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Self-Isolation Day 5 – The Little Things

Self-Isolation Day 5 – The Little Things

I struggled to find anything to write about today. Reflecting on the day, there wasn’t anything big that jumped out as being worthy of telling anyone about. As I sit here, a couple hours after rejecting a number of beginnings to this entry and feeling like I had failed the folks that read the words I write, I realized I don’t need big. As humans what we need right now may be incremental. Small, meaningful things that add up. A snowball effect.

Today while I was on a conference call Olivia exaggeratedly signed, in her made up sign language, “I love you, mom.” That was the first time anyone in my work environment had called me mom, let alone said they loved me. It was nice. To clarify, it was nice that my daughter who I created and has earned the right to call me mom expressed her affection for me. If my colleagues started calling me mom at work I suspect it would be awkward the first couple of times. And then things would normalize.

I first noticed Olivia’s made up sign language, or handsplaining, when we attended an art class. It was a clay class. Olivia isn’t one to sit still for long, so she asked me if it would be ok if she went closer to the teacher’s demonstration station at the front of the class so she could see better.

“Yes, but you need to listen and not be distracting, ok?” I said in a quiet but serious voice, my eyes even more serious than my voice.

“Of course.” She replied. I knew at minimum she would be a little bit distracting but in honesty I didn’t know what she would do. She is unpredictable.

Olivia watched Sally form the clay into a ball, step one. She turned around in front of the other parents and kids and she began to copy her teacher’s instructions using her hands. I was her focus, the rest of the class were simply bystanders. Olivia wanted to make sure I could see each of the steps. She motioned her hands as if she was creating a ball, pretending to pat the clay. She also, said the word “ball” as the key word for me to remember. She made eye contact with me and nodded. The next step was to pinch the clay. Olivia delicately pinched the pretend clay in her hands and then repeated the word, “pinch” again she nodded her head. This went on for the entire demonstration. She reminded me of a sign language interpreter translating Sally’s lesson.

I managed to contain my laughter because I didn’t want her to feel self-conscious. I also didn’t want her to be encouraged by it and be more disruptive.

“Does anyone in your family sign?” Sally asked.

“No, just Olivia.” I replied.

One of the other mothers told me Olivia had made her day. It seemed to be a theme that Saturday.

After swimming class in the morning a mother said to me, “I love watching your daughter swim, she always looks like she is living her best life.” She had a point. Olivia always lives her best life. She has this ability that had been lost on me to find joy in the small things.

In addition to sleeping nearly eight hours a night now, working from home has given me a front row seat to the madness, the chaos and the small things.

Observations Day 5

1.Self-isolation Kate watches pandas on the internet.

I recently discovered the Calgary Zoo’s PandaCam. https://www.calgaryzoo.com/visit/animals/giant-pandas

Between the hours of 9 a.m. and 6 p.m. I can watch Er Shun and Do Mao, or Truman and Waldo as I call them do a variety of three things. They sleep. They eat. They drink. That is all I’ve seen so far. These guys have really adapted to self-isolation.

2. I burnt the toast again. I guess making toast is not like riding a bike. The self-imposed moratorium on certain carbohydrates for the last while has robbed me of my ability to effectively straddle the line between burnt and under toasted toast. They say practice makes perfect, but under the current conditions it would be irresponsible for me to waste our limited supply of bread. I ate the burnt toast.

3. I bought some things on Amazon today. I am stockpiling items for Easter. Small scale stockpiling. Stockpiling is different from hoarding, I think. I view stockpiling as having a plan and purpose for the items I’m buying. We fully plan on eating the chocolate we buy for Easter in a defined period of time. Hoarding is compulsively buying without any plan on how to use the items. For example, purchasing hundreds of rolls of toilet paper. I still haven’t figured out what folks are doing with all of that toilet paper or where they keep it.

4. I am trying to use new emojis, daily. There are a suite of underutilized emojis that deserve a chance. That doesn’t mean I’ll be retiring the shrugging woman emoji, Beth is my favourite. What it does mean is I will be calling up a few emojis from the minor league to see what they can do.

🦵🐒🤡🧶🧤🦧🎋🌬🌽🏸🎯⛽️💿🔧

Stay healthy and at home!

