Witness our Happy Tree, my husband’s brilliant idea to amuse all the children coming out of the woodwork in our neighborhood. He stapled a collection of stuffed heads and masks to the street side of this huge fir out front and we can watch as the little ones point and giggle. Young families never seen before are emerging from their homes as they all spend more time there. And we’re all re-discovering the fine art of walking thanks to stay-home orders from the governor.
One family gets the gold medal. Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Grandma, and 3 young ones. All at home, all the time. A huge whiteboard displays their game plan every day and hangs on the wall to let everyone know who’s suppose to be doing what and when. Dad’s built a hand-washing station in the backyard, veggie starts are in, picnics are planned and cookies are in the oven. Online classes and homeschooling are in progress. To the onlooker — me —they’ve adapted big-time and give a new meaning to the phrase “Home Sweet Home”. Nobody feels sorry for themselves here…or so it seems.
I can’t help wondering if they’ll all look back on “the time we had to stay home” as a grand adventure and be better because of it. Of course, these children have a house full of love and each other for company. They are the lucky ones.
With all this extra time parents are spending with their children everyday, I’m sorry, but I feel just a teeny weeny bit happy. That their finances are in trouble makes me heartsick, but I know how important the early years are and that all our kids really want is our time. Really, it’s what everyone wants. This upside, whether real or imagined, is something I cling to.
My sewing skills are pretty rusty, but they’re oiled up and ready to make some face masks for family. I gave up sewing a few years ago when my fingertips stopped doing what I told them, but that old box of fabrics scraps brought back fond memories of past sewing projects. This red polka dot face mask is made from the leg of some crazy pants I had in the 70’s. Fun.
My sweet husband never complains about the downhill slide of my appearance — days between shampooing are many — and I shudder to think of how I‘d look if I lived alone. Every morning on go my comfy old yoga pants and whatever top I can find to lift my spirits for the day. I wear red a lot!
As a parting note, a word from Fido, “Thank you for keeping me company. I never did like the taste of that couch!”
Weeded out this week: A little chunk of worry. My goal is to replace hand wringing with hand washing, and I’m getting lots of practice!