Team Lovebo

Almost four weeks ago, when I last posted, the world was a different place. We were planning our annual March trip to Florida, which would have started today, March 30. I was planning a short trip to San Antonio, Texas for a conference the week of March 16. Jeff was revving up his campaign for city court judge with lots of door knocking and canvassing, planning fundraising events to raise money to run the campaign, and the kids were looking forward to a glorious spring spent playing with neighborhood kids, that much-anticipated trip to Florida, and a summer of playing outside.

The kids' last day of school was Friday, March 13. Their schools were open on Monday, March 16 but we kept them home. One of their friends had a birthday party on March 14 but we kept them home. We have seen friends and neighbors only from across the street, through windows and doors, from passing cars, and on skype, facetime and zoom since then. Our world became infinitely small and micro-local really really fast.

Joan and Stu returned from their Florida trip a few weeks early, all schools closed for the indefinite future, Jeff was sent home from work for at least a month, and I am working remotely, part-time, for the foreseeable future. A previously-unrecognized talent of mine has been exposed: I am a wannabe homesteader and doomsday prepper. I pride myself on my stocked pantry in the best of times, but in the week before our complete isolation set in, I think I went to the store or sent Jeff to the store four or five times. I planned out two full weeks of meals based on what we already had in the fridge, freezer and pantry. I had bought bulk packages of tissues, paper towels and toilet paper the week before the stores started running out. Before schools closed I took the kids for a mad dash trip to the biggest library in the county to grab every book we could carry out. I wasn't thinking that the libraries would end up closing (though they did, about a week later) but I was thinking that if we were stuck inside we'd want books. (I borrowed cookbooks and novels for myself as well.) I wish I'd gotten more of everything--more canned goods, more frozen food, more novels, more kids' books, more cheese puffs.

And now we wait. For who knows how long. We are supremely privileged, with jobs that keep depositing money in our accounts despite not going to them, grocery stores that allow curbside pickup, friends and neighbors and family members who share our concern rather than mocking us, and internet and phone service that allows us to stay connected to the world and to the people we love.

It's hard not to think about how long we can keep doing this, what it would be like for this to stretch from days to weeks to months and, maybe, even longer. It's hard for me not to think about the next one, whether there's another virus lurking that could bring the world's population to its knees again, and when that would be. I think about refugees, and migrant children, and homeless people. I am reminded daily by my work that there are many people who are trapped in homes with people who hurt them, children included, whose small windows of escape may have closed.

I think about all the ways that our world has changed in the last few weeks and all the ways that it still may change. People I know who will succumb to this illness. Institutions that will crumble in the wake of this disaster. I am learning about how fabulous long stretches of time with my awesome family can be. I love not running around to fifteen things every weekend. I love not having to say no to lots of events, cool and not cool, that are constantly going on. I love having Jeff around instead of out campaigning. I love not spending our time with the boys aware of the time and what we have to be preparing for next. I will admit I wish I had more time to not work and just be in this time. I love spending unstructured time outside, having nerf gun wars, scootering and hiking and biking and running with the kids. I love planning meals a week ahead of time and cleaning out my fridge and freezer. Our house is comfortable and we just bought an awesome new bed, and the kids have been very good-natured about all of this.

I wanted to share some funny moments we've had in the last few days of quarantine:

Beckett has really been enjoying playing Taboo: Kids and Adults version. The kids use the cards with simpler words and only two taboo words, and the adults use the cards with more complicated words or concepts, and five taboo words. I play a lot with Beckett and we have a great time.

A few days ago we were playing and Beckett was describing, and his first words were: "Ok. I don't have any of these." "Friends!" I yelled. He laughed. "No!" Then, "Ok, I mean I don't have any REAL of these." "Friends!" I yelled again. (Turned out that he was trying to get me to guess "cousin.") He's been laughing about that since then.

Today we were playing again, and he was describing to me. He said, "I can't make these." "Friends!" I yelled. We both collapsed into giggles. (Turned out he was trying to get me to guess "sand castle.")

A couple of nights ago we were eating ice cream sundaes after dinner. I asked what everyone's favorite part of their day was. Beckett said "nerf gun fight," and Theo said "when I won three golden (somethings) in Fortnite." When we got to Reed, he finished his bite of ice cream and said, "My favorite part of the day was eating this delicious ice cream and loving my family members."