The air quality index in Seattle is currently 238, and the map has Western Washington in this terrible chartreuse color. As the world burns, I return to the blog. We were already inside, but now the children have to ask permission to even open the door. There’s a metallic taste in my mouth and my social media is full of tips on how to purify the air in your home by boiling lavender and rosemary on the stove.
School has started, and because we want the girls to continue in Spanish immersion, we have enrolled them in a local Catholic school. This choice was not in my master plan, but it does not seem a bad time to learn to pray. So far Lucia does not quite get it, and keeps praying for my Dad and my Grandmother, who died more than ten years ago.
I’m grateful for the smaller school, and my heart breaks for all the kids out there falling through the cracks. But in all the homeschool chaos, I think we should be most angry for the kids in K-2. By some miracle, preschools have stayed open, so the small kids are going, and by the time kids get to 3rd or 4th grade, most can self-mange to some extent. They know how to press mute and what it means to come back in ten minutes. It’s the kids age 5, 6, 7, 8 that are losing the most, and we should be fighting for them.
This is a beautiful time of childhood, when you make your first friendships and discover the world through running around on the playground. Reading proficiency in third grade is one of the most important predictors for high school graduation. Still, kids this age are happy, they love their mammas, and they can still live their imaginary worlds. Yesterday the LOL dolls were playing Scrabble.
Since I’m compulsively checking my email and the weather report every thirty minutes searching for good news, I saw the email come in inviting me on a Zoom call with Kamala Harris, Maya Rudolph, Amy Pohler and Hilary Clinton. For only $25, I could hang out on a Monday afternoon with these great ladies and 100,000 other Americans.
And while it had its stiff political moments, I loved how they all brought up their children and families, casually integrating it into the conversation, because as four women, how could you not? Forget about having a beer with the future President, let’s imagine if we could have that mom conversation that effortlessly flows from any woman who has raised children.
Hilary talked too much and was the least interesting, but there is always someone like that on the call. Amy kept getting stuck on mute, which was a problem because she was supposed to ask the audience questions, but this also meant off the cuff jokes from Maya. One of the audience questions was how do you keep a sense of humor , when the world is so heavy? Apparently recent books have revealed that T. does not laugh. And what is more terrifying than that? If you can’t laugh, that means you can’t laugh at yourself, and that if you can’t laugh at yourself, then you can’t be kind. No wonder we are in trouble.
Another question was, what have you done during home quarantine that you hadn’t before? Hilary said sleep and hang out with her grandkids. Kamala said teach her husband to cook. Maya said exercise. Amy and her kids are learning the sign language alphabet. It was refreshingly relatable.
As someone who Zooms all the time for work interviewing people, I am driven by that one juicy moment where you find intimacy through the screen. Or perhaps it is even because the screen gives us a pretense of protection, that we bare ourselves. At the end of the call, they asked “why are you doing this?” Hilary jumped in first and said she was doing it for her grandchildren. Kamala joked she also was doing it for Hilary’s grandchildren, but then she got serious. She said she was doing it for our babies. For that black mother who gives birth to a baby boy and holds him in her arms, wondering if he will ever be safe in the world.
And this is when I almost teared up, because it touches on this deep instinct, especially when you look out your window and it is filled with smoke: what world are we leaving for our children? In 40 years, when my 6 year-old has her own daughter, what will she see out her window?
And while it all seems so bleak — there is something new here. This was a four-woman Zoom call with a VP nominee and a former Presidential candidate that I joined while locked in my house, cracks sealed from the smoke, fans running in every bathroom, trusting the television to fill in the gaps of my children’s education. I couldn’t do this before.
This is our world, so let’s take it back. No one is going to tap you on the shoulder. We have to step forward. She needs you.