March 2020

This is how March started -- a beautiful sunrise in the mountains celebrating our 13th anniversary, because nothing says a night away like waking up before 6am to catch the sunrise. What is wrong with us?

And then out for some snowshoeing.

March 3 is an important date for the kids -- not because of our anniversary but because it's the day we brought Luna home. 

She's grown a little this year.

Ditched the kids to go out to dinner. 13 years with this guy. Couldn't love him more.

Soccer started in March with this preseason tournament. It's a good thing we did it since it ended up being the preseason tournament, the entire soccer season and the post-season championship. They wrapped up the season with a respectable 2-1 record.

The tournament happened the weekend that people were just starting to take covid19 more seriously, so here the girls are with elbows in at the end of the game.

Meanwhile Naomi and her friend Nora were competing in a Science Olympiad doing food science/fermentation. Which means she can make sauerkraut I guess? Maybe wine.

And then COVID19 hit. I figured school closings were coming but wasn't sure when. I had just gotten the phone call from the school district when I went to pick up Naomi and her friend from ballet that Thursday night. They had already heard during ballet that school was going to be closed for a week (because news like that travels fast) and they got into the car all excited and giggling. It was a like a snow day without snow. And as they sat in the back seats making plans for all the things they wanted to do with their extra week of spring break, tears ran down my cheeks as I silently cried the entire way home. Because I knew that this wasn't going to be good. I didn't know how bad, but I knew there would be significant loss of life. I knew that things were going to need to change. I knew that there would be incredible stress on our health care system and therefore on our family.

Naomi's friend tumbled out of the car at her house and Naomi turned to me and realized I had been crying. She wondered why. This is when being a mama gets hard. Because it's okay that a twelve year old is thrilled at the idea of extra spring break, that it doesn't occur to her immediately that the same thing that gives her more spring break means that people will die and that people will suffer for so many reasons. We often want to protect our children from things in the world, especially the things over which they have no control. And it's also somehow our job to raise empathetic kids, who think outside of their small world of two magical spring break weeks to the world around them, who recognize pain and suffering and are not afraid to sit with people in it. 

And on a personal level, I cried because I knew that work would need more of me. Patients would need more of me. The doctors I work with would need more of me. And there is only so much of me. So stepping up to be the doctor I need and want to be means having to let things go as a wife, as a mom. And I tried to explain that to Naomi -- the tightrope working moms work, trying to be the best they can be at multiple callings, and how sometimes something's got to give. And that doesn't feel good. I went to bed a couple hours later and found this note on my bed.

She gets me.

And so it started. Night One of who knows how many. Ten years from now, when you ask the kids what they remember most about the pandemic, I'm betting they'll say the forts. So. Many. Forts.

Naomi's birthday party was Saturday. I agonzied over whether or not to have it. If it was safe. If I was being a good example as a physician. I called moms and asked what they thought. I reviewed the CDC and Boulder County Health Department websites. And we decided to go ahead and do the party.

It was a Murder Mystery party set in the 1920s. I was the lawyer there to execute the Last Will and Testament.

Naomi was Lady Luck, a poker player with some secrets to keep.

Annika and Sarah were the maids, delivering food -- 

And lots and lots of hand sanitizer.

Clifton was Mr. Speedhump, the chauffer driver of the late Ms. Ivanda Huggenkiss.

And all the other suspects there to see if they got money out of the will.

I have the best friends. What other adults agree to go buy outfits and play roles in a kid's birthday party?

They had dinner to ask questions and size each other up.

And just like that my baby turns 12.

I think I'm glad that I didn't realize then what was ahead for COVID. Because I probably would not have had this birthday party. But knowing how much we would give up in the coming months (and with the benefit of hindsight that none of these girls got sick over the next couple weeks), I'm so glad we had the party. 

The post-birthday party crash.

Monday was Naomi's birthday. My mom flew in that day to help us (because work was really picking up for me and we didn't know what the coming weeks would look like). Dave and Val picked her up from the airport and came over for a birthday dinner. Our last dinner with others for a very long time.

This was our typical week, complete with color coded schedule for carpooling. In many ways, life came to a screching halt. 

Oma had to deal with the girls during the two weeks in which we had no school structure. So there were lots of walks, even when it was cold.

We played games.

And made up games that involved throwing Shopkins in the air.

Old school roller skates made a comeback.

Lego villages were built.

Ballet went virtual (which was far less destructive than the virtual soccer that happened in the living room).

And Sarah learned to count money with the help of Shel Silverstein and the poem "Smart".

Oma learned about Gonoodle.

The girls helped plan a special dinner for us.

After two weeks we started to find our groove -- my work hours became more normal; the kids figured out a routine. It became clear that the pandemic was getting worse; flights were being cancelled; stay at home orders were beginning to take shape. And we realized we had to get Oma home that night. We went for what had become an after dinner tradition of going for a sunset walk by the lake.

We felt grateful. 

And we put Mom back on a plane... The woman who, without being asked, and not fearing for her own health, dropped everything to come to help us. The woman who fed us and cleaned for us and took care of the girls and made sure that everything was taken care of so I could focus on my work without guilt or stress about home. Thanks, Mom, for everything.