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.
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!
It’s actually not been that bad. I can’t say that time’s moving at a normal rate, but it’s better than the never-ending month that was March.
All over the country, states are making the final decisions on the school year. Alabama was actually one of the first 6 states to make the decision, way back on March 26. Honestly, I had already announced that my children would not be going back this school year. I even went so far as to say I would be willing to go to jail–I don’t know about every state, but in Alabama, if your child has more than 7 unexcused absences in a semester, the parent can be charged with Truancy…and spend up to a year in prison.
Which makes me sound like a rebel. I was willing to do jail time to keep my kids safe.
Of course, then Justin and I were watching a show last night, and there was a scene in a prison bathroom–with 6 toilets placed in the center of a room like a porcelain flower. Justin said, “you couldn’t go to jail.” Nope. Nope nope nope. That is every single one of my nightmares.
I can’t even pee in front of Justin–I certainly wouldn’t be able to in front of strangers! He teases me because, after 15 years I still lock the bathroom every time I go in. But I am not about to have him, or anyone else, bust in on me. My sisters tease me–the man has seen me birth babies. He’s seen me be episiotomized…episiotomied…he watched a German doctor “take garden sheers” to my vagina, in order to extract Shea rapidly. He almost passed out, by the way (Rangers are only tough when they aren’t dealing with blood of their loved ones).
So, the truth of the matter is, I’m grateful schools are closed for the rest of the school year–I wouldn’t last a day in jail. At least this way, I only have to last 23 more days as School Teacher!
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.
My goal for Coronapocalypse was to be better about writing every day. The problem with that is my world went from “pretty darn uneventful,” to “what day is it!?” These are weird times.
Also, March has been the month that kept on giving. We started with what seemed like the potential for good–after 18 years, the “war” in Afghanistan might actually come to and end. NYS had its first coronavirus case, and Washington state had announced its second Covid-related death. Way back then, life was still mostly normal.
Now we can sing, what a difference a month makes. 31 super long, painful days.
Of course, it would only be fitting for a month that started with potential (and slowly–no, rapidly–snowballed out of control), to end with me receiving a Tornado Watch alert. Not as bad as a Tornado warning, but certainly worse than the daily pollen alert I receive.
There are so many interesting aspects of living in the south. Fifteen years ago, I stood out like a sore thumb. At my very first job in Georgia, after being asked where I was from, I was then asked, “are you gonna speak Yank to us?” I guess I can try? I’ve never been good a picking up foreign languages.
One of the “interesting in a bad way” aspects can be the extreme weather. While we don’t have snow days, we did have a “flash flood day,” way back in February. Picture white-out conditions, but with rain and flooding. So much flooding.
Alabama isn’t part of “Tornado Alley,” but it is located in “Dixie Alley,” which I didn’t realize was actually a thing. Dixie Alley is known for a different style of tornado. The wetter style, I guess. My children are professional Tornado siren experts. In 2015, a tornado touched down less than a mile from our house in KY, and the second that siren went off, they curled into little balls on the floor, tucking their hands over their heads. “Come on, Mom! get on the floor like this!” Yeah, I thought the on-post fire department was just being overly cautious…until we drove past the uprooted trees. Oops, I guess tornados are serious.
Our Tornado Plan consists of everyone cramming into a 6’x4′ bathroom. 4 humans, 2 boxers, a pug, and 3 cats. Yes, it will be a wonderful bonding experience. Thus far, we have yet to activate the tornado plan, although there have been moments when the kids were ready (Shea even packed a bag full of stuffed animals, and had to be reminded we would barely have room for the living creatures). Shea believes the best way to increase our space, is to make use of the under sink cabinet–cat storage, if you will. At one point I believe it was suggested that Justin could join them, but since he isn’t even flexible enough for child’s pose, I don’t think it’s going to be possible to get him into a space 4 feet wide by 2 feet deep…and only 3 feet tall. We haven’t tried cramming him in there, but logistically speaking, I don’t think it’s going to be possible.
Our Tailless Trio: Rufus, Emma, and Nebula
Our pug, Bruce, is 14 years old, and poops if you scare him. Awesome defense mechanism. I’m sure it will really go over well in our confined quarters. Rufus, has no concept of personal space, which I’m sure will be the perfect trait for Sardine Can Bathroom. Emma gets extremely bouncy when she’s excited. Or if Justin acknowledges her presence. Picture Tigger, in a bathroom, with too many individuals. Then sprinkle in 3 cats, and keep in mind that two of them are frequently tormented by the boxers; the third cat has no tail, and therefore is just like the boxers…I guess?
31 days ago, we were still planning for Spring Break; it has now come and gone, Social-Distancing-style. March 1 began 734 hours ago, but if you ask anyone, they’d probably tell you it has felt like 734 days. Instead of school days and weekends, we have school-at-home days and the 2 days a week you have no rules. Well, limited rules.
Two more hours until this Tornado Watch is lifted. I will watch it touch down before attempting to cram anyone in the bathroom.
