In Arizona, the choices for schools are endless. With public, private, charter, co-op, microschools, and even tree school, it can be a little overwhelming for a parent to agonize over which is the right format for their child. But now, many of us across the country are faced with a choice we never thought we’d have to make for our children: Education or safety. 

It’s clear now that no one knows what to do. There are no easy answers. The American Academy of Pediatrics and the Federal Government urge re-openings but the state’s Department of Education begs the opposite. District to district, school to school, teachers await guidelines and administrators extend surveys to decide when and how education can proceed. Each family has to weigh their options and evaluate their circumstances to figure out what works best for their household. I run risk-benefit calculations in my head at every turn, making decisions to balance safety and sanity. We’re faced with choices we never expected to make, choices that require a shift in our perspective. Many of us are facing the reality of adjusting expectations.

Every parent wants their child to enjoy what they enjoyed as a child. The first day of first grade and the smell of sharpened pencils. The games of tag on the playground, the field trips, the lunch table, the sharing and bartering for desserts. These are the things I loved about elementary school, but they will not make my son’s first grade memories. 

Instead, he will make his own. He will remember mom and dad at the kitchen table, helping one-on-one with math. He’ll remember all of the games he invented with his brother, and the time together they never could’ve spent separated by grade levels. He’ll become so fluent in technology he’ll be writing programs before I learned to write cursive. 

The kids will be alright. And if we push away the projections we insist on putting upon them, we will too. My son’s experience will be different, but it will be his. And, it will be good.

Living in Arizona in the summer takes a kind of grit unique to old Western movies. Standing out in the 110-degree sun, squinting your eyes like Clint Eastwood and feeling every drop of moisture evaporate from your body. It’s how I felt crossing the 100-yard stretch of dusty terrain from the parking lot of the Salt River Recreation Area to the banks of the cool running water. 

Because of the pandemic, water recreation is getting a slow start in the Southwest, and up until this month, most splash pads were closed. Many still are. With the risk of COVID-19, a crowd of kids slipping and sliding into one another isn’t where I want to be, but my boys just love splashing! Luckily it’s not hard to find a refreshing natural oasis.

The Salt River We parked and made a day of splashing, floating and wading in the water on the banks of the Salt River a few weeks ago, just a twenty-minute drive from our house. It was so embarrassingly close, we couldn’t believe we hadn’t done it before! We’ll definitely be going back with tubes or kayaks.

Hudsons Creek This hiking trail alongside a creek near Payson was the perfect escape to celebrate my birthday back at the end of April. It’s about an hour and a half from the East Valley and in slightly cooler weather at a higher elevation. The kids loved looking for fish and watching leaves and sticks float down.

Oak Creek A couple hours drive away in Sedona, Oak Creek is not only a great place to cool down, but it has a beautiful swimming hole for bigger kids, shallow areas to picnic and splash, and remarkable views.  Try to go during the week, as the weekend fills up quickly and you may have to wait to get in.

Our Own Backyard! While we frequent the community pool just down the block, I’ve also transformed our backyard into a kid-friendly oasis, complete with play area, kiddie pool, and sprinkler splash pad. They get their toys and play for hours!

These are just a few of our favorite places where nature challenges the desert heat. As important as it is for us to kick back and cool off, it’s even more important to ensure these treasures will stay beautiful for generations to come, so pack it in and pack it out, and have a wonderful summer.

I don’t know if you noticed, but my boys and I look a little different. When my oldest was a baby, I was approached by a stranger in the grocery store who asked, “where did you adopt him from?” I gently pointed out my Filipino husband. 

In reality, my son has my smile, my demeanor and a lot of my personality, (though sometimes I regret passing along traits like my stubborn persistence.) But some people don’t see past a color. 

In the last few months, our country has seen incredible tragedy but in it I see incredible hope. The people once accused of being the “do nothing” generation have awoken and mobilized, showing courage and inspiring change. Our melting pot has boiled over and won’t take anymore injustice. If the momentum continues, there’s no telling what can be accomplished. 

My hope is that our children will reap the benefits of this hard work, and continue to dismantle the systems of oppression that have divided us for generations. My hope is they’ll expect and experience more from our society than we thought possible. 

It’s far from over, but I promise to keep learning, listening and standing up for what I know is right. To everyone else out there with their fists in the air demanding change, demanding better for our country and our children, thank you.

With two full time working parents at home, my six-year-old and three-year-old boys have done their fair share of destroying the house. I had to laugh when my son climbed onto my lap at 4pm, lamenting that I was “still working,” and that it was “all” I do. After explaining that I’ve always worked like this, just in an office where he didn’t have a front row seat to the nonstop excitement that is video editing, I set up yet another “boredom buster” to buy myself more time.

So far, the most successful ways of keeping my children entertained independently have been:

Obstacle courses– Whether it’s a series of water activities outside or letting them jump on all of your couch cushions in the hallway, an obstacle course can help get the wiggles out with minimal damage and interruption.

