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Middle Class Mom Private School Kid CoVid Problems and Why I Hate Pandemic Parenting

Estimated reading time: 8 minutes
Not saying CoVid and this pandemic are issues especially hard for middle class moms with private school kids but not saying it isn’t either. I’ve noticed that, at least from my viewpoint, public schools are doing more to stop the spread. Public schools are funded by the government and are more likely to follow government guidelines and recommendations because they are cognizant that not doing so can end in losing funding. Private schools on the other hand are funded by donors, usually wealthy alumni who gift large sums of money, often with “suggestions.” What I’m saying is that if you think super-rich kids are terrible, well, you’ve never experienced their entitled parents firsthand.
They don’t like to be told what to do. It infringes upon “their freedom” so they will scream white at the top of their lungs while staring directly at a black wall. If you disagree, you are not right, you are obviously blind because you chose to believe your own eyes over what they tell you. This is the situation.
Science and research show that vaccines, masks and social distancing are the way to end the pandemic. Some people at private schools say none of it exists and refuse to allow their children to follow guidelines for a “political pandemic” created by the liberals to make us all sheeple. After all, this is MURICA! Caught right in the middle of it all, the faculty and administration just trying to do the right thing by humankind without alienating the very people who pay their salaries.
Omicron is here and making my life more difficult than ever. I hate pandemic parenting because I’m terrified to send my kids to school. Let me start by saying that this whole pandemic has been a lesson in versatility, patience and pushing past fear. It’s enough already. I give. I’ve learned my lesson. I wash my hands religiously, I prioritize people and I live like every day could be my last, because it could be but my breaking point seems to be when I live in a world where others are pretending that none of this is real. People are dying and where I live, people are pretending that nothing is wrong. People are dying and nothing is wrong? Is this logical to anyone reading this? If so, please help it make sense because I can’t and it’s literally making me feel insane.
At this point, my family has been vaccinated and boostered, except Gabi who will get hers this week as soon as I can get her an appointment. We rarely go anywhere. With Omicron we are actually reverting to our March 2020 hermit lives. We wear masks in public and we social distance when possible. We wash our hands and change our outside clothes. We disinfect everything. In our state, we are in the minority.
At our daughters’ school, there are no preventative CoVid safety measures in place this year other than CDC guideline quarantining for the minimum 5 days if exposed and showing symptoms. But there is no social distancing or mask policy in place. There is no vaccination requirement. So every day, my rational and intelligent girls who have common sense go to school knowing they are 100% exposed. This is not okay.
They are under so much stress (as any rational/ thinking person would be) that they have now both developed severe stress and anxiety due to the mishandling of the pandemic. They are kids who should be doing kid things but instead they are worried they are going to die or kill someone else because the adults are dropping the ball. The adults in charge are neither caring or protecting our children from Coronavirus, Delta or Omicron. They’re just seeing how this all plays out and that’s just not working for me anymore.
The other day I was driving to pick my daughters up from school and the truck ahead of me had a bumper sticker that read, “Unmask Our Kids Now.” In my head I heard, “unhand my mother” or “Free Nelson Mandela” only it wasn’t about saving anyone. In fact, quite the opposite. It basically read, “Societal rules don’t apply to me because I’m a selfish toddler who doesn’t care about anyone else but me and it’s my right to do whatever I want.”
You see, all over the country, friends of mine are taking their 5-11-year-olds to get their vaccination. In fact, they went on the very first day of eligibility, some of them drove to neighboring cities and even states, just to do their part to help end this pandemic. I’m elated. We took our girls as soon as they were eligible. Now, we’re getting them boostered because that is what all of us should be doing to end this pandemic. Was I nervous about giving my daughters a brand new vaccination? Yes. But I’m more afraid of CoVid and the long-term effects of Coronavirus.
There are still adults who haven’t gotten 1 shot yet. Y’all should be ashamed. You’d probably jump in the lifeboats ahead of the women and children too, am I right? Come on, this is embarrassing, America. Be a grown-up and do your part. Yes, I know, you don’t believe in CoVid but he believes in you and if you’re just going to live your life like you’re pursuing happiness, Consequences be damned, YOU WILL GET COVID. Regardless if you believe or not.
So here we are. My daughter has missed 30 days of in-person school. I’d say at least 20 of those days were mandatory quarantines from exposure or from having “symptoms” like coughing or sore throat. I did it because even though they were vaccinated, the rules are in place to protect all of us. Also, the girls have caught a few viruses this year (as expected when reentering public places after 17 months of isolation) and pre-CoVid if my children were sick, I kept them home to protect others from catching it and to let my girls rest and recuperate. But suddenly, CoVid is the only acceptable reason for an absence.
Here’s where the real frustration comes into play, aside from kids at school chastising those who are vaccinated and/or wearing masks now the administration is questioning whether or not my daughters are “really sick” or just “don’t want to be there” when I call my daughters in sick. This began after we made them aware of the mental health struggles our girls are dealing with (as are most intelligent adults and teens). Talk about minimizing mental health. What else did I expect from a place that literally had a speaker come in and tell the kids that depression is evil and they need to pray away their mental health issues? Look, I’m all for leaning on God for strength when you feel helpless but to make it a character flaw to seek mental health help is something entirely different altogether.
