There were squabbles about dishes, “tone of voice”, how long ten minutes actually is, who Sophie likes best in the afternoon, when stores should open, the Cuomo’s, and a heated conversation about Zoom versus FaceTime.
At the end of it all, I don’t anything any of us remembered anything that was said.
What my family did this weekend was argue, over anything, and then retreat to our rooms, the woods, the shower, or gaze for an extended period of time into the refrigerator, and sulk.
It’s Sunday night. Katy and I worked things out with conversation, and a plan for the week ahead to help us communicate better.
Colin came downstairs and offered me some cold French fries and kissed me on the cheek. He then asked if I could feed them to the birds. I explained to him the birds are sleeping and gave him an icy look. He put the leftover potatoes away, and said “Good night, mom, I’m turning the tv down now.” For some reason, I believed him, though his behavior on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, would indicate this will be a challenge.
Sheldon is downstairs flipping through every tv channel because he is still working on understanding the concept of TV OnDemand. He offered to come upstairs and help me carry my water class, and eyeglasses to our room. He is lonely, and would like assistance with the remote.
This is a time for chocolate, technology, yin yoga, helping your neighbor, coloring the sidewalk in rainbow pastels, planting a garden, and spending time with the people and animals we love.
We have a lot of time with these people, so sometimes we might get a little, or a lot, irritated with them.
But this is not the time to hold a grudge.
Life’s too short, and sleep is hard to find.
Sweet dreams, my friends.
Love,
Jules
Day Forty-Two- I Make a Promise I Don’t Keep.
May 2, 2020
For a little over a month, I’ve been doing daily posts about life under quarantine. My intention was to keep a record of how my family dealt with this weird, hard, situation.
I’m going to keep posting, but I won’t title my posts with the number of days we’ve been home.
Each day going forward is not a number, or a marker of time until this is over.
Each day is a challenge, a nightmare, a blessing, and an opportunity to figure out who I am, how to leave the world a better place, what I can do to help those I love navigate through a world for which a map does not exist.
This was not the best of days. I didn’t get a full hour of exercise so I’m surly. I took a nap in the afternoon, ate too much of Katy’s lovely lemon bars, recipe gifted from my mom, told my son to pack his stuff and move out because he didn’t put a dish in the dishwasher, and got lost in a tiny patch of woods off of Rte 138.
I also had a zoom call with my family, apologized like I meant it, and, when I click post, am going to take a dance cardio class in the living room, bluetooth speaker connected, which will probably irritate the hell out of everyone.
I know jumping around on the carpet won’t leave the world a better place, and irritating the people I just apologized to is kind of hypocritical, but, this what me taking care of myself looks like.
Take care of yourself.
Love,
julie
Day Forty
There is nothing like the moment in the kitchen after the dishes are done, when I’ve left a zoom call with friends, and I’m waiting on my daughter to come downstairs to watch tv.
I wonder why Colin’s so quiet? I
I wonder why Katy’s taking so long?
Is the dishwasher making a weird noise?
Does Sophie look more tired than usual?
These moments are when I think, I really need to do yoga or consider drinking more wine.
We’re on Day Forty, my friends. I”m still looking at Facebook, waiting on Kate, which is what I was doing quite a bit of the time before all of this.
I should go see what Colin’s up to.
He’s probably making masks out of surgical tape and medical gauze or cleaning the linen closet.
I’m going to check, anyway.
Forty-one days- Not the best of them. (My daughter’s flute recital, which should have been mentioned, was not. It was amazing.)
April 24, 2020
Today, I was part of a conversation with some amazing women who do amazing things. My mom even said, when I told her about them, “you’re lucky they have chosen you to be part of their lives.”
I am blessed to know so many amazing people, and that these amazing people return my calls, laugh at my jokes, include me to their zoom meetings, and will invite me into their homes, for holidays, dinners, games, and just because. They have good wine, better snacks, and we get each other, in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
But, sometimes, it’s hard to know where I fit in.
I’m currently not working at Quincy College, currently unsure what my next steps are going to be, or where I want them to take me.
I bring to the table funny stories about life with Colin, and heartwarming anecdotes about Katy still letting me into her room, even flop on her bed, and sometimes, talk to me, (this morning, she told me I needed a shower. I’d just hiked the Blue Hills.) I bring to the table good table manners, excellent taste in music, a sometimes irritating and occasionally helpful cheerful demeanor, muted first thing in the morning for most of my friends, and I’m willing to be the one who decides which restaurant and what time- Not critical skills at the moment.
I know it’s not good to compare yourself to others, the doors that have closed will open to amazing opportunities, I have a house, a husband, beautiful kids and the very best dog.
I know all of us have been pretty close to where I am now, at one point or another.
I know this, in my head.
But in my heart, I feel like I”m running the Boston Marathon and, somehow, find myself alone, lost in Cleveland. Everyone’s talking about Boston, and I’m wandering around Cleveland hoping to get home for the
byForty-One Days- and not the best of them.
