So Many Questions

Before the pandemic, Zibbi was enrolled in Monkey School, a circus arts class.  For the last class, they demonstrated to parents what they had learned.  Zibbi was up, and I noticed that there was some kind of stain on the back of her pants.  The instructor called me over and asked me to investigate said stain with Zibbi.  When we pulled down her pants, to my shock, the inside was covered in poo.  Super stinky, super sticky.  Luckily, I had some wipes in my bag, so we used those to clean up.  Also luckily, we had driven, so Thom jumped in the car to retrieve a new pair of pants.  I realized after a bit of investigating, that Zibbi had been employing a "one and done" philosophy in wiping.  Which obviously had utterly failed.  Zibbi begged me NOT to tell her instructor, so when we FINALLY emerged from the bathrooms, I had to discretely nod at her teacher, letting the instrtuctor know that the problem was taken care of, without letting Zibbi know that I was letting her know.  

Last night, as Zibbi and I were snuggled into bed, I inquired what the dark brown stain on the front of the pants was.  Zibbi scratched at it, it didn't appear to be a new stain, it was not in fact crusty.  We wondered together if maybe it was chocolate?  She told me that I shouldn't worry as they weren't her poop pants. At the time, I didn't question this.  Then, later, I had SO very many questions.  What exactly are "poop" pants?  Which ones ARE the so called "poop" pants?  And most disturbing of all, how could I possibly have NOT followed up with further questions at the time of the conversation?  I guess time may reveal the answers to all these questions.

Stepping Up

 

Something is amiss with Zibbi.  She has had a harder time completing her school work.  When she DOES complete it, it is after hours (or maybe minutes that FEEL like hours) of crying and yelling.  My hypothesis (can't let all those years of studying psychology go to waste!) is that Lotta is moving more firmly into tween-dom, meaning she is not as interested in infinite Barbie play.  She might want to read a book or draw or email a friend.  That leaves Zibbi without her playmate, and maybe without the words to explain why she is feeling badly (or maybe even the understanding).  Anyway, I shared my theory with Thom and Benja.  I encouraged Benja, if he was able, to find a way to play with Zibbi (off screen, as we have SO very much screen time right now).  And, man oh man, did he ever step up.  He finished a book with her, they played a game of chase.  It was amazing.  And I thought, it some ways, it is GREAT for him too, to feel a purpose in this sometimes purposeless feeling time.  What started out as a disconnect between two has become a re-connect with a different set.  

Off My Game

Geez louise.  I am off my game today.  I feel foggy and exhausted.  Then every time I try to "help" someone with a relationship kerfuffle or school work (that, by the way, was supposed to be finished yesterday) I am greeted with MUCH yelling and crying.  I tried taking a walk and it is frigidly cold, even by Wisconsin standards. Like make your teeth hurt cold.  This is the day I envisioned all those many months ago when safer at home began.  A day when you just feel blah.   I am glad I will have another chance tomorrow.  Today I am ready to go back to bed.  (Luckily, Benja is making me some Hello Dolly Cake to brighten my somber mood. When he just opened the oven, smoke came pouring out.  That tracks with what is happening today.)

Inauguration

 "That even as we grieved, we grew. That even as we hurt, we hoped. That even as we tired, we tried."

From The Hill We Climb by Amanda Gorman Poet Laureate

So inauguration yesterday.  Wow.  So much more emotional than I imagined it would be.  An African/Asian Female vice president.  For the first time.  Photos floating around Facebook with all the previous vice presidents, all white men, then Kamala Harris standing next to it.  That's what happened today.  Today is the day we can tell our children that FINALLY THIS too is possible.  Imagine what else we can do now.  Even though we have much work left to do, it is exhilarating to have a government that is working once again on behalf of its citizens.  

