True confessions: I hate that “Grandma got run over by a reindeer” song. It’s obnoxious. However, if people continue to be selfish, we’ll get a whole new parody, Covid-style.
What I am really having a hard time with, is the fact that a majority of these people have never missed a single family holiday get-together. So, as a person who hasn’t had Thanksgiving with family (beyond my husband and kids) since 2014, I am here to tell you, you will survive.
In 15 years, Justin and I have made it home for one Thanksgiving, back in 2006, before our wedding. In 15 years, we have made it home for 7 Christmases (ok, I managed to make it home for 10, but Justin doesn’t always have the luxury of just flying home). Ask any military family, and they can attest: you will survive.
And maybe you’re in the mindset, “it won’t get me.” Well, that is great for you, and I’m proud of your ability to stay positive…or, negative?? Either way, how much of a jerk will you feel like, if your need to spend the holidays with your relatives, ends up with a senior member of your family sick, or worse, dead? Will it have been worth it??
So, this holiday season, since so many people out there love to throw around the phrase “support our troops,” let’s play a game. Let’s all pretend we’re too far away to make it home for Thanksgiving, or Christmas. Let’s act like the soldiers stationed overseas, who don’t have the luxury of selfishly asking, “should I risk killing grandma??” We can all play soldier and spend one holiday season away from our immunocompromised relatives. If hundreds of thousands of military families stationed around the globe can do it year after year, I’m pretty sure you can suffer through this one.
It seems like a lot of people got on a bread baking kick during CoronApocalypse; that’s cool. I took a different route. I have been perfecting kimchi.
First, I need to go back. To the dawn of time…or, at least my time. My sisters are probably in agreement that our favorite meal growing up was hot dogs, sauerkraut, and dumplings. Which would fill the house with the smell of sauerkraut. And while a lot of people might think, “eww,” I’m thinking, “put that scent in a candle and I would buy the heck out of it.”
Jump ahead to marrying Justin. When my parents visited us in Germany, before Shea was born, my Mom asked, “what are some meals you would like me to make while I’m here?” I already knew my number one choice! Of course this also lead to a hilarious moment, when Justin put a bite of dumpling in his mouth, made an awkward face, and said, “I don’t think I can swallow this.” My Mom still laughs about it.
But this isn’t a dumpling story. Eventually, Justin told me he did not like sauerkraut. This seemed…unacceptable. What kind of Slovak are you!? He told me the reason he didn’t like it, is because his Mom made it in his bedroom. I spent years picturing Poor Justin, heading off to kindergarten, smelling of fermenting cabbage, because his mom was keeping crocks of it in his bedroom. Poor Justin.
I decided I would only ever make my beloved meal if Justin had to work overnight…which, in the army, happens often. Especially a decade ago, when he was working 24 hours on, 24 hours off. I could air out our apartment and hide the evidence before he came home at 4am! It was a stellar plan—until the one time he got out of his overnight shift, on the exact day sauerkraut was sitting in a crockpot, stinking up the place. I decided to give up the habit, and not offend the poor man.
Years later I found out that Justin’s Mom didn’t actually start her sauerkraut production until after Justin had joined the army and moved away, and to this day I don’t understand why that was the excuse given to me as to why he didn’t like it.
We’re almost to present day. Stay with me.
Three years ago, Justin left for Korea. And he started eating all types of kimchi. We would talk on the phone and he would tell me about this food or that food, that he had tried and liked. Who are you, and what the heck did you do with my husband??
Once back in the states, Justin and I would go out for lunch dates to a little Korean restaurant in Columbus. Suddenly, CoronApocalypse. I started perfecting my bulgogi, and different banchan. After weeks and weeks of trying different recipes from Pinterest, I got myself a Korean cookbook, and I started my adventures in Kimchi.
Making kimchi is an art. I started with small batches. One would be too salty, and the next would be too spicy. Justin and I have eaten so many batches of melt your face off kimchi, but eventually I perfected the ratio of garlic and gochugaru (red pepper flakes, although Xander is adamant that it’s a character from Beyblade Burst).
Can you smell it?!
Of course, if you like kimchi, you’ll love kkakdugi, which Justin tells me means diced radish; it makes more sense than my explanation: COCK-doogie, because daikon tends to be pretty…phallic.
I have actually started planning dinner around kimchi. I cook so much Korean food these days, just so I can load a plate up with rice and kimchi! I also regret not starting making kimchi in Kentucky, simply so I could’ve asked my little Korean Aquacise ladies my kimchi questions: what’s the best container for storage? How long is it good for? Can you still eat it when it gets fizzy?? So many questions.
Of course, I’m not actually a professional, as I’ve only been at this kimchi game for less than 6 months. So, if you want to watch a pro, check out Maangchi.
I still don’t quite understand how you can dislike sauerkraut, but enjoy kimchi. But you know what?! I’ll take whatever fermented cabbage I can get!
We’ve made it all the way to day……oh my gosh, it’s only day 4. I have lost track of how many times I have said, “ok, keep going.” Or, “Xander, where are you??” Shea is much better with the whole schoolwork at home thing. Thank goodness, because I don’t know what I would do if I had to keep two kids on task—I struggle enough with keeping myself on task!
Xander doesn’t love school. He would rather be doing backflips, as stated in the very first school assignment.
Tuesday, he attempted to answer the question, “If I could meet anyone in history, I would meet..” with Naruto. Naruto. An anime character. From history. “Xander, it has to be a real person.”
I have also lost track of the number of times Xander has said, “ohhhhhhhhh!”
This morning, his first assignment was to read a passage about Covid-19, and then answer the questing, “how has your life changed because of Covid-19?” Easy enough. I had to coax a response out of him. But that isn’t the issue.
My issue is the fact that this particular passage about covid contains the absolute nonsensical statement: Older people, not kids, have been getting sick from covid-19. Liar liar pants on fire.
I don’t know where his teacher found this info sheet, and I’m sure most people just read over it and answered the question. The thing is, kids can and do get sick. We’re a solid 5 months into Coronapocalypse: USA Edition, and we all Know kids are not immune. This is not a magical virus that avoids tiny humans. They’re some of the grossest humans on the planet. The American Academy of Pediatrics says there has been a 90% increase in cases among children in the last month! That is the month before southern schools reopened!
Kids need to know why schools aren’t reopening. Or why schools are reopening, only to shut right back down again. Telling them they can’t get sick is confusing. Obviously Xander would be happy if school never reopened, but there are plenty of kids (Shea included), who can’t wait to get back to school.
In the time it took me to write this, Xander was supposed to locate 5 items that are special to him (and that could fit in a paper lunch bag)—he just appeared with a Nerf Bow that is bigger than him. Yes, Xander. That is the perfect sized item.
School starts next Monday, and while most northern states are still coming up with a game plan, here in the south we had to decide by 17 July: remote learning, or face-to-grimy-face. I asked for opinions from friends and family, but the truth of the matter is, I made my decision back in May, when school ended for the summer.
Of course then I watched as county after county around us put their face-to-germy-face option on the back burner, making all students do remote learning—at least until September. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Even though my kids are locked in to remote learning for the first 9 week, I sure do love to doubt myself. Is this the right decision? Am I being paranoid? Am I going to lose my mind? I believe the answers are Yes, No, and Oh hell yes.
You see, I am not what you would call “organized.” Or good with schedules, or staying on task. And while we had 3 months of practice in the spring, I am not a teacher. I never wanted to be a teacher. I can teach you how to swim, I can teach you how to be a lifeguard…neither of those things dramatically shape a person’s future. I mean, I suppose they do. Congratulations, you no longer have to worry about drowning; hooray, you now have the skills to swim laps for exercise; look at you, completing the requirements for an awesome summer job. But, based on the number of adults I have taught to swim over the last 2 decades, you can survive in the real world without knowing how to tread water or rotary breathe.
So, step one of this adventure was more about me. I am a notorious schedule maker…and breaker. I have spent my years going into every day with a plan: these are the items I need to complete, and this is the time I have to get it done. Ooh wait—should I alphabetize my pasta?!
I have lost track of the number of times Justin has said, “Sammi, I love you. But I wish you could complete one task before moving on to the next.” Hey buddy, I would like to complete one thought before moving on to—squirrel!
Right—step one. For the last month, I have written out a daily schedule and followed through. By week 3 I had even added morning yoga into the mix; by week 4, I was starting each morning with chanting before yoga. And I have swept my house every-single-day. Which most people are probably either thinking “why,” or “so?” Because, and you wouldn’t understand.
I don’t just ride the struggle bus—I am the driver. Everything is draining. If I get overwhelmed by…anything (and I mean anything), I have a tendency to shut down. And by “shut down,” I mean nap. As the driver of this struggle bus, I also know that both of my kids are frequent passengers. If I can’t keep it together, we’re all going suffer.
I don’t want to jinx anything, because I really (truly) am impressed with my ability to finally follow through. But I have a really good feeling about this school year. Do I want to homeschool my kids? Absolutely not. Am I willing to send them back to school, when our state is averaging 16% positivity (and our county has averaged over 20%)? Absolutely not! I can barely manage to convince my son to keep a shirt on all day—in what world do we think kids are going to do about wearing masks at school!?
Last month, my sister Alissa texted in our “Sistas” group chat, “What are you doing June 4th??” Well, let me think…….Staying at home, like the rest of the world. Like we’ve been doing? Pre and Post Coronapocalypse, my schedule is always pretty open. “Mark your calendar for a sisters night!!! We’ll FaceTime and celebrate your birthday!”
Sure, ok. I can take time out of my busy schedule of reclusing to FaceTime.
Of course then later that afternoon, Alissa tagged me in an instagram post, promoting a Live Instagram Party on June 4th! I’ve been duped!!!!!!