Honestly, I didn’t write this post to complain about my kids’ school, I’m simply frustrated and exhausted from all of this. My daughter’s been vomiting and nauseous for the past 36 hours. Obviously, I can’t send her into a school like that nor would I send a child who is feeling that terrible into school. I called the attendance office and explained and braced myself for the inevitable call from the school nurse telling us we’d need a negative CoVid test to return, even with being vaccinated and boostered. Can I just mention that we’ve had to get so many CoVid tests in the past 2 years that the pharmacy techs at our local CVS know us by name now? It’s embarrassing. All that aside, I did get the call for the nurse but not before I got the call from the Vice Principal telling me that we “need to have a meeting to discuss her attendance”. It’s the first day of the new semester, what is there to talk about? She.Is. SICK. End of the story.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. My first priority is to keep my girls healthy, happy and alive. ALIVE. At this point, I’m getting as afraid of their depression and anxiety as I am of CoVid. No child should have to feel so hopeless and helpless. I spend many nights a week reassuring my daughters that we can get through this. Holding them while they cry about what they’ve lost and the normal teen experience that they simply cannot have right now. They are missing normal human connection and being able to attend school safely. Every day they feel under threat and I don’t blame them. So I advocate for them, reassure them, hold them and love them as much and as unconditionally as I can but it’s hard when I’m just as stressed, anxious and depressed as they are.
Update: Day 2 of vomiting and nausea, they are requiring a doctor’s note or fax saying the doctor doesn’t need to see her in order to excuse the absences. Even the pediatrician is like, it hasn’t even been 48 hours, she’s not dehydrated and she’s not running a fever coming in would be more dangerous than waiting it out. They can’t even do anything for a stomach bug. FML.
What would you do in my situation? What are you doing to not only protect your family from CoVid Omicron but all the long-term side effects of surviving a pandemic in a world where conspiracy theorists and CoVid deniers pretend nothing is wrong and none of this is real?
2022/01/04
The First Day of High School was Harder than the first day of Kindergarten

Nothing could have prepared me for my daughter’s first day of high school. I expected there to change. Even expected there to be stress and nervous energy. Definitely, did not expect the first day of high school to be harder than the first day of kindergarten. It was so much worse.
I not the mom who cried in the kindergarten corridor, my girls are stoic. They’re independent and they suck it up. They get that from their daddy. I’m highly emotional. I do suck it up but I always give myself permission to feel my feelings.
READ ALSO: Kindergarten, the beginning of the end
All summer Bella’s joked that she wants to be homeschooled. She’s wanted to be homeschool since about 2^nd grade. Due to demanding dance schedules, Bella’s ballet friends are homeschooled. I never put much weight in it because I work from home. I’ve taught and had classroom time. But teaching your own child is something different entirely so my answer has always been a firm no.
But this summer, she wouldn’t drop it. I assumed she was getting nervous for the change to high school. After all, she’s been at the same school since 1^st grade. But on that first morning, she was overcome with fear and begged me to not make her go.
READ ALSO: The Different Kinds of Moms You Meet on the First Day of School
Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? I’m very close to my girls. We’re a small family, just the 4 of us and they really are my best friends ( I know it’s not cool to say that but in our case, it is true). I don’t say no very often to things they really want. Things yes but not asks of me as a mom. This morning, I had to stand strong and push my baby bird out of the nest, for her own good.
As moms, I think most of us would love to just keep our little ones snuggled up near us forever but that’s not what’s best for them. How can I expect her to be a functioning good human being when I let her shy away from everything that scares her?
The entire car ride to school, she was silently holding back tears. I saw it. I didn’t acknowledge it because, just like when they are toddlers and you make a deal about a booboo, that’s the moment the histrionics begin. I was trying to be stoic because, confession, I am totally the mom who kisses all the booboos and makes a big deal. But I needed to be strong for her.
READ ALSO: Slipping through my Fingers
About a block from the school, we were stopped in traffic and she could see the cars lining up to make the street cross at the yield sign. She could see all the other freshman and realized that she knew none of them. I heard the whimpering as she stifled her cries. My heart broke into a zillion pieces. Be strong, Debi. You can do this. Do it for Bella She needs you. This is not about you. Do NOT fall apart woman. Not turning the car went against all of my mommy instincts.
There we were in the car at drop off on her first official morning of high school. This day was just for incoming freshman. I love that. The student ambassadors were standing outside lining the drop off lanes, holding banners welcoming the new students. Cheerleaders were cheering. Teachers were standing at attention with full-faced smiles. Even the school mascot was standing outside giving out free hugs. I felt comfortable dropping her off in this situation.
I turned to the passenger seat and there say my baby, my firstborn, sobbing from fear of the unknown and no amount of reassurance was going to fix this but neither was letting her not face it. It was now. This was her moment. It was also a really hard parenting moment because I confess, all I wanted to do was grab her in my arms, peel outta there and take her home with me and make it all better. Instead, holding back tears behind my giant Gucci sunglasses, I grabbed her hand, told her that I loved her, kissed her cheek and told her to have the best day. ” I’ll see you soon.”
Looking back at me with her cheetah spotted face, through blubbering from sheer panic and fear, she said, “I hate you, mom.” I knew she didn’t mean it. I knew that was her way of letting me know how very hard this moment was for her. This was her being scared and clinging to anything that would get me to stop the trajectory of our morning. She wanted off. She wanted out. She was terrified and I was the only thing that stood between her and the comfort of how things were.