Showing Up

Thom, Lotta, and Zibbi went sledding on Monday, as there was no school in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr.  When they returned home, Lotta's hands were so packed with items, she had no free hands to open the front door.  Later, she discovered she could NOT find the library book she'd read on the car ride.  We all looked everywhere, still it did not turn up.  Then came bedtime when Lotta emerged crying, rediscovering that the book was still, in fact, missing AND it is a library book, so that is the WORST possible book to go missing.  As you know, we try our best to stay on the good side of our librarian friends.  Being extremely tired and READY to watch The Flight Attendant (a show that is similar to not being able to look away from a car wreck, where I constantly keep yelling at the main character to please, for crying out loud, make some GOOD choices.  But, as you can tell, I MUST keep watching.)  So I was less than amused when Lotta emerged despondent that her book was STILL missing.  I suggested maybe another book or maybe just going to bed.  And also, extremely unhelpfully, I suggested that this is the reason why BAGS are such a useful tool in transporting things.  I think the point is, that I was most certainly NOT in the game.  

Maybe a week ago, Lotta, started coughing in bed.  It actually isn't that often that Lotta comes back downstairs after bedtime.  In fact it is rare.  And I thought these thoughts as I raced up the stairs, how these disruptions were so much more frequent a few years ago.  Startled and afraid, she came to the top of the stairs to explain what was happening.  I could tell from her voice that she was scared, so I listened to her carefully as I looked into her frightened eyes.  I calmly gave her suggestions of what she could do to alleviate her discomfort--take a drink of water (the remedy for everything, as I have also mentioned previously), prop her pillows up more.  I told her if it persisted, we would take further steps.  Relieved, we hugged, and she went back to bed.  This moment stuck with me because I think it is so very challenging to show up when our expectations were different than what is happening (see previous paragraph).  I know as a parent, this is what we strive for MORE of, these moments of connection, these moments where somehow, someway we are able to put our own needs to the side and really show up for these little people.  And I think so often we are busy beating ourselves up for the words we didn't say, the times we were impatient, or hungry or tired ourselves.  I thought after that profound moment on the steps, what if I could look more for those moments when I actually was fully available?  Wouldn't that be something to count my "wins" as loudly and as often as I count my "losses"?  I wonder if I would actually be able to show up MORE if I was able to celebrate the times I was the parent I strive to be.  

Early Morning Ramblings

Early last Saturday morning, Zibbi awoke at 5:30 am.  Way way too early for a Saturday (unless you are a farmer, and THANK YOU for your service to our food chain.)  I suggested since she couldn't go back to sleep she just stay awake and play or read.  She disappeared from my view, and utterly shocked at the success of that strategy, I attempted to go back to sleep. (Going back to sleep, NOT my strength).  Then, maybe 10 minutes later, I hear Zibbi's alarm clock going off.  Which of course forced ME back awake.  I once again attempted the feat of resuming sleep.  About 10 minutes later, Zibbi's alarm again went off.  Again, I sighed heavily and re-attempted sleep.  About 10 minutes later, we re-enact the scenario.  This went on for I don't even know how long.  It was when I discovered the great life lesson that the only thing worse than having to wake up early on a Saturday is being woken up repeatedly on a Saturday.  Later, when I told this story to Benja, Zibbi explained, that she didn't want to wake me up by turning the light on.  So, she had attempted to use the light from her clock, which caused all the noise.  She was in fact, trying to be thoughtful.  We decided maybe next time it would make more sense to turn on a light.  

Walking towards Greater Awareness

On one of our recent walks, Benja and I walked by a house where people were offering soup.  I had not brought my wallet, so when they offered, I declined.  Not to discourage them, I inquired if they had a website.  They looked at my strangely, then told me that no they did not.  As we walked away, Benja explained that they were GIVING away soup, it was not a business venture.  My bad.

Then as Lotta, Zibbi, and I were walking home from ice skating, Lotta noticed a bunch of tents erected along the Yahara River.  She muttered, "Wow, look at

all those people camping."  To which I responded that I did not think they were camping, I was pretty sure they were people who had lost their homes during this pandemic. Then I immediately regretted sharing this.  I mean, how much should she know about what is happening in the world?  How much should I shelter her?  I know next year in middle school is when she will be exposed to the holocaust and all of its atrocities.  Then, I ponder all those families whose parents have no choice but to expose them to awful truths of racisim, poverty, injustice as they are living them.  How is it fair that I can protect my children?  Is that my own privilege that I CAN shelter my children from the ills of the world?

I guess what I am saying is things have changed so dramatically and so suddenly it feels like the whole world has shifted.  Yesterday there were photos of someone leaving the White House with an Abraham Lincoln bust.  Just walking out, as if it were a party favor.  A national historic treasure being removed from its home right before all of our eyes.  Being a rule follower, this act was both astonishing AND utterly repulsive to me.  It is outrageous to me that this man would steal a national treasure in front of us all.  Four years of mind blowing corruption in plain sight.  Again and again and again.  It is exhausting.  

Fact Check by Susan Zafer:  The bust that was seen being carried out apparently belonged to a private person.  

Little Black Stones

Last year Zibbi came inside very excited, her mittens filled with little black stones which she placed on the kitchen table.  She exclaimed over how much she loved the stones and how amazing it was that they were all around the same size.  They seemed extremely beautiful and ready to be displayed.  Benja walked into the kitchen and screamed, "Eeew Gross.  Rabbit poop on the table!! We've GOT to move."  I suppose it's all in your perspective.  

The Sound of Silence

 

Here Zibbi practices looking like she hasn't made it during ice skating.  Maybe not the best past time during a pandemic.  

Typically, as I am getting ready for the day, Zibbi will request assistance.  She is skilled at bursting into the bathroom right at the moment when I am getting dressed.  Yesterday, she thrust her computer in my face, and demanded, "What does this mean?"  I read the screen, it also did not make sense to me, so I inquired if there were further instructions.  Zibbi sighed heavily and explained that there was a SIX minute video she had to watch.  SIX minutes.  Who has THAT kind of time?  She stormed out of the room, at the unfairness of it all.

Then, this morning, again as I was getting dressed, Zibbi requested I come to her room to help.  This was right after, Benja had  informed me that he NEEDED to show me some things, requesting that I join him for 26 minutes.  To which Zibbi responded that SHE actually needed me for 26 minutes.  Typically she comes to me with her laptop requesting help, this time, she insisted that I come to her room.  I arrived and the desk/table we'd set up was cleared off so that she could work in the space.  Unfortunately, this meant that all the desk items were now strewn across the floor, making it an obstacle course to actually get to her desk.  She assured me that she would pick it up "later" (I am taking a page out of her book--Lotta is studying idioms this morning--and using quotation marks in unusual ways.)  

Finally after assisting both Lotta and Zibbi and scheduling a time with Benja to watch the video, I arrived downstairs to write this blog just in time for Thom to be ready for a chat break.  Oh and Zibbi just yelled down that she needs me again.  Like this, "MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM."  I think at some point, I will need to put my headphones on today.  These are the days that Thom proclaims that the children have "broken me", as an extrovert, I can take a lot of people time.  Some days, however, I just need some silence.  

Purely Elizabeth

 

This morning I was lamenting not taking the opportunity to do something BIG to commemorate the 10 year anniversary of Ellie's death for breakfast.  As I was reaching for granola (chocolate of course, because that's the way I roll in a pandemic), I noticed the name on the package was, "Purely Elizabeth" (Ellie's full name was Elisabeth).  And I thought, "Ok, maybe, actually this WAS the perfect breakfast."  

The Day Before

I think sometimes the day before is worse than the day of.  The anticipation.  Trying to protect myself by being pre-sad so that maybe just maybe I will not feel so bad the day of.  It never really works.  Yet still my mind tries to set up protective fencing to ward off the hurt.  Tomorrow it will be 10 years since Ellie passed.  And as Thom said, soon she will be gone longer than she was with us.  Hard to wrap my brain around this passing of time.  At the same time, with EVERYTHING going on around us in the world, the whole thing feels somewhat diminished, the storming of the Capitol, racial injustice, not to even mention a pandemic.  I guess ONE benefit to living during this historic time is everything else just seems less in comparison.

I actually DID tell her everything

 

At Central Library years ago...

I mentioned previously how much I enjoy chatting up the Marquette Librarian.  She just truly seems interested in every single thought I have in my head.  Tuesday was library pick up and I had a lot stored up in my head that needed to come out of my mouth.  I explained how Lotta is now talking about walking herself home from school, so that I can walk Zibbi (or Lotta could actually walk Zibbi if I need her to, suddenly so very many options. are opening up.)  I was lamenting the fact that it feels like we will emerge from this pandemic and Lotta will have missed some of her childhood milestones.  As I have mentioned previously, she may be already finished with playing on the playground.  I think it is so much more challenging to NOT know when something is the final time.  Like with Ellie, she went on hospice care and her teacher asked if they should take her off the roster.  And I just could NOT fathom that we had completed Ellie's final day of school.  I couldn't wrap my mind around the thought that without ceremony or fanfare we said good bye with OUT actually getting to say good bye.  I feel the same now, as I am faced with the possibility of Lotta ending her elementary career without actually returning to the school.  Without the bridging ceremony (from elementary school to middle school).  And Zibbi not returning to Lapham, her final year there before she moves onto Marquette.  I know in the grand scheme of things none of these really matter.  They aren't graduations or weddings.  Yet, these little ceremonies help mark the passage of time.  When I arrived home, I told Thom that I had, once again, told Maegan absolutely EVERYTHING.  I explained how when I told her about Lotta walking herself to school, Maegan said, "You know we had this exact conversation when Ben started walking to school on his own?"  And Thom responded, "Wow!  You really DID tell her everything."  Not exaggerating.  THIS time.  

Hoping for Money

Zibbi received a letter from her teacher today.  At the beginning of the school year, her teacher kept spelling her name "Zibby".   Zibbi changed her profile in zoom to "Zibbi not Zibby", while also giving a verbal cue explaining the correct spelling.  So we were elated to see that Ms. Beery scored points by spelling Zibbi's name correctly on the envelope.  Zibbi ripped the envelope open, when she saw that it was a certificate for completing a level in Lexia (a reading program), she said, "Oh, good, I was afraid it was a bill."  To which we all laughed.  Then, Zibbi said, "I mean, I was HOPING for money...."  Then she proceeded to carefully and proudly display her certificate on the refrigerator.  

Third Time's a Charm

 

This morning, Lotta and I made another attempt for a Lazy Jane's scone.  As we were preparing to depart, I said, "Third time's a charm".  To which Benja responded how funny a slogan that would be for a hospital, "Let's try the SAME thing for the third time and see if we get a different result."  (Which then made me recall Benja telling a family in the hospital elevator, that an apple a day would have prevented their hospital stay.  Unfortunately THEY were not in the space of receiving that advice.)  Lotta had a break between classes and we began walking and man oh man it was chilly.  Again, that chilly where your hands just stay cold in your gloves.  As we walked, we discussed memories we recalled along Williamson Street.  For example, one day after a field trip, Lotta and I walked to Batch together for a treat because we had extra time before we needed to be at the bus stop for Zibbi.  And we both remarked how much we appreciated living somewhere where we had so very many fond memories.  We passed Batch along our way (still closed).  Then, we arrived at the purple and green house and they were OPEN!!!  (Angel chorus inserted here.)  We went inside, the only ones there, and told the person behind the counter how very happy we were to see them open for business.  We arrived home and there were cheers and jumping and streamers and maybe even a parade, for our determination and grit in obtaining those pastries.  Benja had to rush to eat his cinnamon roll because I have this strange rule that if a sweet treat is eaten before noon, it counts as breakfast and not as your actual sweet treat (even though it IS a sweet treat.)  The point is, third time was indeed a charm.  

