Two Bad Choices

It’s raining here today. Of course, it’s fall in Seattle, so it’s raining every day. But it’s also catch-up day for distance learning (Magnolia’s class calls it condiment day….catch up, ketchup, get it?). It’s the day when the teachers work with small groups and parents like me get to be prison wardens making sure our kids actually finish all the work they’ve been putting off. I get why it’s necessary, but I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate it because while some of my kids are happy to get on with the independent work, some of them like to make this process as painful as possible.

And parenting two types of kids at the same time is really, really hard. Because every time the conscientious, sensitive kid hears my frustration with the kid who is doodling on her math worksheet, she thinks that every moment of rest is a personal failure. And the kid who is happily scamming every moment to avoid even the semblance of work, hears every kind offer of help as a offer to just take all this pesky learning off her plate.

In the midst of that storm of parental dilemma, I mostly want to be allowed to take an hour to get my work done. Or even to get the dishes running. Or brush my teeth. (Can you see how the standards keep dropping?)

It is difficult for me to keep my spirits up when I’m no longer failing to achieve what I want, but I’ve started failing to achieve what I need. And days like Wednesday catch up day are full of failure because I’m not even sure what success is.

Is success getting the kids to finish their work in a storm cloud of frustration? Is success blowing it all off and being some sort of magical fairy parent? Is success leaving the kids to their own devices and basically just admitting that they’ll get nothing done because they’re eight and then letting them feel the shame of not having the executive function to direct their focus?

Every choice is less than perfect. Every choice is a compromise. And if that isn’t a perfect metaphor for life these days, I don’t know what is. Every choice is a bad choice. All the good choices are gone now. How do we keep our spirits up when all we can do is fail?

Here’s where, in traditional blogger format, I have some pithy statement that seemingly solves this impossible dilemma in less than 100 words. I have no statements. I have no answers. I do have a story, though.

A few weeks ago, I jogged my first 5k. It was done virtually, of course, with an app tracking my progress. It’s taken me 2.5 years to get up to running that far, and for those of you out of the know, that is far too long to be training for that particular goal. Running it was ugly. I am slow. I get so red in the face that strangers look at me with fear. My shoes used to be too tight so one of my toenails has turned black and started hurting a lot. And halfway out, with another whole mile and a half to go, I reached a long, slow, disgusting hill. I didn’t want to run up it. But I’d had a goal to run a 5k for years now and stopping would just mean I had to do my 5k try on another day. I mean, that’s fine, but I was halfway there. Probably I should just keep going and run up the hill.

So I did. Again, I was slow, and gross, and deeply, deeply unhappy with my two bad choices. But I chose the path that kept me moving forward and eventually, the torture was over and I got to go home and lay on the couch moaning all afternoon while making Forrest bring me cups of tea. That part was nice.

All that to say, if all the choices suck, maybe make the decision that will move you forward (whatever forward means in your case). Because if it can’t be pleasant, at least life can get us closer to something that is.

What moves you forward today?