Pandemic Bottom and a Wooden Thumb

I’ve been tracking my day-to-day on Twitter for the last couple months, but I also sat down a little over a week ago and started to write all of you a story. On that day, this is what was going down:

Today I am feeling stir crazy. And edgy. After I woke up this morning and got dressed, I made the bed and folded 5 loads of laundry. Made breakfast for everyone. Then, I called it. For the whole day. I told the kids this would be a mental health day, and they could watch all the TV they wanted and play on their devices ALL DAY. And I laid down on my bed, curled up in the fetal position til noon.

A friend shared an article on Facebook that said what we are doing is not homeschooling, it’s pandemic schooling. Yes. Yes, it is. Once in a hundred year kind of thing.

What I’m learning: My daughter is just as stubborn as me. Also like me, she doesn’t want to be told what to do. Especially by her mother. And she doesn’t like to do math homework. Ditto, sista.

So in the last month, I gained 9 pounds. My pandemic bottom was expanding. It all started with the Wal-mart online order of a 36-pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. They could not get here quick enough.

And, indeed, it took way too long! And I know you wouldn’t put it past me: I tracked them hourly until they arrived. I even saw FedEx go RIGHT BY our house… the audacity! Thankfully, they FINALLY returned a couple hours later with MY POT OF GOLD.

I asked Jeremy to ration me one/day and hide the treasure trove. But on one particularly stressful day, I searched high, and I searched low. I knew they were in our bedroom, or bathroom, or closet. Somewhere behind that locked door where my beloved (chocolate) would emerge. Finally, I broke down. And begged for mercy.

So, I have a delicious confession to make. Not that you haven’t already figured it out. You’re smart people.

Pretend we’re sitting in a circle in a darkened room. And I introduce myself saying, “Hi, I’m Christi. And I have a rather demanding, persistent and unrelenting chocolate addiction.”

I am, however, happy to report that in the last three days, I’ve lost 5 of those 9 pounds through replacing chocolate overconsumption with a new bike and a burgeoning bike riding habit.

I’ve started to run to my bike when I get the urge to scream or eat chocolate, or go shopping online. I can’t even run to the Stop 2 Shop for an iced tea, it’s closed. I can’t go get a massage or a pedicure, closed. I can’t go real-life retail therapy-ing. They’re closed. I can’t even go raid my Mom’s chocolate stash. We’re physically distancing.

I’m going back to what works for me and my body: intermittent fasting and low carb. I lost 30 pounds since August, gained 12 back over the holidays, lost it again, regained it again. Well, you get the continual picture.

I cancelled my Amazon Subscribe and Save chocolate order that was to be delivered monthly. You see, I had ordered from two different sources in case of an impending apocalypse. I am now offering the two Schwan’s desert pies/cakes and big ol’ tub of ice cream in our freezer to whoever wants to pick it up on our porch.

I’ve also went back to a tried-and-true emotional regulator. When the kids are (usually) at school, I indulge in the ultimate daily getaway and guilty pleasure: I lock myself in my bedroom and listen to podcasts while folding laundry. It’s wild around here folks, WILD!

Our spring break started the day after Tom Hanks tested postive for coronavirus and the NBA cancelled its season. And the President suggested no groups of 10 or more. And they cancelled the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. THAT was when we started quarantining. We had already planned on staying home. Except for a quick jaunt to Oklahoma for a baby shower. But we cancelled.

I looked back at pictures from a short (but very long) month ago. The house was clean, the kids and I were baking together.

Brynn was putting bows in my hair every day.

We had chore charts, the kids were doing dishes and the laundry. We were making pottery and painting canvases, and cleaning weeds out of the tree row.

Building reservoirs, fountains with tires/rocks/old grain bags, taking online piano lessons and riding their bikes in the barn,

Calling friends and family to check-in and John Deere was sending us free toys because of our Twitter posts. All was well.

The first week was hunky dory. I was listening to podcasts while getting caught up in my office and cleaning out and organizing closets. I didn’t see what the big deal was with so many people feeling emotional, missing people, the list goes on. My inner introvert was feeling thoroughly nurtured and healthy.

Then came the kids at home full-time after Spring Break. School was cancelled until at least the end of April. All hell broke loose.

Kids in the summer is one thing. Kids having school at home is something else entirely. I set up a schedule during Spring Break to get us ready. I thought preparation was the key to winning the game. It worked well, for a while. But now? Now? We are uber laissez-faire.