I cried all the way home. I felt like the worst mom in the history of the world. I felt like I had abandoned her at the moment she needed me most. But I know that I did the right thing because it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I had to walk away when my daughter metaphorically had her hands outstretched to me, begging me to rescue her. Instead, I gently pushed her out of the nest. I’m not sure how I’m going to survive when she goes away to college.
READ ALSO: Only 9 more Summers
That’s the thing about being a parent, we have to love them so much that we do what’s best for them, even when it breaks our hearts. We have to let them go, even when all we want to do is hold them tight. We have to love them so hard that they see themselves the way we do. We lift them up, give them courage and self-confidence when they are at their most vulnerable. We watch from the sidelines, with no glory or fanfare, being their biggest cheerleaders for all of their lives. We love them enough to convince them to see that they are as wonderful as we’ve always known they were…since that moment they were first placed upon our chest the moment they were born. As a parent, it’s our responsibility to give our children the best possible education that would cater to their needs and future goals. In fact, you can opt to learn more about best high schools in Raleigh, NC.
What was your child’s first day of school like this year?
2019/08/09
What to Do if You Get the Columbine Note?
What to do if your child is threatened at school? We don’t like to think about things like active shooters or bombings, do we? We’d like to believe that we know what we’d do. We’d protect our children, at all costs. But the truth is you have no idea how you would react if your child is threatened. I didn’t. It’s one of those fight or flight circumstances, you either run away and hide or you fight tooth and nail to keep your child safe in the situation. The intention is the same; save the child.
My fourth grader came home last Friday from school and said, “Mommy, I got this creepy note from school.” She threw the note at me from the back seat. I was expecting some weird cryptic message from some fellow student at school but that wasn’t what she got at all. Our school had come under threat from one of the children who attended the school and none of us were told until after the fact.
I was mad and terrified at the same time because how are you supposed to know what to do if your child is threatened? How do you protect your child from unseen or unanticipated dangers?
It was a letter from the school, alerting the parents that there had been a “situation” a “THREAT” at the school. We all know that is code for a Columbine/ Sandy Hook situation in the making. For a moment, I lost it…very quietly in my head because even though I was terrified, I couldn’t scare my children. They have to go to that place every day and they need to feel safe even if I don’t. I told them very little about the note. They just know there was an incident.
My daughters live in a very different world from the one I grew up in. I didn’t have drills to practice in case a “polar bear” got loose in the building and went on a “growling” spree. My mom’s last words to me every morning before school as she kissed me goodbye were not, “Love you! Remember if a “polar bear” gets in the building…bob and weave. Never run in a straight line!” We didn’t have to know active shooter protocol or what the acronym REHF meant. That’s run, escape, hide and fight for those of you who are not preparing for “polar bears” bearing down your hallways with an AK47s by the way.
I mean, what the hell is that? But it’s one of those things I need to say. Just like its compulsory that both of my children take their iPhones to school “in case of emergency” like the emergency that happened to Eddie Justice in the bathroom of the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando.
At school board meetings we have to discuss things like escape windows, bulletproof screens and hurricane doors to keep the danger out. We have security measures in place in case a strange “polar bear” shows up to terrorize our children but what about when there is a “polar bear” in student’s clothing? How do we protect our children from the unseen threats?
I’m not going to lie, the note and the intended threat that prompted it have shaken me as a mom. Every morning that I drop my kids off at school, I don’t want to. What if today is the day that a child makes good on an assumed idol threat? What if it wasn’t “just a threat”? What if it was a promise? What if it was a cry for help that went unnoticed? What if this is the last time I see my child alive?
I’ve had a knot in the pit of my stomach now for a week because we were not given all the facts. How could we be? It concerns a minor. We have to trust that the school is doing all that it can to protect our children from threats and polar bears and crazy people with guns. It’s hard to trust in others to protect your children in today’s world.
Of course, as a parent, the thought of someone putting our babies in danger is cause for pitchforks and rioting. We are all very upset. Why wasn’t school canceled? Why were we not told until the end of the day by way of a “creepy note”. Why would a child tell other children maliciously that they are “on my list”? What do we do? Where do we go from here?
The child was suspended which is what I consider a time-out. Not expelled, not ordered to compulsory psychiatric treatment but given the legally mandated slap on the wrist and called a bad boy.
I don’t know who the kid is and I don’t know what he might be going through. It might all be terrible and maybe he deserves my compassion and understanding but when it’s my child who is being put in danger, that all goes out the window. I am not reasonable when you threaten the most important thing in my world. I am outraged. I am mad. I want to feel secure again but I can’t.
But I pretend that I am for my girls. I teach my kids what to do in case of an emergency. I send them with their phones and tell them to bob and weave. I hug them tight and kiss them goodbye every single morning knowing that this could be the last time I see them while acting like everything is alright; like this is normal. Because this is our new normal.
I just want my daughters to be safe and less vulnerable when they are at school; when they are anywhere. What are my options? Put them in a bubble? Homeschool? Hide them away and make them think the world is a fairytale where everything and everyone is good? To lie to them?
I can’t, no matter how much I may want to because the world is not any of those things and I don’t want them to spend their lives hiding from life. I want them to explore, be carefree and adventurous. I want them to embrace all that life has to offer and you can’t do that from inside the safety of a prison of your mom’s making. So, I send them out into the world every day prepared (unknowingly) for the worst, hoping for the best and (me) praying for survival.
