Greetings! It’s Wednesday, December 9th, 2020.
What would quarantine during the holidays be without a little light credit card fraud? Sit right back and let me tell you the tale of our unfortunate biannual tradition of resolving credit card fraud on our accounts. Around the holidays, someone gets hold of our debit or credit card numbers and proceeds to live it up on our dime. Why? How? These are mysteries. One time someone signed up for a bazillion dating websites (REALLY? WTF?). The people at the bank looked and Henning and me and were like, “Suuuuure, neither of you are responsible for these charges <wink, wink>.” Not amused. Two years ago someone paid their bills—I felt really terrible about calling the bank and saying, “Soooo, I don’t have a cable TV account in Las Vegas, nor did I do my grocery shopping there, nor did I pay my cellphone bill…in Las Vegas. Gonna have to pull the plug on those payments.” Truly, I still feel terrible about that one. Clearly someone was desperate. And today, Henning was like, “Umm, did you make a one thousand dollar purchase for an industrial dehumidifier?!” First of all, we live in the desert, so NO. Second of all, if I’m spending one thousand dollars in one go I’m buying either the accent chairs or the rug I want for our family room, not an expensive piece of metal completely useless the environment in which we live. Third of all, that purchase was in Henning’s name. American Express is figuring out that little spending spree. Sorry (not sorry) to whoever thought they were getting an industrial dehumidifier for the holidays! Fa la la la la credit card fraud. Now, during a pandemic! Not cool.
Yesterday Margaret made some choices about her school assignments. She and Niels had a sleepover in Niels’s room Sunday night, and there were shenanigans. They didn’t go to sleep until well past their bedtime. This has been an ongoing issue during quarantine—time has no meaning, but we try to make it have meaning and the kids are like, “It has come to our attention that time does NOT, in fact, have meaning.” Margaret was, no surprise, really tired and didn’t want to do all her assignments. We’ve started letting Margaret experience real consequences. I said, “If you really don’t want to finish your school work, then you’ll have to make it up tomorrow…”
Tuesday was “tomorrow” and OMG. Margaret had an incredibly long school day punctuated with requests for snack. I would be like, “Margaret, OK, friend. You just have math, two writing assignments, and a graphic organizer left! You can do it!!” And then Margaret would throw herself off her chair, with a groan, and say, “Mommmmy? Can I have veggie chips and just one more piece of chocolate?!” First of all, ever since the start of the pandemic, the children have had “daily chocolate”—a set allotment of chocolate that they get everyday and they NEVER forget. Second of all, Margaret will literally go all day not thinking about food (except for her chocolate) if she’s busy playing and basically doing anything but schoolwork—we literally beg her to eat something. When she’s doing schoolwork, it’s like she’s training for a marathon.
My sweet Niels keeps asking, “Why does my school not take long?!” Well, for one thing, I’m steering his education ship at the moment and I’m not a sailor. Also? Hello? He has weekly LEGO class. Nevertheless, he took it on himself to write out some of his own equations today based on a math show he’s watched and asked if I could teach him to read. Soooo, looks like I need to hoist the education sails a bit.
Now it’s time for “How has Michelle injured herself this time?” Since March, I’ve burned my hands whilst baking bread, smashed my thumb with a hammer, and had a weird broken blood vessel in my eye for unknown reasons. Last week I stubbed my pinky toe on a box of donations that were sitting in the upstairs hallway. Pretty sure I broke my toe. It’s fine. I’ve gotten good at not moving it. Monday night I was making a hardy veggie chili and slice my right index finger on the sharp lid of a can of kidney beans. It’s a deep painful cut, impossible to bandage. It’s fine. We keep reminding the kids they need to be careful to not get too hurt, yet I’m the one who’s come closest to needing urgent care.
Our beautiful live Christmas tree from our excursion to a national forest over 2 weeks ago is now adorned with LED candle lights. It’s a thing of beauty.
And finally, our COVID cases are spiking, like nearly everywhere. Our local leaders are pushing back on our Governor’s infection mitigation measures, wanting to open up everything and just get on with our lives. I’m feeling really, really discouraged right now because we’ve been doing our part to flatten the curve. I know so many people who’re doing their part. And yet, here we are. It’s 8 months in and we haven’t debated our travel schedule to visit family, flying hither and yon to see family. We’re staying home. And no one is coming to visit us. My trips to see friends are canceled. Our kids see friends through screens or a great distance.
So, when I talk about our somewhat over-top-Christmas trees or the struggles with our daily life, juggling school, work, and home upkeep, it’s a raw and honest look into our reality. I KNOW we’re not the only ones.
Hugs and love, friends. Until next time.