COVID-19 Journal March 31st

Today is the 31st of March in the year 2020. We have now been in self-imposed isolation for going on two weeks. The fact that we live on a secluded military base on a tropical island is both a blessing and a curse. I choose not to leave, but I also couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. I am at once grateful for and provoked by that knowledge. The feeling of being a caged animal is magnified, but as I sit in my very large yard in the very warm sun staring at a very blue caribbean, I remind myself how much worse it could be. It could be snowing outside And frankly, after December 25th, nothing is more disturbing.

This morning began much like every other morning in that it involved blissful silence and copious amounts of coffee until it was time for the girls to wake up at which point it escalated from placative offerings of breakfast to veiled threats if two skinny little girls did not get their cheery asses out of bed and get ready for the day because I AM NOT UNLOADING THE DISHWASHER ONE MORE TIME SO HELP ME. As I was whisper-shouting, a kitten ran out from underneath a bed and leapt into the air mock-attacking me, thereby disarming any credible amount of authority I possessed as I giggled like a toddler and bent over to scoop it up.

After what seemed like much too long a time, both girls were up and working on their daily chores. Ive implemented a new zone cleaning chart, using this pandemic as an excuse to get our lives in order. Surprisingly it’s going very well. Both girls have been checking all the boxes on each day without complaining and when I ask them questions about it, they refer to “the list” as if it is autonomous and didn’t come from me. I’ve decided to give them all my requests in list form from here on out. They both managed to make it to (online) class on time and I THINK they had even brushed their hair and teeth.

According to the list today was bathroom day, so I listened to my podcasts about suburban housewives getting murdered while I scrubbed the toilet. Hudson watched entirely too much TV so I could get things done, but I justified it by telling myself he knows the entire ABC’s and how to count because of all the TV I let him watch, so I’m pretty sure I’m winning and shouldn’t begin to worry until he recites an entire Nationwide commercial verbatim like Ellie did at three. We have time. The smell of bleach and chemicals made me think about COVID and how much I wish it would just die. I, a self-professed barefoot living, dirty-hippie, have been lysoling the bottom of Jeremy’s shoes ever since I read that it can survive for up to five days on the bottom of shoes. He works in the only hospital we have here and we have had at least one confirmed case. It feels as if we are all holding our breaths for the next two weeks waiting on a yet undetermined future to unfold.

I bumbled through the morning, sporadically refilling my cup of coffee as a new drip would splash over the edge in my seemingly perpetual haste every time I refreshed the cup. A little cream and one stevia and a good stir. I like the sounds of spoons on china and I sometimes give it an extra stir just to hear the delicate clink again. It had been over a week since I had worked out, seeing as how I had been having a glorious pity party for myself and so I had determined to get myself back on track this week. Monday didn’t go so well and I had decided yelling at people was my cardio. But Today, today was going to be my day!

My children keep their own schedule regarding their online classes and since I have a very loud and destructive toddler, I allow them to take their classes in their rooms. This honor system has proven to be challenging at times as I have on more than one occasion found them doing things OTHER than pay attention to their teachers. If this new way of learning has taught me anything, it is that it’s hard to be accountable to a teacher who isn’t in the same room as you. Nevertheless, I persist. I persist on insisting upon respect for both the teachers and classmates. Be quiet and listen while the teacher is talking and be quiet and listen while your classmates are talking. Give them the same respect as you would like if you were reading in front of a live class. And so they stop making sculptures out of clay or standing on their heads or secretly shopping on amazon. MMMMMMMhmmmmmm, I see you, you know who you are.

Somewhere around midday I attempt to put Hudson to bed. He’s been regressing and refusing a nap lately and so out the window has gone my two hours of solace and power time to really accomplish things. Today he shouted from his crib and threw things for a good hour before I gave in and went and got him. The look of victory on his face let me know I’m in for it in a decade. Again. Pray for me.

Shortly after that, I acknowledged that if I didn’t workout now, it wasn’t going to happen at all. So I released Hudson into the backyard to do whatever it is he does out there, eat dirt, catch frogs, as long as he isn’t hurt, I don’t care. And I began my workout outside under the shade of the patio. Somewhere in the middle of the squat track (it’s like my children know THE worst possible time to ask me things and use that to my disadvantage) Ari came running from the house, jumped the fence, and shouted, “I’m going fishing, Bye!” Before I could even respond she was gone and I was out of breath anyway, so I just released her into The Wild where she belongs anyway. Some time later, and during the shoulder track, she reappeared over the fence with a ruddy face and smelling sharply of outdoors but with a huge grin and holding a large baggie filled with water. “Look! I caught baby jelly fish!” And indeed, as I leaned over and peered into the bag, there were about half a dozen nickel-sized jelly fish just floating through the water rhythmically like mini heartbeats.

She ran inside with her bag and I called out, “They’ll die you know! They aren’t meant for that water!”

She mumbled something and kept going. I’ve learned to pick my battles.

Later she informed me she had had an epiphany thinking about baby turtles and how they love to eat jelly fish and that since she loves sea turtles so much, she released her find back to nature to feed the turtles. I wiped my hands on my apron, for at that time I had begun cooking dinner, and smirked to myself. Sometimes silence IS golden.

Jeremy came home from the hospital, immediately changed clothes, I lysoled his shoes and put his clothes in the washer as he took a shower before touching anyone. Strange days, friends. I poured myself a glass of wine and began to make dinner It was a complicated and time-consuming recipe and so I relished the time to myself. Perhaps the only time I would spend alone all day. Funny, that. I’m in isolation, yet never truly alone. It wasn’t long before my blissful time spent chopping while listening to The Head and the Heart was interrupted by squabbles and petty injustices. The thing they don’t tell you about becoming a parent is just how much of your time will be spent playing judge in small claims court. I have learned to adopt a serene face and point my finger at the door at their father. He can have a turn at the estrogen-fueled debates of the day. For now, I am done. I will listen to my music while I cut my dill and chicken, and no one can disturb me… Because I spent all my Christmas money on Bose Noise cancelling headphones and I CAN’T HEAR YOU, SUCKERS!

After dinner and putting the baby who is no longer a baby, to bed, Jeremy and I watched an episode of The Durell’s in Corfu and I have to say, It has been such a highlight of my days the last week. It is funny and light and from a place that very much reminds us of this place in so many ways. One episode each night. Bedtime at nine. I have never lived such a regimented life. But I suppose in these times, a regimen may be the saving grace.

Until tomorrow, friends. Stay strong. Find the beauty. Laugh at the absurd. And for God’s sake, don’t touch each other.