Monday

Monday.  

Quarantine day 45…I think.  It feels like day 68,532.  I’ve been awake since 5am but lack the will to get out of bed.  It’s now 7am and Isabelle has crawled under my covers.  I kick the cat off of me and whisper in her ear “ready to get up?”.  She is and we push the blankets aside.  I used to get up early.  I still have alarms set.  But the hour comes and I ask myself why bother?  It will all still be there in a few hours.  So I try and try to sleep in.  It just ends up feeling like wasted time.

Bebo gets dressed while I put on gym clothes.  She puts on whatever she feels like wearing.  Sometimes it’s a fancy church dress.  Sometimes it’s her Supergirl outfit.  We go downstairs and start the coffee just as Ike is waking up.  Iris is eating breakfast.  “Can I have breakfast mom?” Bebo asks.  I tell her I’ll get up Baby Ike first and they can eat together.  Baby is changed, dressed and plopped into his high chair.  Coffee is still brewing as they nibble on cereal and drink juice.  “But I want a waffle and sausage,” Bebo says.  But we’re out, I tell her.  Mom will try to go to Costco this weekend and get more.  I tell Iris I need 10 minutes in the basement—can she keep an eye on the littles while they eat? 

I head for my treadmill and get in a ten minute walk to warm up and read a chapter of my book on running.  I find it motivating enough to make me run…later.  Coffee’s ready.  I head upstairs.  If I’m lucky, Nick is up and sitting in the playroom, reading his Bible study and waiting for me.  He’s there—I smile and get coffee for both of us and we share a few moments of peace while we talk, read the news, talk some more and make plans for the day.  Plans we KNOW aren’t practical.  But we plan anyway.  There are only a few more days left together before he leaves again for 2 weeks.  I savor every moment.  One cup of coffee turns into two before Ike is screaming to get down and Bebo has asked 349 questions that have no answer. 

Ivy slinks down, still pajamma’d and groggy, wondering why she can’t have coffee.  Only on the weekends, I say.  This is arbitrary but a rule just the same.  It’s 8am and I need to get to work.  We’re on to third cups of coffee when the inevitable question comes up—second pot?  Heck yes.  And brew it fast.  I do and step over to my computer. 

My workspace is in the playroom.  I have a standing desk tray set up on top of our buffet which also serves as our liquor cabinet.  I face the kitchen, so I can see what’s happening there.  Behind me is the playroom.  To my left is the door that leads to the back yard.  This is the best place in the house where I have the most probability of seeing each child all at once.  I can not sit down.  I need to be agile…and I need to keep my work high up enough to prevent sticky baby hands from grabbing it or klepto Bebo hands from commandeering my “important work” and incorporating it into her “important work”. 

The big girls are doing their “important work” at the dining room table.  Nick is on his computer getting ready for his “important” work trip.  Everyone is working.  Except Ike.  He’s behind me playing with toys.  It’s 8:15.  I have coffee, am dressed for the gym and there’s an active hum as everyone is being productive. 

‘OK,’ I think.  ‘It’s going to be a good day!’  I log into my work computer and start to sort through the 1,643 emails, Teams messages and to-do items on my list.  I try to sort through them quickly and wonder why we suddenly need Microsoft Teams. What was wrong with email?  I’ve read everyone’s random musings about their child-free, home project, Netflix watching weekends and wonder why I bothered to even read the channel marked “random”.  Emails—I get through 2 before seeing an article I’m interested in.  It will have to wait though.  Ike has figured out how to pull the childproof doorknob off of the door to the garage and can now lock us all in—or out—of the house.  After a stern “NO!”, his lower lip quivers and he fights tears.  A snuggle and cuddle later and he’s re-occupied in more appropriate toys.  I get back to my article.  It’s about how non-profits should be consolidating and concentrating on solving problems rather than their own individual survival.  At least, that’s what I think it’s about based on the 2 sentences I’ve read before shouts of “NO!” and “Isabelle STOP IT!”  and “THOSE ARE MY PENCILS!”  I settle the fight—Bebo just wants to be included and the others are annoyed with her constant talking and repeating of movie quotes.  Back at my desk I re-read the sentences before there’s a little person pushing at my legs.  Ike has wedged himself in between me and my desk.  He wants to be involved.  OK, no article.  I can sort emails one-handed.  I pick him up and resume my sort.  Nick is replacing door handles now that this little man can lock and unlock doors and clearly child-proofing isn’t working.  Now, none of our interior doors have locks.  I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.  It’s 9:30 and I’ve still got dozens of emails…  I try to get through a few more before my stomach protests its lack of substance.  Baby Ike and I head to my Isagenix cabinet where I prepare my breakfast with one hand—2 scoops of protein powder, a few ice cubes and yesterday’s cooled coffee make a mighty fine Frappuccino substitute.  But I have to share it or Ike screams.  “No.  This is Mommy’s breakfast.”  I get him a cup of milk and he lets me put him down.  Back to the computer.

