Chapter Twenty-Eight: Vaxxed and More Relaxed
Dear Diary,
I just scheduled my nine year old for her first shot of the COVID-19 vaccine and I could not be more grateful that within the next few weeks, every single member of my family will be immunized against this deadly virus, which has claimed the lives of 902 children in the United States, according to the CDC (as opposed to 0 who have died from the vaccine).
Tyler turned twelve three weeks ago and, as he had been telling people for months, all he wanted for his birthday was to get vaccinated. To be fair, as the date approached, his wishlist expanded to include gifts like a new phone and visa gift cards, but his desire to get vaccinated at the earliest opportunity never waned. So, we took him to our local CVS where he received both his first Pfizer dose and his annual flu shot at the same time. He complained of arm soreness for a couple days and was slightly fatigued, but these inconveniences pale in comparison to the relief that we feel now that he has some measure of protection. Indoor activities, like concerts and movies, which we have foregone for so long, we can soon resume again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Who Says There’s No Such Thing as a Free Lunch?
Whoever said there was no such thing as a free lunch did not live in California. Seriously. When I first heard that Governor Gavin Newsom had approved free lunches for 6.1 million students in California due to our budget surplus, it didn’t immediately dawn on me that this was something that could benefit my family. Having only ever sent the children to private schools, in fact, several tony private schools, I became accustomed to paying for every.single.freaking.thing. Snacks, lunches, supplies, books, and, to top it off, $5 tickets to attend your own flesh-and-blood’s holiday performances. These are just a few of the things which private schools have trained me to pay for without questioning.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Sliding Doors
Dear Diary,
After twelve years in our family home, we are moving and it feels like an insurmountable task. We’ve been packing for weeks, we’ve donated 31 large bags to Goodwill, and we’ve purged more trash than I care to admit. Despite steadfastly moving boxes over to our new residence on a daily basis, our old house looks like we still live here full-time. At the rate we are going, it is unclear whether or not we will be fully moved before I get the vaccine, and I took an online quiz which says that 78% of Californians and 8 million Angelenos are in line ahead of me. Sometimes I get upset about how slowly both the move and the vaccine rollout are going, but then I remind myself that it is very hard to stay on task during attempted coups d’états and other onslaughts.
Chapter Twenty-One: Are We Turning Into Data-Eating Zoombies?
Dear Diary,
I am taking advantage of a quiet moment in the house to write to you. As soon as the children wake up, I will be subjected to an incessant barrage of text messages and group FaceTime calls, all from contacts who are unrecognizable to me, but who manage to freeze all my devices nonetheless. You see, the children and I all share the same Apple ID, which means we all receive each other’s text messages and telephone calls. Not only do the children have far more friends than I, but
Chapter Twenty: 2020 IS the Year of the Rat
Dear Diary,
The Governess is back!!!
I know it’s been a while and I apologize for the lapse in my correspondence. If I may, the reason for my prolonged absence was that I didn’t have a lot of good news to report.
To begin with, Mom Camp was an abject failure. Despite my best intentions and advance preparations, Mom Camp lasted about two weeks before we abandoned ship. I’ll chalk it up to my lack of Navy Seal endurance training, which is apparently a prerequisite to keep up with the daily needs of my charges. Whereas I was completely worn out by dinner each night, the children would grow increasingly more alive after the sun went down, almost as if they were feeding on my fatigue. Unable to outlast my wild things, I simply gave up trying to limit their screen-time and resolved to enroll them in military school at the earliest opportunity.
Chapter Nineteen: Ten Things I (Don’t) Hate About Now
Dear Diary,
Today marks 150 days since Amy Beth abruptly flew home from college and we began mostly avoiding other humans who are not in our immediate family. The longer this goes on, the more wearying it is on us all.
Chapter Eighteen: This is So Sad.
Dear Diary,
Am I sad? Maybe I am. Is everyone else feeling like me?
I was really happy before COVID and the shut down infected our lives, lifestyles and livelihoods. I literally used to drive around with a silly stupid smile on my face. True. Even in a mini-van.
Chapter Seventeen: Co-Parenting During Covid
Dear Diary,
My friend Chiara recently called me as she was driving to the Canadian border. “I don’t blame you for trying to get out, but I thought the border was closed,” I joked as I pictured her for a split second trying to make a break for it. Turns out she was headed to a border patrol office somewhere near Vancouver in order to exchange her 11 year-old daughter with her ex-husband, a Canadian national, for summer vacation per their standard custodial schedule. Normally, this is a much simpler matter of arranging a few flights and other travel arrangements. This year, after consulting with an attorney and exhausting every other possible option, this was literally the only way that they could legally effectuate the handoff.
Chapter Sixteen: Socializing Safely?
Dear Diary,
Years ago, before realizing that they were evil data mining scams designed to collect personal information and manipulate political elections, I LOVED to take Facebook quizzes. Why settle for a boring Myers Briggs personality test, when I could take a quiz like “Build a Salad and We'll Guess Your Secret Talent and Dream Job” and have so much more fun while learning about myself!
Chapter Fifteen: How Long Will This Last?
Dear Diary,
“How long will this last?” seems to be the topic du jour when talking to friends. We have all gone from wrapping our heads around a two week shutdown, to a 45-day shutdown, to whatever we are currently experiencing, which kinda feels like the Wild West, except that when the saloon doors swing open, it’s not a trigger-happy cowboy that anyone’s concerned about entering the establishment, but rather, it’s the bandit who isn’t wearing a mask.