So. I last wrote on the eve of 2025, and candidly, no one was expecting great things. But even my anxious imagination failed to anticipate the spectacularly stressful first quarter of 2025.
In January, a dear family friend died in her early forties following prolonged health problems. And we inaugurated a President whose vicious agenda and absolute lawlessness I severely underestimated.
Trump 47 makes me recall Trump 45 with almost a frisson of nostalgia. ICE thugs are disappearing protestors and academics from the streets. The wild tariff swings have wreaked incredible havoc on the markets and therefore regular folks’ retirement savings. The idea has been to flood the zone with actions completely outside existing norms at such a high volume that checks, balances, and the American people simply cannot keep up.
Also, I left my dream job last month. My work family, my life’s work, my plan for the remaining decades of my working life. I haven’t the energy to be furious. I took a 100k paycut and will do whatever I can in my new position to protect kids’ civil rights and access to education. I am taking this transition a day at a time.
The annus horribles is sadly not contained to politics or the world at large. A dear family member is navigating a life threatening cancer diagnosis and facing unreasonable hurdles in accessing appropriate care. My own dear Dad is also navigating a cancer diagnosis that we have reason to hope may be resolved with straightforward treatment. I cannot laundry list all that is painful. There are so many limits to what I can do. But I can listen, pray, and try to be helpful.
All three Joyce children are at a crossroads. I try to envision the most shining versions of our next chapters. Brendan in a riverfront Chicago apartment with a piano and a Great Dane. Maybe he joins a jazz band. Or goes back to school at Northwestern or the University of Chicago. He works in higher education or in a museum and he nurtures his moonshot dreams on the side—and maybe one reaches the moon but not because he needed that win to fully appreciate the gift of eek he is. He meets a bookish and deeply kind partner who loves dogs and music. They have one kid or they don’t. They travel. They take gentle care of each other.
Dylan and Angelica in their own home full of laughter, dogs, and cooking smells. He finds teaching richly rewarding and goes on to become a principal. Or he takes a position at Cornell and finds meaning in guiding students toward world-changing careers. They welcome a baby who is spoiled and adored by both sides of the family.
And me. Which is somehow a more difficult scene for me to paint. But here we go. I begin my new position. I spend my days researching and writing. I find the courage to speak about the peril of the moment we are in. But I know that I cannot read every article. And that right now, my work stops at 5 and my weekends are for my children. But maybe I also find time for yoga, swimming, and writing.
The courts bat Trump back. The people show up to protest. The administration sees the tide turning as people power rises. Virginia elects a Democrat governor. Democrats take both the House and the Senate in a landslide In the midterms. Trump is impeached and removed. The movement is chastened by these defeats. We elect a moderate Democrat in 2028.
And our kids grow up healthy and strong. Ellie gains confidence and falls in love with reading. She excels at art and ice skating. She has strong friendships. Her IBS does not interfere with her daily life.
And Myles is Myles—kind, confident, curious, and sharp. He loves soccer, hockey, books, and time with friends. And he learns that he does not need to shout to be heard. And to listen deeper when he feels anger instead of using it to protect himself from more vulnerable feelings.
Which brings us to where we are today. Succinctly, because we arrive in Asheville soon for spring break.
Ellie is well on her way. She has stronger friendships—with G and G—than she has made so far at Glebe. She uses her voice more than she used to. She still loves art, sketching, squishmallows, and dogs. She is a big reader and re-reader of her favorite graphic novel series. Her IBS is still present, but less pronounced than it was last year.
Myles has emerged from the stormiest piece of his transition to kindergarten. He continues to thrive academically and socially at school. He reads several grades ahead and has pals coming out his ears. Nitin is coaching his soccer team and Myles is having a great time.
Nitin continues to work long and often stressful hours. He has enjoyed traveling less this year than last year. We enjoyed a weekend in St. Michel’s recently, in addition to our trip to Savannah as a family last month.
This has been a demanding season of life. I landed in the ER this morning, en route to Asheville, following a severe IBS flare. But I am doing my best to put on my own oxygen mask. Taking care of ourselves is one of the most practical things we can do for the people who love us. And so it goes, for now.
Quotes:
B: Buddy, I love that you greet new experiences with open arms.
M: You’re right, I kinda do.
M: “Why does Ellie get to go to therapy?”
B: “You want to go to therapy too?”
M: “Yes, of course I do.”
B: “What do you like about therapy?”
M: “There is a toy kitchen. Who doesn’t like toy kitchens?”
M: “Dad, do you know how there’s a Burger King and a Dairy Queen? Maybe they can be friends one day.”
M: Mommy, is new years Earth’s birthday?
E: My foot hurts. Well my leg.
B: Which one?
E: Leggish foot.
B: Ankle?
E: Oh yeah!
N: The trainer wants to see Zoe and Ziggy interact because they think that may be causing part of the problem.
E: Why?
B: Well sometimes, siblings, even if they love each other and are good friends, can cause each other stress.
E: If I bite Myles, will we have to get rid of him?
M: What was my percentile at the Dr?
B: You are right in the middle—about 50th percentile for everything. So about average.
M: That means I’m amazing!
