Years ago, when I had fewer kids, I would go barefoot in the house come summertime. The first warm day there was a bit of dread as I came downstairs sockless in the morning, knowing I was about to find out how dirty my floors had gotten over the winter.
I’d feel the grit under my feet and pull out the broom, and the rest of the summer would be a tug between kids, crumbs, dirt, and my bare feet.
Several kids later, I’ve given up and wear socks year-round. I do clean my floors, often multiple times a day, but not frequently enough for bare feet.
Parenting in regular times is challenging. Parenting during a pandemic when we’re all isolated and chronically stressed often feels like a never-ending nightmare.
Sometimes, naming the good and bad things in life helps us remember the good, and make the bad seem less threatening.
These days, I’m missing respite.
We live several hours from our nearest relatives and have a spotty social network in our area (life is busy, and it’s hard to make new friends post-college), so each time we added to our family, it was with the assumption we’d be doing the parenting by ourselves.
Mostly, we have. The Chaplain and I figured out how to ask each other for what we needed to keep our tanks from running empty, and we made it work. That was when I had out-of-the-house activities a couple of times a week, and so did the Chaplain. Those out-of-the-house options narrowed to one during the pandemic: The Long, Solitary Walk.
If it had to be just one thing, the Long Solitary Walk is the best. But there comes a time in an introvert’s life when she just wants to be home alone. And when everyone has to stay home all the time, that just isn’t happening.
Last week, the Chaplain came home, saw my face, and offered to take the kids to the pool and leave me home.
It may have been my first time home alone since lockdown started.
Back in February, our family left for Tobago.
I brought my DSLR camera with me. The autofocus had become a little unreliable, but not bad enough for me to do anything about it.
The first day of our vacation, it stopped working completely. I was able to take a couple of photos, and then it refused to do anything further.
As fiddle leaf figs were blowing up the lifestyle and home design internet a few years ago, I walked into a big box home improvement store one frigid night in February and saw fig plants sitting there in the houseplant section. They were just $10 for a decent-sized plant. I put two in my cart.
I’ve always loved plants and gardening, but I always felt my plants survived in spite of me, not because of me. It wasn’t for lack of good intentions.
