Day Ninety-Four: Big and Little Snapper, and a Meltdown

There is a jar of water with a sleeping crawdad on the table next to me as I write this. His name is Big Snapper, and upstairs in another jar of water by William's bed is Little Snapper. They are our guests for a day or two, and then we will release them back to their home at the creek. They dined on hot dog pieces, and if you have never watched a crawdad eat a hot dog, you are missing out. They have these amazing little mouth parts that remind me of the roller brushes in a car wash. It's so bizarre and fascinating. 

We captured Big and Little Snapper at the creek this afternoon. We had headed to the pool for our daily swim, but Kathy's teenage granddaughters (or as we call them, the big-girl cousins) were at the pool with three yappy dogs, so we retreated to give them their space and went to the creek instead. William got in the water and climbed on a rock and immediately a big crawdad shot out from underneath it. I hollered to Jeremy for his crawdad-catching abilities and we secured our first crawdad. Then we decided it needed a companion, so Jeremy spent another 15 minutes looking under rocks to get another one, and Little Snapper joined us. 

Earlier in the day, while Taiya watched shows on YouTube all about American Girl Dolls and William was watching Wild Kratts, Jeremy and I sat down on the porch and I had a minor meltdown. I was feeling all of these things at once: I'm not doing my job as well as I should be, I'm not parenting as well as I should be, the house is a disaster that drives me crazy, the garden is chaos, I'm sick of cooking, and the kicker is, there is no end in sight. Taiya's (and soon-to-be-kindergartner William's) school has announced that it will offer both in person and online teaching next year, and parents can choose. I'm worried about both options. If they go to school in person I will worry about the virus. If they stay home I will worry about their ability to learn and their mental health, being away from friends for so long. And the home-schooling option would require Jeremy to stop working and be a stay-at-home parent (him because I make more money than he does). So I had a moment where all of these stressors and worries just sort of came together in a vortex and spilled over in tears. Jeremy reminded me that it's only natural to be overwhelmed, "Since we're in the middle of a global f***ing pandemic!" He has a way with words. And it doesn't help that our country is really screwing up the response to this crisis in a way that will go down in history as utter, reckless stupidity. I told him all my woes, and it helped to get it all out. It helps me regain perspective. It won't matter in the long run if Taiya masters reading a year late, or if William learns to write letters a year later than he would have otherwise. What matters is that they are healthy, well-cared-for, are mentally stimulated in some form or fashion, and that they stay connected with people they love. It's just hard to remember that sometimes. 

Spending time at the creek always helps when I am feeling overwhelmed. It is so shallow in the summer I can just sit cross legged in the water and watch the play of light on the trees, water, and rock. Today I noticed something I'd never noticed before. Taiya was sitting on my lap in the water, and she splashed her hands around in the water, which formed bubbles on the surface. When the sun shone through those bubbles, little four-pointed stars of light formed on the bedrock bottom of the creek, disappearing as the bubbles popped. It was beautiful to see the bubble stars drifting among the veins of light formed by the sun shining through the wavering surface. 

We returned to the house with our Snapper friends and got them sorted in a jars full of creek water with a few rocks for the bottom for them to hide under. Jeremy went to do afternoon chores, and I packed up a portable dinner to take to the pool. We had a quick "snack dinner" but spent most of the time swimming in the warm water in the evening shade. I swam laps while the kids played. I even did one lap of the butterfly, which is the most awkward swimming stroke ever and I'm just glad I made it across. Jeremy ate dinner while we swam, listening to a virologist on NPR's Fresh Air. William insisted we bring Little Snapper with us to the pool, so we also had a little crustacean friend poolside. Taiya brought her doll, Rosabella, who sat beside the pool in a beautiful dress with a lace parasol, a doll-sized record player, and a tiny banana.

Day Ninety-Four has been full of ups and downs. Moments of beauty, of despair, of joy, of love and connection, of frustration, of hilarity. Another day in the holler with my people. 

Taiya made these "heart person" drawing instructions. 
Feel free to add embellishments.