Kate

 

 

 

 

 

 

Self-isolation Day 3 – Luck of the Irish ☘️

Self-isolation Day 3 – Luck of the Irish ☘️

As it turns out self-isolation Kate does in fact wash her hair. I woke up a bit later than usual this morning thinking I could get by without washing it again today. That’s when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My reflection told me in the most Rachel Hollis way, ‘girl, wash your hair.’ And I did. You want to know why? Because Rachel Hollis is a modern day Dr. Phil in all the right ways and because it was time.

I had a meeting at 8:30AM and today is a big day for us Irish descendants, so it took some time to get ready. Today is the day we celebrate the arrival of Christianity to Ireland! Right? Wikipedia knows more about my ancestry than I do. Apparently St. Paddy’s Day is a giant loophole for us Catholics; one that I was not aware of until today. I used to be Catholic, maybe I still am, I’m not sure if going to church is a prerequisite. Wikipedia didn’t exist when I was a kid, and the Encyclopedia Britannica failed to mention that Lenten restrictions on eating and drinking alcohol were lifted on March 17th every year – the green beer suddenly makes sense. Sort of.

Imagine my surprise having puritanically conformed to giving up chocolate for Lent each year. Who knows what could have happened had I known about the brief sabbatical. Maybe I would be able to eat things like chocolate in moderation, not fearing that each chocolate square I ate might be my last for 40 days so I’d better eat four more.

Did you know that St. Paddy’s day is much bigger among those Irish living outside of Ireland than it is in Ireland? I didn’t. And yet despite my diasporadic tendencies, I’ve never attended a parade, or a ceilidh or had a green beer in celebration of St. Patrick. I know, surprising, given I love me a good parade. Somewhere between eleven and midnight as I lay awake thinking about Tina Turner for some reason and today, I thought, I should wear all green tomorrow and pay homage to the Hulk, my spirit animal, who is also Irish. No he isn’t.

Let it be known that I only put my feet up on table clothed tables and only for photographic purposes — I am somewhat civilized.

This is Day 3: Observations

1. Self-isolation Kate works out at lunch.

I also figured out that when I grow up I’d like to be a very wealthy woman who buys airtime on PBS to do whatever I want with that time: like stretch, awkwardly stare at the camera, eat a sandwich. The sky is the limit.

2. Hand Update: They are still so clean you could touch your face with them. They are also raw and it is unlikely they will bounce back.

3. Self-isolation Kate has an entrepreneurial spirit.

My accounts on Amazon and eBay have been suspended due to some disagreement between parties concerning pricing relative to demand, or price gouging as they call it. Agree to disagree. For a limited time you can still buy individual mini eggs for $36 each on my Etsy page ‘I’ve got Eggs’. Just kidding, we’re obviously keeping the chocolate for ourselves.

4. Heath was not having a stroke today when he asked me if I could smell burnt toast. Not only could I smell it, I was the party responsible for its creation. Self-isolation Kate burnt the toast. Badly.

5. Heath sent me this photo. Apparently we’re vegetarians now. 🤷‍♀️

There’s always lentils, I guess.

Stay healthy, folks!

Kate

Day Two: What to do?

Day Two: What to do?

Self-isolation Kate doesn’t wear makeup. What’s the point? I’d still look like me only in colour. I’m not sure if she washes her hair yet either. I’ll get back to you on that tomorrow. The situation is evolving.

Today was my first work day in isolation. And my first day of deviating from my Monday through Friday routine. The routine I follow religiously; it is very much centered around stopping at Starbucks on my way to the office to pick up my first coffee of the day.

My love for coffee knows no bounds. Not a one. They say the first step is admitting you have a problem — well, Houston, I have a problem. I am in self-isolation and I don’t have access to my coffee.

Let me unpack it for you. I seriously considered dusting off the coffee pot we keep in the basement that we only pull out when my mother in law is visiting — we don’t have any cream, but I know we have her CoffeeMate in the cupboard. I could drink it black I suppose. But I wasn’t quite there yet.

You see, I have a plan B — three words: Skip the Dishes. Is it selfish to expose another human being to my flu-like symptoms so I can get my caffeine fix? I didn’t think so either. I could provide special instructions whereby the delivery person could leave the coffee six feet from our front door as a precautionary buffer. It would be fine.

However, an opportunity presented itself today as a result of the great toy purge of 2020. 

“Hey, hun, when you take all this stuff wherever you are taking it can you please pick me up a coffee on your way home? I really love you. So much.” Picture the voice your mother used to use when she was talking to someone on the phone that was not one of her kids, yeah, nicer than that.