No matter how much we want to believe it, we cannot protect our children when they are outside of our care. We can only teach them to survive and advocate for their safety. I’m not trying to scare you. I know we are all already living with this fear. I just wanted you to know that it’s not just something that happens someplace else to someone else’s child.
Do you know what to do if your child is threatened from someone inside the school?
2017/03/29
Back to School Breaking My Heart Since 2009
Back to school was not Xanax inducing here. Not this year anyways. Today was the first day of school for my girls. It feels much too early in the summer. It’s the first summer that I wasn’t either ecstatic or sobbing to be left alone. This morning was a peaceful, easy morning.
The girls are at the age where they can do things on their own. They were up and ready before me. They were excited. I was thrilled. Morning drop off went off without a hitch. Completely different from last year’s back to school m ental breakdowns.
I walked them in, dropped off supplies and introduced myself to their teachers and left with a kiss goodbye and a hug of appreciation instead of desperation. It was bitter sweet.On one hand, my oldest “baby” is in 6th grade. That’s middle school? How did this happen? I swear I just dropped her off in the kindergarten hallway of death.
I returned home with hot coffee in hand and sat in peaceful quietness in a clean house. Then it happened. I missed my children. As much as we’ve been inseparable this summer, I didn’t think it was even possible.
Back to school is getting easier for them and harder for me.
I missed my tween sleepily walking into the room midmorning only to collapse by my side and snuggle into me as she did all summer. I missed my little one sauntering in with her bedhead and sidling up on the other side of me, kissing me good morning and laying with her feet under my hip as she read a book or watched a show on her iPod. I missed it all. I even missed the tiny voices constantly asking to go to the pool. I just need a few more days; a few more years. 18 years can’t hold all of this love.
Mostly, I missed the fact that those moments are gone for another summer and every summer is one summer closer to no more summers under the same roof. That rips my heart out. I don’t know how to not hate that. I want to consume and digest every moment in tiny bits so that it doesn’t overwhelm me but motherhood is all consuming and, for me, completely overwhelming in the best possible ways.
At pick up the car was filled with excited voices telling me how excited they were about the upcoming school year. They were thrilled to connect with old friends and excitedly told me of new ones. Both proclaiming that this is going to be the best school year ever. Both thrilled with their assigned teachers. These moments make my heart happy but I feel the pull away like the slow separation of a Band-Aid from a forgotten wound. It aches beneath the surface like a fresh bruise to my heart.
Our schedule is hectic and crazy and heads into full force next Monday so I plan to wring every single ounce of freedom and togetherness out of our last weekend before the obligatory chaos takes over. I have to believe every second counts and every day is a chance for a new beginning. That has to get me through the letting go.
As we head into this new year of school, I am full of pride. My babies are becoming such phenomenal young ladies. This only makes me want to cleave to them tighter but I loosen my grip because they are not mine at all. They are their own. I am just the blessed woman who got to bring them into the world and gets to spend a little time showing them the way to live in this crazy world. I just hope that I’m doing it right.
How do you deal with the quiet moments of letting go that come with back to school?
2016/08/10
Back-to-School ~The First Cut is the Deepest
This morning my oldest daughter started First Grade.*Swoon* & *Sigh* My stomach was nervous all last night for her. I’m no stranger to this phenomenon.It’s been happening to me since MY own first day of kindergarten. I didn’t think I’d be this nervous before my babies started school. I guess it’s better me than them. Ella woke up this morning excited and ready to hit the ground running. I’m so proud of her. This is her third school in three years.
The First Day Of First Grade
This morning was slightly reminiscent of last year’s first day. But this year my little girl was more excited and less nervous. I watched her jump out of bed and her eyes were smiling. She woke up her sister and headed to the kitchen for the annual first day of school breakfast; this years was pancakes, bacon, fruit and milk. Gotta feed that little brain. I watched her flit around like a little caterpillar turning into a butterfly before my very eyes. It really is quite hard to actually see the letting go happen.
She was dressed and ready to hit the road in record time this morning. I was glad. I was afraid she was going to be overcome with trepidation being in a new school, in a new city with new kids and no one she knows. But we were sure to take her to the school a couple times over the summer and she met her teacher last week. She knew where her desk, hook and mailbox would be before she ever got to school this morning. I explained the lunch line and pick up. She knew she was going to be the first Star of the Week VIP, we spent the weekend working on her VIP poster board for class. She seemed fine. I was the nervous one.

The First Cut is the Deepest
Then we drove to school, after taking my usual 100 photos or so of her getting ready for her first day of school. I reminded her that I put lunch money in her pocket, in case there was a mix up with her lunch account. I reminded her that she was having grapes in her lunch today and that she needed to take little bites and not talk while eating ( *Laugh if you will at my helicoptering but this is the same child who I was almost robbed of by a raisin). I reminded her to raise her hand when they took a head count for lunch (this is her first year of all day school). Then we rode in silence.
As we walked into the school, I had to pass the Kindergarten Mom’s. They were all melting into their pools of snot and tears in the hallway. Oh how I remember that moment, it was just last year. It will be me again next year. It hurt my heart a bit. I knew in moments, my own hurt was coming down like a hammer. We walked her into her classroom. As I handed her the backpack and pointed her in the direction of her hook, I could see the trepidation rearing its head again. I know that look. It’s a mix of glazed over and about to cry. But she never does. My girl is a suck it up kind of girl. She is the bravest kid I know (until it comes to shots but that’s an entirely different post). She asked me to walk her to her desk, of course, I obliged. The Big Guy was already busy setting all of her supply list items on her desk and unveiling that Star of the Week poster that tells her story. Abbi was running amuck checking out all the other kids to make sure it was safe to leave her big sister. She doesn’t leave her sister with just anyone.