How is it almost 10???

Ivy needs help with her classwork.  Nick handles this while I continue to try to make a to-do list for the day.  Oh, crap—dinner.  There was absolutely NO chicken at any of our stores over the weekend and if I’m going to stick to my healthy eating, I need chicken. 

“Is the dry cleaner open?” Nick asks.  It is.  I drove by yesterday to be sure.  “I might go over there this morning.” He says.  I tell him I’ll go along and pop into the grocery store to pick up chicken.  We also decide to try to drive by the eye doctor.  Iris broke her glasses over the weekend and the tape isn’t going to last long.  We decide to take the littles to get them out and give big girls some peace. 

Let me just get through these emails…  but that’s not happening.  We pile into the car and everyone seems happy.  We go to Aldi—score chicken!  Then over to the dry cleaner.  Nick doesn’t have a mask that fits so I go in and drop off his pants so they’re ready for his trip on Thursday.  We then drive to the eye doctor.  It’s closed.  Not just emergency hours but closed.  Hmmm.  Iris can’t see well without her glasses so she’s using an old pair.  They’ll do but it’s not a long term solution.  While Nick drives the long way home (being out is soooo nice.  Even if we’re just in the car.) while I look up eye doctor solutions.  Lenscrafters is open but not until noon.  We’ll call in a few hours. 

At home, it’s snack time…but Ike fell asleep in the car.  This is not good.  He can’t nap now or he won’t nap later and I need him to nap later.  I wake him up and it’s ok because he gets a freshly baked cookie that are still on the counter.  Iris and I baked them yesterday for some mom/kid time…that and we were out. 

Nick sends me upstairs where he’s made the bed and says “get some work done—I know you need it.”  I take my computer, coffee, phone and earbuds upstairs.  I need to block out the noise from the baby monitor or I won’t be able to focus.  It’s 11:15.  I have 45 minutes before lunch.  I push through all of these emails and sort them out by what needs to be done right away, what I need to read or review and what can wait.  Just knowing what’s on the plate helps.  At noon on the dot I hear “That’s it.  I’m done.  You can just sit in here for a few minutes.”  Having no idea what could have made my husband reach his limit so quickly, I know my alone time is over.  I open the bedroom door and he’s standing right there.  I’m coming down, I say.

“Why?”  Because I heard you.  Besides, it’s time for lunch.  Neither of us are hungry but the girls are and lunch will help the baby be ready to sleep.  I take the lunch orders.  One grilled cheese.  One ramen noodle and one baby quiche.  Leftovers for Ike and I’m a short order cook.  I don’t mind different lunches within limits.  It cuts down on the complaining.  Lunch is served and I can get a few things handled while everyone eats.  I commit to running when Ike is napping. 

I look over a list of recorded webinars.  There are SO many.  I really want to review those.  Maybe I can get one in this afternoon.  I respond to a few emails that have come in during the last few hours.  I check the bank balance and make sure the due bills don’t get missed.  I remember that the Lenscrafters is open and call them.  They might be able to help us if they have a similar frame.  We can drive over there and call when we get there—they’ll come out to the car and see what we have.  Great. 

Suddenly I realize there’s a lot of screaming.  I’ve totally tuned everyone out and Nick is working to calm the natives.  Crap.  Now I realize I’ve neglected my family in favor of work and the guilt shifts from not working to working when I shouldn’t have.  It’s ok—I’ll put the baby to bed while the girls tidy up from lunch.  I send Isabelle to the corner for lying about a broken pencil—she’s lost Rescue Princess Peach privileges for the day.  Lying has been an issue lately and I’m pretty sure it’s her way of acting out. 

