Is it Day 3? I suppose if you start counting by the day we found out that Marc would be furloughed, it would be Day 3. Or it could be Day 7, because it was a week ago that the girls had school cancelled for the first day. You could also make a compelling argument that today should be Day 1 – since we spent most of yesterday returning work equipment and filing for unemployment. Either way – it feels like it’s been forever. And also like it’s never going to end.

News reports are terrifying, and conversations with Marc are even worse. We had a really grim talk yesterday about who might survive this – which older relative would be healthy enough to catch the virus and not get seriously sick. Going outside is just scary now – I went to Walmart to get some stuff, because we were already out returning work stuff and I want to minimize the amount of time I spend out in the world, and I saw an older woman in the produce section. She was carrying oxygen with the little nose prongs and she coughed – and I immediately thought “well, you’re going to die.” Then I was horrified, both by my immediate reaction and the next thought which was that I hoped she didn’t cough close enough to me for me to catch it.

I came home, threw all my clothes into a washing machine with super hto water, and took a shower.

I’m kind of a mess. I mean, I’m trying to hold it all together. Reminding the kids that we’re FINE. That they don’t have to worry about money, that the dog will be okay. That the world will start again. What I’m not saying is that people are going to die. We’re going to lose people we love in this. It’s the backdrop to everything I’m doing all the time.

It’s not yet 7:30, so maybe I’m jumping the gun, but the antibiotics are starting to work and Lizzie was able to walk outside to go pee last night. She was essentially paralyzed for a few days, and it was devastating. I’m so relieved.

Kids are struggling still. I’m waiting for my poor Jessie to fall apart. She’s been working – still, always. So much working. Her two least favorite classes haven’t assigned anything, so she’s been doing a deep dive on all of the subjects she loves. We rearranged her bedroom so that she has her own little desk area and she’s been in there all day, every day. She comes out every few hours, dances around with us, knits and chats and then goes back in.

My Sam is stressed. All the time. My Sammy is stressed. He is both my easiest and toughest kid, when it comes to emotional equilibrium. He’s completely chill and fine, unless he’s not. And yesterday afternoon, he was not. Between his dad getting laid off, and the dog not being able to move, it just all billowed up on him and he fell apart. But in classic Sam style, he waited until after he finished his math quiz, and then sobbed for ten minutes because he didn’t feel good. I rubbed his hair, soothed and then got him toast and after that, he seemed more stable. He was up all night the previous night, texting me frantic messages about worrying about money and the dog, but last night, the last text came in around quarter of eleven, and I’m hoping he slept the rest of the night.

Julie is probably having the toughest time. She likes school more than the other two do. Jessie likes the academics, but the in person experience often leaves her miserable. Julie likes the academics and loves her friends. She’s just happier in school. She likes the structure, the socialization, and being stuck at home with older siblings and a mother who’s incredibly laid back is challenging for her. Marc is starting her on a fitness routine, and yesterday, I laid out her whole day schedule and that really helped. She seemed to be more focused and content yesterday.

My poor Marc is a mess too. Not a mess, but this is hard. Neither of us ever wanted to be back here, worrying about money and how to fill his days. I love him so much, and as worried as I am, I’m also just straight up sad that he’s going through this. I think we’ll be okay – and honestly, our financial situation is going to really mirror his stress level. If we can get through this with a minimum of set back, keep up with our bills and come out the other side – I think he’ll be okay.

As for me, I’m waffling between terror, falling apart and calm. I worry all the time about people getting sick, about financial doom, about how the kids and Marc are handling it. But my dog is up and walking, and we’re all healthy and whole. We made it through a psuedo tumor and vision loss with NO money. We can handle this.

Day Three of our forced Coronavirus isolation. It’s not going well.

Marc got laid off, or furloughed yesterday. Not entirely sure what the difference is, other than they really like him and want to hire him back, just as soon as they can. It’s really just a nicer way to lay someone off. The end result is the same. He’s not getting paid anymore.

