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
Day Thirty Six
April 19, 2020
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
Good morning, world. Happy Easter! Chag Sameach!
April 12, 2020
For those of you who are counting, we are on Day 30.
I’m in my kitchen, writing, while Sheldon makes an omelet for Katy. Katy is emptying the dishwasher, and probably putting everything in the wrong place.
I’m writing in the morning because yesterday, I did not. Yesterday, we gorged on pizza and pasta. We watched five hours of Dexter. We spent in the day in our pajamas from the night before. We napped. I didn’t look at my phone, the news, or social media.
This morning, I slept in until 9 am. I’m moving slowing thru the morning because my body aches when I spent a day on the sofa. I am not complaining, I recommend a day on the sofa to everyone.
Sheldon is screaming “Where is the spatula?” like there’s the possibility someone broke into the house and stole it.
Katy keeps asking me “How’s your blog?” like she’s humoring me. When I answer “Fine,” she says “why would you say fine? That’s an odd answer.” I am trying to ignore her, but when I do, she taps my leg with her foot. She is wearing my slippers.
Sophie is barking and Katy is complaining that the cheese in her omelet was not well distributed- “there is a thick block of cheese in the middle,” then moves on questions about the orange juice- was it shaken? “Are you sure you shook it, because I don’t know.” After breakfast, she jumps up from the table, and kisses her dad on the cheek. “Thank you for breakfast, it was amazing! I mean, next time, the cheese-” Sheldon answers- “Next time, I will make you an omelet with lima beans and pickles.” and goes onto label her “beyond fussy” before offering to toast her an English muffin.
Sophie is looking out the window, Michael and Maurice are sleeping upstairs.
We were mostly quiet yesterday, as we ate and napped and watched tv, and ate some more.
Maybe we had run out of conversation.
At the breakfast table, Easter morning, it seems like we’ve found our words.
Katy’s boyfriend visited this morning, and brought her an Easter basket. He stood on the sidewalk, she at the top of the stairs. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but his mom sent a picture.
They are happy, and laughing. They are trying to make things work.
I think we’re getting a little better at this.
It’s going to be a beautiful, weird, and wonderful day.
Peace be with you.
Julie
Day 23 Losing my religion
April 9, 2020
I don’t want to dance, eat spinach, meditate, work, take a shower, take a walk, clean the cupboards, don a mask, take a vitamin, or kiss my kid.
I’ve done all that, and more.
Quite simply, there is nothing else to do.
Yesterday, our neighbor sat outside on a beach blanket. She turned her face up to the sun. She was smiling, and talking on her phone.
I don’t want to sit on a blanket.
I want to have a tantrum, a roll around on the bed and wail until I’m gulping air like water, temper tantrum.
I want to scream at the heavens.
I want to punch a wall, use nasty words, and snap at someone innocent.
This is where I’m at today, Day 23, at home.
I am finding comfort doing things I don’t want to do, remembering yesterday’s sunshine and the lady next door, and wondering if I remember the words to the Lords Prayer or any prayer at all.
Love,
Jules
Day 21- Not Getting Any Better At This
April 7, 2020
The sun is out, 2nd day in a row.
My daughter is laughing upstairs at a video, already completed on workout with me, and has promised another.
Sheldon suggested we order takeout, so now I don’t have to chop vegetables, boil water for pasta, or do dishes. (I don’t think he’s a huge fan of my cooking, which actually works out pretty well sometimes.)
I’ve been for a walk, used a coupon, had plenty of work today, don’t need toilet paper, have given up on my hair, caught a really cool performance of one of the songs from Hamilton, completed morning meditation…
Did I mention the sun was out?
I’m feeling cranky, irritable, angry, and not happy.
To feel better, I’m going to-
Eat dinner. (I might just be hangry, this might have nothing to do with 20 days quarantine-pandemic-people are dying-who knows when this is going to end- issues).
Call my mom. It amazes me we still have something to say. We’ve been talking almost every day for twenty years, and we’re not terribly interesting people. She is, actually. When she’s not trying to get me to watch Big Brother.
Do Zumba with Katy- this is an issue. If I dance before I eat, I might faint. If I try after, I won’t want to, and then I will be cranky and bloated. Maybe I’ll eat an apple now.
Have a long conversation with Sophie about how she is the very, very, very best dog in the whole wide world. Hope that she somehow communicates I am the very best human, because that would be helpful right now.
Remind myself- Even though I am privileged and able to isolate with family at home, inside our home, and have a job, it is fine to be pissed off sometimes.
I apologize for the language. But I’m having a day.
Thank the Lord for the nighttime.
I need to play that song at full volume- “Thank The Lord For The Nighttime,” by Neil Diamond. He always makes me feel better, except for “Love on the Rocks”. I’m also not a fan of “I Am, I Said” and have never considered speaking to a chair, no matter how cranky, irritable, angry, and not happy I was. Though I might try, if my spirits don’t improve.
Here’s hoping none of us end up speaking to the furniture anytime soon.
Julie
Day 15- I’m still counting but I’m not holding my breath.
March 31, 2020
Day 15- I’m still counting, but I’m not holding my breath.
Every night, it gets harder to write. I do the same things- read Facebook, scrub the counters, eat too much, drink a little, talk to my dog about every little thing, wish I was my dog, nag and laugh with my daughter.
It did occur to me, while Katy and I were jumping around the living room, doing a dance class taught by an old friend from the Y, that when life gets back to normal, I want to appreciate it a little more.
I want to cherish the hug from a friend, listen to every note of live music, spend more time with students, laugh with colleagues. take my pile a bit lower in barre class.
We can live our lives from home. Everything I mentioned above, except for the hug, can be done from my couch.
Even though, it is possible, and occasionally, comfortable to live life from my living room, (tonight it’s expected to snow, tomorrow, there is sleet on the way,) this is the hardest thing I have ever done.
I want to get to the other side of Covid 19 and for as long as I can, I hope to cherish being able to stand next to a friend, and walk Sophie without being scared of the person a few steps ahead.
It is a luxury and a tragedy, to live a wonderful life and never pause to consider it’s a wonderful life.
I’m still living a wonderful life. It’s just a little hard to find the wonder sometimes..
Love,
Julie
julierichmond 