Social Distancing Begins

Three plus weeks ago, the terms "social distancing" and "stay in place" were completely new to me and ramping up in usage by political leaders and news reporters I follow regularly and respect.  I quickly figured out what each meant, of course.  My company started with a business continuity test geared to keep us at home yet continue to operate our business on March 13th, of which I hated the idea; and, sensing that this thing wasn't going away quickly, our leadership announced that we should all plan to work from home the following week as well, actually practicing social distancing, or keeping a distance from people. Over the course of that week, things seemed to escalate quickly.  Professional and college sports organizations one by one started cancelling their seasons, California declared some stay-in-place orders, New York was quickly becoming the epicenter of the pandemic in the US, and people in Chicago still celebrated St. Patrick's Day despite parades being cancelled and strong recommendations to practice social distancing.  Our governor was pissed and by Friday, the end of our first full week of working from home, we knew that we'd be on the receiving end of stay-in-place orders in Illinois ourselves.  We needed to be home and stay home.

COVID-19 is here and not going away anytime soon.

Going into it, I was afraid of being holed up with my husband and kids for a period of time, say a few weeks.  That's just way too much time with some strong personalities, interests and needs different from my own.  I was also angry and couldn't let go of the fact that the inept, selfish, short-sighted egomaniac who landed in the position of being the President of the United States had cut funding to the CDC in 2018, weakening our ability to avoid or at least minimize the impact of an outbreak should it happen.  I don't know that a pandemic of this magnitude could have been predicted; but I do know that we've been threatened in recent years by SARS, Ebola and Zika and somehow escaped those.  I have to believe the CDC was doing its job when it had the funding to do so.  It wasn't the slowness that our supposed leaders were reacting to the reality of the Coronavirus or the utter underestimation of its pervasiveness they were giving it that bothered me; it was that we even had to deal with it in the first place.  I really believe this could have been skirted in the United States.  We're better than this.

But I let go of that anger.  I didn't let myself be surprised or disappointed in stupid people being stupid, and Trump and his cronies are too stupid and motivated by their own self interests for me to be angry with them. They can't be different.  I've accepted this. As I did this, I found myself going about my days holed up and unaffected by the goings-on outside of my house and finding comfort that governors, including mine, were stepping up, acknowledging the risks and doing something about it.  Planning.  Heeding the warnings of scientists and medical professionals.  And I regularly sought information from those people I knew would provide facts, notably medical professionals like Doctors Fauci and Osterholm.  I found comfort in the reality of the facts.

The COVID-19 pandemic is here.

I can go anywhere with this post at this point.  I've done a lot of adjusting, a lot of observing and a lot of thinking about the effect this pandemic has had on mine and my family's lives.  I figure the best place to start it so answer this: what has social distancing looked like for the Leathermans?

Well, we're not scared.  There aren't a lot of questions about who can catch the virus and what it can do to a person and why people get sick and die from it.  There really aren't.  Dan has probably been the most sensitive to the reality of it, with his somewhat compromised immune system.  The kids are following the rules without much resistance or questions, and I really don't know to what to attribute that. And I... well, if anyone's going to a store or to pick up takeout, it's I; but I have kept that at a minimum, and I am careful about it.

We're working from home.  Dan and I are lucky enough to work for a company that supports this and, thus far, have been able to go about our day-to-day work responsibilities from the comforts of our own home.  I purposely use the term "comforts" because we did remodel our entire first floor a few months ago, and just being at home in the results of that remodel is comfortable.  Thank goodness for that.  I sit at the new desk in the office, on calls and participating in meetings constantly -- this reality of my job is what makes me prefer to go into the office.  And Dan sits at the desk in our bedroom, on fewer calls and going about his days.  He had been working from home three of five days already, so the biggest change for him has been having three other people in his space throughout his workdays.

We're e-Learning... well, the kids are.  To date, e-Learning has thankfully not required a lot of involvement from Dan and me.  The kids are fairly independent and managing their days on their own.  Our requirements have been that they e-Learn on the first floor, respect each other's space, don't turn on the TV and make sure that they "play" as they would at school.  I ask and they tell me they're doing the work they're supposed to be doing and getting help from their teachers when (if) they need it.  I am grateful that they're good students; however, I do recognize that the "Learning" part of "e-Learning" is probably compromised.  I don't know what I can do with that other than accept it.  Would it be better for them to have to repeat these months over the summer?  Or their grade levels over next year?  Methinks not.  I have to trust that whatever it is that we're doing now is sufficient for them to pick up when we come out of this and do whatever they're supposed to do next.