Then my LizzieBeth got lyme disease. She’s basically lame and incapable of walking and it’s freaking me out all the time. You know that old theory that keeps getting trotted out whenever something bad happens? Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. In my case, whatever doesn’t kill me just leaves me broken, weak and incapable of seeing one of my babies suffer. Even when that baby is a dog, who can’t tell me what hurts, and doesn’t understand me when I assure her she’ll get better. I’m hoping to God she will. Most dogs do really well on the antibiotics, but it can take a few days. We’re 24 hours in, and she’s a hot mess. Consequently, we’re all a hot mess along with her.

The girls are out of school at least until the beginning of March, but other states have already announced that they’re closing until September. Nobody really knows what’s happening or when it’s going to get better, and we’re all just waiting for people to start getting sick and dying. I don’t know anyone who’s been diagnosed yet, nor anyone who’s actually been able to be tested. But I can’t stop myself from overdosing on the news, hoping for some sort of wisdom that’ll get me through.

There is no wisdom. Nobody knows. I can look at countries like Italy and South Korea and Spain, but all that does is terrify me. There’s the whole apocolypse thing going on, thinking that society is going to fall apart, the government (which I’m none too fond of to begin with….) is going to self-destruct (or because they’re all so old, they’ll catch it and die)…. then there’s the slightly abstract worry – will they have MCAS this year? Will Jessie be able to work her fellowship, or work at Tougas again this summer? Will I be homeschooling forever? And then there’s the more immediate panic-inducing worry – will my mother get sick? Will my in-laws? Are they strong enough to make it through this? Will Marc’s job start back up? We had just barely clawed ourselves out of financial ruin – and it was LOVELY. Suddenly, we’re back to a place where I’m afraid to buy a gallon of milk, and worrying about how to pay the rent.

It’s not yet 9:00 pm, and all three of my kids are in bed, asleep. I literally don’t think this has happened since Sam was born. Jessie was a more traditional baby/toddler. She went to bed, even if it took me an hour of singing and stories and rubbing her back, and she’d end up in my bed sometime in the middle of the night. The other two – they both stayed up late, and nursed to sleep around 10 or 10:30.

But somehow, all the stars aligned, and all three of my kids (at almost 17, 13 and 9) are all asleep, in bed, and it’s still before 9:00. Jessie has what I’m hoping to God isn’t the flu, and went to bed at 4:00 this afternoon. Her fever is creeping up but it’s still technically low-grade, but she’s achy and exhausted and miserable. Sam was up most of last night, because he’s naturally a night owl and his fan was broken so he was hot and unhappy. But in classic Sam-style, he didn’t want to bother me, so he just laid awake, hot and miserable. He woke up this morning, made it all the way through the day, and was so tired, I tucked him in with a repaired fan by 8:30 and he’s out cold. Julianna, my baby, would happily stay up until 9 or 9:30, but I was hard-core focused, and got her actually in to her jammies and in bed on time.

And so I’m here, husband still at work, dishes done, laundry done, (that’s a lie, the laundry is never done), but I’m at a loss. I spent most of the day trying to figure out how to teach Sam about graphing linear equations, which is a lot harder than you’d think, because I’m not entirely sure myself. Because his vision is so unpredictable, and I’m never entirely sure what he can see or what he can’t, and also because, hello, I’m not a math teacher, I didn’t know that graphing would be a problem. I didn’t even know that graphing would be the next logical step after learning the whole y=mx+b situation.

His poor math teacher is also befuddled and nobody seems to know how to teach him. The worst part is that the only one who seems to know what to do is me – and I know for sure that I don’t really have any idea, other than I’m really good at googling “how to teach graphing linear equations low vision.” It turns out that there’s a whole system for getting equipment, and federal funds put aside to purchase it – but the only way to get it is with a TVI – which he doesn’t happen to have at the moment.

Even with all the complications – I know that TECCA is far and away the best educational situation we’ve had for him, and we were, in the end, able to jury-rig some sort of graph situation, even if he couldn’t see it all the well. He understands the concept of it, and I’m just hoping that’s enough. At least until we get a TVI, get the assessments done, get the equipment he needs and can play catch up.

December was a hot mess of snow storms all over the place, but January has been delightfully snow-free. I could get used to spring for my birthday.

Sam and I are plowing through Connections Academy. We’re still struggling with IEP accommodations, but he’s getting a fantastic education, and that’s what matters.

Fourth grade girls haven’t gotten any less complicated since Jessie was there. It’s slightly easier with Julie, because Julie’s got a lot of friends and seems overall happier at the school, but the politics and intricate relationships seem to really kick into overdrive in fourth grade.

I’m already dreading Jessie going away to college. Excited for her, sure, but mostly terrified of how to pay for it, and how to emotionally handle my baby girl living somewhere other than with me.

It was a mostly good year. Dominated in a lot of ways around concerns about Sam’s education, and climaxed in a dramatic month-long disaster at Forest Grove, but we ended up in such a good place that it’s hard to look back on it and not feel good about how it all turned out.

Jessie ended sophomore year and kicked off junior year, got her first real job, first internship and her learners permit. We started looking at colleges. There was a whole lot of new things going on – and I’m incredibly aware that this is the last full year that I’ll have her living at home with me.

Sam made some huge strides in conquering the anxiety and taking control of his life. Choosing to take solid steps towards a formal education, going through the eval process and starting to take classes at the local elementary school and transitioning to full time at the junior high – these are goals that seemed so far beyond what I was hoping for – and he kicked ass at every one. Even though Forest Grove was a hot mess for him, he learned real skills about advocating for himself, pushing thru adversity and recognizing when one thing doesn’t work out, we don’t give up on the goal, we just find another way to meet it. He’s thriving in on-line school, it’s a much, much better fit for him.

My Julianna Ruth almost seems to have grown up the most, because she really, really came into herself this year. She started off third grade in a class with none of her close friends and ended up growing up so much. She’s much more relaxed and comfortable now, has a huge group of friends that mix across all groups, and academically, she’s at the head of her class. She’s a brilliant reader, has memorized her multiplication tables and is just doing so well, across the board.

I’m not saying that everything is always blissful. Jessie’s got chronic migraines and likes us all to suffer along with her, Sam spends WAY too much time in his room watching Youtube, and Julianna can fuss like there’s no tomorrow. But overall, they’re all NORMAL problems. They’re all thriving academically (and it’s been literally years since I could say that). They’re all healthy (with the obvious exception of the constant headaches) and they’re all relatively, most days, reasonably happy.

2018 was mostly a win.

We had to shift things around a little this year. With both Lilli and Sarah off at college, suddenly our Shabbats seemed empty. Marc’s job seemed to go later and later, and it seemed like a lot of work and not very much fun at all. Jessie’s got misophonia, so sitting around the table listening to everyone eat makes her crazy, and Sam’s prone to hanging with us for a half hour or so, eating bread and then beating a quick retreat to his bedroom. Which leaves Marc, Julie and I staring at each other, and then a giant pile of dishes for me to do on Saturday.

We started a new tradition a few months ago – I call it “take out Shabbat.” It’s probably a wash, cost wise, but saves me a ton of time. I let the kids order from wherever, and then swoop through Worcester, picking it all up. Then we hang out in the living room, I read, the girls watch movies and Sam usually plays on his iPad. Marc hangs out in the dining room, alternately listening to music or catching up on work. It’s still family time, it’s still special… it’s just different. I’m sure it’ll change again in a few years when Jessie goes off to college. And it’ll change again if anyone moves back home after college, or shift into something else.

But there are a few times a year, during the school year, when the girls come home, and we’re able to have the kind of Shabbat dinner we’ve had for years. And it just occurred to me that I have NO idea where the candleholders are.

I don’t actually have any angst. Yet. I’ve mostly decided to avoid any of the December Dilemma crap that abounds this time of year – and it’s not easy. I don’t like most of my community in December, as far as I can tell, I’m the only person who enthusiastically celebrates Christmas as a Jewish woman – and I’m simultaneously angering the Jews and the Christians. I’m either doing it too much, or not doing it enough or doing it for the wrong reasons. And the reality is that I’m chugging along, without enough money or time or enthusiasm, and mostly just hanging in, waiting for spring.