January Blahs

 

January.  The let down month after all the holiday flurry.  When my sister has driven here from Memphis, she laments having to drive through Illinois.  IF only Illinois would gracefully step aside so she could cut off hours of driving.  I felt the same about driving through Kansas to get to Colorado as a child.  I know I know, both Illinois and Kansas have a LOT to offer.  They just also have a LOT of state to drive through.  THAT to me is January.  Somehow you have to get through the cold bleak month of January to arrive at February, one step closer to the first barely there whiff of spring in March (maybe, in Wisconsin, it is a safer bet to shoot for spring like weather in May).  And THIS January 13th marks the 10 year anniversary of Ellie's death.  We will soon arrive at a time when she will have been dead longer than she was alive.  As she would have pointed out, that's wange (weirdly strange). 

And then her birthday on the 26th when she would have been 21(!?!!??)  When I think about it, January is really such an excellent representation of Ellie's life.  It seems so daunting.  How will we ever make it through?  Then, it brings all these unexpected delights, along with the waiting and slogging through.  It has ALL the feels.  It's like the times when I suddenly felt so happy to be sitting in a hospital room with Ellie, when from the outside, that prospect probably only looked like stress.  Or the joy of making unexpected friends with the nurses and doctors.  This particular January has thrown the delight of Rine Ice at us.  Rine ice is ice formed on objects (in this case trees) from freezing fog.  When you look outside now, a parade of white awaits your eyes, an absolutely magical winter wonderland.  Just as I was bracing myself for the harshness and longevity of January, I am greeted with the wonder and beauty of nature.  

  

It's IN the Name for Crying out Loud!

 Lotta has been bored bored bored bored with breakfast.  We have tried a variety of options to remedy the situation, nothing seems to stick.  Finally, she requested the world's best scones, available from Lazy Jane's.  For some odd reason, they are currently closed Tuesday and Wednesday.  Previously they were closed Mondays.  It almost feels as if they are closed just whatever random day they want (they aren't called "Lazy" for nothing).  Benja and I made a plan to walk to Lazy Jane's on Christmas Eve.  The night before, Thom and I looked up the hours.  Unfortunately, they had not posted in Facebook since last summer (again, I will refer you to their name).  So, Benja and I set off in the freezing cold.  Let me clarify that I am saying freezing, as in Wisconsin freezing, as in your hands are STILL cold with gloves on.  As we walked past Batch, the french bakery on the way to Lazy Jane's, there was a line out the door and around the block.  I began to have a sinking feeling in my stomach.  "What if Lazy Jane's was closed? " I wondered. We arrived and a notice on the door said that they were closed the two weeks of winter break.  Ugh.  So what the heck did we expect really?  On the walk home, I worried how very disappointed everyone would be when we arrived home empty handed.  I decided I would be more upset than anyone else, just to see how that would play out.  I imagined throwing myself on the floor, rolling around and sobbing for those missed, delicious pastries.  And STRANGELY, against all odds, it worked!  I mean there was disappointment.  But no one even came near to my level of disappointment.  Lesson learned.  Not sure what lesson, but still.    

Then today I had a big hankering for a Korova cookie (it's a delicious little dark chocolate cookie with just a sprinkling of salt on top from Batch Bakery).  I decided I would take a walk up there and get myself one of those delectable treats.  I bundled up, grabbed my mask and began walking.  When alas, I arrived, a large sign was on the door proclaiming that this time THEY were on winter break until January 15th.  Sigh.  

Addendum:  

As I was typing this blog, our nation's Capitol was stormed, in an attempt to prevent the certification of our electoral college.  It was extremely distressing to see representatives cowering in fear as men with guns forced their way into the Capitol.  I wondered how in the world I could share a blog about pastries for crying out loud when all of THAT was happening.  After texting with my friend, Tracy, I realized, that TODAY more than ever is a day when we need the comfort that, sometimes, only a pastry can bring.  As my amazing sister has often inquired in times of stress, "Can you get yourself to a pound cake?"  And also, isn't it a sign of our time that we must somehow face our daily tasks/struggles even amidst a coup attempt AND pandemic AND racial injustice AND economic downturn??  Fortunately for ME, my mother shared some absolutely delicious cookies sent by my brother Kip, who appreciates the importance of a good cookie (as illustrated by an incredibly heated cookie contest held for Ellie's After Party).  And boy howdy did I ever enjoy a cookie after dinner.  Until I didn't because I had enjoyed it TOO much and at that point decided I would never again need to eat.  But as they say, it is another day and I can not stop reliving the deliciousness of that cookie.  I may soon, re enact my cookie monster impression.  

