How to survive & thrive with an uncertain future during the COVID-19 pandemic
(Photo by Josh Wilburne on Unsplash.)
Many of us are staying home these days: abruptly working from home, or suddenly unemployed because of the COVID-19 global pandemic. We don’t know when this pandemic will end.
I listen to my friends try to describe this emotional unrest they’re feeling, and I know the word they’re reaching for: limbo.
Brock and I lived in limbo for three years after his terminal cancer diagnosis, not knowing how much time we had left together, and — in those final months — not knowing what he’d be capable of physically, hour by hour.
Those years taught me some basic survival skills that not only kept me sane, but also allowed me to grieve the pre-cancer life we’d lost, and even enjoy moments of our new life and be happy in the time we had left together.
Here’s what I learned:
Limbo tip #1: When the walls close in, push back
Living in limbo can be mentally overwhelming. The world may start to close in on you. Do what you can to push back by reaching out and connecting with other people, either by having a social-distancing friendly visit (if that’s still allowed in your community), on the phone or virtually.
Being restricted and staying home has made me realize how easy it is to reconnect with long-distance friends. Thanks to Facetime, Facebook messenger, Zoom, Skype, or any of the many online tools available to us, my friend in another time zone and my friend down the road are both just a video call away.
There are online fitness and yoga classes, live-streamed music concerts, conferences and workshops to help us connect, from home, with real-life people in real time.
Being outside also keeps your world from shrinking. Open a window, sit on the balcony, or go for a walk to get some vitamin D, breathe in fresh air and experience weather. You can watch the clouds drift or stare at the stars: these sky views remind us that life is bigger than the four walls of our homes.
Limbo tip #2: Keep track of the days
It’s the dungeon cliche: scratched lines on the walls, counting the days. If we don’t track time, our days blur together and the walls start closing in.
I started keeping a daily journal on March 16. My son woke up with a cough and fever, so we isolated ourselves at home for fourteen days. But I’m a writer, and writing is how I deal with life events.
If lengthy, detailed accounts of your days aren’t your style, try just writing down the date and the weather each day. Scribble daily notes on that now-useless calendar. Maybe list the people you connected with, or Netflix shows you watched. The food you ate. Your mood. Whatever the big news was locally or nationally.
Why do this? Tracking our days helps us feel in control of time passing. It also provides a historical record that you might be glad to have and look back on someday, or to pass on to your grandkids.
Limbo tip #3: Let yourself grieve the loss
This global pandemic is impacting our daily lives in breathtaking ways. Whatever we’d expected for 2020, this is not it. I gave up on my hard-copy calendar a week ago: I was tired of crossing off planned adventures.
My neighbour Juli was supposed to take her family to Disneyland for Alice’s birthday last weekend. My friend Laura’s new job may or may not start in two weeks. Some friends on Vancouver Island had scaled up their farm, preparing to exponentially increase their wholesale accounts this year: now they’re trading butchered livestock for groceries and gin.
It’s natural for us to grieve these upset plans and losses. Some of these dreams might just be postponed, while others will be forfeited.
As a widow, the best way I’ve found to process grief is to share stories, and let yourself cry about the loss. But it’s important to purge and move on, rather than wallow. So find a friend to trade stories with: your cancelled marathon, their kid’s prom fantasy. Swear and cry it out, if you need to. Then find a new topic for discussion.
When I was taking care of Brock in his final months, I found it hard to let out my grief. I was trying to be perky and brave for my family. But tears are cathartic, so I watched sad movies alone: Still Alice helped all those stifled tears flow, and I felt better afterward.
Limbo tip #4: Short-term pleasures vs. long-term projects
There’s pressure out there to use this time to finally learn that musical instrument, or attempt every recipe in the cookbook, et cetera.
There are also the memes about how we’re all drinking our way through this pandemic, lounging in our jamjams and binge-watching Netflix.
For my own time in caregiving limbo, I found it helpful to have a combination of short-term pleasures and long-term plans:
Give yourself a horizon to aim at
One day, when the denial lifted and I understood Brock would die relatively soon, I sat down with a pen and paper and listed what made me happy and what I wanted my future self to be doing.
Highlights included physical activity, and time with my sister and parents. I realized this “Plan B” life meant moving back to my hometown: I discussed the idea with Brock, and he agreed it was a good plan.
Then I stopped thinking about the long-term, and focused on making the most of our days together. When Brock died, I just shifted into autopilot and started packing.
I needed to have this long-term plan in place so that I could stop worrying about the future.
Our current future, post-pandemic, is uncertain. But we can still take a moment to assess what we’d like that future to include. If anything, living without simple luxuries like coffee shops and birthday parties might help us redefine what’s important to us.
Lego Heather has a campfire with Lego friend Dauna and Lego boyfriend Ryan.
And, when you know what you want your future to look like, you might choose to make small changes now.
… and/or, revel in the staycation
We’ve been asked/told to stay home. In Canada, our government is financially subsidizing this staycation. For those of us between adolescence and retirement, this is an incredible, mid-life opportunity to chill out.
So why not abandon the calendar and clock, and tap back into our circadian rhythm? Eat and sleep when we want to? Sit in the sunshine when it’s hot, or drink hot chocolate if it’s raining outside?
Why not binge-watch Netflix? Celebrate happy hour with friends online?
Maybe having this free time means we can immerse ourselves in that artistic project, or research and write up the business plan to take our passion to the next level. We can finally complete those online courses, to up our professional game. Teach the kid to pedal a bicycle. Learn to make lemon meringue pie from scratch.
This is a very extended long weekend. It’s okay to give ourselves a break.
Limbo tip #5: Most importantly: be kind to yourself
In limbo, our energy levels fluctuate dramatically. Some days, you might only have the energy to lift that remote: other days you’re doing push ups, updating your LinkedIn profile and downloading Duolingo so you can learn Welsh.
Trauma, change, loss and grief are challenging life experiences, and that is what we are dealing with now. Be kind to yourself.
Someday, this state of limbo will end. We’ll have a vaccine, or will somehow adapt to a new normal. We just have to get through this limbo stage.
A daily journal of the COVID-19 / coronavirus pandemic
April 16, 2020 (Thursday) — DAY 32
It’s 5:45am. I hear noise in the living room, and stumble out to investigate, blind without my glasses and mostly asleep. It’s Isaac: he’s playing our Osmo coding game.
I don’t want to discourage my son from learning coding, of all things, so I turn the volume down on his ipad, tell him I love him, and get back into bed.
Hours later, Isaac comes to check on me. He turns my kettle on so I’m motivated to get up while the water is still hot.
Quinn sends me a link to a Globe & Mail article, affirming my own thoughts yesterday on the shortsightedness of “Takeout Day.” Guess I really do have my finger on the pulse.
The doorbell rings: Canada Post has brought us two parcels. Both are for Isaac. One is a robotic spider kit from his “secret admirer.” The other is our Osmo music coding game. My kid is so spoiled.
We join an online meeting via the Teams app on my phone at 10:30am. Ms Casey plans to host weekly Thursday sessions for Isaac’s class. They take turns sharing something. Isaac has drawn his forcefield invention killing all the coronavirus germs in our town.
Evy comes by to pick up dijon mustard for her marinade recipe: she’s making elk skewers and mini frozen cheesecakes for Peter’s 41st birthday dinner tonight. She brings us a copy of the local newspaper. My story about the bright side of pandemic isolation is on 13.
I have an appointment to get my winter tires switched to the summer ones at 1pm, but I need to pick up the summer tires from Ryan’s garage first. Isaac stays to “help” Mom clean out their trailer while I head over to Ryan’s. We get to have a little visit on his deck in the sunshine before I leave for the mechanic’s.
Evy reports via text that my nephew has broken his wrist skateboarding: they’ve gone to the hospital, where she’s given a mask to wear.
At OK Tire, I drive right into the bay. Brandon puts disposable gloves on before opening my trunk to remove the winter tires.
It’s a blue-sky, sunny, warm day. I walk over to the dog park and Dauna meets me in the parking lot. We head out along the dyke, and make our way to a really beautiful spot down by the river that Ryan showed me last April.
Dauna returns home to work. I’m back at OK Tire at 2:30pm. My car is outside, with the keys on the windshield wiper. Brandon, wearing gloves, brings the payment machine outside for me.
I go to Mom and Dad’s, and kick the soccer ball around a bit with Dad and Isaac. It’s so hot out that I get sweaty in my fleece pants and winter socks.
Before going home, Isaac and I check the mail: there’s a parcel for me! It’s a Sweet Reads Box full of perfect goodies, for my birthday from Aunt Pat and Uncle Craig. There is a book, tea, chocolate, a mug, a notebook and more. I send Aunt Pat a picture and then call to say thank you.
It’s still hot outside, so I change into a sundress and cut us up snack plates full of vegetables. (So there, Evy.) I sit outside with a big mason jar full of homemade iced tea and read my new book.
Peter delivers BBQed skewers of elk and veggies: another family meal, shared over four households. We send each other photos.
We celebrate noise time at 7pm, then sit on the deck in the sunshine until I remind Isaac he has 30 minutes left for movie time. I get him to shower first.
Isaac folds laundry while we watch Trolls. In his bed, we read a Ninjago training manual. He falls asleep in the middle of our second book.
I make a cup of my new Tealish Maple Cream herbal tea in my new mug. It’s time to finish my birthday jigsaw puzzle.
April 17, 2020 (Friday) — DAY 33
I have got to stop staying up past midnight.
Isaac has somehow ended up in my bed overnight. He gets up around 7am and turns the kettle on for me: I listen for the hissing boiling noise to stop, then arise to greet another day at home.
It’s grey outside. We play the Osmo music coding game, even working in some math. Then Isaac plays Minecraft with Konnor online while I apply for the Canada Emergency Response Benefit (yay for the new, expanded eligibility criteria!). I update my website and do some Instagram stuff.
I make breakfast (mmmm leftover skewers). Isaac completes a writing sheet from his teacher, does a craft, and then we play Lego.
Our Lego stories are always epic adventures. My usual character (Shay) has an evil twin named Banja, but Shay has been infected by Banja’s timeline and is now evil too. There’s no choice but to destroy Shay. Our ninja heroes, who travel around in the party bus from Lego Movie 2, capture Banja, but she escapes en route to Arkham Asylum and claims the Temple of the Ultimate Weapon as her new base. To be continued …
I invite Evy and Hollis over to play games with us: are they comfortable with our germ circle? The answer is yes, because Hollis (with a cast on his broken wrist) and I play Magic the Gathering at our kitchen table while Evy and Isaac build his robot spider. Evy and I try to play Isaac’s Kraken Attack cooperative game with my kid, but he tires near the end and moves on to shooting us with a nerf gun.
Evy and Hollis leave, and we eat lunch.
I work on my murder mystery plot. I’ve decided to write everything out as bullet points on a Google doc, to make it easier to share with Juanita, my plot coach.
We head over to Mom and Dad’s in the afternoon: it’s 11 degrees and warm, albeit overcast. We all play soccer. Mom and Dad are loving their electric bikes, and go for long bike rides daily.
Back home, Isaac plays Minecraft in his dad’s LaZBoy while I read my new book on the couch. At one point he whispers:
ISAAC: “This is nice. I like the quiet. I like doing our own things.”
HEATHER: “I like you.”
Isaac suggests spaghetti with fettuccini noodles for dinner.
Isaac’s plan for noise time. (He’s on a scooter, and also dancing atop a box.)
Mom is on her deck for noise time at 7pm. Isaac watches some Lego Star Wars while I check in on the social medias beside him.
We read Paw Patrol, Lego stories, a book of Greek tales (the Trojan horse and Pandora’s box), an Elephant & Piggy book, a book about feelings and a Sesame Street story.
I’m considering getting a dog. This is shocking because I am a germaphobe and think dogs are gross. But Isaac is a dog kid and I know he’ll need a dog someday. Might as well get one when he’s young and we’re stuck at home.
I might just be quarantine-drunk and not thinking clearly, so will consider this carefully before committing to an animal.
Current provincial news forecasts are for a relaxing of restrictions in May sometime, thanks to B.C. doing such a bang-up job of social distancing this spring.
My wish list of things to do when this is over:
Smooch my boyfriend.
Get back to my gym classes.
Eat a meal with friends & family at the pub.
April 18, 2020 (Saturday) — DAY 34
I manage to get out of bed at 8am, and feel proud. At some point during the “drink tea” stage of my morning I realize our house is getting cluttery, so I tidy up papers and Lego, and find my notebook of ideas for Medium stories.
This makes me think of another story idea, inspired by my Thursday conversation with Dauna: many of us are living in limbo because of this plague, and I’m a pro at surviving limbo, since I did it for the three years Brock had terminal cancer.
I start writing the story. Isaac runs over to Mom’s, to give her our card and a hand-crafted present.
Then Isaac is ready for some “schooling” so we play the Osmo coding game.
I’m definitely getting a belly, now that I’m not going the gym every other day.
Also there’s the beer, and my diet of sourdough bread.
Speaking of which: I have three loaves’ worth of bread bums in the fridge. Maybe I could try making bread pudding, which I adore? My Joy of Cooking never disappoints: there’s a recipe, with multiple fancy variations.
We play Lego: our ninjas go camping, along with Lego-versions of me, Dauna and Ryan. A cave troll attacks and there is an epic battle, of course.
By 2pm it’s 9 degrees outside. We set out for the beach, with tools for the sandpile. Mom and Dad ride their bikes down and stay for awhile.
We discover weird slime clumps along the shoreline. Isaac says they’re “seaweed blood.” We scoop some up to take home with us. (And that’s how homeschool science is done, people.)
I really, really want a baguette and cheese to eat with the fancy spreads I got in my birthday gift boxes, so I leave Isaac parked outside Valley Foods and risk a shopping trip.