Nick preps Ike’s room for nap—fan, his favorite blanket, a bottle, the Moana soundtrack and his starry nightlight.  I am forced into a few moments of quiet.  But all it does is remind me of all that has to be done.  I have an audio book that expires tomorrow.  Still an hour left to listen.  I need to check my grants calendar and make sure I haven’t missed any due dates.  Wasn’t there an email I was supposed to review before blasting to our volunteers?  Local taxes still need to be filed.  Ike is still missing a vaccine—I should call the doctor. 

But it’s nap time and I need to get in my run.  Nick and I assign the big girls to quiet tasks and send Isabelle to her room to play quietly.  No tv and no video games right now.  We’re going to workout.  We both have our respective pre-workout supplement and head to the basement.  We take a few minutes to dream about what our basement could be.  Our hopes and dreams for an “adults only” space and a gym that negates the need for anything else.  It’s nice to dream and I’m happy we find the time.  But the nap is ticking away so we get to work.  I’m on my treadmill for 4 minutes before my phone rings.  It’s work.  I need to take it.  After 45 minutes, Nick’s workout is finished.  I run 2.06 miles while he showers.  I finish just as Ike wakes up but there are other issues now.  There’s been a disagreement between Ivy and Isabelle that involved hitting and the removal of toys.  Time for a serious talk about how we treat each other. 

I take a quick shower and get dressed, listening to my audio book at double speed.  It’s after 3pm.  I have hardly accomplished any work today.  I go downstairs and a package has arrived.  It’s a gift from Nick’s parents—an outdoor toy for everyone.  They were all waiting for me before opening it.  Ladder-golf!  Wonderful!  Nick and the girls put it together outside while I get more work done.  Social media posts.  Checking in with the team.  Reviewing the “must do” list.  But we have to get Iris’s glasses fixed.  But I have to set up the breadmaker so we can have Monday night pizza.  I mix up a protein shake to try to get some nutrition in while everyone gets in the car and we head to Lenscrafters.  I answer emails on my phone in the car and play our favorite playlist along the way.  We belt out “Sweet by Psycho”, “Cheerleader” and “Breakin’ Up in a Small Town”.  A little family time, albeit preoccupied. 

We get to Lenscrafters and I call inside.  A woman in a mask appears—I have one on too.  We talk.  She thinks they have something so we wait.  While waiting, Nick calls his parents to thank them for sending a gift.  Isabelle tells us she’s ready to go home and be a queen.  Me too, Beebs.  Me too.  My phone rings—work.  Everyone is appropriately quiet while I take the call.  Being out is calming. 

We get new glasses--$73 and it’s after 4:30.  We head home, take a wrong turn and get there after 5.  Just as the pizza dough is ready so I get to work on dinner.  Three kinds of pizza.  Nick and the kids go outside to video chat with grandparents so they can see the game they sent.  Everyone takes a turn talking.  Ivy wants to watch a movie while we eat.  Sure.  It’s pizza so fine.  She sets up Spiderman:  Homecoming.  They’ve seen it but Nick and I still had half an hour of it unseen.  Bebo’s not an Avengers fan and she wanted to watch her own movie…alone.  Boy can I relate.  I put my computer on the dining room table for her and she gets PJ Masks.  I’m the best mom ever.

Half an hour later, we’re all full of homemade pizza and up to speed on Spiderman.  Bedtime for the littles.  Bebo gets her jammies on and Nick puts Ike to bed while I clean up the kitchen with the big girls.  Nick and I plan to watch “chores” and do what we call projects—things you’re working on that the other doesn’t get to know about. 

Kids are in bed so we pour a drink and sit in the “sanctuary”—the formal living room where there are no toys and our fancy furniture with the curved tv.  We queue up the next episode, put our feet up and “project”.  For me, that means work.  This is the tiny bit of time I can get things done.  I go through what I can.  A few easy “wins” and a few things that require more thought.  Somewhere in there, my brother calls.  We talk about my mom who has cancer and how we’d both planned a trip to St. Louis this summer to see the ENTIRE family but now we’re not sure it will happen.  Even if restrictions are eased, her immune system is compromised.  Is it a good idea?  What are you doing for Mother’s Day?  Amazon is backed up—order whatever NOW. 

Work takes up the next two hours.  I’d promised myself to go to bed on time—9pm.  But it’s after 10 and I’m still working.  How have I gotten so little done today?  I have to do better tomorrow.  But I probably won’t.  Because this is how it is right now.