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!?
Playing teacher these past 5 weeks (minus one, since Spring Break did happen somewhere in there) has taught me a lot.
I remember the basics from government–thank goodness.
I know the names of most shapes–again, phew.
I struggle with keeping children focused–this is a given, seeing as though I can’t even keep myself focused (I even put fun stained glass window clings on our front windows so I would stop staring at and judging our neighbors for NOT social distancing. Now I just stare and think, “ooh, rainbows”).
I am awful at defining words.
I know words. And now I sound an idiot. “Hey, look at me, I know something!” While I know the definition of words, I have a hard time putting that into words. For example: “Mom, what does generalize mean?” “It means. To make a general statement. Big picture. You know.”
Blank stare of confusion. You obviously don’t know.
I have been put on the spot to play human dictionary multiple times this week. “What does multiple mean?”
This was often an issue I struggled with in school. Don’t ask me to write down the definition of words, because you’re going to get a bunch of nonsense. I just know what it means, and let that be good enough. For me…but when you’re supposed to be assisting a 9 year old with his science, and you can’t spit out a definition that is helpful, well, go ahead and hang up your teaching hat–you’re failing.
Also, it is really frustrating to try and teach tiny human version of me. I would like to apologize to every teacher in the history of my education who had to deal with my slow, meticulous, daydreamy way of learning. There are 5 weeks left of school; I’ll be lucky if Xander finishes in 10…months.
Sorry for the distractibility gene. ADD is a bitch.
Here in Alabama, we are 2 days into spring break. So far, we have…..we have…..we….um….
Ok, we haven’t done anything. I’ve been putting an hour of work into getting my vegetable garden started, so that if we make it to May, our little 18×23 Liberty Garden, Corona-Edition, will keep us fed. Here’s hoping we fare better than last year.
My gardening skills sort of come and go. Some years were super successful, while others were not so great.
Last year was one of those “not so great” years. As the first gardening season in Alabama, I had tremendously high hopes. I had a 3 season plan that would keep us in veggies from February through November. There were just a few issues.
The sad and lonely, gardenless arbor.
The first being, our Tigger-like pup, Emma, loves to help. She digs a mean hole, and is a professional at weed pulling. Of course, she doesn’t know the difference between a week and an actual plant, so everything gets yanked out, thrown around, and murdered by her. It’s so helpful. I bought some wire fence, some metal fence posts, and a gated arbor, to keep the garden monster out. I then spent a solid 3 months putting up the fence, the arbor, and digging out the grass.
The next issue was that I procrastinated like the true, Professional Procrastinator that I am. Once the garden was planted, I also noticed these little baby plants coming up in tidy little rows. I told Justin that we should wait and see (worst plan for any situation), because maybe they’re something.
Third, I took our kids to NY for a few weeks, and left my husband (who is often at work 16 hours a day, and sometimes as much as 40 hours straight) in charge of taking care of it. I came home to Jurassic Garden. At which point, not only was the entire space overrun with WILD MORNING GLORIES, but my little “Let’s see what these turn out to be” plants were really looking a lot like peanut plants. After 2 weeks of de-wild-morning-glorying the space, I decide to take inspiration from Jimmy Carter and become a peanut farmer……
…..Of course then it ended up my peanut plants were really some kind of weed that only looks peanutish, but is in fact a whole lot of nothing. Jimmy, I failed you.
My garden produced a solid 2 cucumbers. Which, in a space of 414sqft, is sad. I vowed that 2020 would be better than 2019.
February came and went. Every day I told myself that today would be the day I started this garden. Ok, maybe tomorrow. Ok, maybe Monday.
Then the world started freaking out and buying up meat and toilet paper. Nothing like a little Pandemic Panic to Prompt Produce Production. Let the planting begin!
Today is day 4 of my Garden jumpstart frenzy. I have just under 1/2 of the garden planted. According to my fancy Alabama Garden App (it’s a thing, don’t be jealous that you don’t live near a major agricultural university. We can’t all be this rural), I should start having vegetables by the beginning of May.
In the meantime, I guess it’s back to honing my “gathering” skills. Which, aren’t great. Justin told me he doesn’t think my giant dandelion plants are actually dandelions, so I should probably halt all attempts at feeding my family weeds. And since I’ve never shot a gun (don’t gasp. Just because I’m married to a gun-owning soldier does not mean I care to have anything to do with them myself), the hunting portion of this Covid Apocalypse is going to have to go on the back burner–where it will stay until the Zombie Apocalypse, at which time I suppose knowing how to shoot a gun will be a necessity.