I was in my head. She was in hers. Her eyes were glassy. My eyes were glassy. She knew I would ONLY leave her in capable hands. She sucked it up and gave me her nervous smile. I gave her a thousand and one kisses and told her to have a great day. I told her that I was so excited for her and proud of her. The Big Guy gave her a goodbye kiss and exited left. Her little sister hugged her like she was going off to war and kissed her cheek harder than I thought possible. I watched before giving her one last kiss and hug and fleeing before I could begin to cry.I told her I loved her. She told me that she did too.The commotion was growing. I swallowed the lump in my throat and told her goodbye.She smiled her nervous, toothless smile. It took all my will, I walked away. As I exited the room, I looked back and saw that same first day familiar nervous look. It broke my heart. It always breaks my heart. Leaving her, has always and will probably always break my heart into a million tiny pieces. The letting go is the hardest part of growing up.
It’s time to focus on the fact that my youngest starts preschool in 3 weeks. Oh what a blubbering mess I will be on that day. For now, I will fixate on those damn grapes and count the minutes til pick up time. Once she tells me that she had a wonderful day and I know that she survived the grapes at lunch. I will be exponentially happier. But right now, this very moment, my heart still hurts from….
Leaving my First Born in First Grade
2011/08/15
Surviving the Back to School shopping season~Mommy Style
Thank you to Crocs for sponsoring this blog post. Please click here to learn more about Crocs’ new Back to School line. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective. All opinions expressed here are my own.
It seems the least wonderful time of year is upon us, once more. You know the time I mean, back to school. It’s that magical time when the weather is still beautiful, the kids are just getting used to sleeping in and it is all abruptly interrupted so that we can run around like chickens with our heads cut off trying to find all of the items on the first of the year school supply scavenger hunt list. Next, we get to drag children, who would rather be anywhere else but where we are taking them ( preferably a beach somewhere), school shopping.
I have little girls and they typically love to shop. Though since starting down the path of uniform city, it is not as much fun as it once was for them. But fear not, what we lack in clothing diversification we make up for in adorableness; headbands, barrettes, ostentatious flowers, sassy socks and the most extensive elementary school shoe collection that I’ve ever seen. We love our shoes( like mother like daughters)!
We’ve successfully found the cutest uniform clothing we could find. We’ve completed the school supply scavenger hunt with the exception of the illusive art smock.We’ve bought bought our brand spanking new gym shoes. Next on the list, some funky Mary Janes,the coveted pair of cozy top-siders and ballerina flats. I’m sure we will be getting a pair (or two) of those (perfectly coordinated with our school’s uniforms)
Kelley Crocs!
My girls look forward to shopping for accessories and shoes the most because this is where they can show their personality.I let them go as big and bold as they want to. What is your child’s favorite part of school shopping, aside from spending the day with their Mom? Do they like to buy the funkiest or fanciest? Do they dress preppy or sporty? Or are they part of the uniform kids who have to get inventive and show their personalities through their accessories and shoes? What’s your favorite part of back-to-school shopping? If you are like me, it’s the spending the day with my 2 favorite girls one last time before they head back to school. I linger a little longer than necessary at every stop because I know these moments are not limitless, even if it is a pain in the rump wrestling other mother’s for 20 cent crayons. The smiles of pure joy at a perfect pair of shoes, or the smile I am met with when telling them how pretty a certain uniform top looks on them, or the “Thank’s Mommy” I get from buying them lunch at their favorite place in the mall; all these little things give back-to-school shopping a special place in my heart.

Crocs
2011/08/07
How My Mental Illness Manifests as a Teen in 2022

Estimated reading time: 7 minutes
Hi, my name is Bella and I’m new here at The TRUTH about Motherhood. Well, not really new, since you’ve all watched me grow up on this blog but this is the first post that I’m writing for the blog. It’s a bit personal but, after all, I am my mother’s daughter. Really, would you expect anything less than a complete overshare? Today, I’m sharing how my mental illness manifests as a teen in 2022. Be gentle, it’s my first time.
As a teen girl struggling in the world pre and post-COVID, well we have not really made it to post-COVID yet, things have been tough. The pandemic has affected me and my mental health. I’ve suffered from anxiety since I was about 10-years-old and it got progressively worse throughout middle school and high school. My freshman year of high school started in August of 2019, coincidentally, I suffered one of my worst panic attacks ever on the first day of freshman orientation.
As you can see where this tragic timeline is going as there was a series of very unfortunate events approaching. By March of 2020, my quinceanera was approaching and so was the Billie Eilish concert, which was a Christmas present for my 15th birthday, and it was all about to blow up in my face. My quince was canceled 2 days before the event ( after years of planning) and so was the concert all because of this thing called COVID-19. I really hate coronavirus.
