Surviving 114 Days of Corona
It's been 114 days since the last day of normal, the last day my four kids sat at wooden school desks, the last day they attended baseball or track practice, or played basketball on the playground, and the last time they had lunch with friends. Just how long is 114 days? We'll be buying Halloween candy to trick-or-treat if we survive that long from today.
Friday, March 13th was the last day we didn't wear masks or sit six feet apart in social distance, or worry if there would be toilet paper, Clorox wipes or flour at the Safeway grocery store. Dodging manic shoppers in empty grocery store aisles became my new 'Hunger Games' reality buying for a family of six, stripping off my mask and sanitizing after. I've since lowered my expectations, ordering groceries online where substitutions are the luck of the draw and my anxiety at a minimum. In order to feed four growing teenagers and satiate their parent's happy hour thirst, our grocery bills are frickin' ridiculous (pardon my teenage French), but so is parenting four kids in 114 days of quarantine!
One hundred and fourteen days of incessant hand washing and elbow bumping in place of hugging friends tight feels like a lifetime in Covid-years. Broadening our 'bubble' becomes exponential in a family of six. Between groups of teens gathering on social media and friends whose parents allow them to game until 5 am and sleep until dinner, parenting teens during Covid is exponentially more complex.
It's been 114 days of watching my roots grow out and accepting ombre with silver highlights as fashion with minimal maintenance akin to my husband's white beard by week-end and younger boys who never change their quarantine clothes, or shower. Covid mom-haircuts for everyone!
Online schooling felt like a 114 years of borderline insanity, my 7th grade son finished in a heartbeat daily, while my 4th grader battled and cried over every incomplete sentence, flat out refusing punctuation and supporting evidence...for hours. I'm fairly certain he came to accept his mom as teacher daily before he lost his Xbox 'social hour' and I lost my mind. Unfortunately, Groundhog Day ensued the next day and the next like clockwork. It turns out everyone passed 4th grade if they were breathing. Meanwhile my 4.0 GPA freshman holed up in his bedroom all day received marks for 'moderate engagement in online participation' as if any high school students turned on their Google-Meets video camera, and my daughter prepared college essays as if there was no tomorrow.
One hundred and fourteen days of frickin' screen time and gaming, God-forbid a teenage vampire leave the basement for fresh air or vitamin-D. Adding Dad to the online schooling, in charge of P.E. at noon, was the smartest Covid thought I've had, so why did P.E. stop when 'online school' was over on June 11th? I promoted Dad to keeper of responsible children and their schedules. He quickly learned that a 9-year-old would cry when asked to practice piano and water the garden at 9:30pm. Why should I get to have all the Covid-fun?
We've surely emptied 114 bottles of alcohol during 114 days of quarantine, though I've managed to begin happy hour at a more respectable hour now, rather than during P.E. at noon. Honestly, no one judges a quarantined mom anymore.
It's been 114 days of less homework stress and carpool juggling, less gas and pollution, fewer PB&J sandwiches on the go, and more time to make music. Homemade jams, donuts, margaritas, 4th of July cake and birthday celebrations to share at social distance in our neighborhood. We've accumulated a repertoire of nearly 50 songs, with Baby Beluga our theme song, and our hood looks forward to singing together at 7pm every night like it's Groundhog Day.
In 114 days I've sewn throw pillows, built shelves out of plumbing pipe, read books, crafted recycled wood, become addicted to Netflix series, volunteered, yoga Zoomed, and gathered with girlfriends at social distance, learning not to give a 'frick' about that which I cannot control, including my teens choosing Fortnite over hiking or biking outside, or calling me a 'Boomer' when I'm clearly Gen-X.
Since March 13th there hasn't been a single school shooting and my kids have bonded safely at home watching Harry Potter and Marvel movies, playing video games and even playing basketball, badminton and an occasional instrument on our porch. We've celebrated three memorable birthdays at social distance, from car parade, to Xbox Live, to a water balloon battle-royale. In 114 days they've become aware of their white privilege and Black Lives that matter, contributed to organizations that affect change, watched '13th' and 'Just Mercy' and marched in masks. They've had time to digest news and form their own political opinions for discussion at the dinner table, eating meals they've painstakingly cooked for the family on their assigned day while gaining appreciation for what's edible and when to keep your mouth shut.
Even after 114 days, as parents we've decided to embark on month-long family RV extravaganza visiting national parks of the west and empty college campuses. We're upping the ante! Less screen time, more family time, Covid-contained in an oversized tin can with it's own shitter and shower on wheels. I know it's frickin' ridiculous but so is parenting four kids in 114 days of quarantine. We're downsizing for a month because I've learned less is more and we may never have another chance or pandemic. Cheers!