We cancelled our Spring Break.  We were headed to Myrtle Beach. Honestly, I think I'm the only one who actually wanted to go there.  Not that everyone else was resistant, of course; it just didn't have the allure that something like Disney or California or a waterpark an hour away has for the kids. None of us was torn up about it; I just wanted to put my feet in the ocean, really.  I enjoy that.  Instead, I chose to work four of the five days, Dan did puzzles, and the kids did whatever they wanted, with some controls of course, not that I can remember what they were.  Limit TV.  Limit iPad.  Limit X-Box. Get Outside.  Do a craft. These rules were loosely enforced all week and I wouldn't say the "limiting" aspect of them was achieved; but Cal did play a lot of basketball and Ella did do a lot of crafts.  And I made sure to play and craft with each of them when I could.

I'm still exercising, a mix of elliptical, TRX, running, walking, basketball, yoga and now biking.  One would think it's easier to get this in than usual given the work-from-home scenario; however, I'm finding myself getting to it in the evening hours... 4:30, 5pm.  Every once in awhile, a Leatherkid joins me for that exercise; but, generally, I'm on my own, which is what I prefer.  It's still my escape.

We're not getting on each other's nerves, at least not notably more than usual.  There are occasional flare-ups with the kids (Ella hums, Cal is super sensitive to noise); and there are a lot of wrappers, dishes and glasses strewn about, catching the attention and hitting the nerves of (mostly) Dan.  I don't blame him, really.  The rule is so simple - if you take something out, put it away; if you create garbage, throw it away.  Criminy.  Just do it.  I'll never understand why doing that automatically is not the preferred option over not and then suffering the consequences.

We're catching up on TV shows and starting new ones.  Dan and I finished the multiple-season "The Ranch," and he finished "Ozark" tonight (I'll catch up this weekend, I'm sure).  We watch "Supergirl" on a regular basis, now in the second season, on about episode 8 or 9.  It's actually enjoyable and compelling with what I oftentimes describe as having characters who are just "so cute."  MSNBC is on frequently, with AM Joy being the weekend morning go-to followed by some HGTV... whatever's on.  Boring, I'm sure.  I just don't think I can get myself to watch "Tiger King."

We've done some online meetings, too.  The kids have each ZOOMed with their classmates, and Dan and have done so with a few friends to celebrate Perry's birthday.  We've had many Facetime calls with my dad to keep him company and catch up with him, and we also played some Facetime Tenzi with our friends, Al and Lisa.

We don't really know what we're doing other than doing what we're supposed to do.  I am shocked that we're not more miserable about it than we are.  Genuinely shocked.  Actually, I think we're doing okay.  I'm probably working more than I do when I go in to the office (it's so easy to do so).  And, yeah, it's more screen time and less actual learning than is ideal and good.  But we're all making it work.   I am grateful for my job.  I am grateful for technology.  I am grateful for social media.  I am grateful for our governor.  I am grateful for my family adjusting to this new reality as well as they have.  We don't know what we're doing, we don't know what to expect, and we don't really know how long this will last.  We're surviving, and doing so in a (mostly) balanced way such that we should exit with our sanity, our brains, our health and our still liking each other.

COVID-19 is here, and, well, we're just following the rules and surviving it better than I could have ever imagined.

Her Mother's Daughter

Typical of a lot of post-work evenings, I had a lot to do in a small window of time tonight; and I had a plan that fit together nicely, delivering all of it.  I'd get home, eat something quickly, take Cal to basketball practice early, shoot hoops with him before practice, go to Trader Joe's for some much-needed food, head back to pick up Cal, head home to work out and then go to bed.  If Ella wanted join me for most of that, I'd take her.

When I got home from work, I found the kids distracted with homework, having already eaten some dinner (leftovers).  The sink was full of dirty dishes and the dishwasher full of clean ones.  I grabbed a few pieces of cold pizza; and as I did so, Ella got wind of my plans to take Cal to practice and go to Trader Joe's from there.  She wanted to go, but Dan reminded her that she had to finish her homework and empty the dishwasher -- she wouldn't get these two to-do's done before I had to leave with Cal.

"You can't go with me, Ellie.  You have things to do," I said, disappointed.  I actually like having her in tow with me on my trips to Trader Joe's.

"I'm a good helper for you when you go to Trader Joe's, Mom," she said matter-of-factly.

