Chapter 10

2020 COVID-19 – April 9

Yesterday was our daughter’s birthday. And like anyone else born in March or April (and probably May and June if we are being honest) we will need a birthday postponement and redo. We are lucky because four year olds can be convinced that a lot of things are fun. And making your own birthday cake to eat for lunch (and all day really) is likely more memorable than us throwing her a big party with lots of other crazy kids. I hope. She had what appeared to be a nice day spent in pj’s with a generous amount of icing stuck in her hair. So not too different to any other isolated day.

My birthday is next week and I will be forty-two. We are lucky because forty-two year olds can be convinced that a lot of things are fun. Especially when you are in a lockdown and are using a benchmark of exhaustion to measure everything.

This week has been hard. I’m cycling through the anger and depression stages of this pandemic grief. My mood goes cyclically into and out of all the stages as if they were spokes of a bicycle wheel. Revolving and Changing. Changing and Revolving.
The calm resolve and acceptance of last week has opened up to annoyance, sadness, resentment and anger towards my hair, amongst other things. So clearly I’m coping on every possible level.

I took the dog and the baby out for a walk because we all needed separation of space and sanity and to get some fresh air. Walks are not as much fun anymore. In the city it feels like dodging disease and constant fear that someone will cough or sneeze suddenly in your direction. For the most part people take a wide berth and side step to avoid passing you on the sidewalk. I also push a double wide stroller, the obnoxiously large type. So that helps with social distancing and I have not yet had to resort to ramming anyone, so there is the plus side, I guess. The city is definitely more quiet than riot lately and it feels eerie and unsettled. Yet somehow oddly determined. It’s difficult to explain.

The weather is finally changing and it is revealing the glory of all that lost sunshine. A few steps into our walk and I realized that the baby had his face smeared in dried food and what I hope was smooched raspberry, an incorrectly buttoned sweater with an indeterminate yellow stain on his sleeve, like mustard. Even though we have never fed him mustard because he is a baby and they don’t eat mustard…or do they? *Makes note to look up if babies can eat mustard.

Combined with a slouchy wool hat hastily thrown on to cover his ears from the brisk spring temperatures. He looks like a character from Angela’s Ashes and I realize that’s the level of parenting we are at. Sugar water as nutrition and a whole lot of “we have given up” for all.

Right now I think we are all living like those tiny birds who bathe in dust. Why do they do that? It’s so gross to me. I feel like a small dusty winged bird.

I don’t know anything anymore. It’s a very strange time for everybody.

Find the joy where you can, friends. This ride feels long and bumpy.

I love you. Stay safe.