(The flute recital, not mentioned, which should have been mentioned, was amazing.)
Today, I was part of a conversation with some amazing women who do amazing things. My mom even said, when I told her about them, “you’re lucky they have chosen you to be part of their lives.”
I am blessed to know so many amazing people, and that these amazing people return my calls, laugh at my jokes, include me to their zoom meetings, and will invite me into their homes, for holidays, dinners, games, and just because. They have good wine, better snacks, and we get each other, in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
But, sometimes, it’s hard to know where I fit in.
I’m currently not working at Quincy College, currently unsure what my next steps are going to be, or where I want them to take me.
I bring to the table funny stories about life with Colin, and heartwarming anecdotes about Katy still letting me into her room, even flop on her bed, and sometimes, talk to me, (this morning, she told me I needed a shower. I’d just hiked the Blue Hills.) I bring to the table good table manners, excellent taste in music, a sometimes irritating and occasionally helpful cheerful demeanor, muted first thing in the morning for most of my friends, and I’m willing to be the one who decides which restaurant and what time- Not critical skills at the moment.
I know it’s not good to compare yourself to others, the doors that have closed will open to amazing opportunities, I have a house, a husband, beautiful kids and the very best dog.
I know all of us have been pretty close to where I am now, at one point or another.
I know this, in my head.
But in my heart, I feel like I”m running the Boston Marathon and, somehow, find myself alone, lost in Cleveland. Everyone’s talking about Boston, and I’m wandering around Cleveland hoping to get home for the afterparty.
I have the sense of direction of a ninety year old drunk from Medford, waking up alone in Los Angeles, who lost his glasses on the flight.
But I am determined as hell, so I’ll get there.
And if I don’t, I’ll jump on Katy’s bed until she makes me laugh or figures out how to throw me off.
Love,
Jules
I spent thirty minutes trying to center the drapes on the curtain rods.
An hour was consumed when I dusted and wiped.
I cleaned out my closet, and put away my high heels in a box I tucked deep in my closet.
Katy came over to me in the midst of one my rants-
“Why am I always doing all of this alone? You are on Snapchat and I”m-”
And she said-
“Mom, the house will still be here tomorrow, the mess will be here tomorrow, and so will we. And I’ll help.”
She folded me into her arms and hugged me until I didn’t want to strangle her.
Then I spotted a stack of papers, an empty cat food can, a dirty napkin, and some cheerios under the kitchen table. (I spend the majority of my time oblivious and it serves me well, until it doesn’t.)
I started again, but I’m not going to repeat the language I used, but she reached around my shoulders, and let me lean in on her shoulder.
I know she just didn’t feel like helping me clean the damn house, but I admire her tactics.
With love passed on from Katy to me to you,
Julie
I spent thirty minutes trying to center the drapes on the curtain rods.
An hour was consumed when I dusted and wiped.
I cleaned out my closet, and put away my high heels in a box I tucked deep in my closet.
Katy came over to me in the midst of one my rants-
“Why am I always doing all of this alone? You are on Snapchat and I”m-”
And she said-
“Mom, the house will still be here tomorrow, the mess will be here tomorrow, and so will we. And I’ll help.”
She folded me into her arms and hugged me until I didn’t want to strangle her.
Then I spotted a stack of papers, an empty cat food can, a dirty napkin, and some cheerios under the kitchen table. (I spend the majority of my time oblivious and it serves me well, until it doesn’t.)
I started again, but I’m not going to repeat the language I used, but she reached around my shoulders, and let me lean in on her shoulder.
I know she just didn’t feel like helping me clean the damn house, but I admire her tactics.
With love passed on from Katy to me to you,
Julie
Day Thirty Six
April 19, 2020
Day Thirty Five-
April 18, 2020
My friends post funny stuff, important information, photos, questions, sometimes, just check-ins or asks for recommendations about restaurants, learning at home, or where to find toilet paper.
There are sad stories of loss, and warnings from people working on the front lines who know far more than I, and deserve more than a sentence.
There are the people announcing the loss of someone they loved.
There are inspirational quotes, and old wisdom, and poems that steal my breath and give it back.
Some offer glimpses of family life- descriptions of walks in the park, cooking dinner, and video clips of first steps or birthday cakes.
Some are just a sentence or two, stolen from someone else, posted during a commercial or while waiting for someone to make popcorn. We don’t all have the same same of humor, but mostly we do.
I just post.
My updates are glimpses into moments, conversations, temporary revelations, offering tactics that seem to help me cope. I don’t think anyone’s coping. But I leave a lot out.
I’m okay. I have a home, groceries, friends, books, Spotify.
My daughter and son- I already talk about them all the damn time. Remember, you are only hearing my point of view.I don’t agree with all of their choices, but that’s not a blog, that’s a miniseries.
Today, at Tedeschis, I embarrassed my daughter by lingering at the counter, to talk about the fact we were buying instant coffee for some challenge on Instagram.
There were people behind me, I’d left some of my cash at home.
