Quaratine: The Beginning

I decided to blog again at the beginning of quite the international pandemic leaving us in quarantine. Not really on purpose, I just wanted to write again and decided to start the week before last, and then this rolled into town.

 I guess this is a great way to pass the time, write, but preferably not with a child hanging from my head that has been stuck inside for too long and has lost all touch with reality.

Some people are saying it started with a man in China who ate an infected bat. So that’s what I tell my kids as the reason why they stuck at home for an amount of time no one seems to know for certain. Someone decided to eat a bat. Perhaps his mother didn’t tell him to, so here I am, letting them know, don’t eat bats, or any wild animal for that matter. Let’s just stick to farm raised meat. They aren’t saying, or don’t know who patient zero is, but it’s probably for the best since people hold extreme hatred for the man that caught the ball from the stands of some baseball game by dangling over the wall. I’m not even sure that he really ate the bat, what I am saying is that I’m doing my motherly duty of using the fear tactic so that my kids don’t mix themselves with infected wild animals in China. You just never know where life will take you, so its best to be prepared.

We are one week into a quarantine. It’s as if time and date don’t even exist anymore. I went back and forth trying to determine what day it was a few days ago, or maybe it was just a few hours ago, I don’t know anymore. We sleep when we are tired and eat when we are hungry. We are going down like a sinking ship; order needs to be restored. What’s of even more important of a reason to get it together is that our supplies are dwindling. It’s become apparent that now, since the people I live with are home all day, their need for snacks on the hour has been made their top priority. I know for a fact they don’t eat all day at school, work, and all that we run around and do after, it’s time to get this place under control.

Outside of all that is going on within these walls, it’s almost as if perhaps the rapture happened. But I call my mom, and she still answers, so I know I’m still good. You worry about those things at a time like this. Apocalypse? Is everyone really just inside their homes? Who is making certain?

In the past week I have rode on this roller coaster of COVID. I will be doing ok, distracted even, and then something comes up across something I’m looking at and it’s the rise up the hill of panic and before I know it, I’m up over the edge and cruising down the other side, the bucket of diluted bleach is out and I’m not ok until every surface has been swiped. Every surface. I chased the kids around with Lysol disinfectant spray until I ran out yesterday. And then I am back down at the bottom of the hill, ‘let’s play BINGO guys!’  I also then do this thing in these moments where I’m not going to peek at what is going on with the virus; the rise of cases, its proximity to our family, and then it’s just a real quick peek, and….here we go on up again, and just as fast flying back down top speed wondering if this slight cough and chest pressure is me going under. Turns out for now its inhaling too much bleach and anxiety. So then I’m laughing at memes, ripping around the fast turns, cruising right along. But before too long, I start getting so frustrated with our present leader and just how he talks, for the love of God, somebody just tell him to shut up, and what is with the orange skin and the white around his eyes, that’s not even tanning bed… is Melania looking into this, Ivanka? Sometimes I just want to scream and shout and just kick things when he is talking. How do reporters just stand there, I would be doing my in frustration sound/scream and stomping through the press room, kicking folding chairs over on my way out. Stop telling us we are going to defeat this and it’s going to be the greatest thing ever… can we just work on masks and gloves please? Barack…Michelle…even George W. at this point. Anyone else feel like this is all the beginning of a reenactment of the 10 plagues? My sister just texted me yesterday about lice being detected in my nephew’s school prior to the closure. So help me. Now I’m going to need to purge all the stuffed animals. Someone make this carnival and its roller coaster end.

Anyone else grow up going to church and now have, ‘Pharaoh, Pharaoh,’ stuck in their head, as well as remember every motion to it?

My hands are raw. They are raw from all the washing. I wash my hands 2473058435 times a day and then I wash two toddlers hands, which is also my hands again, 84309545 times. Then I’m not near a sink, and I know I touched lots of things, and so I use the sanitizer, on my raw hands. Brilliant. The pain. It’s unreal, and then it’s a portrayal of my press room tantrum in real life, on my sidewalk.  I just read people are showing up at emergency rooms with sores from all the hand washing. It’s either this or the virus that’s taking me in people.