“No.” He replied.

Well, I tried. I certainly wasn’t going to beg. I still had the Skip the Dishes option if I needed it. To be clear, Heath has never bought a coffee in his entire life. The smell of it gives him a headache, so I knew the answer to the question before I asked it. I put on a brave face and went about my work opting for a mint tea in my giant Avengers mug.

When Heath got home he did not come in the door empty handed. In addition to the dozen eggs he bought unknowingly adding to the other two dozen in the fridge (Hoarders: Pandemic Edition) he brought me a coffee!

It was tall. It was black. It was very much appreciated. I was more surprised by his actions this morning than on the morning he proposed. I almost kissed him, but he is healthy, so instead we did the weird ankle kick thing and went about our day. No we didn’t. I have fragile ankles.

 Day 2 Observations

1. I think my dining room chairs are too low for the height of the table. I could ask Heath to adjust the table but he bought me a coffee today, so that’s likely a Day 6 conversation. In the meantime, does anyone know if they produce phone books anymore? I need one and a half. Thank you in advance.

2. I receive emails, daily, from companies that I’ve purchased things from who feel the need to reassure me they have a plan in place for COVID-19.

Thank you, Domino’s. “Legal Stuff” is literally my favourite!

3. My hands are raw from the hand washing. Lady Macbeth had nothing on me. Wash early and often ladies and gentlemen.

Self-isolation Kate is always scrubbed in and ready for surgery.

4. My colleagues are work horses, literally.

Here they are, left to right: Lois, Sharon and Bram. It is Lois’ birthday today.

5. When it comes to clothing, self-isolation Kate doesn’t give AF. There is little regard for how the patterns compliment each other, or don’t.

Posing in a flattering way is always top of mind when the four-year old photographer isn’t tall enough to get the right angle. In the event I forget to open my eyes for the photo (I’m very tired after all) photo editor in Instagram is a real life saver. Photos are edited in a way that maintain the integrity of the images while enhancing their quality in a subtle way. I could teach a Masterclass in photo editing, clearly.

And that’s a wrap on Day 2.

Stay healthy, folks!

Kate

Nope.

This guy’s social distancing game is weak — I’ll keep him at home. In the immortal words of Maui, shapeshifter, Demigod of the wind and sea, hero of men: “you’re welcome.” Self-isolation Kate gets her key messaging from Disney+. #moana

Public service announcement:

Stay healthy!

Kate

Self-Isolation Day 1: Here We Go!

Those of you who know me know this is going to be a long fourteen days. I have a virus. No not that one. Mine is the old one, the one we don’t really talk about anymore. The one I often took for granted as being plain, seasonal and expected at some point – the flu, or influenza if you want to get clinical. Imagine my surprise having been not so gently nudged into getting my first ever flu shot this year to find myself with flu-like symptoms.

[the injection site]

Surprising indeed. Fortunately I am operationally equipped to be able to work remotely, so in accordance with government advisories I am observing a 14-day stint in self-isolation. That said, my children, bless their hearts, are loud and busy and full of energy and our house, well, our house is very open in its concept and not at all sound proof. I’m open to any tips or tricks in this regard. There might be a noise cancellation component integrated into the days ahead; yes, I’m just going to cancel the noise. We’ll see how that goes.

A Few Early Observations

1. In preparing my home-work nest, I realized self-isolation Kate is ruthless.

“We need to clean this place like we are selling it.” I said to Heath.

The guy knows me, he simply pulled out the oversized IKEA bags and I did what I needed to do. I don’t care where it’s going, but it can’t stay here.

 2. The appropriate answer to the question, “why do we have four bags of mini eggs, Kate?” is, COVID-19.

3. My hoarding style seems to be championed in the new world order. Heath has always questioned why our cupboards are as full as they are. I can’t help it. It is how I was raised. Growing up we always had a pantry full of canned goods and a freezer filled with miscellaneous cuts of meat, ice cream, frozen fruit and vegetables and loaves of Wonder Bread.

4. Oh, how the tables have turned: “Heath, why do we have so many jars of peanut butter?” And the answer is still COVID-19.

5. A package of 60 rolls of toilet paper is economical, it is not hoarding if all of the product in question is contained within the same wrapper. When I returned from the grocery store with this giant package of TP, Heath accused me of falling prey to mass hysteria. He seemed to think the four rolls we had left would last for months.