A Lego Table– I built an amazing Lego table out of particle board and a 12-pack of baseplates for their birthday party back in February and haven’t taken it down since. Our front living room is now the Lego room. Hours and hours of engineering and entertainment. Watch your step.

Rube Goldberg Machines– This is my latest act of genius. When cleaning out a hall closet over the weekend (because it’s also borentine for us parents,) I found five cardboard tubes and upcycled them to the boys. I showed them videos of marbles and bouncy balls traveling down, over and across elaborate systems, and let their imaginations run wild. It only cost a solid half-hour of cleanup.

Sensory Bins– My three-year-old loves sensory play. He gets out our play-dough bin himself and plays independently. I added a “mud kitchen” to our backyard play area complete with a sink that pumps water so they can make whatever leaf and grass soup they’d like. One of his favorite bins is aquafaba- whipped chickpea water- with food coloring in a baking pan to play in with his plastic dinosaurs. 

Hunger Games– Sometimes the sibling arguments and cabin fever hit a new level, and if you arm them, at least you can also get a little entertainment along with the constant screaming. We’ve got pool noodle lightsabers providing our young padawans with practice in the Jedi arts. I’ve taught my kids how to make slingshots and bows and arrows out of rubber bands and the sticks we find around the yard. Will I regret this? Oh, definitely. Was I able to work for an uninterrupted hour and by some miracle no one lost an eye? I’m calling it a win.

With only two more weeks of virtual school and 105-degree temperatures already on our Arizona doorstep, I’m going to need all of the distractions we can get. If boredom is the birthplace of imagination, my kids are going to be Willy freakin’ Wonka.

When I think about our new normal and compare it with the old one, I can’t help but laugh. I used to feel so busy. I barely had time to put in the laundry on Fridays before getting out and about, but for the life of me I can’t remember what I was so busy doing. I guess it turns out I didn’t need all that stuff from Target’s dollar section. 

In our household, normal used to mean getting the boys ready for school in the morning and heading to work, coming home and making dinner, reading stories and singing lullabies. After bedtime, I’d hit the books for a bit, working on getting my Master’s degree. Fridays were for me and the boys and weekends we’d spend with family and friends or playing at a park.

While we still read stories and sing lullabies, normal looks different now. Instead of heading to work, I get Big Bro set up on my laptop for his Google Classroom assignments. Drew and I sit in front of our work computers and video conference with coworkers. On the days where we still have our part-time nanny, she takes the boys on scavenger hunts around the neighborhood. On the days we don’t, Drew and I take turns breaking up arguments or setting up activities so they can be occupied while we work. Conference calls get interrupted by questions, complaints, or tantrums. Work gets done in spurts between helping Big Bro with math or taking Baby Bro to the potty, or making and serving yet another snack. After bedtime, I turn in all of Big Bro’s assignments virtually, and then start my own. On weekends, we go on bike rides and have movie nights.

Sometimes I think we’re settling in, and that we’re adjusting to our new circumstances and our new life. But when someone checks in and asks how I’m doing, or worse- if I’m ok- there’s this long pause. 

I think about answering the question honestly, and then I realize I don’t actually know the honest answer. It’s a lot to get used to in a very short amount of time. It’s a lot of change. It’s a lot of uncertainty. And it’s hard to explain to a six-year-old and a three-year-old. 

The bright side is, we’re all in it together. Our household, our neighborhood, our country and the world. Every single parent out there is doing the best they can trying to do it all, and giving each other the grace that comes with it. We’re spending all day under one roof as a family unit, learning to live, work and play in the same space at the same time. The chaos of COVID-19 continues around us, but in it we can find our piece of normalcy, our new routine.

Our calendar is empty, but our hearts are still full. We’re finding ways to connect and stay busy without playdates or trips to Target. It’s strange and it’s slow and it’s different, but it’s not all bad.

Still, when the old normal returns, I’ll be the first one sipping a latte and browsing that dollar section.

My husband and I met while working in TV news. I was an on-air reporter and he was a videographer, and now we both make video content for different organizations. He works for a university and me, for a municipality. Working from home during this pandemic while caring for and educating our boys has been a challenge. Luckily, we have a combined 12 years of experience in one of the most unforgiving and arduous careers to fall back on. Here are a few things we’re glad we already knew how to do before life in quarantine:

1. Work at an incredibly fast pace– When the pandemic hit, my department turned into 24/7 crisis communications, and his department of online education suddenly acquired the entire student population. Luckily, we used to churn out multiple news packages a day in time to go live at 5 and 6, so we know what it’s like to move at full speed.
2. Portability– I remember editing video on a laptop in a booth at McDonalds for several days straight while covering wildfires in Southern Arizona, or writing scripts in the back of a live truck on the way to a scene. When it comes to carrying on anywhere, we can grab what we need and go. Although this time, I went back to my office for my cushy desk chair. I’m not in my 20s anymore, I need lumbar support.
3. Use what you’ve got– My six-year-old’s room has become our sound booth, as we retreat to record voice-overs for projects we’re working on. Whether it’s a makeshift tripod, a soundproof hoodie over your head, or a stack of books to stand on, when you work in news, sometimes you have to use what you can find. Luckily, our house has no shortage of cameras and accessories.
4. Keep it light– Working in news can be real grim. If you don’t keep a sense of humor it can wear you down. Newsrooms have so many running jokes it’s hard to keep track, because when you have a front row seat to the community’s worst tragedies, you have to laugh so you don’t cry. We’re in the middle of a world-wide crisis with a death toll that’s escalating every day. In my mind, there’s no better time to make someone laugh. 
5. Teamwork– Drew and I worked so well together in news that we used to be able to set up a live shot faster than any other reporter/photog team, which means we’d get assigned every ridiculous breaking news event happening fifteen minutes before showtime. Nowadays, that means seamlessly shifting between fixing a snack for the boys while one is on a conference call, or tagging out when we’re just too swamped to break up yet another sibling argument.

Our house, like the news business, is chaotic, crazy and a little challenging. But it’s also full and fun. We get to spend more time with our boys and teach them these skills. And who knows, they might just come in handy someday.

I’m going to start by saying I know I have a whole lot to be thankful for, and I am. My husband and I both have government jobs so we’re not worried about this pandemic destroying our ability to pay our mortgage. Our children are happy and healthy and excelling in school, so we’re not worried about them falling behind without an education for a month. We are generally optimistic people, we are resourceful and resilient, and we go with the flow.

But last week, that flow became a river full of rapids, pounding us with waves as we sought to navigate a new normal for everyone in our lives and everything that we do. We’re still clinging on to the rocks of our old routine, desperate to pretend that everything is okay. That normalcy still exists.

I’m tethered to my phone 24/7 whether it’s crisis communications at work or updates on social media or CNN to get the latest information on how many cases, distance learning resources, quippy memes about life in quarantine. I appreciate the positivity and the inspiration, but yesterday I woke up hungry for breakfast and couldn’t bring myself to take a bite, suddenly no appetite. As moms, we don’t have a choice but to slap on a smile and keep it light for our kids, minimizing their anxiety about the unknown. Hiding ours. From every direction I hear chin up, look on the bright side, find the good. 

Let me be sad. I need to be sad for just a little bit. And, I think that’s okay. A lot of people have skipped to best coping mechanisms and trudging ahead fearlessly, never grieving for what we are losing. I’m usually the first to compartmentalize and move on but in this case, I am giving myself permission to grieve for a moment.

I’m sad that my son’s Little League season never started, and he’s been in our backyard, running around an imaginary field. I’m sad that his kindergarten class is a Facebook group, and his two full-time work-from-home parents are not equal compensation for a classroom. I’m sad that we’ve had to cancel visits from family members who live 2 thousand miles away and I don’t know when I will be able to hug them again. I’m scared for my parents and grandparents that I’m begging to stay home. I’m sad for my dad who was so close to getting the kidney he’s been waiting on for years. I’m worried for my mom who is piecing together lab equipment without a mask and running the viral tests required for a pandemic of this scale. I’m scared that we’re a long way from the worst of it. I’m scared that this will rob my boys of a normal childhood. I’m sad for the thousands of souls lost that I can feel in my bones. I’m angry that it’s happening at all. 

Last week, we had pouring rain as if the sky opened up to tell us how it really feels. My husband set up a an indoor movie theater for the boys. They watched Frozen II while we worked long hours- him for ASU’s online department as the entire student population moves online. Me, for a municipal communications department, updating every closure and CDC recommendation for our public. I heard the words of Princess Anna echo through the house. “I’ll take a step, and step again. And do the next right thing.”

And I will. I’ll put my chin up and take a bite. I’ll trudge ahead. But for now, just for a minute, let me be sad.

It’s been six years since I became a mom and three years since we became a family of four. The boys celebrated their birthdays this weekend with a Lego party complete with Lego building table, a bounce-house and dozens of toddlers and kindergartners running around having fun and eating sugar.

At age six, Big Bro stands nearly four feet tall. He is smart, kind, adventurous and a great big brother. He loves running, playing on the playground, playing with his friends, going to school, reading, all things Lego and Ninjago, and so much more. He dislikes bedtime and homework. 

At age three and 38 inches tall, Baby Bro isn’t much of a baby anymore. He is sweet, clever, funny and a snugglebug. He likes running around, playing with his brother, painting, playing with trains, listening to stories, and telling jokes. He dislikes bedtime, brushing his teeth, and sharing his toys.

It’s been such a joy watching these two grow bigger and closer. Having a two-year-old and five-year-old wasn’t without its challenges, and I’m sure we’ll encounter more as Baby Bro becomes a “threenager.” Drew and I talk about six and three in our very first Our Life in A-Z podcast episode: