Day 64: 18 thousand hundred million years
That’s how Mae measures time. If she thinks something will take too long, she says, “that will take 18 thousand hundred million years!” It’s adorable. Except for when it’s not. But right now, it’s so fitting.
Who else thinks that the last 64 (or however long since you went on lockdown) days have been the longest of your life? I mean, I remember when I was a kid and December seemed like the longest month EVER because Christmas wasn’t until the 25th. SUCH. A. LONG. TIME.
I want to scream all of the time. I know I’m not alone, so there’s nobody* to whom I can say, “I want to scream all of the time” and get any real sympathy. Probably not even much support. Because we all want to scream all of the time. And if you don’t want to do that, it probably means you’ve accepted this new normal. I’m not judging. I get it. It’s easier that way. But I just can’t.
Everybody is trying so hard. Trying to carry on as if it’s business as usual. I’m looking at my inbox and I see encouraging and positive emails from my father-in-law. I see emails from my church about resuming Mass with real people in the church, although you have to make a reservation because they’re limiting seats. (Well, duh. But let’s consider how many stories we’ve seen about church congregations contracting COVID-19. Go ahead and Google church congregations contracting covid-19. I’ll wait.) My kid’s school is talking about opening up in the fall. My yoga studio is waiting for the okey dokey from the state to reopen in June, though at limited capacity. There are kids’ summer camps making plans in anticipation of that same okey dokey.
I read my email and shake my head.
So we focus on work, and educating Mae, and working in the yard, and working on the house. Just focusing on surviving. Our newest survival tactic is letting our extremely extroverted child play with her two friends across the street. We keep our eyes on her and yell things like “back up!” and “6 feet!” if she gets too close to the other kids. She is going to need serious therapy when she gets older. And I’m sure she hates us now. And I think about things like “she should be wearing a mask” and “the other kids should be wearing masks” and “we know they’re good people, but where have they been in the last 14 days?”
What I’ve been up to since my last post . See photos below.
- started purging and organizing my studio, in earnest, while binging “Silicon Valley”
- purchased a used playset for the back yard so that our poor kid can get some exercise
- replaced my old burner pans with new ones
- started making plant markers for Tim’s new garden beds
- went through all of our donation stuff and sorted them so I’d know which things need to go where
- made new boxes for collecting said donation stuff (ARC, Once Upon A Child, Mae’s school)
- made a box for holding all widowed socks, mittens, and cute kid outfits until I can find the other half (because I am Type A, perhaps?)
- washed bedroom curtains (they get washed every 5 years, whether they need it or not)
- started to plan out where to put the freakin’ sinks and tubs I’ve been decorating for 7 years
One more thing that I wanted to say before I pack it in tonight. I appreciate all of the comments everybody has left regarding my last post, both here on the blog and also on my personal Facebook page. You’ve all made me think, and also made me appreciate that I have such amazing support from my friends. One thing I did not mention in that post is that my heart was not just broken for me, but mostly for her. Mostly because this little girl who never really knew her bio mom felt so strongly about a woman she doesn’t even remember. No child deserves that feeling of being abandoned. I wish people who weren’t able to care for children would stop having them. Of course, if they did, then those of us who can’t have bio kids might not get the chance to be parents.
- † * I shouldn’t say “nobody” because I do tell Tim everything. But that’s not always the same, you know?[↩]