This is how my mental illness manifests as a teen in 2022
It all started Friday, March 13th, which should have been a major red flag. Nothing good ever happens on Friday the 13th. My parents pulled me out of school early and told me to bring home all of my stuff. Second red flag. I was like alright I’m about to get a long Spring Break, then all hell broke loose. By Saturday, March 14th, the whole world was on lockdown. Stay inside, don’t leave the house type of shit, and me and my sister were dumb and like “Yay no school for a couple of weeks!” Then, 2 weeks turned into a couple of months and finishing the school year via eLearning because nobody, especially the schools, knew what the hell to do. Long story short, kids don’t get excited about unexpected “vacations” from school because it’s not going to be as awesome as you thought it was.
Since that tragic freshman year, I’ve spent all of my sophomore year navigating what my school referred to as “mode 3”, which basically meant I was home every day, not going into school, doing a combo of TEAMS meetings and assignments online, essentially teaching myself subjects like genetics and geometry. That was fun. No, it wasn’t. If you thought I had depression and anxiety pre-covid, you ain’t seen nothing yet.
I won’t lie, some of my teachers weren’t very understanding of the whole online thing and they couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t just come into school and wear a mask like everyone else. Well, the thing is my dad has underlying conditions and my mom is a diabetic. So for me, my education was an unnecessary risk to the people I love. If I had to choose between my mom and dad not dying and not struggling with school, I’d always choose my mom and dad. Not going to lie, last year was really effin hard. But, soon enough the school year was over and I was finally free of online school.
However, throughout this whole time obviously, my family believed in wearing masks, getting vaccinated and staying home as much as possible. We only went out when absolutely necessary. My parents mobile ordered our groceries and picked them up and everything else we needed, we had shipped to the house. We didn’t travel or get to do any of the normal things people do for 17 months. Honestly, things are still not back to normal and I hate it.
As a teen during this time, missing my friends and family, there was also a lot of anxiety about going back into the real world because I couldn’t help thinking that I could get this virus and potentially kill those closest to me. Basically, my whole high school experience has been stolen from me. No proms, formals, homecoming, football games and no hanging with friends, sleepovers or boyfriends. You can’t do normal things when you can’t even be around people in person. It was like life was called on account of covid.
I did what every normal person in the 21st century does, with access to the internet, I fully embraced my shopaholic tendencies, which might be my favorite and most financially damaging coping mechanism. This was how my mental illness manifests as a teen in 2022. I know it’s serious but there is something about filling an online cart that makes me feel better like things are “normal” and that’s all I want to feel.
The problem is that when you have no other outlet for those feelings of anxiety and depression because you can just feel the vibes are off in the house, and you’ve run out of movies and shows to binge on, the only logical option left to me is to shop online. My top 3 go-to places were Princess Polly, GymShark, and Arie, since then they have somewhat stayed the same, but instead of GymShark I’m drawn to Free People (specifically the movement collection) and Zara is another kryptonite for me.

Seriously, every time I have money, I want to buy new clothes. I’ve always loved fashion and shopping but the pandemic really made me understand what the term “retail therapy” means. Filling online shopping carts and planning travel are what seem to calm my anxiety.
I do love procrastinating doing my homework and spending time with my dogs just as much as the average teen, but there is something that is so satisfying about filling a cart of things you like, and hoping you can buy some of it because, well you aren’t traveling, or eating out, or seeing people why not get dressed up pretty and feel like you’re going somewhere, even though you know the only people going to see you in your cute outfits are your parents, your little sister, the dogs and some friends on TikTok. The only way to feel anything was to shop and feel like something was going to make me happy even if it was just a few days while shopping and opening that box when it got to my house. That is if it wasn’t delayed 10,000 times due to the shipping problems COVID caused.
Since August 2021 and returning to in-person school, where masks are not required, for my junior year of high school, where all we do is talk about SATs and college, my anxiety has kicked into an even higher gear. I can feel those shopping carts calling my name. It has been brought to my attention by my parents that if I want to support this habit, I’ll need to get a job this summer to pay for those carts. I’m not sure I’m quite there yet because a job means being in public and being in public means exposure to cooties and there are not enough carts in the world to be worth that anxiety trigger. Just an FYI, since the start of this nightmare that I’ve had to call life for the last 2 years, I did start therapy, and my therapist is basically my best friend besides my mom. She’s probably the reason I just keep soothingly filling carts and not hitting the buy now button.
In a couple of months, I’m finally supposed to be having my quinceanera, this time with my baby sister who is now turning 15. I keep waiting for apocalypse part II to happen any day now because that’s just my luck. I’ve got to say, if it happens again, there are not enough shopping carts on the internet or Prozac to make me feel better about it. Here’s wishing us all a very boring and uneventful summer filled with nothing but normal things like beach days and family vacations and a long-awaited quinceanera celebration that’s 2 years past due.
How have you been taking care of your mental health and dealing with the pandemic?
2022/04/07
That Time I Had to Hide in a Bathroom Stall with my Daughter
Ever think about what it really means that we are parenting in a world where it’s completely necessary to teach our children what to do in case someone enters the the building with a gun? Something happened last week that left me more than a little freaked out. I haven’t talked about it on here because I didn’t know where to start. I wasn’t sure that I even wanted to talk about it because then I had to admit that it was real.
But then in the news I read that a couple people had been shot and murdered at our local Texas Roadhouse. It was a Sunday night. It’s a family restaurant. Can you imagine going out for dinner with your family and being caught in crossfire? Can imagine what you would do if you were sitting there with your child?