But it is nice. It is nice being with the people I chose to live with, in my space and face all day long. Someone in this house today just said in reference to the littlest sisters, ‘why are they freaking out so much!?! Mom, you need to do something about that!’ I don’t know, perhaps it’s because on most days they only see you all 3 maybe 4 hours tops, and here you all are 16 hours a day involved in what was their daily routine, that is now a skeleton of what it once was, and they have no idea why. I mean I want to curl up in a ball and cry, so let’s give those under 5 a little slack. But let’s also rewind and go back to when you just told me about how to do my job…first off…

Tonight, for dinner we had spaghetti with a meat sauce. A member of this family actually sat down at the table, in the midst of a quarantine, where a governor just made an announcement to live off only the essentials, to shelter in place unless its for supplies that are essential or an emergency, of whom we just went over it and explained it all over again to this person because they are a teenager now, and this person just sat down and asked like we instead told them tomorrow’s weather forecast…’where’s the salad and fresh bread?’ Thank the Lord above I can now say as an explanation to all future moments like this, ‘don’t mind them, they are children of the Quarantine.’

This is how it’s going.

On Chestnut

The Home:

We have 5 children and 2.75 pets, in an old home, on Chestnut.

I will more then likely always write in first person, the main pronouns being, 'I'. However, when I feel the need to throw someone else under the bus, include them in my demise, make it clear I am not the only one responsible, recognize and give credit where credit is due, I will use 'we.' Thank you for the material, I am so glad and grateful I have, we's.

I have 5 children; girl, boy, boy, girl, girl.

The oldest has been a raging teenager since the day she learned she had a voice. She is now an official teenager, and in fact, my greatest accomplishment. However, in all her teenage glory, she has no concept of clutter, or should I say order. She survives on junk food. In a combination of these last two statements, right now, she has a donut box haphazardly dangling off the top of her trash can. Some might choose a larger trash can to dispose of this box, some might just empty it all into a trash bag, and at the very least toss the bag into the hall. Not this girl. She in fact would still have the box at the foot of her bed had I not demanded she get rid of it. It is one of my life’s purposes to ensure she can function in society, this is occasionally touch and go, as one of the only things she knows how to ‘cook’, is frozen French fries and hot pockets. However, despite all this outrageous sass, and disorder, she pulls out phenomenal grades in school. I’m not even sure how she does it. Kid is studying Spanish and I’ve never heard even an Hola out of her mouth, yet her grade is 113%. Perhaps she has intel on all her middle school teachers and they know it, I’m not certain, but we will take it, and hope for a future as a Spanish speaking spy. So as with any teenager, she is a mess, she is assertive, she has zero concept of time or money, she relies heavily on snap chat for basic survival, she is the boss, and she needs a ride to her friend’s house right now, so stop what you are doing, let’s go, she cannot be late… to sit on her friends floor and do nothing.

The other teenager we have is the introvert. He literally would live the life of a turtle if given the option, and carry his home with him everywhere we go. He sticks his neck out for soccer and once in awhile I can talk him into something, but for the most part, he loves home. He seems to be the wisest of the bunch, and so instead of the back talk many teenagers seem to coin, he drips with sarcasm. My line more often than not to him when this comes out is, ‘Boy do I look amused right now with your wit?’ Truthfully, I am probably really am very mush amused, as sarcasm is my love language, but I can’t let him on to me until at least the age of 21. He is everyone’s best friend in this house, being extremely reliable and loyal. He is an observer and reserved. I feel like every family needs that level head, he is ours. I can often be found protecting his heart and explaining things to him differently than the others because he processes everything with a bit more thought and feeling. But he’s stubborn. Picture a comic with the person pulling a donkey by a lead, exacerbated, and the donkey just digging his hooves in, the sand and pressure into it going deeper, but the donkey not moving. This is my son, the donkey.