Friday, March 13th was the last day we didn't wear masks or sit six feet apart in social distance, or worry if there would be toilet paper, Clorox wipes or flour at the Safeway grocery store. Dodging manic shoppers in empty grocery store aisles became my new 'Hunger Games' reality buying for a family of six, stripping off my mask and sanitizing after. I've since lowered my expectations, ordering groceries online where substitutions are the luck of the draw and my anxiety at a minimum. In order to feed four growing teenagers and satiate their parent's happy hour thirst, our grocery bills are frickin' ridiculous (pardon my teenage French), but so is parenting four kids in 114 days of quarantine!
One hundred and fourteen days of incessant hand washing and elbow bumping in place of hugging friends tight feels like a lifetime in Covid-years. Broadening our 'bubble' becomes exponential in a family of six. Between groups of teens gathering on social media and friends whose parents allow them to game until 5 am and sleep until dinner, parenting teens during Covid is exponentially more complex.
It's been 114 days of watching my roots grow out and accepting ombre with silver highlights as fashion with minimal maintenance akin to my husband's white beard by week-end and younger boys who never change their quarantine clothes, or shower. Covid mom-haircuts for everyone!
Online schooling felt like a 114 years of borderline insanity, my 7th grade son finished in a heartbeat daily, while my 4th grader battled and cried over every incomplete sentence, flat out refusing punctuation and supporting evidence...for hours. I'm fairly certain he came to accept his mom as teacher daily before he lost his Xbox 'social hour' and I lost my mind. Unfortunately, Groundhog Day ensued the next day and the next like clockwork. It turns out everyone passed 4th grade if they were breathing. Meanwhile my 4.0 GPA freshman holed up in his bedroom all day received marks for 'moderate engagement in online participation' as if any high school students turned on their Google-Meets video camera, and my daughter prepared college essays as if there was no tomorrow.
One hundred and fourteen days of frickin' screen time and gaming, God-forbid a teenage vampire leave the basement for fresh air or vitamin-D. Adding Dad to the online schooling, in charge of P.E. at noon, was the smartest Covid thought I've had, so why did P.E. stop when 'online school' was over on June 11th? I promoted Dad to keeper of responsible children and their schedules. He quickly learned that a 9-year-old would cry when asked to practice piano and water the garden at 9:30pm. Why should I get to have all the Covid-fun?
We've surely emptied 114 bottles of alcohol during 114 days of quarantine, though I've managed to begin happy hour at a more respectable hour now, rather than during P.E. at noon. Honestly, no one judges a quarantined mom anymore.
It's been 114 days of less homework stress and carpool juggling, less gas and pollution, fewer PB&J sandwiches on the go, and more time to make music. Homemade jams, donuts, margaritas, 4th of July cake and birthday celebrations to share at social distance in our neighborhood. We've accumulated a repertoire of nearly 50 songs, with Baby Beluga our theme song, and our hood looks forward to singing together at 7pm every night like it's Groundhog Day.
In 114 days I've sewn throw pillows, built shelves out of plumbing pipe, read books, crafted recycled wood, become addicted to Netflix series, volunteered, yoga Zoomed, and gathered with girlfriends at social distance, learning not to give a 'frick' about that which I cannot control, including my teens choosing Fortnite over hiking or biking outside, or calling me a 'Boomer' when I'm clearly Gen-X.
Since March 13th there hasn't been a single school shooting and my kids have bonded safely at home watching Harry Potter and Marvel movies, playing video games and even playing basketball, badminton and an occasional instrument on our porch. We've celebrated three memorable birthdays at social distance, from car parade, to Xbox Live, to a water balloon battle-royale. In 114 days they've become aware of their white privilege and Black Lives that matter, contributed to organizations that affect change, watched '13th' and 'Just Mercy' and marched in masks. They've had time to digest news and form their own political opinions for discussion at the dinner table, eating meals they've painstakingly cooked for the family on their assigned day while gaining appreciation for what's edible and when to keep your mouth shut.
Even after 114 days, as parents we've decided to embark on month-long family RV extravaganza visiting national parks of the west and empty college campuses. We're upping the ante! Less screen time, more family time, Covid-contained in an oversized tin can with it's own shitter and shower on wheels. I know it's frickin' ridiculous but so is parenting four kids in 114 days of quarantine. We're downsizing for a month because I've learned less is more and we may never have another chance or pandemic. Cheers!
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