I have a confession to make. It’s been a little longer than a year since my dog itch started. And with my 50th Bday next month, that is what I want.
But DH is hesitant. Or should I say was. I won Munchkin over a week ago.
With Covid 19 effectively postponing any Mother’s Day and 50th Bday plans, he gave in, and I am thrilled.
But how does one go about adopting a dog during Covid? Since I need a hypoallergenic dog, my search is a bit refined. And some of the possible pets are a ways a way in Upstate NY, or down in South Jersey. And since we can’t walk into a shelter, albeit I would prefer a rescue, and some associations require home visits, I’m not sure how this is going to work.
There is a breeder who has a pup I’d like, but I would feel better about rescuing a furry friend.
*This post is strictly my opinion. Read it as such.
In NJ, Covid 19 began for me with a Monday night when I drove around to eight different stores looking for hand sanitizer. I couldn’t get any.
And I had bought some five days earlier.
A few days after that, I stopped by a Shop Rite to pick up pasta sauce. The crowds were frantically pulling staples off the shelf, and I, getting caught up in their energy, grabbed two large cases of toilet paper and paper towel, not because I needed it, but because I was afraid.
A week later there were rumors of closing schools and on Friday, March 13th, an early dismissal was announced, followed by the announcement that we would be closed indefinitely. It was 10:00 a.m.
Today is April 21st.
The news highlights how essential workers, who are usually working for an hourly wage, and are not making big money such as Wall Street and other corporate executives, are balancing fear of getting sick, and the need to get paid to support themselves and their families. They are the bus drivers, grocery workers, delivery people, and postal workers who touch our lives daily, if not weekly.
It is a luxury to be able to stay home and work. I know this. And each time I go out to get food, drop off something at the post office, or get take out, I smile and say “thanks”.
While I appreciate that people need to go back to work, and that our economy is suffering, I can’t help but notice the irony that public parks are closed, yet golf courses will be opened. You need to have money to play golf. You don’t need to have money to go to a park.
There is something terribly wrong with large businesses gobbling up the Federal relief money while mom and pop shops can’t get loans. At least Shake Shack gave back their $10 million.
This pandemic has highlighted the vast gap between the haves and the have nots. And this divide differs from state to state.
And the effects of the pandemic are not the same either. NJ and NY are hot spots, with NY being Ground Zero. And while things are getting better, I’m not sure that things will ever be the same. NJ had over 300 deaths just today.
It’s hard to see images of people flooding the beaches in Florida and South Carolina. God, I’d love to go to a beach.
But I’d hate to get sick.
This pandemic is not just making Americans ill, it’s tearing us apart.
It took nearly twenty days for me to receive my box of hair dye during Covid 19. I had researched Madison Reed and decided that the $24.00 was a bit high, but the color might be fabulous. Plus I liked their “try it on” function on their website.
What I didn’t like was that the color, which was coming from Connecticut, was shipped to Illinois before it came to NJ. Maybe this is the new reality of shipping items during the pandemic, but I felt it was a bit silly. I could’ve just driven up to Connecticut and picked up the color for the amount of time I had to wait.
So Saturday I decided to give it a try. And then, I decided to cut myself some bangs. Oh yeah, I did it. The next morning I was not as happy with my decision as I had been the night before. I chalk it up to lock down impulses.
On Sunday, I gave my guys a cut. First was my son, razor on the back, and sides, scissors on top. Then it was my husband who just wanted a “clean-up”. I decided that scissors were needed more for that job.
The one thing I won’t do is cut my whole head of hair. That is just too damn scary, and hopefully, I’ll be able to get to a hair dresser before the end of summer. Hopefully.
Sundays have become Family Check in Day. My phone rang about 2:00 p.m. today. It was my aunt. The news wasn’t good.
I lost a cousin who lived in Colorado this week. It wasn’t Covid 19, but something else. He was 54 years old. I haven’t seen him since I was a little girl. It shook me…he is only four years older.
My uncle had been hospitalized for four days due to a cardiac event. The thought of him having to go to the hospital shook me. I avoid going to a doctor for much these days.
My husband’s phone rang.
His mom had fallen at home and had been rushed to the hospital for the second time this week. Again, I worry about anyone having to go to a hospital these days. Second story, DH’s brother had to be tested for Covid because someone at his job had it. So far, he doesn’t have it, but he has been required to self-quarantine.
I almost turned my phone off this afternoon. But I am a bit addicted to it, checking the texts, which often are Covid updates. I regret signing up for those notifications. These texts usually push me towards social media to check on my “friends”. Softened up from reading their posts, I will then check the news.
I don’t watch it very often any more.
The calls upset me. I decided to leave the house and go for a walk. It is so peculiar that outside the sky is bright blue, and a soft, cool wind plays with my hair as the sun warms my face. There are lots of other people walking up and down the neighborhood street, some with dogs, others with kids. People are working in their yards, cleaning up flower beds, and spreading mulch.
As I walked up and down the steep hills in my neighborhood, some people smiled. I would smile back. The smiles hid what we really felt. But the smiles joined us together with a string of hope.
Tomorrow I will try to smile more.
There is something ironic about the beautiful spring weather outside and the Covid mood that permeates our lives.
Sometime in my early middle age, I stopped listening to music and started tuning into NPR. It was a struggle at first, but then I got hooked. When I drove to work six weeks ago, I would listen to podcasts on the way to work in the early morning. It kept me awake. And often I would listen to NPR on the way home.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped listening to music.
It’s a bit strange that this happened. All through school I had played an instrument, and some of my favorite high school memories center around the school band. I had been passionate about the New Wave music that dominated my twenties. I still listen to Depeche Mode today, and I’ll rock out to the Violent Femmes.
Music, you see, does have a healing property. Think about when you work out. Chances are you listen to music. Faster beats are for cardio; motivational rifts for weight training, and soothing sounds for yoga.
So tonight I chose to tune into the Global Citizen Festival on television tonight. Along with over twenty artists, three top late night hosts joined together to introduce Covid stories, or musical acts. For two hours, I sat riveted. The show began and ended with Lady Gaga, which was fitting. There was a variety of artists and couple who sang in different languages. Elton John, Keith Urban, Paul Mc Cartney, Lizzo, and more crooned songs of hope for nearly two hours. I loved it. It was a great feel good experience. And I hope the organizers release an album to download.
It was a good reminder that music may help us as we go through the pandemic.
What music do you feel is helpful right now? Leave me a message.
Each week I have a list of people I think I should check in with. Some are family. Some are colleagues. Many are friends.
Today I was able to speak to Nana. The caption phone didn’t work for the first fifteen minutes, and I was forever grateful that her aid, who still goes to work with Nana for four hours a day, was willing to help out. Eventually, the captioning phone kicked in and if I speak slow enough, the words pop up on the phone’s screen so Nana can read them. This does make for stunted communication, but it is communication. And since Nana is in a NJ nursing home where Covid 19 is making the rounds, every communication is golden.
I also reached out to a co-worker just to chat. It gave me a sense of normalcy to speak pedagogy. And it was great to hear that things are well at home. She and her kids are having a bit of fun.
Another call I made was to a friend. He’s alone right now, and somewhat disconnected from the world. I’ve always enjoyed our conversations and listening to different viewpoints about books and movies. But today’s conversation began with him telling me he lost a family member to Covid 19.
I knew this would happen, and that it would only be a matter of time. It’s like playing six degrees of separation Kevin Bacon style. You know that someone will know someone affected by the virus. Unfortunately, this someone passed away from it. It’s horrifying.
I wonder how many other people I know have someone in their lives who is ill, or hospitalized with Covid 19. There has got to be at least one more. I do know a couple from church who both have it. So far they are kicking it. I have family members working on the front lines who have been exposed, but as far as I know, they aren’t ill.
But it is just a matter of time. I wonder how close to our front door Covid’s Death will come. Not to sound morbid, but there is that possibility.
It happened so quick. I wasn’t even thinking. And then I crossed the threshold.
So today our governor announced that school buildings will be closed “at least through May 15th.” This was not unexpected. And I am not surprised by his announcement, but my mood had been a bit low. And I have not been as productive as I would like.
It was nearly 3:00 p.m. when the phone rang. A friend, an older woman, asked if I wanted to walk in a nearby municipal park, one that is still open, a rarity in NJ. I looked at the books spread out on the kitchen island and the list of notes I had been making. I still had grading to do, but nothing was happening. So I said “yes” and agreed to meet her at her home.
When I got there, she came out and waved to me before stating she had to get her keys and her coat.
“Come on in.”
I grabbed my things from my car and walked up the walk to the door. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was a mistake. But then her cat tried to slip outside and I took a step forward to prevent her furry friend from escaping.
My friend chatted as she moved about the house looking for keys and coat. I looked around and felt like I had just broken a law.
But there were just two of us. We were six feet apart. Neither of us are sick, nor sneezing from the beautiful trees with their pollen.
I know some of my friends would be in shock if I told them what happened. Some would criticize my decision. A few would doubt my ability to think clearly.
My friend found her coat and keys then offered to drive. We rode in her car for about five minutes to the park. The windows were open. For that moment, life felt normal.
I felt twitchy. Was riding in a friend’s car a really bad idea? Here I was again, breaking the rules.
This could be considered an “unnecessary trip”, except my sanity may be at stake. Week five in the house is worse than one, two, and three. My friend and I walked about six feet apart. We both had masks, albeit they were in our pockets. It was fun to catch up and chat as we walked two miles.
Since when does walking feel so much like a crime? Maybe it wasn’t the walking, it was being with someone else other than the two I live with that felt like a crime. It felt like cheating, cheating the game of Covid 19.
There are fellow citizens in our country that feel that their freedoms are being taken away by the government when social distancing measures are put into place. There were upheavals in Ohio and Michigan this week where people protested against their leaders’ decisions to shut down their economies to practice social distancing. A friend sent me an article from The Washington Times asserting that the number of Covid 19 deaths don’t warrant an economic shutdown and more people have died from the flu.
But I live in a hot spot where there are trucks filled with the dead, and M.A.S.H. units set up in parks or in parking lots. 12000 have died in NY alone. NJ has 3,518 dead as of today.
I’m not sure I will stand in another’s home for the next month. I made a mistake.
Today was the first day I resigned myself to the possibility that we may not be going back to school this year. But what shook me was the when our governor suggested that NJ may not be loosening social distancing restrictions until June…or July. It was then that I had to consider something more than just the end of the school year. I have to consider the possibility we will be locked down through the summer.
We’ve prepaid for a summer pool, a few weeks of camp for our son, and our annual trip to Cape Cod. The pool has already returned our money.
I can’t begin to wrap my head around the possibility.
It’s not that I haven’t experienced tough times before. In 1996, I lost both my parents within a six month period. The aftermath was horrendous. So I’ve been trying to remember how I dealt with that time period. I worked a lot. I watched THE THING and ALIENS over and over with Diet Coke and popcorn. I don’t think that I worried about future vacations, or summer fun (I wasn’t teaching at that time). What I know is that I did get through that time period, which means I can get through this one.
It’s just a mind game.
We’ve gotta allow ourselves to be distracted. I gotta find a book I really like, the kind I can slip into for hours and forget myself. I will probably look for something I read when I was younger. It might be time to start binge watching series. Maybe I should try knitting or macrame. It’s time to get serious about practicing some yoga.
It’s time to let myself be me for a while, or at least, figure out me, for the almost fifty me is a bit different from the younger me. I’ve spent so much time working, and juggling multiple responsibilities that I haven’t spent much time just being me.
Maybe that’s the blessing of Covid 19: time. Time to rediscover yourself.
The weather shifted last night and I woke up with a migraine. I sat down to work with a huge mug of coffee, but it wasn’t enough. My migraine meds make me tired and grumpy. Being grumpy at work is not a good thing.
NJ has started week five of social distancing. Today the news announced that NY may have had 10,000 deaths. NJ has 2800. There seems to be no end to this. Some articles predict that we are in for 18 months of various degrees of social distancing. And then there is the looming economic fallout.
There is some good news. In NJ, a new saliva test will be used, one that is processed more quickly. People are stepping up and helping those who need it. Celebrities are donating money and time to lift our spirits. Antibody tests are starting in CA.
But for me, this is becoming more real, real in that this may not be over by Memorial Day, or early summer. We may have restrictions lifted for a while, but only to have them imposed later. The uncertainty of it all is stressing me out.
I am grateful that we can stay home as a family.
Hopefully a better night sleep will make the world seem a bit brighter tomorrow.
It was back to work for me today. I pulled my school bag, textbooks, laptop, pens, novels, notebooks etc.. back to the kitchen island and set up shop. Outside the wind was howling and the rain pelted the house. All I wanted to do was to go back to bed.
DH was working too.
But my munchkin had the day off. He gobbled some raisins and grabbed his Ipad and controller. Off he went to join some friends in a Mine Craft world.
I watched him, sipped some coffee, and opened my email. The first one was from a student who has Covid 19. His family has it too. The next one was from a student who is “not feeling well” and emotionally drained. A little later, I got one saying she couldn’t do her paper two weeks ago because her mom has breast cancer.
I teach juniors. They should be worrying about SATs and maybe prom. Instead, they are at home alone. For some, it is devastating.
Today I spent hours making fun looking slide shows and adding what I hope my Ss will think are cool videos. I agonized over what I was asking them to do. Is it too little? Is it too much? What about “the curriculum”?
Tonight, emotionally drained, I opened an email from Munchkin’s district. It is clear that the focus for him will be his health. The superintendent spelled it out. This made me smile.
But then I thought about Munchkin’s friends’ parents who have complained that their kid is “falling behind” and maybe they should consider private school. Some wonder why school isn’t taking seven hours a day. Or why is the teacher not teaching during their regular period via zoom.
Munchkin is eleven, going on twelve. He is a sixth grader. Each night since this started, he asks that I tuck him in and stay a bit.
“Don’t you want to go back to school?” I asked tonight.
“No, Mom. The kids are jerks.”
“So you’re happy you’re home.” I said.
He nodded his head.
“Does this whole thing still make you nervous?”
He turned and looked at me. “Yes. My stomach gets upset.”
I share this with you dear reader, because I didn’t know how much the pandemic was affecting him. He seemed okay during the day. There was only one night he complained of nightmares, and I thought it was because he had been playing video games too late. I was taken aback as I looked in his eyes and saw FEAR. Real FEAR.
So I stayed a little longer and counted aloud our blessings. And then I hugged him tight.
We are living in the upsidedowninsideout. Check in with your own kids. Maybe things seem fine, and then they might surprise you. We are in our fifth week at home in NJ. This isn’t fun or novel anymore. Desperation is leaking into our shored up lives. Hug your kid, no matter how old.
Meandering Through Midlife 
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