I’ve been writing things down here and there since the coronavirus really started to impact our lives. I’ve shared some of this as snippets on Instagram but if you’re interested in reading more, feel free to read through these lightly-edited words. As this essay says, I’m craving to see what people are thinking/doing/feeling through all of this. Maybe it’s helpful to use my own still, small voice to give some words to what we’re all going through at this moment in time. You can find Week One here , Week Two here, Week Three here, and Week Four here.
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Monday, April 13th
“I've been more aware of the passage of time since Kindergarten began, knowing that at this time next year the twins won’t be in Kindergarten but in first grade, and then second, and so on. Somehow the days of toddlerhood and preschool seemed to shield me a bit more, when our days looked so much the same from one to the next.
I’m acutely aware of their days off of school now, where it feels like we’re just settling back into our normal, three kids snug at home, instead of disrupting what our true, new normal is of packing lunches and backpacks.”
...is a THING I WROTE on December 23rd. Bless my heart.
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I’ve just been assuming, through all of this, that summer is cancelled. I’m assuming they’re not returning to school (though that breaks my heart). I’m assuming there will not be a dance recital (another thing that breaks my heart). I’m assuming there will be no t-ball (again heartbreaking). I’m assuming there will be no PlayNet, zoo camps, Big Chip vacation, or trips to parks and beaches (my heart is gone).
I’ve more or less made my peace with this.
My light at the end of the tunnel is assuming the kids will go back to school in the fall. School even starts really late here this year; since Labor Day isn’t until September 7th, the first day of school is September 8th. It’s about as late as it can possibly be.
My heart is set on this. My dad dared to suggest that the kids wouldn’t even go back to school in the fall and it’s a good thing we’re practicing social distancing or I would have STABBED him. Even though I understand, in the darkest, most remote corners of my brain, that this won’t really be over by then and that NOT returning to school in the fall is an actual possibility, I just cannot even with the idea of it right now.
Though that didn’t stop me from sending Caden and Brooklyn’s teacher an email last week to request they be in the same class again next year. I don’t want to deal with two different first grade teachers for distance learning. Just in case.
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Wednesday, April 15th
Mornings are the hardest. The waking up and the getting up. It’s just the worst.
Back up. Maybe I shouldn’t say mornings are the hardest. It’s the whole getting out of bed part that is.
I’ve never been a morning person. Never, ever, ever. Mornings are only nice in theory. 5:00 am is NOT a nice time. I don’t even think 6:00 am is a nice time. They are dumb times when reasonable people (and children) should still be sleeping.
Still, I used to get up at 6:30. A mere month or so ago when the kids still had things like buses to catch and there were lunches to pack and I had a minivan to drive to places like preschool. There were things to look forward to in the day, or at least in the week.
Forget 6:00 now. Forget even 6:30. Now, even when 7:00 rolls around, I close my eyes against the inevitable like ugh.
The first couple of weeks were different. Then it was like grief. I woke up with anticipation, the sunlight glinting through the blinds, before it would hit me. I would remember, all over again, that this wasn’t just a bad dream. That we couldn’t go anywhere. That coronavirus was a real thing. That the whole world was dealing with this and the kids don’t have school and what bad news would come today?
Now it doesn’t hit me like a revelation each morning. It’s simply reality. Now I wake up and think, “Oh. Here we go again.” And it takes every ounce of strength I have to pull myself out of bed. Even though I just throw on my glasses and some sweatpants and walk downstairs to get coffee. The monotony of our days is it’s own brand of exhausting.
(The coffee helps. So does sunshine.)
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Thursday, April 16th
My moods seem to run in roughly three-day cycles. I usually have a pretty good “this is all fine!” day followed by a day full of “meh” and ending with a “this is awful and terrible and I’m angry and sad and I hate everyone and everything” kind of day.
It’s not always a three-day cycle. I might have one great day followed by three meh days followed by one of pure rage. Meh is more my baseline these days. I rarely have more than one good or truly awful day in a row.
Recognizing the cycle helps. While the good days don’t last, neither do the bad ones.
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Things seem to have leveled off to an extent. Life feels more or less normal now The news cycle has flattened out. A few weeks ago, no matter how often I picked up my phone, I would find new news, new stories, new information. I was getting multiple emails from school each day as they detailed the newest orders from the Governor, here’s when distance learning begins, here’s when you pick up your student(s) materials, here’s your log-in information, here are updated versions of ALL of that.
(And let us never forget the emails from every restaurant and every store and every activity we’ve ever done in the past decade to update us on “here’s how we’re dealing with COVID-19” and/or “let’s stand together in hope” and it got really weird.)
My phone use has flattened off. It’s still higher than pre-COVID-19 levels but not by much. Life certainly doesn’t look how it did “before”, but the new normal has settled in. I KNEW it would, a few weeks ago, I knew theoretically we would all psychologically adjust and yet it seemed impossible at the same time. But, here we are.
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Friday, April 17th
For the record, these are the clothes I’ve been living in:
These pull-on jeans. (Seriously as comfy as leggings but feels like I’m trying.)
These sweatpants.
This bralette. (RIP bras with hooks and adjustable straps.)
These leggings. (Soft and cotton-y. Not squish-you-in supportive.)
This sweatshirt.