But I was so happy to speak to the woman at the register about this silly internet recipe for Folgers crystals. Katy almost died, but recovered by the time we got home.
When I write my daily reflections, I am selective. I don’t want to bring anyone down, overwhelm, I try not to seem smug, whine, or linger on what seems to be evident. I choose not to be political because I am angry, and leave it to those who are more informed than I.
FYI- Sometimes, I spend hours on Facebook reading reviews for products I’ll never buy.
Lately, I shower every three days, my eyebrows are a mess, and not in the supermodel way. They are a hirsute jungle of proof I don’t care.
When I brag about cleaning, I clean. This translates into I wipe the counters with a dirty sponge sprayed with a product that smells good and cost too much at Whole Foods.
I cried in the morning for a half an hour for something I’m not going to tell you about, but I moved on in an hour because it was tiny, in the wake of everything.
I never liked Whole Foods, and I miss it so much.
Day 33- All I can tell you for sure is it’s Wednesday.
April 15, 2020
Waves of grief pass thru me at the strangest times- driving the car, walking the dog, cooking a meal- during mundane day to day activities that are as familiar as the freckly on my thigh, or the sound of my mom’s voice.
What I am grieving?
I’m not a traveller, so I can’t say I miss getting on a plane. I’d like to get on a plane, but that can’t be it.
I don’t go to many parties, just enough so that when I’m invited, I usually say yes, and try to bring something nice so I’ll be invited again. But it’s April, not exactly party season, and there’s Zoom. I can drink what I like to drink, in my living room, with my friends, in their living rooms. It’s not ideal, but…
I love my job and I’m working from home.
I’ve probably seen more live music online than I have in the past five years.
There is my deep and abiding appreciation for food other people make, and ordering takeout is considered community service, so I’m doing my part.
I miss anticipation.
I miss going thru Monday knowing I had plans to meet Maggie for CardioBoxing and cocktails on Wednesday night, preparing for high school students to tour the campus at QC, and trying on clothes the night before, in an effort to be relatable, professional, and weather appropriate.
I miss checking the menu on High School lunch on Tuesday, and deciding to skip out of the office on Thursday for an hour to eat chicken or meatballs.
I miss helping Katy get ready for a recital, and looking forward to seeing friends I only see at recitals, school plays, football games, or the Fruit Center.
All I look forward to now is this being over.
There is no date.
No one knows what over will look like.
I haven’t been able to tap into eager anticipation for some vague time in the distant future.
Tonight, before I go to bed, and after I walk the dog, I’m going to plan something for tomorrow.
I haven’t figured out what, but it will have to be more significant than making bread or trying a new workout online.
I’d love suggestions.
I need to look forward to more than coffee in the morning, and getting thru another day.
I’ll let you know how it works out.
Love,
Julie
Day 32- I fight with the teenager and I”m writing this while I try to figure out a way to make up.
April 15, 2020
Since this whole stay the #$$%^ at home thing started, my sixteen year old daughter has been assigned, from time to time, the occasional role of my Best Friend Forever.
(I don’t think she would agree with this label, at any time, ever. I rank below Maurice the cat and every single friend in her contacts on her iPhone. I would be concerned if she felt the same.)
I’m not going to go into details, she might catch me, not talk to me for six hours and I might die.
But I think it’s safe to say Kate and I have different definitions of time, and do not always share the same priorities.
We don’t agree on the amount of urgency required in folding clothes that have been sitting on the table for 32 hours.
One of us feels that sweeping is not important since no one is going to come into the house ever again.
These are not unusual battles between parent and child. and would typically be resolved just before bed, when Katy realized she needed a ride in the morning, or I remembered I needed her to go to a friend’s house after school.
But in the midst of Covid 19, this minor squabble meant I had to exercise alone in the living room. There is no one to ask me to make popcorn when I sit down to watch tv. It turns out, I don’t mind standing behind Kate while we work out, our tiny space felt kind of empty without her. And, without her company, I think I”ll sit down with a book.
We’ve been home together for a month.
For the first time since she was ten, I’m allowed to sit on her bed and to talk to her while she wakes up, even share a pillow. When my back went out, she scolded me about trying to go walk the dog, even though she knew she would have to walk the dog. It was pouring, cold as hell, with 20 mile an hour winds. (We love Sophie very much, but when the temperature drops below 30 degrees, and the wind howls, she’s the dog.)
Right now, Katy is upstairs reading Stephen King, and probably didn’t even notice I turned the music all the way up during the work out.
I owe her for walking Sophie, which is far more important than sweeping, because it’s definitely going to be a little while before we entertain. And honestly, no one has ever visited because I keep such an impeccable house.
I’m heading upstairs to initiate peace talks, but I’m keeping her cell phone until morning. Or that’s what I’m telling myself right now, though who confiscates the device of their BFF.
I guess a Mom does, but right now, I’d like to spend a little time with my friend.
I can wake her up with a list of chores, a healthy breakfast, and offer to listen to her point of view in the morning.
Love,
Jules
julierichmond 