6. People who have a stockpile of 17,700 units of hand sanitizer are the worst.

Stay great!

Kate

Marco

Have you ever lost one or more of your children at the zoo? The problem with having multiple children, other than the obvious toll they take on one’s body, sleep schedule and nice things, is that there is a strong possibility you will experience a situation where you are outnumbered by children. There are strategies you can employ, like rewarding good behavior or bribing them pre-emptively to ensure the desired result, but guess what, sometimes none of those parenting approaches work. Sometimes you naively take your four year old at their word. Words that mean nothing when a more exciting proposition presents itself. I have learned this from experience.

I’ve also recently learned that Olivia and Declan can tell the difference between a good playground and a great playground. The playground across the street from our house is good. The small playground at the zoo with the cross-eyed raccoon is good. The big playground at the zoo with the snake slide and the large climbing structures that are not easily navigable by parents is great. Here’s the thing though, if I am on my own with them at the zoo I am not up for taking them to the big park on account of the following variables: Olivia and Declan are of a similar age, size and speed and the park has too vast a footprint for one person to provide effective oversight given the previously noted variables. I can say that regardless of their pleas, tears and pouty faces I am very good at holding my position firmly. Usually.

“Mom if you take us to the large park I won’t run, I will stay close to you. Ok?” Olivia made her case.

Declan nodded in agreement and said, “yeah, mom.” I thought about it, briefly. I figured if Olivia was true to her word and stayed close by if Declan made a break for it I would be well positioned to manage the scenario to a positive conclusion.

Reluctantly, and against my better judgment, I responded with, “Ok, let’s go to the big park.”

When we got to the entrance I let go of both of their hands at the same time. It turns out that the children had lied. Olivia bolted the moment she was free of my grip and Declan did the same only he chose the opposite direction. I was on the brink of losing the two children I brought to the zoo, and ideally I wanted to leave the zoo with the same two children. It was a classic pickle of a situation.

I stood there resisting the urge to panic, assessing the situation as I always do – what is the worst thing that can happen? In the time it took me to ask myself the question I had already thought of so many bad things that could happen, none of which I could live with. I had to find the kids as quickly as possible.

On a positive note, while the playground was large, it was contained. I knew that from my vantage point no one could get either child out of there without going through me first. I took a deep breath and surveyed the park. As I glanced over to the right of the entrance I noticed Olivia’s little legs climbing the play structure shaped like a snake. I decided to start with her. I couldn’t see Declan anymore.

I walked over to Olivia slowly and without making eye contact in an effort not to spook her. In that moment I did the thing that made the most sense to me, I lied to her. “Hey, Olivia, we’re playing hide-and-seek! Declan is hiding, let’s go find him!” I was convincing, Meryl Streep convincing.

“Ok, mom, let’s do it!” she replied with excitement.

We started calling out his name, “Declan, where are you?” Olivia shouted.

On the third or fourth call he replied, “Mom!” his little voice muffled by distance and one of the many play structures.

Thank God, he was no longer lost and I was no longer a bad parent. And so began the high stakes game of Marco Polo.

The last time I found myself in the middle of a game of Marco Polo was on a warm summer’s evening in 2015 at Walmart. Heath and I had stopped in on our way home to pick up some formula for Olivia. As we walked into the store I heard someone call ‘Marco’ which was immediately followed by ‘Polo’.

“Are people playing Marco Polo in a Walmart?” I asked Heath.

“Does that surprise you?” He replied.

It actually did surprise me given the Walmart near our house is staffed with sticklers, real rule followers. Heath had popped in to pick up a couple of things after he finished up at the gym one morning. He happened to get in the door at 6:57am, the store opens at 7:00am. Heath had almost made to the diaper aisle when he heard an out of breath man exclaim, “Sir, excuse me, sir, we aren’t open, you have to go back to the front of the store. You can’t be in here right now.”

At this point it was 6:58 on the brink of 6:59am.

“But by the time I get back to the door it will be 7:00 and you’ll be open.” Heath replied.

“I don’t care. Those are the rules.” He exclaimed. Heath walked back to the front of the store just in time for the grand opening, the clock struck 7:00am and he was suddenly welcome in the store.

When we crossed paths with a woman who shouted Marco. I said, “Hey, can we get in on this?”

“We don’t have any room in this game.” She replied, seriously. This was the first time I had heard of a cap on the number of players admitted to a game of Marco Polo. I took it personally when truth be told, I didn’t really want to play back then, in the same way I didn’t want to play the game with Declan now.

