The stories we tell ourselves
Quarantine Week 2: Vol. 2
Keeping Temper Tantrums in Check
Everything was really fine until my daughter broke my new coffee mug yesterday.
We'd just returned home from yet another trip to Wegman's and walked into the kitchen to find my older son making himself some lunch. He'd taken a bunch of containers out of the frig to put together a grain bowl, which took up a good portion of the main counter where he was standing. My daughter slid one of the reusable bags filled with our stash on a side counter and then I heard a crash and saw her pick up a red mug handle.
This is not the first thing to break. By the time this quarantine is lifted, I will be out of wine glasses for sure. And the mug was part of a pair I'd picked up in Vermont in January and was the perfect size and shape. I'm partiuclar about my mugs and as soon as I spied it at the kitchen store we were wondering around in, I knew it needed to come home with me. I'd picked it up to show my girlfriend and she nodded her head in agreeement, and I asked, "One or two?" and she thankfully said to double up, because I've had my morning coffee, afternoon tea out of one or the other mug since my return.
So after one of the mugs crashed onto the marble counter, I put the rest of the stuff away, heated up leftovers for lunch and headed out by myself to walk on the boardwalk and look at the ocean and breathe. I knew if I didn't remove myself from the situation, I was going to have a temper tantrum, and that's not good when you're trapped in a house together during a pandemic. Everyone needs to keep their shit together.
I came home to find a line of neighbors' cars parked in front of my house, which was annoying since I'd planned on pulling to the curb by my front door to unload some big bags of potting soil from the back of my car to plant some spring annuals I'd picked up last week. I walked inside to find the three younger kids sitting around the kitchen table puzzling, despite it being a beautiful day outside, and was annoyed again. After the planting (and a little raking and sweeping), I went upstairs to my bedroom to read for a bit and then decided to prep dinner before a 5:30 virtual happy hour with my ladycationers. Melissa Clark's Harissa Chicken was on the menu and we'd picked up all the ingredients -- chicken thighs, little potaotes, leeks -- at the supermarket since we had leftover harissa (a spicy and aromatic chile paste used in Middle Eastern cooking) in the frig. But when I pulled it out to make the marinade, I was greeted by big spots of mold inside the tiny jar.
"Why is this my problem?" I thought as I rummaged through all the places I thought I'd seen an unopened jar. I considered running out to Trader Joe's but then remembered the whole pandemic thing, and how now we're required to wait on a long line before entering the store. And we do have a nearby market that might carry something as random as harissa, but was I willing to risk coronavirus on the off chance they had it? Then I texted the one girlfriend who I knew might be in possession of such a weird ingredient and she sent back a pic of a full jar in her hand.
"Leave on your front step! Be right over," I texted.
It was 5:21. Just nine minutes to happy hour.
"Just send someone," she suggested, and I said I wished I could, but the children were all occupied, either working, napping or showering.
As I sped over to her house, I considered coming home and setting up the laptop in the kitchen so I could get dinner going while having our virtual happy hour.
And then I was like, "Am I nuts?" If the kids weren't worried about dinner, then neither was I. Instead, I came home and made a big Hendricks and tonic, sliced a lime to squeeze into the glass and headed with my laptop into my office to connect with friends.
Even though we all text a lot, it was nice to see the ladies' faces and after some technical issues, we were able to have a happy hour, despite my kids drifting in and out of the room and at one point, one of the gals' husband stopped by where she was sitting in her kitchen to say hi.
As we were saying good bye, we agreed we should do it again, and then I leaned forward and said in a lowered voice that I needed to find a better place in my house next time so I could talk about people, and my friend with the nosy husband said, "Me, too."
We signed off and I went into the kitchen to make dinner and found my girls ready to help. We divvied up the chopping and stirring and put the meal together and later, the boys cleared the table and did all the dishes while the girls and I went to watch tv.
This morning, I was sitting on the couch writing in my journal while my oldest started unloading the dishwasher, a task he's taken ownership of even though it wasn't officially assigned to him at our family meeting last week. There is an astounding amount to be washed at the end of each day, with five people eating three meals a day, so there's a lot to put away each morning. I'd watched him earlier in the week unloading the glasses from the top rack and carrying way too many in each hand to the cabinet and had wanted tell him not to take so many in one trip, but kept my mouth closed. I reminded myself to be thankful the job was getting done, even though it wasn't how I would go about doing it.
So this morning I listened to the clanking of plates and utensils being put away, and then a loud crash of glass hitting the floor.
Some day I want to look back on these weeks as a transformative time in our family. When we were able to put aside old hurts and longstanding irritations to come together under trying circumstances to be our best selves. Not because I told them to, or that we'd spent a lot of money on a family vacation, but because they wanted to.
Over the last two weeks the five of us have cooked together, cleaned together and eaten many meals together. We puzzle, play games and take our dog on long walks in the woods together. Even my boys, who don't normally join in the puzzling and gaming, have gotten in on the action a few times.
Late one afternoon a few days ago, my older son and I walked to the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner. And even though it was cold and windy, it felt good to get outside and stretch our legs and feel the fresh air on our skin. Together.
Stay healthy and safe!
xoAmy
The Children Respond
Favorite Child: I broke the mug. I knew it was going to be controversial when my mom quickly left the room for a few minutes after it happened. I have many regrets, and breaking the mug is high on the list now that I know it was from a Vermont visit. Praying my good deeds during this apocalypse help to right my wrongs. My apologies to the mug and my mom.
Lesser Favorite Child: Not sure why she's annoyed about us puzzling....at least we weren't vegetables on the couch or doing crack. We were bonding and doing a puzzle.
VIDEO: If you do nothing else for yourself this weekend, please click this to watch a livestream of puppies. I keep it open on a tab on my laptop and check in throughout the day. I've gotten the kids hooked, too. This morning my daughter woke up and came down and the first thing she asked is if I'd checked on the puppies yet. As a matter of fact, am going to check on them right now.
The Friday Faves
Is it me or is Andrew Cuomo having a moment? I thought I was the only one who was finding his daily press conferences both reassuring and hilarious until I saw this article. I then fell down a Twitter hole of people commenting on his accompanying powerpoints each day and shout outs for the two I'd been especially in love with. Baloney! Mistake!
All this daily Cuomo had me wondering if he was still with the cooking channel lady and if he was available and apparently, I'm not the only one wondering about his relationship status.
More oddly satisfying things to watch during difficult times.
Looking for something to bake this weekend? My younger daughter whipped up these the other night and they were outrageous.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be hoarding toilet paper."
Finally, some comforting words and advice from my girl, Kelly Corrigan.