Everything is going to be ok

I've always heard that no one is ever given more than they can handle. Whatever your internal max tolerance in these chaotic times might be, you should be able to make it through. This week, however, was one of the books.

We are on week 902 of the covid-19 pandemic. Actually, it has only been about seven weeks, but if you told me it had been nine hundred some odd weeks, I would have believed you. As previously shared, my wife and I have four young children, twins approaching their 5th birthday and another set about to turn ten. The soon-to-be ten year olds have significant special needs to where they have the strength of a twelve year old but the behaviors of a four year old. To say things are the opposite of stable for our household would be accurate.

Our strategy thus far has been to take it one day at a time. My wife and I have chosen to not judge each other on the amount of television we allow our kids to watch, the amount of wine or diet sodas we drink, and the amount of times either of us feel the need to visit Costco for their daily walk.

So far, given all of the imbedded challenges we have in our household, we've survived. It hasn't been without our hourly moments of despair, fear, and frustration. We often wonder what else could happen, what else could go wrong, and what else is going to be just too much for us to handle.

Enter a power outage Wednesday night.

Around 5 pm, everything electronic suddenly turned off. The iPads our daughters were using. The television our sons were watching. The power bank chargers needing a refill. Our garage door somehow half open, unable to close. Our refrigerator with the dinner we hadn't prepared yet not being able to be opened out of fear everything would instantly spoil. We had promised our children a family movie (after watching Despicable Me 1-3, they were quite excited to watch Minions) that evening; now, there was no way to make it happen. Imagine trying to explain a power outage to your special needs children or to your four year old sons. They weren't as agreeable as I had hoped.

My wife and I sat there in the dark, after finally putting all of the kids to bed later than we had hoped. Our phones were slowly draining of their current charge and we had no way to refill them. We just sat in the dark, illuminated by our screens, wondering if the power would ever turn back on. And yes, it did. At 2 am. All of the lights. All of the TVs. All turned on at the same time. It was a very nice wake up call. At 2 am.

But hey we made it through it and survived to another day. Since our social distancing expert slash babysitter was unavailable today, I decided to take all four kids out for a drive in an effort to give my wife some quiet time. We had errands to run plus the kids wanted a milkshake as a special treat. Using the milkshake as the reward for our behavior expectations, the kids did a great job. We went to Costco for gasoline. I got semi-lost trying to find my way from Lawrence Expressway to Picchetti Winery but made it there eventually. The kids were all doing wonderfully. We were passing the reservoir when Molly, from the back of the car, made a sound. It was one of those sounds that every parent knows and every parent fears. It was the pre-vomit sound.

Everything slowed down at that moment. You know what's about to happen. You think about snapping your fingers to freeze time. Maybe some Matrix-style maneuvers that teleport the sick child to the side of the road. Anything to prevent what is seconds away from taking place. But you know that nothing will work. You beg. You plead. And then you see the vomit. It's on their clothes. It's on the seatbelt. It's all over the car. Somehow, it got onto another child, who is now screaming that their sibling's barf is in their mouth. The other two kids are loudly complaining about the smell. It might be their first moment with a vehicle vomit situation. Special moment. It's just a complete mess.

But I looked back at Molly. Her eyes were puffy. She was covered in regurgitated macaroni and cheese with some strawberries mixed in. Tears were falling down her face. Please note that this is the Molly who has become incredibly violent over the years. I have a dozen scratches and bruises made by Molly right now. She often reacts with anger and confusion and screaming. But I looked back at her as I had pulled to the side of the road. She looked right back at me and said in a voice that was intermixed with verbal tears, "I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry, Daddy."

With her clothes completely soaked, Molly was left in her underwear. I harkened back to my wife's voice as we left for our excursion: are you sure you don't want to bring an extra set of clothes? I had said no.  Molly, however, was quite excited as she was allowed to sit in the front seat for the rest of the way home, albeit mostly naked in doing so. The boys seemed to understand that these things happen and they stopped complaining about the smell. Kenna repeatedly told her sister Molly that everything was going to be ok, that she (Kenna) always throws up in the car -and this is true: Kenna is known to vomit about half of the time for any car ride longer than 60 minutes- and that she always gets better after a while.

So here we are, in the middle of a pandemic, seven weeks into shelter in place with no end in sight, driving to get wine that I'm not even going to drink, with all four kids to give my wife a few moments of well deserved quiet, on the side of the road without cell service, after one of the longest weeks of my life, with an entire car reeking of vomit, my Molly thinking that she did something wrong, and I just took a deep breath and realized: everything is going to be ok.

We are going to be ok. You are going to be ok. We are going to get through this, whatever "this" happens to be for each individual in the midst of our chaotic times.

We can handle whatever life throws at us. So you've got a pandemic forcing us to shelter in place with four young children, adding in blackouts and wine-collection road trips filled with vomit explosions? No problem. We can handle it. Everything is going to be ok. Take a few minutes to enjoy the little things in life. Marvel at how your special needs daughter responds with kindness toward her probably food-poisoned sister. Take a moment to relish the special story you can one day share about the blackout ending at 2 am and being awakened by the screaming televisions throughout the house.

We are in incredibly unique times and we are going to get through this. Everything is going to be ok.