Being the rather un-savvy human that I am, I saw “Live Instagram Party,” and I pictured “100 random people, mostly from CNY, meeting up in mud masks, for the world to see!”
So then the text: Oh Alissa no!!!!! Dirty trick! Social distancing party with random ass strangers?!?!
She talked me down, and promised: “You’re alone in your house watching an Instagram Live as she sits in her house doing a facial. You’re watching someone doe the facial and tell you the steps and she’s also hilarious and plays music.”
Honestly, Alissa, I love you, I do. But had I known the details, I would have RSVPed NO.
But, I was suckered into girl time, and with my sisters both over 1,100 miles away, it isn’t like we spend a lot (or any) time together. I can suck it up and deal with whatever painful experience this is about to be.
Alissa, whatever happens next, don’t get offended.
This socially distanced girls’ night was still weeks away. In the interim, Justin and I decided to take on the overwhelming project of pulling up our upstairs carpet and installing vinyl plank flooring (this project hasn’t started yet, so be on the lookout for either an SOS or questions on how to dispose of a body–from either Justin or me. Things will most likely get intense). When we received our shipment notification, well, wouldn’t you know, it was being delivered June 4th! This could potentially be my justified out–the last time we received a freight shipment, it came at 8pm, so, a girl can dream.
Of course, that wasn’t the case, and it was dropped off at 1:30. Which not only gave me plenty of time to make it to my socially-distanced nightmare, but also left me alone to carry 1600lbs of flooring into the house. One. Box. At a time.
I need to back up. Yesterday was crazy (in terms of Sam’s Usual Schedule). Honestly, this entire week has been wild–I’ve left the house more times this week than there are days in the week. Don’t judge me, that’s a big deal. Morning vet trip with Bruce. Home to wait for flooring. Forty-five minutes carrying in a million boxes (ok, there were a lot of texting breaks). Make dinner so we can eat before gymnastics. Gymnastics. And then home again, in time to cut watermelon, take a shower (because, the boxes. And the heat. And the sweat. And I’m gross), and wait…
I should probably jump in and explain at this moment just how very different my sisters and I are. They’re……pretty girlie. I will admit that Alissa has toned it down in the last 5 years (I’m being honest Alissa. Having kids has changed you, for the better…don’t hate me). I will not ever be the mani/pedi girl. I cut my own hair. I’m not low maintenance–I’m no maintenance. That’s….probably not true. I did shave my legs last week, so some maintenance went into all of this (me–all of me).
Alissa sent me a list of items I would need, since my facial kit didn’t arrive in the mail on time. Bowl of hot water? Towel? Cleanser, exfoliated, steamer (my rice steamer was still on the counter from dinner, but I don’t think that’s what they had in mind), mask (like, “I wear a mask to protect you; you wear a mask to protect me?” Is 1,100 miles not enough distance, socially speaking?), toner (now I’m thinking Jane Fonda workout videos from the 80s). Step 6 says “treat,” and Justin didn’t bring me any candy, so I guess this party just got ruined.
I jump on this FaceTime call with my sisters, and away we go?? I don’t know. “Sign into Instagram and start her video!” Ok, but swear to me that I hit this button and random people aren’t going to see me? “OMG No. Just do it.”
The video didn’t work. I cried the tears of a thousand heartbreaks. “Sam! Get your cleanser!” “I’m not doing that.”
Is it just me? Am I the only one who thinks it’s weird to wash your face for fun, in front of…anyone? This isn’t a Neutrogena commercial, and I’m not washing my face out of a bowl, in front of my computer. Weird.
I understand the sentiment, I do. And Alissa, your heart is always in the right place. But an ice cream eating party is a little more in my wheelhouse. Ben? Jerry? You’re both invited, but only if you bring the flavors.
Meanwhile, of course, Alissa and Erica are really getting into this. And I’m really trying not to laugh myself into a crying fit. “Sam! Where’s your cleanser!?” It’s here–see me, pretending to be doing anything other than laugh.
I hear through my phone, from their viewing of the Instagram Live (that never loaded on my end), “get your steamers out, girls!” JUSTIN!!!! Where’s your uniform steamer?? I’m going to need that…for my face.
We’re already up to enzymes. Let me pause for a moment and say that there are two reasons I don’t eat yogurt. 1. The consistency. 2. It’s Alive!!! So now, Alissa informs us that the enzyme step burns. Is it because microorganisms are, perhaps, eating your face?!?!
“Sam! Get your mask.” “No.”
Sometimes (sometimes) I throw a face mask on while Justin and I watch tv at night. Never (ever) do I sit in front of my computer and talk to people with a face mask on. Because……I guess I’m not fun. Also, the number of times my skin has reacted to one mask or another, leaving me looking Hot Tamale Red–sisters or no sisters, I don’t really want to talk to anyone when my face is burning.
At the end of it all, I got to catch up with my sisters, who I rarely speak to (not for any reason other than I’m here, and they’re there, and, I’m more a texter than a talker). We talked longer last night than we probably have in years, so, thanks Liss….even if I didn’t mask up!
