I woke up really early this morning – too early to actually get out of bed. Someone forgot to give my hormones the memo that we are involved in a pandemic and giving me hot flashes throughout the night is just not playing fair. As I lay in bed, I was trying to figure out if it was Wednesday or Thursday. Literally, for the next half hour, I went through every possibility of why it should be Wednesday. I tried to go back from last Saturday when we picked up our older boys from the airport and move through the days until today. It was definitely Wednesday. After all, the Ralph’s market delivery service was scheduled for Wednesday night and nothing came last night so it had to be Wednesday today.
Then I got up. Half my face was throbbing from a brand new stye in my right eye, and now it had spread down, past my puffy bags, to my cheekbone…nice look. Husband was just awake staring at me cautiously – like I said, not a great look I’ve got going – and confirmed that indeed it was Thursday. The only other time I ever make this mistake is during the week between Christmas and New Year. That special week every year the world seems to shut down. Most people aren’t at work, at least full time; stores are closed but for food and alcohol; families are together watching endless movies on TV; life becomes simple. But this ain’t Christmas.
Plusses: All my boys safely at home. We are all healthy. We like each other. We live near the beach.
Minuses: The world order feels out of control. People are scared. You can’t turn on the news without bracing yourself. There’s no end in sight. Yet.
Only a week ago I was still getting on a plane to see my son’s band perform at a cool venue in NYC. One week ago we were still planning our lives in the near future. One week ago there were eggs and toilet paper at the local supermarket, and you didn’t feel like stopping for a request to take a photo for a random couple on their Iphone was a stupid thing to do. And now all of our boys are home with online school sessions and I am speed reading Maya Angelou’s beautiful novel ‘I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings’ so that my son (wink wink) can do the homework assignments! Speed reading Maya Angelou – that is a sinful and madness act in and of itself! Caged birds singing here, that’s for sure. I’ve never seen so many kids on our streets driving their parents nuts. Until, of course, the sunset walks, where said parents slowly walk behind their little ones on scooters as they sip from their enormous roadies, six feet away from the next family.
Half our family is in the UK and at first they had all the intel and we were two weeks behind. Then we jumped ahead and ‘recommendations’ to socially distance changed everyone’s lives here; in the UK pubs and some schools are still open! Like everyone I’m sure, I vacillate between ‘what the fuck is going on’ to ‘this too shall pass’. I sat all my boys down as we were trying to figure out our personal family boundaries for movement, seeing friends, life as we know it now – and told them the truth. That in my 22 years of being a mom, this is the first time I genuinely haven’t got a clue what to expect. I don’t have the answers and yes, our decisions can change as quickly as the news does. Let’s borrow from the last generation, ie their Gma, one of their most valuable tools – common sense.
Common sense dictates to try and keep your immediate circle just that, immediate. Do you really want your best friend over, and their kids? What if, god forbid, someone coughs? All paranoid eyes will pierce them before they can say ‘excuse me’. Even my dog’s wheezing had me googling if dog’s can get coronavirus. I’ve been told recently that I have the disposition of someone that holds onto hope and wishful thinking. Probably true. I’m a glass half full kind of girl, same as my mom. So for now, today, when the glass dips below the half way line, I’m just gonna drink the rest and pour another.
Be well. x