I vacillate between endlessly nagging my children to sit at a table with pencil in hand while I patiently help them do their homework… to throwing up “I surrender” hands and wondering why a 1st and 3rd grader can’t be college-level responsible to keep up with all their own school work and social connections. Their piles of dirty laundry. Why are they not able to hunt, kill, drag home and cook their own food? And do their own dishes? Can I charge them rent and make them pay for the extra wi-fi? I sometimes feel like a dorm/sorority/fraternity mom as my kids can more readibly look past dirty socks, orange peels, and pizza crusts all strewn about the living room like a tornado just blew through. They just step over it all and look beyond it to the glaring episode of Glitterforce that DRIVES. ME. CRAZY!!!

It gets worse than this actually. But you moms already know the full extent of what you’re smelling and seeing. It’s brutal.

To cope, I’d put the kids to bed and do what any responsible parent would do: binge watch the Tiger King on Netflix into the wee hours of the morning. Their crazy made mine pale in comparison.

I also found a new fattening Pinterest recipe that I started making EVERY night. Carb-heavy sundried tomato creamy pasta. I felt like a TV chef. The carbs added up. But, oh, they tasted so good.

We started scheduling Zoom calls with some of the kids’ friends. We hopped on weekly teleconferences with both sides of our family. I ordered some metal letters from an Etsy vendor to do neighborhood shoutouts and puns. We all need a creative outlet. I considered making some snarky cross-stich patterns, but nah. Too much. But I did order some yarn to wrap around some cardboard for cheap kid art.

I ordered pantry food online. I signed up for Schwan’s for the first time in my adult life.  I subscribed for biweekly deliveries of fruit and vegetables so we could skip some shopping trips. I secured cloth masks and toilet paper.

We decided Mark would garden instead of raising a 4-H pig or two. Because I can more readily see myself picking vegetables out of the garden than butchering pigs if the county fairs get cancelled. I mean, vegetables tend to be less bloody. Though I did see the whole “process” in college for an animal science class. Not my cup o’ tea. Did I ever tell you about my grandpa who, to earn an undergraduate degree in animal husbandry after World War II, had to bite off the reproductive organs of male bovine? Ewwwwwww…..

We’ve made drive-by visits to our parents/grandparents.

We hung Brynn’s birthday pinanta (from November) as stress relief. When frustration hits, grab the bat and hit away!

We decorated for Easter. I felt like a Pinterest mom. Further, Brynn and I dressed up in matching Easter dresses and made princess pancakes for breakfast.

Mark and I have been taking bike rides. We went four miles yesterday.

I enlisted friends and family to help hold Brynn’s attention to her math homework. It worked for two days. Here’s what happened the first week of homework. Her Dad made a goal chart, and then accounted for the distraction that ensued.

We painted Brynn’s room pink. And she went “freestyle” and I didn’t paint over it… I’m growing as a person. Which is different from the first time we painted her closet in this bedroom. It sent me straight to a marriage retreat.

But, the dishes, the dishes!!! I saw a home tour of Rachael Ray’s quarantine digs in New York and she has a commercial dishwasher that does the job in, get this, 90 SECONDS! Wow!

A couple weeks ago, I decided to paint some exterior trim while wearing brand new tennis shoes for the first time. And I shamelessly used interior paint for the job. This, in and of itself, should prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am not fit to educate my own children.

While scraping off the old chippy paint, I also concurrently jammed and smashed my left thumb while embedding wood into my fingernail. I know, overachiever! It hurt, well, you know, really, really bad. Like terrible. Excruciating! For such a seemingly small, little injury.

It throbbed in the day. It throbbed in the night. I was waking up for Advil relief at 2 a.m. I elevated it. I iced it. I googled it. Until finally, I went to the doctor two days later. With my mask on. The PA told me to switch to warm water Epsom salt soaks, and prescribed me an antibiotic.

In the midst of all of this, our house well went down. So, 24 hours without running water for toilets, washing dishes, showers, life. That can send you over the edge, especially if experiencing a chocolate shortage and homeschooling at THE VERY SAME TIME! The well got fixed, and a week and a half after the trim incident, I was finally able to pull a chunk of wood resembling a railroad tie from underneath my fingernail. Hall-A-loo-yahhhhhhhhh!!!! The angels sang, I could hear them. Well, maybe not.

But then, I had another problem. Because it hurt so bad when my thumb bumped up against anything, ANYTHING. I let Brynn’s hair go natural. And by au naturel, I mean like, at this very moment, I’m considering letting it go full dreadlock. She’s like 99.9999% of the way there.  I have a choice to make here. It may take WEEKS to get the whole nest thing in the back of her head sorted out. And I just may not have it in me to try.

So, that’s how it’s going around here. It’s better now that I haven’t sugar crashed and taken a 3-hour coma nap in four days. But, we soldier on! For the team! For humanity! For probably longer than we ever hope! Yay!!!!!!!!!!!