Weather event Wednesday is expected this week. While we have seen sweet little snowflakes (not a dig on sensitive struggling people) already this season, we have not seen stickage. Being an adult with the things needing to be done, and living on the side of a rocky Appalachian range foothill, I have mixed feelings about these gloriously magical, twinkling-sparkle, frozen knife sharp, red-cheeked and chilly weather events. I love it because of ambedo, muted frosty boot crunches that feel like warm silence, hot cocoa, sleds, and whispers of wildlife poking about. I dread it because of the hill and our inevitable ice-on-the-roads danger thing (bc Danger is NOT my middle name, nor do I work at USPIS – also, what’s up, Danger?). Shovels are at the ready, and pet safe ice melt is being picked up today.

Sweet SonHerisme is on day 5 of some virus – test at the pediatrician confirmed he does not have COVID. WHEW. Mixed messaging and fatigue has kids removing masks at school until they are caught by a teacher. Our school positive infections jumped from about 100-150 new positive cases per week to over 250 new positive cases this past week. Locally our hospitals are struggling with ability to handle basic emergency care and finding beds. Not just for COVID, of course, but regular everyday humans gotta human emergencies.

SonHerisme’s teacher, our golden ticket teacher we waited patiently to have the privilege of working with, has had enough and is leaving the school as of winter break.

I feel and hear the soulbreak from health care professionals to grocery employees to parents to young friends. Then I look around and see so many unmasked people, so many refusing to vaccinate, so much indignation at courtesy/respect/acknowledgement of humanity. It seems to be manifesting in this surreal realm of extreme focus on personal indulgences and revelry at all costs. I’m all for any excuse to indulge and celebrate. However, with the nature of this global pandemic, I’m not feeling the throw caution to the wind vibe. More, drop treats off for neighbor and chat on Facetime or bundled up outside with a distanced shared bottle of something vibe.

With feeling all of the feelings and following all of the valid information followings, I made an entertainment faux pas which has had me off kilter for days. I blame the seductive lure of wintery environs, an aga stove, suspenders, and a fluttery snowflake blouse. Oh, and actors who are too adorable not to look at. Stupid dumb people hiring the stupid dumb entertainers doing what they do best and sucking us in to tuning in to the things and feeling the feelings. I thought I could handle a little levity and beauty with apocalyptic overtones. I cannot. There is no amount of handsome husbanding, potato roasting, sweet awkward tweening, goofy stress adulting in a gorgeous idyllic country home at Christmastime, to ease the trauma of a human hubris induced culling of humanity(sound familiar?!? EERILY too familiar!).

DO NOT get trapped into that Silent Night without preparing for deep pain feelings. I made it to the point where the suspendered dad lost his control and then could not continue. It is too … real. Even with the distanced unreal beauty of the actors and environment, the situation is too real. I am not generally made for watching traumatic things, unless they are Marvel/Star Wars kind of fantasy trauma (?). I allowed myself a moment of judgement lapse for my own visceral boundaries because of a stupid snowflake blouse and imaginings of a different kind of holiday with complete disregard for the actual story they were trying to tell. I was dazzled by a picture and my soul gut got seriously punched. My bff bravely watched it through to process with me. She describes the movie as having blergh-iness. It is a trust trigger for sure – which is an acknowledged difficult place for me. BFFHerisme did tell me about the pivotal ending, which is decidedly not for this mommy during an actual global pandemic. Hard pass. Deleted it from my “resume watching” list. Good gravy and grief. Snowflakes, suspenders, and beautiful people. Amen.

I have spent a few days cleansing my brainiac with some ambedo plus Christmas movies, Christmas shows, Christmas decorating, Christmas gift preparing, extra tea, holiday mugs, and taking care of SonHerisme. Oh, and also MotherHerisme… which isn’t cleansing, but is time consuming, and that too, can be helpful.

Please take good care of yourself. As backup, despite close to zero ways I resemble Keira Knightly or her character, I am sourcing a snowflake blouse and extra potatoes because of preparedness. That’s my take-away and I’m sticking to it.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps. also going through the Shadow and Bone series with SonHerisme (I’m on Six of Crows). My kind of readable trauma! SonHerisme is caught up in Fahrenheit 451 at the moment as well. My side-hustle reads are: What I Learned from the Trees, Hermann Hesse, and a soul sweetener- The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse. How about you?

pps also mom failed my baby as he took about an hour to get into the shower and then came out demanding if I had any food prepared for him while I was in the middle of a work email… so I snapped at him. I snapped at my sweet ill SonHerisme :,( Onwards to apologies, snuggles, and eggy comfort sandwiches. MotherHerisme has been a hawt mess as well. Life has been served.

*whispers* gently, gently with yourself, sweetmomma

“We often wait for kindness… but being kind to yourself can start now.” said the mole. From The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy.