For Posterity

I usually start posts in a note to myself and then work on them bits at a time until they are ready to go. I probably delete 50% of them for being too something. Too short, too long, too whiney, too radical, too whatever. The one I was working on seems so inconsequential that I didn’t bother to finish it before dumping it. Everything seems inconsequential.

I read somewhere that journaling is a way to keep yourself sane during a pandemic. Moreover, journaling is important work during a pandemic. I assume so that someone someday can read it during their own pandemic and think aha, here is what we should have done. That family, they were doing it right. Except I’m not entirely sure if it’s possible to do it right. Also it’s probably no one will ever read this but you, Reader, and since we’re going through it together, it won’t do us much good.

But let’s commiserate anyway. Here’s my part of it. Homeschooling and working is rough. I think we’re lucky RR’s school is still providing lessons for the children (and remarkably well-done lessons) and I, in particular, am lucky my wife has been able to pick up the homeschooling so I can focus on work. RR, for her part, is an excellent distance student who grows more, and more bouncy during the week so that today, Friday, she is off the walls. 

Spring Break is coming. I’m afraid the teachers will stop work for a week. We can’t take RR anywhere. I’m going to go insane.

We had to cancel our Spring Break trip to Disneyworld and while it’s not the end of the world, it’s a disappointment. I’m feeling it heavily, not because I was dying to stick on a pair of mouse ears, but because it meant a road trip, an adventure, time away from work that was truly time away. And now, nothing. More of the grind. I’m sure that’s also how her teachers feel. It’s hard on everyone.

I want to cry over this but I’d want time alone to do it. That’s in short supply but, when I have it, I find I can’t cry anyway. It seems so futile. It also seems painfully self-indulgent. Put on big girl pants, work, love my family, persevere. 

On the humorous side, our desks are in the basement where there is a support pole for the house. RR, twirling around it, said, “I need to stay on the pole, mama” and I wonder if this is a sign of the future. 

3 Responses

  1. This is all such a cluster fuck! (I’m pretty sure we’ve already had the plague too. It wasn’t especially fun.)

    • That’s awful but at least over for your house? I don’t envy you trapped inside with three as opposed to my one. I hope they are entertaining each other!

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