When schools closed in March, I—like so many over-achievers I know—had big plans for all that I was going to accomplish. I checked out two ukuleles from the library so that the kids could have new instruments to play, I made a final stop at the fabric store so I could get supplies to mass-produce reusable produce bags, and I checked out dozens of library books (especially for myself) that I could read—presumably after a quiet day of sewing, non-traditional learning, and ukulele practice.
No one will be surprised by this confession: one morning just a couple weeks into the pandemic, I flushed these idyllic plans down the toilet as I yelled from the kitchen for the kids (ages 8 and 6) to return: “WE AREN’T DONE PRAYING THE SERENITY PRAYER TOGETHER!!!”
They say parents need to choose their battles, and on this particular morning, the battle to pray for serenity as a family felt like a hill worth charging. So I dug in my heels and called for them again. Eventually, we made it through the prayer, but I was no closer to grasping the parental peace I crave. Even at that moment, the irony was not lost on me.