I called his name again, “Declan.”

“Mom!” he replied.

I could now see his little legs dangling as he was struggling to pull himself up on a platform inside one of the play structures. Keep in mind he was in no danger of falling, it was a relatively low platform and it was enclosed with rope netting. One thing I forgot to mention is he had recently broken his collar bone, so he didn’t have the strength to pull himself up or to get back down. He was stuck. I noticed two parents sitting outside of the structure, watching me climb inside to help Declan. The eye contact was strong and I immediately connected with their thoughts, they didn’t have to say a word. This sudden feeling of inadequacy and needing to explain the situation hit me hard. A need to assure these strangers that I had not been a digitally distracted, or neglectful mother, I was simply outnumbered by children. It could happen to anyone. And then my mind went to a different place – Declan had to have been stuck there for at least a couple of minutes, calling for me, why hadn’t they helped him? Had it been their kid stuck on a piece of play equipment I would have stepped in to help him without question.

I picked Declan up in one arm and grabbed Olivia’s hand in my other hand. We were done at the big park earlier than either of them had anticipated. They were not happy about the situation. Olivia was crying, loudly. Declan joined in. Once I got them in the stroller I noticed four parents looking up at me from their phones. And that was the straw. The final one. “Out of curiousity are you relating to me or are you judging me right now?!” I exclaimed. Both a question and a statement at the same time. They stared at me. A woman on the brink of something. Without saying a word they immediately looked back down at their phones. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I huffed as I pushed the stroller away from the playground.

We started the long walk back to the car. I was silent. The kids were still crying. How do children have so much capacity for tears, I wondered. It is endless until it ends and then they act like nothing happened.

When we got to the car I buckled Olivia and Declan into their seats. I struggled to fold up the stroller – like really struggled. There was a car with its blinker on that honked at me because the woman wanted my spot and thought maybe I should hurry up. I didn’t give her the finger because it is 2020 and I don’t think we do that anymore. Instead I raised my hands in surrender, but also as if to say ‘are you kidding me right now, lady? I lost a couple of kids today. I need a moment.’ She very quickly decided to park elsewhere. Once I got the stroller in the trunk I got into the driver’s side door and sat there. I put my seatbelt and sunglasses on and I sat there for a bit longer.

“Mom, everything ok?” Olivia asked.

“Yes” I replied, taking a deep breath, resisting the urge to cry. I turned on the radio to the first few notes of Queen’s ‘Under Pressure’ – how very Alanis Morrisette of the universe. Yes, many folks of my generation would wrongly identify the song as ‘Ice Ice Baby’ based on the first seven notes, but I knew better.

Both Olivia and Declan would later recount the fun we had at the zoo when Heath got home. Neither mentioned being lost or being disappointed, “We had a great adventure, Dad. Mom is the best. We played hide and seek in the big park at the zoo with Declan and we found him.”

“It was more like Marco Polo” I said as Heath looked at me. “I’m never playing it again, by the way, unless I can be Polo.” Polo has far less responsibility.

Stay great!

Kate

Two Kinds of People

I wore lipstick to work.

I watched The Devil Wears Prada last night and wearing lipstick to work seemed like the right thing to do, until about 9:15am when it wasn’t. The crimson stained plastic straw sticking out of the lid of my cup gave me pause for concern that perhaps I was seriously jeopardizing the image I have crafted over the last six and a half years — yes, the image of a down to earth, relatable, mildly quirky office worker who is by no means unhealthily influenced by the movies she watches. I was also putting the life of a turtle at risk — I’m assuming anyway, maybe more than one. Can multiple turtles die from one straw?

I know as much about the plight of the turtles as my husband does, which is saying a lot. Heath knows so many more facts than I do, on a variety of topics. At my work Christmas party a couple of years ago I went up to the bar to get him a drink and came back without a straw.

“Apparently they don’t do straws anymore. They are trying to save the turtles.” I said handing him his drink.

“That’s odd. I didn’t know straws were made out of turtles.” He replied. I’m still not sure if he was serious. What I am sure of is it still makes me laugh.

Another thing I’m sure of is that anytime I wear lipstick I have to make peace with the fact that I am always one smudge away from becoming this guy.

I’m convinced that there are two kinds of people in life, those who can legitimately wear lipstick (having accepted all of the associated risks) and me.

Stay great!