Longing for Adventure

The other day, my big boss posted in our group work chat about something she did to de-stress, and asked us how we usually deal with stress.  I realized that I have a few different methods:

• Sometimes I eat my feelings, which is a really bad idea right now since I'm mostly stuck in the house.  I've managed to keep my weight in check thus far, probably because I've been more consistent with workouts.  But I baked chocolate crinkles over the weekend and that might be my downfall.  At least I'm still wearing jeans every day, so it should be pretty apparent if I have an issue--assuming I wash them periodically.  
• Sometimes I hide in my room (or as my boss put it, she takes to her bed).  This is usually the "feel sorry for myself, don't see a solution" method of stress management, which really isn't management at all.  It's letting the stress get to me and shutting down.  I don't really want to talk to anyone or do anything.  I will lay in bed, covers over my head if I can, maybe cry silently, and eventually realize that laying there isn't making it much better so I get up and try to be functional.  I hate when it happens, but it tends to be when my anxiety is at its worst, and I suppose it's better than a panic attack.  Our current introverted existence makes something like that pretty easy right now, but that's definitely not a healthy management technique, either.
• My preferred method is getting a little solo time for myself, which usually involves some sort of outing.  Sometimes it's a gratuitous clearance shopping trip at Kohl's, sometimes it's a run, sometimes it's even solo craft time at home (like my diamond painting).  But I mostly prefer little adventures out of the house, like the three trips I took to Highland Park last year (see here, here, and here).  All three of those were so enjoyable in the midst of stressful work weeks, one random health scare, and the usual home stuff.  Even the bike ride I took on a beautiful day last Sunday might count, since I went on a random, exploratory route and ended up in my favorite stretch along the canal.  Either way, pretty scenery and a little quiet time can do wonders for the soul.

Talking about that last bullet really started to make me wistful, not just for last year's park visits but for all of the things that this time of spring usually brings.  Last year we had our crazy trip to Toronto (part 1 and part 2), and for a few years we usually had Jacob's first lacrosse tournament in early June.  We always have a Mother's Day weekend trip to Buffalo, and we usually check out a new playground or two.  Many years we've snuck in a family trip to the Lilac Festival, and I still reminisce about Knighthawk championship trips.  In general spring has just been a time to get out, see the fresh foliage, and take a deep breath of warm air for the first time in months.  And while we've done a bit of that (not enough, thanks to a grumpy Mother Nature), doing it somewhere other than home seems to be a bit more effective.  Seeing something different out in the world just feels better, and this year we have a serious lack of that.  

This is by far my favorite time of year, not just because of the improving weather and the increase in adventures, but because it usually includes those events that signal the approaching end of the school year--Mother's Day muffins, the school district art show, school picnics, field day, and other random year-end things.  Last year Carter had a little class breakfast, and the year before Jacob had a field trip.  I loved this time of year as a kid because we always had a ton of field trips and fun activities like field day and ice cream making outside.  Any excuse to be out of class was awesome.  This year, aside from maybe going to grab the kids' supplies, I'm not sure we'll have that "last day of school" feeling.  Last week I ran through Jacob's old school's parking lot and realized it had been almost a year since the day I picked him up there for the last time.  The speed of a year always shocks me.  I know it will do it again next year when Carter wraps up his third and final year at his current school.  And that's not just the shock of how quickly we'll get there from here, but how quickly we'll get there from Kindergarten orientation, or even Jacob's moving up ceremony five years previous.  So fast.  All of those little events are little markers in time, and we won't really have those this year.  

I fear that this entire period--possibly five or six months by the time we attempt some version of normal--will all be mushed into one big blob when we look back.  As much as it seems like we'll remember the fear, the isolation, and the nothingness this very post is about, I know some of it will be looked back at fondly.  We'll probably romanticize the ample free time, and the lack of early morning wake-ups, rushed dinners, and endless evening activities.  We might remember the simplicity of one grocery trip per week (even if in reality it was stressful as heck), the relative ease of meal planning without time constraints, and how it was sometimes nice having all my birds "safely in the nest" all the time.  But what we won't have are the little milestones or memorable trips that usually punctuate this time.  I'll look back at my pictures and instead see a lot of cell phone photos showing tiny moments in time--comparatively small moments that brightened our otherwise boring days.  

I realized the other day that I'm so out of my usual spring groove that I hadn't even been doing my usual reminiscing about being pregnant with Jacob this time of year.  I didn't even remember the anniversary of my April car accident from that year, or the excitement of my baby showers and parenting classes.  I didn't think about the overwhelming but fun baby gear organization or those last precious weeks as a pair instead of a trio.  I loved the anticipation (most of the time), I loved being pregnant and feeling kicks, and I loved that we had something new and different to be excited about.  Most springs, on those first warm days when sunset suddenly seems so much later, I'm taken back to the evenings where Craig and I would meet for a quick dinner before parenting class, some of our last few unofficial date nights before parenthood.  I miss that time.  But when I finally remembered again the other day, it was probably as long as it's ever taken to pop into my head.  Yes, it was all 12 years ago, so maybe it would be natural to start forgetting, but this year felt different.  

I miss my family and I miss changes in scenery.  I'm worried we're going to miss the best of spring and have to wait a whole extra year to do it again.  I just hope things open up enough that we can still squeeze in some adventures soon.  Summer won't be summer without it.