We then have an almost 10 year old. I make up and actually say reasons for his antics…this is how a normal boy would act…he is just 9, let him be 9…he is the middle child, let him hang from the rafters for a little bit longer. Truth is, I really have no idea. He teeters that line daily of too much and just enough. But I tell you what, he is so much fun. You need a good time, he delivers. You need a wing man, he’s on it. You need someone to go first, he’s 500 feet ahead. He is the epitome of a younger brother, consistently nudging. However, if you take time to notice, he only puts that time of nudging into people who he truly wants to give attention to. If you are in a room with him and he ain’t pestering you, forget about any sorts of adventures with him. Yet he is sensitive and tries so very hard to do what is right, he just wants so much for what is right to also be fun. However, I am also not naïve, come his teenage and college years…this boy. But right now, I will take his fits of laughter, his endearing smile that wins me over, and him causing absolute chaos during the time of day where I need it the least, because everyone needs to be reminded to just be a kid. This one is also the most athletic. Give him a sport, he will know how to play it and know how to play it well. Perhaps even one more notch up then athleticism, he just sees and understands the games, which is similar to his older brother. I don’t know how they know it, but they know it. This kids also knows what is supposed to happen and how to do it during a game.  When he plays I am mostly watching is nonchalant facial expressions and attitude like, ‘well I know what to do, are you going to help me do it?’ This is where he forgets that his teammates are also just 9 years old as well, his father also needs this memo.

There is then a 5 year age gap.

And then the most even-tempered child I could have ever given birth to. She is quite similar in demeanor to her eldest brother, but so far there is no donkey in her and she is definitely not an introvert. She is mild mannered and thoughtful. Her patience with me and her younger sibling is off the charts. The most simple things bring her much joy. I suppose that much of this comes with just being 4, however, as her Mama, I also know that this is her heart, and I think these characteristics are here to stay. It’s almost with the age gap like I was given the gift to do it all over again. My oldest 3 gaining independence and their footing getting more certain, and it’s almost as if I made a public declaration that this would be too much for me to bear, that I needed to feel it all more, and then arrived this girl. So here I am again, in my 40’s at playgrounds and play dates, disciplining for tantrums in a store, and watching Disney movies on repeat, all thanks to her. She runs so quirky, and she confuses so many things, but she just keeps plugging away. She talks incessantly, INCESSANTLY. She repeats herself times infinity. She has a quota to fill each day of questions asked. I hope it never goes away. When asked if she will play soccer like the others, she declares, NO! She will be a dancer. She is then in that moment my favorite; little does she know how tight, slick, and high her Mama can get a bun.

And then lastly. This 2 year old. She is the truest example of, ‘joke’s on you.’ I wanted one more. I wanted a buddy for the now 4 year old, I have always had a mama intuition that she needed a comrade in the family since they day she was born.  It’s not crystal clear why this wild one was sent as the buddy, but I will keep you posted. So it is with no surprise when I type that this child, my last born, this girl takes it next level. She’s a buddy alright, a buddy that is also the boss. You can observe our family for 2 minutes and figure out that, boop, boop, boop, there are 3 individuals that think they rule the roost, and that the biggest boss is this one. She don’t like it, you’re gonna know. She don’t wanna do it, you’re gonna know. She wants you to do it, you’re gonna know. She don’t like how you did it, you’re gonna know. She does not care where she is and who is watching, she is gonna let everyone know. Her oldest sister pales in comparison to this broad. She has a head full of crazy curls, a missing tooth from when she bopped her mouth on a step, she has a walk that is heavy footed, and a smirk that clears the way. You can discipline this child all you want, and she is still going to fight for that last holler or foot stomp, she don’t care. She’s ruthless. But like her one older brother, she is silly. She is always looking for the fun. There is 6.5 years between them, but when these two come together, all I can use to describe it is that its wild, and they feed off it and each other. They are going to get into a lot of what they shouldn’t be, but at least they will be together and have older siblings to drag them back in line.  Despite all her unruly ways, she is so cute. She is determined. She loves to   snuggle in tight. She adores her siblings, and it’s a good thing, because as they attempt to reign her in, she will surely be kicking and screaming, as she has already demonstrated, but it will always be followed up by the usual, 'I love you.'