An Ever So Slightly Entertaining Blog

 

Back in March, when Corona break began, I started a journal to record our time together and to try to maintain some sort of sanity.  (Look how that's turned out!!  If you need any proof of my mental stability, please refer to recent blogs about Alexa).  The journal began on Monday, March 15th and ended abruptly on March 31st, where there appears there was some sort of revolt, as there IS a heading listed and then a big empty page.  At the time, we thought that in a couple of weeks everything would be back up and running, how naive we were back then.  Here we are 10 months later.  I thought this might be entertaining, but who really knows anymore what exactly is entertaining?  

One idea suggested on the Happier with Gretchen Rubin podcast was making lists to record this time.  Here are 3 lists that we all helped fill in

Things We Are Grateful For

• Having Tony Evers (governor whom we do not know the proper pronunciation of his name, so we have to call him, Tony E.)
• New Zealand (a country that did an extremely excellent job of managing the pandemic)
• Justin Trudeau (I am not completely sure why the prime minister of Canada made the list, other than Benja who is extremely fond of Canada.  I mean I am SURE there is something specifically great that they did, but I cannot recall now.)
• TV
• Family
• School Computer (which I think had been newly acquired at this point)
• Food & Water
• Abundance of toilet paper (bought PRE pandemic on SALE at Costco.  Not as significant as what perhaps New Zealand accomplished, a win nonetheless.)
• Time together
• Time to organize (I worked hard at the beginning of the pandemic to arrange the house so that it was conducive to all of us working from home.  This meant rearranging the front porch so we could utilize the space, putting the leaf into the dining room table to give us more work space, placing a shelving unit to store computers and school work in the dining room.  Really just rethinking how we use our spaces and how they could better serve us during this time.)
• Time to play games (we were SO into games at the beginning).
• Homebody children
• Remote Access
• Strong Work Environment (Exact Sciences has worked hard to support people who feel safer working remotely.  They have implemented lots of testing and even have helped the state with processing Covid Tests).
• The internet (giving us access to such excellent entertainment and information and communication.)

Things We Miss  

• Going to a store without worrying about interacting with strangers
• Going on vacation
• Agogo (my mom moved to Madison in November and she was in quarantine)
• Obama having a leader who leads with thoughtfulness and intelligence.
• Friends
• Protests
• Life, as in normal life.
• Teachers
• My desk (it was the first and one of the only years that Lotta would be afforded her own desk at school.  In our elementary schools, you only get your own desk for 4th and 5th grades, in middle school, you switch classes, in previous grades you share tables.)

Words that Became Popular

• Corona-break
• 6 feet
• Coronavirus
• Pandemic
• Face Covering
• PPE--Personal Protective Equipment
• GIF (During this time I have discovered my love of GIFs.  Benja has thoroughly discouraged my reveal at this late juncture.  He feels like it only signifies how behind in technology I am. Still, I am including it as a late entry.)

It is interesting have time traveled back to the beginning of the pandemic, I wonder what in another 10 months we will be thinking/feeling/saying.  

Alexa

Oftentimes when we are listening to music on Alexa, Lotta will pipe in with a thumbs up to songs she enjoys (she is particularly into Taylor Swift).  We often remind Lotta that she does not need to "like" previously liked songs.    However, inevitably, Alexa will state, "Thank you, your likes help me pick songs for you,"  Or some such encouraging words.  On the other hand, when I re-like a song I have previously liked, Alexa will say, "Feedback already recorderd."  I feel like this is age discrimination.  If it is a younger person, Alexa is interested in their opinion.  However, if it is someone in their 50s, such as myself, the response instead is, "Hey, old lady, we don't care what you think."  I know, you may wonder if I am being paranoid.  However, is it paranoid if it is true?  (I should inquire with Alexa). 