We’d all like to think that it would never happen to us. That mass shootings, or a madman on the loose with a firearm, happens someplace else; anywhere else. It just doesn’t happen here because then we would have to face our greatest fear every single time we walked out of the door. We’d have to accept that every moment outside the bubble of our home puts those we love most at risk. So we push it down, way down. We throw caution to the win and we don’t let the “terrorists” win (the terrorists being crazies with guns). But sometimes, it does happen here. There. To you. It can happen to any of us.
Last week, I was at the mall with my daughters and my mother-in-law school shopping. The sun was shining. The guys were at a thing and us girls, we were just having a relaxing day of buying things we needed to back-to-school and “mannequin shopping” (as my youngest refers to window shopping) for those things on our wish list. It was a day like so many others but not quite. We had no idea what was about to transpire.
We had hit all the stores we needed to hit and were hitting Sears as a last ditch effort to find the correct size in uniform shirts and shorts for my tall and thin children before we were going to let the girls go someplace they actually wanted to go…Claire’s and Justice. After much searching, we finally found some uniform polos that would work. As we neared the register, the littlest one tells me that she needs to go to the restroom. Of course she does, she always has to go to the restroom. I think she is secretly surveying all the bathrooms in the world. She’ll probably start some amazing yelp like service for toilets when she’s a tween but I digress. This is serious shit and I’m getting off track.
My mother-in-law stays in line with my oldest to pay and the little one and I go to the restroom. In case you were wondering, my girls are 9 and 11-years-old and, no, I still don’t let them go to the restroom unaccompanied because I simply don’t trust people. She went to one stall, while I went to another (hey, that’s progress) and then it happened.
I was washing my hands while she was still in the stall. I was chatting to her, letting her know that I was waiting outside the stall door. She was cracking jokes and laughing, as she is known to do. She is a really silly kid. I love that about her. Then we heard it, something off in the distance outside the women’s restroom door. Something like I’ve never heard before. It sounded like a child tantruming and very agitated but it was clearly an adult man. I could hear the tension escalation and nearing us.
I was really confused because when we had walked into the restroom, through the furniture section, there were three seemingly normal grown men sitting there. Yet, this howling, agitated screaming and shouting was getting louder and louder and I could hear arguing. My heart was racing. Oh my God, what’s about to happen?
These are the moments in parenting where you find out who you really are.
So, I started rapping on my daughter’s stall but I wasn’t saying anything because I didn’t want anyone outside the bathroom to know we were in there. I didn’t want to call attention to our location. Then in a panic, I whisper shouted, “Gabi, let me in. It’s mommy.” She did. I could see on her face that she was terrified. I tried to calm her with my eyes but I knew the voices were getting closer and louder and even more agitated with each step.
I pushed her to the back of the stall. I told her to be quiet and make herself small. Hide as best you can in a stall. I had no idea what was coming through that door. I feared it could be a man with a gun. I was terrified but not for me or my safety, but for my daughter; my littlest girl. All I could think of was those poor men trapped in the bathroom at Pulse nightclub in Orlando.
I readied myself for the worst. I positioned myself in between the door and my child and I braced it with all of my weight. I was looking through the crack in the stall when a huge, mentally challenged man came bursting through the door. He was pacing back and forth and hitting himself in the head; clearly agitated. He was hitting the stall door next to me. No one else was in there except for him and us. I wanted to cry and scream for help but I had to stay silent and keep my composure. He was out of control and not in his right mind.
Then, an elderly woman, I’m assuming his mother, burst into the bathroom. She grabbed him and tried to subdue him. Her eye caught mine looking through the slit in the stall. I’m sur she could see the terror in my eyes. She was tiny and he was massive. I wanted to help her but he was twice my size and while her concern was her child, mine was my own child. We stayed in there, silently hiding from this man for what seemed like forever. I’m sure it was only a few minutes.
I heard her talking to him with a mother’s love and trying to calm him down. She pulled him into the handicapped stall next to us. He was still screaming and howling and I could hear him hitting himself. I couldn’t even breathe but I had to stay strong for my daughter. Then, I heard the mom shut the stall door and tell him, “just stay here with me and breathe for a minute,” and I knew it was our chance.
I quietly opened the stall door, checked to make sure it was safe and slipped out with my daughter safely tucked behind me. I was a human shield, just in case, he flew back out of the stall agitated. My daughter was trembling, as I held her close to me. We got outside of the door and finally exhaled.
And there sitting, laughing, were the three grown men. The same men who watched me walk into the restroom with my little girl. The same men who saw this mentally deficient, unstable man flipping out and proceeded to watch him enter the restroom where my daughter and I were at, all the while doing nothing. The same men who watched as a frail, tiny elderly woman went in to face a huge, agitated and angry man. They laughed. My daughter was trembling and they laughed. The only reason I didn’t stop and say something to them was because I didn’t know if that man was going to come running out of the bathroom, still unstable. My priority was getting my daughter to safety. Instead, I went to the cashier and they sent security.
This is the world we live in. The world where grown man do nothing while a child is in danger. A world where no one, other than this man’s mother, thought it was enough to check on him, even though he was screaming, yelling and hitting himself. A world where my little girl cried when we got home because she was too scared to answer the door at first and she felt guilty. A world where my first thought was that someone was coming in to shoot us.
The sad reality is we’re parenting in a world where any of us can become a victim of gun violence at any time.