My co creator of all these kids and I have been married for just about 19 years. Give or take. We began dating in 1998. I think we are starting to look like each other, that, or resemble the dog. He has been my life’s work because he and I, as it turns out, are completely different. As time has gone on, I think we are even more different but even more so aware of it, which is our saving grace. The fact that we know we are mostly opposites and accept it is probably our strongest relationship adhesive. At 40, I am now just settled into the person I think I just am and will be. I will probably get louder, because as a woman I think that naturally happens as we age. We start to peel off the things that held us back, that we were afraid of or questioned about ourselves and our relationships, and just speak our truths. So with that, one of my first self realization,  acceptance,  and loudish stance was that I am an extroverted introvert, married to and extroverted extrovert. Yes, it’s exhausting. I’m sure I will share on that a bit more as time goes on. Yet, I know for certain that he is my person, he is incredible at providing me, and our kids with unconditional love. He stands firm in his many conditions with others, mostly to protect us, but he does everything he can to see us through all the weather life has and will throw at us. He is my best friend. Aw, but no, being a best friend isn’t always pretty, but its just knowing there is that person that you just go with, and it feels familiar and like home. He is my home.

Speaking of home, physically we all live in an old home. Like 1892 old. Its frustrating as hell. I imagine hell to be a lot of terrible things, frustrating included…like a puzzle that has missing piece, but you don’t know that, so you are just constantly trying to finish the puzzle, but don’t know why you cannot. This is our house. We work super hard to take care of it, because that’s what you have to do with old houses, you have to take care of them. We are here in this house for the long haul because when it became ours, and ever since then, every project becomes 10 times more of a project. Want to replace that bathroom faucet because it doesn’t work properly…opps now you need to replace all the plumbing to it as well, because when you removed the faucet, disaster was exposed. If you want to take a sledge hammer to your income…buy an old home that hasn’t been completely renovated. So like I said, long haul because we are renovating a home, that needed and needs to be renovated, with 5 kids living in it at the same time. All this to say, I love where I live, I love my community, and on most days I really love my home. If I were to compare it or issue a metaphor, living in this home and renovating it is just like the book, “If you give a Mouse a Cookie.’ If you want to drywall the ceiling because the plaster is cracking, you will then find a mess of electrical wires never removed in a big jumbled mess, and then you will need to call the electrician. The electrician will come and tell you that for some reason the knob and tube in this ceiling was never disconnected like the rest of the home, and he needs to find the source. When the electrician gives you the estimate, you pass out…and so on and so forth. Fortunately, I love a good book, and this is a great one, as I can use it to easily explain many things in my life. For now, I will stick to using it to visualize my feelings on just the home,  for times sake.

We have 2.75 pets, well and a hermit crab that we are not quite clear on how he sustains life since every 3 weeks I ask them when was the last time he had fresh water…answer: 3 weeks earlier. However, the pets we feed and care for daily are as follows: we have a really old pug,  a cat that we adopted from the spca right after moving here, and then we have another cat who prior to us living here lived with our neighbors. As I type this, he is asleep on the desk I am using, and I keep having to nudge a paw off the keyboard.  He is here a majority of his time and he pays his room and board with at least 2 dead mice on my front step daily.

This is what makes The Chestnut Home. A bit of a formal get to know us without really getting to know us, I’m sure a lot of that will follow. This could be used as a great form of reference for when things get weird, because they will.