As for the rest of spring break? Well, I’ve taken my usual social distancing and really kicked it right up into homebound recluse status. Are we almost out of juice? Yes. Have I decided that they can wait 2-4 months for our garden to start producing and then we can enjoy some fresh-squeezed tomato juice? Also yes. Pandemic Paranoia is Prominent.
I feel like I’ve been out in the world more in the last 3 days than in the last 3 decades. Don’t get me wrong, I am 100% on board with Social-Distancing. I just also have to feed my family.
Monday, I played “30 Items or Less” at the Commissary (they only allow you through self-checkout if you have 30 items or less). It’s my favorite game, in my least favorite place. I can never seem to choose the proper time to shop at the commissary–if you go too late in the day, it’ll be packed. If you go around lunch-time, you’ll get swarmed by soldiers rushing in on their lunch break to get their quick-shop on. And of course, if you’re a real glutton for punishment, you will go midday on payday. I hoped that by going early enough (even though Monday was dangerously close to payday), I could avoid the Toilet Paper Frenzy.
I have to admit something–some time in February, before the world started going to war over 2-ply, I purchased an 18 pack of mega-rolls. It was purchased in the middle of 2 weeks of nonstop rain. We’re not talking the rain that happens most places: “oh no, look at this rain. It’s been raining for days. But at least my flowers will grow.” We’re talking Chattahoochee River flooding, blinding rain, ditches that become small front yard rivers. After I brought in my food groceries, I looked like I had gone swimming in our ditch river, so I said to myself (I talk to myself…a lot…who doesn’t? No really, who are you, because I guess not everyone has internal monologue, and I want to know how you make it through the day without someone to talk to? Maybe my internal monologue is the reason I’m so ok with being alone), “I’ll just leave the toilet paper in the van until it stops raining.”
Waiting until it stopped raining turned into waiting until we actually needed it. Have you met me?? Sammi’s my name; Procrastination is my game. I’m a professional.
Days passed. Weeks passed. I knew it was back there, but…I’ll bring it in later. Until riots started breaking out over toilet paper! I jokingly said to Justin, “my car’s going to get broken into if I keep driving around with that package of toilet paper in my van!” He then gave me an ultimatum: bring the toilet paper inside, or start carrying a gun. Since I’ve never even shot a gun, I decided it would probably be safer for everyone if I just brought the toilet paper inside. Justin took one look at my 18 roll mega pack and said, “that’s it?! That’s all we have?!” Um, yes? A roll lasts probably a week (I’ve never actually paid attention to how long they last, but I feel like I only shout, “who-finished-the-toilet-paper-and-didn’t-replace-the-roll,” right around once a week.
Ok, back to Monday’s Commissary Shopping Extravaganza. Upon entering the store, I gasped at the overwhelming amount of produce! Yes! And even more amazing: they had toilet paper!!! I debated whether or not I should grab one, and decided to come back to it if I was under my 30 item limit by the end.
Of course, then I rounded the corner and realized there was no meat. It seems the only thing that scares people more than not being able to wipe their butt, is becoming vegan. Meanwhile, vegans everywhere are dancing around the fully-stocked produce section singing Captain Vegetable, and praising themselves for their life choices. I’m not judging–I have spent the last week kicking myself for not starting my vegetable garden in February like a good Alabama Hippie (does Alabama have hippies? Am I the only one? If we weren’t all trying to stay away from one another, I could probably start a support group for Bleeding Heart Liberal Hippies in Alabama…although I’d probably be the only person in the group).
Where am I? What’s happening? Oh yeah–lots of toilet paper; no meat. Moving on.
My 30 items ended up being VEGETABLES (so many vegetables), tomato sauce, milk, cheese, juice, and ice cream (the most essential item in any quarantine situation). Oh, what the heck, let’s get another package of toilet paper (it was a real “treat yo’self” moment).
Of course, then I spot the couple that had been walking around the store with twice the legal limit of paper products, in front of me at self-check out. The commissary has limited shoppers to 3 packages.