What I do have is a lot of general irritation. Pretty much everyone is at the end of their ropes, emotionally. Sam has taken to gleefully counting down the days to Christmas, which I’m trying hard to not take as a personal attack because I haven’t started shopping yet. Jessie applied to a five week fellowship in Israel for the summer, and in the back of my mind, I’m already missing her. Julie announced that she might be interested in going to Camp Ramah this summer, which makes me both delighted and horrified. The idea of shipping my by then 17 year old off for most of the summer is rough enough, the thought of not having my baby around all summer is an anathema for me.

Plus, there’s all this snow. Everything is wet and cold, and I miss being barefoot.

This will be the one known as the holiday where everyone drank too much.

I don’t drink, as a rule. In part because I really don’t like the taste of alcohol, in part because I think I owe my kids a functional parent at all times, and in part because I’ve got a family history of alcoholism, I just don’t really ever drink. But the holiday was so stress-filled and emotionally laden, it was a nice coping mechanism. Not one I plan on utilizing more than once a year, but upon reaching the point where I was going to get super irritable and fight with someone, I chose to down a mimosa like it was medicine and giggle my way thru the tail end of Thanksgiving prep.

Marc also chose this holiday to drink liberally. He also doesn’t drink as a rule, due mainly to the fact that I really, really hate it when he drinks at home. So I can’t remember the last time I saw him actually intoxicated – but he took the mantra of “lubricate the cook” very seriously this year. But still managed to pull off an incredibly well cooked dinner, the turkey was amazing, everything was wonderfully cooked, and well… at least it makes for a good story. Eventually. I hope.

This also marks our last Thanksgiving with Glennys while she’s in high school. She’s been coming down every year since she moved up to North Conway, and I’m already missing her. Julie got her new glasses – and she looks so adorable all the time I can’t stop complimenting her. Jessie’s been sick with a migraine, and Sam’s been throwing up off and on since Thursday morning. Oh – and we wrapped up the weekend with the first official snowstorm of the season – a foot of snow is expected, and the girls already have tomorrow cancelled. Honestly, with a foot of snow, sleet and icy rain, followed by more snow Monday night, I’m assuming that Tuesday is a no-go as well.

Happy to report that I’ve figured out how to shop.

I hate shopping. I mean, I really hate shopping. I hate spending money, and when I’ve got a TON of shopping to do, I get really anxious and stressed. Today, I had all the Thanksgiving shopping to do, and the list was long (spanning three different lists – one for the actual holiday, one for Pie Day, and one for general groceries).

The key is a book and multiple stores. I went to three different stores, bought only what I was in the mood to get at each one, and read for a while before going in and before driving to the next one. Yes, it did take about an hour or so longer than it should have, but I emerged unscathed and not afraid to tackle the rest of it tomorrow.

In other news – Sam is back to not sleeping at night. Not sure if it’s just being a teenager (because that’s what he is now) or if it’s that he’s naturally a night owl, and periodically, his body reverts to that. But either way, he didn’t get a hell of of a lot of school in today. Some, but when his eyes are falling shut as I read to him, it’s not a good feeling.

We also got Jessie’s hair cut today, and while it looks stunning, I’m waiting for her to freak out. It’s her first real hair cut (as opposed to tiny trim) since the Great Hair Crisis of 2015. She says she loves it – but my girl is a mistress of self-delusion, and may well be lying to me and herself because as we learned four years ago, there’s not a damn thing you to do once you’ve inadvertently cut off all your hair. She almost talked Julie into getting her hair cut as well, but I nixed that idea. Julie would have done it, just to keep her big sister smiling, and then would have fallen apart later. I only let them get their hair cut when they’ve been begging for a few weeks and I’m positive they really want to do it. And even then, the odds are 50/50 that they’ll end up in tears that first night.