"I know," I said.  She is.  Sure, we come home with something unneeded from the cookie/cake table at the front and either frozen fruit bars or ice cream cookies or both when she's there (she's convincing and I'm easy); but she's a positive force for me, capable of helping me make choices for what to buy, reminding me of things that we need and able to run to the other side of the store when I think of something we should get from a section through which we'd already been.  And, at checkout, she packs the cold stuff in our reusable bag as I pack the dry, getting us out of there quicker than if we wait for the cashier to do both.

I had a revised plan.  "Can you get your homework done and the dishwasher emptied in a half hour?  If so, I'll take Cal to practice and then come back to pick you up so we can go to Trader Joe's together."

She said she could but then paused.  "Can I wear these?" she asked, pointing at the unicorn onesie that she had already changed into for the evening. Of course. She smiled and got right to work, and I took Cal to practice and returned about a half hour later.  She was ready with her shoes on with a polka-dotted vest over the onesie.  She's a regular fashion conspiracy, that kid, just like her mother.

Trader Joe's was pretty empty, and we whizzed through it.  We pIcked up a coffee cake from the cookie/cake table and some frozen fruit bars as well as the stuff that I figured we needed -- milk, eggs, hummus, fruit, chicken, pork chops, pita chips.  Ella surprised me by grabbing the Southwest Salad kit.  "I really like that, Mom."  So do I.

We packed up and paid for our groceries and headed out.  It was about 8:05, and we needed to get Cal at 8:30.  Ella asked where we were headed, and I told her that I figured we'd go home and unpack the groceries before getting Cal.

"I really like that Naked juice," Ella said, out of nowhere.  I bought the kids some of this awhile ago at Costco thinking it'd be a decent way to quickly get them a nutritious breakfast in our rushed mornings.  They actually did like them; but we had been out of them for over a week.

A stop at Costco for this instead of dropping groceries off at home was feasible but definitely pushing it if we were to pick up Cal at 8:30.  It was 8:08.  I decided we'd do it.  "We have to be fast, Ellie," I told her.  Then pulling into the Costco parking lot at 8:14, I told her, "okay, we have 10 minutes to get the Nakeds and a box of chips."  We parked, jumped out of the car and ran in.

We ran right to the freezer section for the Naked juices, and Ella said she'd carry them.  We then jogged up to the chips, picking up some bread on the way.  "Pringles or Baked Lays?" I asked her.  "Pringles," she quickly chose.  I grabbed those and we made our way to the checkout area.

"Look, Ellie, this is new," I told her, realizing Costco had added some self-checkout lanes.  Ella and I love self-checkout lanes.  We knew exactly what to do, scanned and paid for our stuff and then walked quickly toward the exit, Ella with the Naked juices and bread, me with the Pringles.

We were slowed by the Costco guy at the exit who chose to entertain a little kid with a stupid, slowly-drawn smiley face on the back of the kid's father's receipt in front of us.  (I find this to be so annoying, especially when I'm in a hurry).  He then took ours, drawing only a line through our items.  "I guess he only does that for really little kids," Ella said, suggesting she wanted a smiley face for herself.  I ignored her, looking at my watch instead.  8:23!  We were better than targeted and right on target to get Cal in time.

"We're so good, Ellie," I told her, watching her struggle a bit with the jog while carrying the Naked juices and bread.  "Do you want me to carry one of those?" I asked her.

"No, I've got it," she answered.  "Plus, it's a good workout."

I smiled.  "You're your mother's daughter, Ellie," I told her.

She said, "I know."

She really is her mother's daughter.

My Expressive Leatherkids

As one who spent a good part of her life suppressing a good chunk of her feelings, I fully appreciate the negative effect that doing so can have on a person.  Some may argue that I still operate under that suppressing mode, but I do feel like I have "come out" a bit and have realized the benefits of it.  I carry less around with me.  People oftentimes respond in a positive way.  Sometimes desired changes happen.  I just feel better.  I can’t put my finger on any specifically at the moment, but I don’t doubt that I have some experiences that might’ve turned out better for me had I expressed how I really felt about the situations and people involved in them.  I don’t regret them as they’re all a part of my story and how I ended up where I am and who I am now; but let’s just say things could’ve been a little easier for me had I told people how I really felt.