For those of you who are not military-affiliated, or have never had the joy of shopping at the commissary, they’re quite strict about shopping. I have to swipe my card at the kiosk, and show it to the cashier wandering around the self-checkout area. Somehow this couple managed to get past that, because wifey dug through her purse for 2 minutes and then whispered across to her husband, “honey, I can’t find my ID. Can I use yours??”
You’re already breaking the 3 package limit, by pretending to be unrelated, but now you’re going to break ID law?! And get away with it?! I have done commissary trips with both my Mom, and my Mother-in-Law, where, doing the mom thing, they have tried to pay for my groceries and gotten yelled at by the cashier. I believe my MIL was even told she couldn’t hand ME cash for me to then give the cashier (it’s cool–the drug deal just had to go down in the parking lot. Moms are resilient…and defiant).
If you hoard toilet paper, I will judge you. You have been warned.
Now we can skip ahead to Wednesday’s grocery trip. I hoped that Aldi would be spared from the madness, and for the most part, I was right! Except….the meat. I know, I know, we can survive without animal protein. But try telling Justin that. Are you willing to be there for him while he cries over a plate of beans and rice? I can’t handle that much drama in my life right now, ok?
The meat wasn’t entirely sold out–corned beef filled a shelf (thanks, I’ll take 2), and there were a whole 5 packages of chicken thighs. I’m not selfish or greedy, and even though I have a family to feed, I took one (the sign said I could take up to 6 of each type of meat. See what I did there? I thought about others–come on, give it a try). I then continued my shopping trip, stocking up on more than I would normally buy, but, in my defense, I’ve been playing the 30 Items or Less game since the start of 2020, trying to decrease the amount of food in my pantry. Foolish me, but who thought we would end up here??
I finish shopping, go through the checkout aisle (Ok, quick question, entirely off-topic? Are neck beards the new soul patch?? Because the cashier always has a clean-shaven face…but from his jaw line down, he’s got crazy beard things happening. I don’t know if maybe I’ve spent too much time social-distancing and am completely out of the loop? Or is he just a unique individual who refuses to conform to social norms), and spend the next 15 minutes trying to teach my children the proper way to pack a grocery bag (It’s like a beautiful puzzle of cans and potato chips–preferably not in the same bag). While we’re playing this portion of Life Lessons Brought to You by Pandemic, the gentleman behind me (an adorable old German–or Austrian man, somewhere around the age of 127), asks NeckBeard how he takes his coffee. “I am going to Dunkin’ Donuts after this, and I would like to buy you a cup of coffee.” And now my heart is melting from the overwhelming kindness I have now experienced on a Wednesday.
And then….I get to the parking lot. While I’m putting my groceries in the van, I watch an older southern lady make her way across the parking lot to the kind little old man and ask for his cart. She tries to hand him a quarter, and he refused it: “please, just take the cart. I do not need your quarter.” She then says, “us old-timers, we’ll get through this. We know how to survive in hard times. Not like them, “and then she pointed at me!!!” I looked straight at her and laughed: “HAHAHA.”
As I stated earlier, if you panic-hoard toilet paper, I will judge you. If you judge me for the amount of food I purchase to feed my family, I will do my best not to slap you. There are 40 extra hours a week that my pre-teens will be “starving!” I have to plan accordingly. Yes, this looks like a ridiculous cheese hoard, but it’ll most likely be gone by Monday.
Deep breath, Sammi. Focus on the kindness.
Justin worked late–his schedule this week is right around 38 hours at work, and 10 hours at home. This is not Covid-19 related–this is just how his job is sometimes. We sat down to eat dinner, and I told him about the meat options.
“Did you buy all the corned beef??” “No–they limited you to 6 packages.” “So you got six packages of corned beef?!” “No–I got 2.” “Ugh!!! Why didn’t you get six!?” “Gosh, I don’t know Justin. I figured we both don’t need to have hypertension.”
I was tempted to supplement our animal protein with eggs…but then I remembered that Cadbury Creme Eggs don’t count. And I feel like there would be a serious increase in Justin’s Pandemic Judgement if I told him I bought Aldi out of eggs. “Sammi, what eggs? There’s only one carton of eggs in here.” “No-no. I ran out of space in the fridge, so I put them in the freezer.” “You can’t freeze….oh Sammi………no!”
Gosh, now I want to go back to Aldi and buy all of their Cadbury Creme Eggs–that’s not a Pandemic Panic Purchase…that’s just Thursday.
