge that we asked and we have received.
The columnist is a Catholic mom living in the Diocese of Baton Rouge facing the same challenges all families face.