All alive, all accounted for, and the kids are finally over their flu, but we’ve made the decision to do our part and flatten the epidemic curve by staying home until the epidemic has peaked.
It’s been a week and a half of quasi-self-isolation since E. first showed flu symptoms, of course we didn’t know for sure what she had, so we decided it was nice to worry our neighbors with the threat of COVID-19 still hovering over us. Now it’s hear, and I’m a believer in going medieval on this problem until we have some more advanced methods (like a vaccine!) to fight it: lockdown.
Easy to say, but now that my kids are all healthy again, they are balls of nerves, constantly at each others throats. Isolation is not going to be easy, even though I know that it’s the best thing we can do to help.
We struggle to impose order and routine, daily exercise (thank Uncle Drew for the ring fit!), schoolwork (actually doubling and tripling up on that), and spurious new “traditions,” such as casual Fridays in pajamas, to go with the long-standing fish on Friday tradition. When my nerves get to me, I retreat to the piano and hammer out every apocalyptic song I have until we’re laughing. I like to finish with “Let’s Have Another Cup of Coffee” by Irving Berlin, only apocalyptic when you know that the Great Depression was just getting started when that song took off. We’re not sure how to reduce the sense of social isolation. I never thought that I, an only child, could ever feel lonely in a house of six, but I am missing casual get togethers.
And church. This is going to be one weird Lent. We’re working family Compline back into our bedtime routine, the way we traditionally do during Advent, and reading the morning office on Sundays in lieu of going to church. Maybe Steve will finally get us chanting the Psalms.
Future posts will probably be briefer. Probably. Assuming I don’t go all Jack Torrance on a cleaning binge around here.