May the Fourth Be With You — The COVID Diaries: Staying Sane in a Time That’s Not

 

Dear Diary,

Briefest of all possible entries today because a) I went grocery shopping which was exhausting in the Before Times and is all consuming now that we live in the After Time, so I’m pooped, and b) it’s my kids’ 17th Gotcha Day (aka, adoption day) so I’ll be spending the rest of the day celebrating. While sitting on my butt. Probably with a beer. And some ibuprofen. ‘Cause I know how to party, man.

{Sidenote: I feel like a wussy whiner for being tired from buying groceries when there are folks out there who are first responders and essential workers and go to work in an anxious grind every day, but it is, nevertheless, the truth, so I’m telling you anyway, Diary. I suspect most of the weariness is the tension and anxiety of staying vigilant, trying to find the stuff my list or viable substitutions while limiting contact and practicing good distancing skills and generally not bringing home the Death Virus to my family. It melts my brain.}

These are the kiddos we’re celebrating. 

As always, May the Fourth breaks me and unmakes me and reminds me I’m terribly, horribly human. It’s an exercise every year in forgiving myself. And it’s pure joy every year, too, to know how very far this family has come. We learned, somehow, against the odds called Life, to be present for each other and love one another and seek health and happiness and wholeness. And if we haven’t quite “arrived,” in that the work of Showing Up is never done, we are at least all present and accounted for, which wasn’t always mentally the case. 

And so adieu, Diary. I’m off to celebrate like the party animal I am.

With love,

 

 

 

P.S. This is where Greg is right now.

Idk what’s wrong with the sink or the disposable or the pipes. I haven’t asked because I’ve learned asking questions is a good way to get answers, and, well, I don’t really want to know. 😉 I’m digging Greg’s shorts + socks + old leather slippers look. Quarantine chic, for sure. 

P.P.S. Ian’s home just for tonight. It’s been two months since we last saw him due to stay at home orders. I’m really feeling for families who share custody of children — it’s impossible to know how to minimize exposure and also meet the emotional needs of our young humans. It’s been hard enough to explain to this one, who experiences intellectual disability, why it’s been so long between visits. So we moved Shopping Day to coincide with Gotcha Day so we could be exposed all at once and then go into our respective lockdowns for two weeks again starting tomorrow. He’s so excited to spend the night.

P.P.P.S. I told him to smile for me, AND HE ACTUALLY DID, which proves he’s an adult now and not the squirrely child who’s refused to smile for pictures for the last DECADE.

Also, I ♥️ that his hair made devil horns on his head. 😂 

#Accurate #ThatsMyKid

ABOUT BETH WOOLSEY I'm a writer. And a mess. And mouthy, brave, and strong. I believe we all belong to each other. I believe in the long way 'round. And I believe, always, in grace in the grime and wonder in the wild of a life lived off course from what was, once, a perfectly good plan.
2 comments
  1. I should comment on how great it is that you all celebrated together for Gotcha Day. But what I really want to say is thank you for your description of going grocery shopping and your side note . I went yesterday, too, and you articulated perfectly how I feel about that experience. What used to be an errand that at least made me feel like I was providing for my family now feels like I’m risking death of my family, and even though I know it’s irrational and that so many others are at real risk, the stress is still there. I’m grumpy and miserable for hours after, so it was such a gift to read your words and know I’m not alone in my feelings. Waving in the dark from the East Coast!

  2. I’m glad you could celebrate Gotcha Day all together. This has been especially hard on families who are separated and who have people of any age who cannot really understand why.

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