I figure that the risk of the Leatherkids going into their shells when encountering a problem situation that bothers them is in their genes; so, I try to encourage them to express how they feel about things when they’re feeling them.  I want them to be comfortable doing so.  This encouragement has generally been backward looking, meaning I’m not always proactive about it.  In fact, usually, I’m not.  The real story is that a reminder that it’s okay to do so usually follows my responding to some sort of battle over some inane happening with a stern tone, oftentimes at higher decibels and sometimes with a long string of sentences that miraculously make sense despite having gotten lost in the middle of them.

More often than not, the expressing of feelings arises when Ella was wronged by Cal, putting Cal in a position to defend himself.  This morning on our way to school, I had the pleasure of getting roped into such a situation which started for me as, “Mom, I have something to tell you in the car.”  And with that, Ella headed to the car where she waited patiently for me.

I really had no clue what might’ve happened to trigger that invitation.  I had heard them talking but at normal levels.  There didn’t seem to have been a fight.  I assumed she was just going to tell on him, for what, I couldn’t predict.  Everything, it seems, is a candidate for Ella’s tattle-telling ways.

I got to the garage to find Ella secured in the car and Cal shooting some last-minute hoops before school.  The kid can’t sit still.  I climbed into the car, as did Cal, and she immediately hit me with “Mom, Cal keeps saying, ‘your mom’ to me, and I don’t like it.”  What?

My immediate response was, “I don’t even know what that means.”  I tried to dismiss it.  I’m sure it’s some variation of “yo’ mamma,” from my day, which, honestly, I don’t know what that meant, either.

She proceeded to give me some examples, which I can’t recall right now.  But they involved her making a statement and him responding, “your mom.”  “It bothers me, Mom,” she told me.

“They’re just words, Ellie.  Just ignore them,” I wisely suggested.

“Yeah, but,” and she proceeded to tell me more, “and he says ‘your mom’ and also ‘your butt.’”

“Okay, Cal, I don’t like ‘your butt’.  Please don’t say that,” I responded.  He probably said it once.

“Okay,” Cal responded quickly.  He’s learning ways to attempt to diffuse conflicts.

“But, Mom, why does he say ‘your mom’?  It bothers me that he says that,” yadda yadda yadda.

“I know, Ellie, they’re just words.  The best thing you can do is ignore them.  He’ll stop saying it if you do.  He only says it because it bothers you.  But I’m glad you’re talking about it.  Please keep doing that.”  I believe all of that, even if it invites pain and suffering on my part.

I continued to catch an earful from both kids.  Cal played off of my advice and became preachy, and Ella kept telling me his words bother her.  Ugh.  If I stay consistent, it’ll sink in…

The next thing I knew, we were on the topic of their shared bathroom.  I believe Cal brought it up, probably because he was tired of taking the hits for his supposed wrongdoings on her.  We do tit-for-tat in the Leatherman household.

At 11 and almost 9, the kids are old enough that we believe that bathroom, notably shower, time is something we do alone.  And we just don’t walk around naked.  The kids haven’t fully adjusted to this rule of thumb and feel perfectly comfortable disrupting whatever the other might be doing in the bathroom.  It really is not uncommon on a weekday morning for Ella to disrupt Cal’s shower, iterating the rules that have been laid forth about time spent in the shower.  “Cal, Dad said you should only do a rinse-off shower, and that should only take FIVE MINUTES,” she’ll state bossily, whether it’s been 2 or 7 minutes since he started his shower.  She has no sense of time but a lot of attitude about supposedly abusing the rules around it.

This, of course, happened this morning.  Cal had a big problem with it and told me so while we all were in the expressing mode.  Not only did Ella barge into the bathroom and yap at him incessantly, she did so while also ripping the shower curtain open and, I'm sure, standing naked but with a towel on her head having gotten out of the shower herself just five minutes earlier.  Every sense of privacy was violated.

Frustrated, and now standing outside of the school, waiting for someone to let us in, I declared sternly but at a normal volume, “Okay, here’s the rule: only one of you in the bathroom at a time.  This applies to showers, pooping and brushing your teeth.  It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, if one of you is in the bathroom, the other can’t be.  That’s private time.”  I finished by saying bluntly, "And I'm glad we talked about this."

“But, Mom…” and then one of the before-school counselors arrived at the door to let us in.  Our drive from home to school is maybe three minutes, and then we stand and wait at the door for maybe 30 seconds.  All of this was discussed in that time.

And I’m good with it, despite some occasional pain and suffering and a strong preference to talk about something else.  I’m consistent, and they’re expressing.  Eventually, I’ll expect some emotional growth; but they're doing what I rarely did by talking, by telling me what's on their minds; and that's a good thing.