2016/08/19
Back to School Brain Food Homemade Granola Bar Recipe
Estimated reading time: 3 minutes
School is back in session and it’s in person this year. Let’s be honest, it is exhausting peopling these days, even for kids (especially those old enough to know better). My girls are back in school after the longest 17 months in the history of their world; pandemic problems even in the first world suck. They come home hungry and in need of a pick-me-up. I want to give them comfort and listen over a healthy snack. One of my girls’ favorites is my back to school brain food homemade granola bar recipe.
I’ve been making this recipe for almost as long as my girls have been alive. They’ve requested it more times than I can count and I’m not mad at them about it. I love them too. This granola bar recipe is quick, easy and 100% customizable and goes great in breakfast parfaits too.
There is something reassuring and organic about making food with love for your children and knowing what’s in it, no preservatives. In fact, I just made a big batch earlier this week for their first week back to school! It’s Gabi’s first week in high school so I needed to give her all the comfort I could.
I used to make this recipe with the girls and we’d have a blast making it together and enjoying it as a snack with a huge glass of organic milk (wouldn’t do the hormones for my girls..but that is an entirely different post about precocious puberty). These granola bars also make a super awesome topping on French Vanilla yogurt.
Back to School Brain Food Homemade Granola Bar Recipe
- 2 cups rolled oats
- 1 cup brown rice flour
- 3/4 cut shredded coconut
- 1 Tablespoon ground cinnamon
- 1/4 teaspoon sea salt
- 3/4 cup maple syrup
- 1/2 cup canola oil
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 cup chopped walnuts
- 1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips or raisins or other dried fruit of your choice!
Mix all of the ingredients together in a bowl.
Line 9×13 pan with foil and spread mixture.
Granola Bars Goodness
Bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes, let cool a bit and then cut into squares.
Wrap in cling wrap and eat within about a week. They are still good after a week, but dry out a bit and become crumbly.
The best part is that it’s so customizable to your family’s taste by simply switching the nuts, dried fruits or adding peanut butter ( or whatever chips you’d prefer) into these delicious granola bars. I promise your kids will be begging you to make this back-to-school brain food homemade granola bar recipe. Eat it alone, with milk, in a parfait or with some fruit as part of a bowl; perfect for breakfast, on the go or an after-school or late-night snack.
What is your favorite back to school brain food recipe?
2021/08/17
Fuck the Right to Bear Arms, What about Justice for the Children of Sandy Hook Elementary School?
What happened at Sandy Hook Elementary school today? I am sad and I am mad. I am infuriated that more children have had to die to make us understand that the right to bear guns is bullshit.
I dropped my daughters off at school this morning and watched them walk hand in hand into the school, like I do every day. Every day I do that, I am thankful to be their mother and every day I leave them, I pray that they will be there when I come to pick them up. This is what every mother feels, every single time we drop our babies off in the care of someone else. It’s instinctual.
I spent the morning with my husband, Christmas shopping for our girls. It was the first chance we’ve had all season. We even decided to by the girls that puppy that they have been begging for. The entire day everything just felt right and then as I was waiting in the pick up line, I jumped on Twitter and Facebook and I saw it. My worst nightmare right there on CNN. Sandy Hook Elementary school had been under attack; one crazy asshole, Adam Lanza, with a gun, 20 small dead children and 7 more dead. My skin crawled. I’m sobbing writing this right now. I had to hold my kids and wait until my girls had gone to bed to even begin to process this horrific story. Words fail to describe this heartbreaking and savage attack.
I weep because what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School today could have happened to any one of us and to any one of our children. How can this keep happening?
Some mother, just like me, watched her sweet child walk into school this morning and he or she will never walk out again. The mother is now childless and my heart is breaking for all the mothers and fathers of Sandy Hook Elementary school.
It’s the same story over and over again, some crazy asshole gets a hold of guns and his mommy didn’t love him or he felt castrated or chastised or whatever the fuck his excuse is for thinking it’s okay to go into a public place full of children and women and mothers and fathers and starts to spray bullets because his life sucks and so he wants the whole world to hurt too. Well, we hurt. We all hurt and there are children who won’t be tucked in tonight and mothers who arms are empty for one simple reason..guns!
How many times does a gunman have to be turned lose into a public place and must we leave our children vulnerable before we’ve had enough? Well, I’m done. I’m pissed off and I’m done listening to all the reasons you should be able to have a gun. People say this is not the time for politics. Then when? I have said this time and time again; the gun laws are not stringent enough. If they were, not so many nutjobs would be getting hold of guns and stop telling me that every person who gets a gun and kills a bunch of people got it illegally. That is bullshit. The simple fact of the matter is that guns kill people and when you give guns to people who have no respect for law or life then you are giving them a license to kill innocent children. That’s it.
You can tell me it’s your right to bear arms. I say no, it isn’t. But it was those mothers of Sandy Hook Elementary School’s right and privilege to get to kiss their babies goodnight and they have been robbed of that. Your right to bear guns does not trump their right to bear babies.
I am sad and sickened about these beautiful children who will never get to grow up and their parents who will never get to hold their children in their arms, push away a wisp of hair or tell them that they love them again because people refuse to give up their right to bear arms. Guns kill people and it’s about time that we all take responsibility for that.
My thoughts and prayers are with the mothers and fathers of Sandy Hook Elementary school.

Photo: Jessica Hill AP
2012/12/14