Also, lately, I have tried to whisper to Alexa.  If you whisper to her a command, she will whisper back her response.  Let's say I am trying to be sneaky and whisper, "Alexa, turn on Christmas", which will magically turn on the Christmas Tree lights (I know, I am living the LIFE!")  Everyone in the house seems to agree that I am a LOUD whisperer, who should under no circumstances be entrusted with secrets.  Which then further causes everyone around me to demonstrate how to whisper "properly".  It reminds me of Ellie, who never really got the hang of whispering.  It was always more of a low talk.  (Or closing her eyes for that matter, we had to place her hand over her eyes for EEGs).  Who knows, now that I think of it, maybe I taught her that.  

Double Crossed

I have a sneaking suspicion that Zibbi is onto Santa. For example, before Christmas, when she explained something about the big guy, she used air quotes. This is not THAT unusual, as she DOES enjoy utilizing air quotes in an unconventional way. So there IS that. However, she also muttered to my mom at one point that we all thought she still believed in the tooth fairy (most likely there were again, air quotes involved).  As Benja pointed out, it's not like you can just straight out ask her without raising more suspicions.  During one of her recent zoom art classes, a fellow student informed the class that he had overheard his dad talking and now knew for a fact that Santa was not real.  Furthermore, he informed the class, that as people get older, they stop believing.  The art teacher, in an inspired moment, said, "Well, I am an adult, and I STILL believe."  What a tricky situation.  However, Santa gave Zibbi this year, "The Santa Project", which was basically a chance for Zibbi to interview extended family members.  Part of the reason she likes the project so much is because it is from Santa.  Maybe, just maybe this is what it is like within Zibbi's head right now, the back and forth of "maybe this is real" to "maybe this is just pretend".  I had a moment recently where I pondered, what if Zibbi is actually tricking us into believing that she still believes while we are tricking her into continuing to believe?  

Wallowing

So what had happened is we made a commitment that we would hike Cherokee Marsh each season (all four seasons, NOT just the two identified in Wisconsin, construction and winter). On New Year's Day, Thom presented a slide show reviewing our year to his brothers, which tipped Benja off to the fact that we had not accomplished our winter hike. Thom tried marketing it as our, "Annual New Year's Day Hike". The girls were reluctant, as the temperature was 25 degrees, and it felt like 15. Honestly, Lotta and Zibbi are reluctant to hike in ANY weather, so this was actually the anticipated response. However, usually once we get them to the hike, they rally and have a fine time running through the trails, looking for animals, admiring trees, etc. I knew we were not on that trajectory when the complaining did not cease when we emerged from our van. And almost immediately, Zibbi fell down and her glove filled with snow. Not an auspicious start to the whole event. She tried to dump out the snow and put them back on. Then, Zibbi tried carrying the gloves while putting her cold hands in her pockets. PLUS we were informed by Lotta that snowpants make walking SO MUCH SLOWER. To add insult to injury, Benja had chosen a different trail this time than our usual, which eventually, after ever so much

complaining, instead of leading us to the marsh, led us instead, to the back side of a housing development. So, we had to retrace all those painful steps. We soldiered on and FINALLY made it to an area overlooking the marsh. Zibbi proceeded to a dock, plopped herself down, and said she just needed some time for wallowing. To which I thought, "Wow! That is a FANTASTIC word to describe what is happening. Well done." (Other current favorite words of Zibbi's are "devastated" and "tortured", also excellent descriptive words, really on brand for this particular time.)  I guess the main point is we can mark off on our "to do" list, hiking Cherokee Marsh during the winter.  We have several months to recover before spring arrives.