The masked man outside sprays my hands with alcohol sanitizer. Inside, I do my best to stay away from the few other shoppers while also being small-town friendly. There are assigned places to stand, to wait for a till. The cashier is behind a plexiglass window. She sprays and wipes the payment machine before I use my card to tap payment.
Earlier this year, most of our local, larger stores stopped offering plastic bags: now we’re forbidden to bring reusable bags, and are back to plastic.
Back home, I feast on well-aged cheddar, chewy bread and fig jam. The lobster pate goes on chedder-chive crackers.
We go to Mom and Dad’s to meet up with Evy, Peter and my nephew, and the boys present a bouquet of flowers and a box o’ wine to Mom for her birthday.
Isaac practices pedalling his bike with Evy, then we spend some time on our trampoline before returning home.
It’s sunny on the porch but I choose to finish my Medium story.
I mix up the liquid for my bread pudding while Isaac eats leftover spaghetti and baguette slices. It has to soak, then cook for 1.25 hours: I’ll leave it in the fridge overnight, and bake it tomorrow.
At noise time, someone to the west of us joins in, plus Mom on her deck.
Isaac watches Trolls (he loves the music) while I shower. My routine is all off: I should shower after a run and workout. I vow to do more exercise, and get my six-pack belly back.
We read our usual stack of books. Isaac is very tired and falls asleep easily.
April 19, 2020 (Sunday) — DAY 35
How exciting: today I get to bake my first ever bread pudding. The recipe says 1.25 hours at 350-degrees. While it cooks, Isaac goes to visit Dad (Mom’s gone grocery shopping). I video-visit with Ryan and chug my tea.
I read an article about how people are trying to get realistic plague data in the United States by comparing the number of reported “deaths at home” with last spring: there’s a noticeable increase. Not only are people dying because of the coronavirus: more people than usual are dying from heart attacks and other health crises because they’re scared to call 9-1-1 or go to a hospital and risk infection.
Before reporting on how my first-ever bread pudding turned out, I should explain (for those who don’t know me) that I lost my senses of taste and smell sometime around 2015.
The bread pudding tastes like soggy bread. All I can think about is the four eggs and three cups of milk in the recipe: I’m basically just eating French toast, without the butter-fried crispiness or the syrup.
Ah well.
After Isaac’s had some time at home and done a few school-ish things, we bike up to Mom and Dads so I can use Dad’s drill to make a hole in my single-use pepper grinder: this is Dad’s clever hack. I can refill the grinder, then Scotch tape the hold shut.
It’s already hot outside so Isaac changes from his PJs into shorts and a t-shirt and we scooter/walk to my sister’s house. This is the first time in 35 days Isaac has worn proper clothes. He still refuses to wear underwear.
We visit on Evy’s lawn. I drink tea with my sister while Isaac tries to keep his popsicle away from her dog. Ultimately the dog wins. Peter adjusts the height of Isaac’s bicycle, and Evy pushes him across the lawn a few times.
We’re back home around 2pm. I make Isaac a snack plate and he settles in to watch some Netflix.
Ryan comes over and we visit on my deck. He’s getting shaggy so I give him a haircut with my clippers: it looks like a pandemic haircut, but not terrible.
He leaves at 5pm and it’s still warm out, so I lure Isaac down to the beach so we can collect lake water and build a habitat for the weird slime we brought home yesterday. He resists, and yet once we’re down there he says we should have brought the sand toys.
Dauna comes down to visit with us. Isaac can’t resist the water: he ends up swimming. There are two brothers who also brave the water, and a group of four young teenagers.
We go home as soon as Isaac’s out of the water, shivering in his soaked shorts and shirt.
For dinner, I make Isaac “deconstructed tacos” (separate piles of sour cream, seasoned hamburger and taco chips), and bean quesadillas for myself. We do noise time at 7pm, and then I publish the Medium story I wrote yesterday, about living in limbo.
We watch Trolls. Read our books.
After Isaac’s asleep, I lay quietly for a few minutes and scroll Facebook: some man went on a terrible shooting rampage in Nova Scotia. 16 people killed, according to initial reports, including an RCMP officer. We don’t get shooting rampages in Canada. This is horrific.
Ryan comes over for the night.
April 20, 2020 (Monday) — DAY 36
It feels weird to be 40 years old and have to report to my parents and sister that my boyfriend slept over, but I owe it to my germ circle. I disclose our sleepover after Ryan and I have had our morning tea/coffee and he’s left to check on his boys.
When I open my new Medium story to start promoting it on social media, I see a note, inviting me to submit it to Medium’s Invisible Illness publication. Google tells me this is the “biggest mental health publication on Medium.” Ooo! They add me as a writer and I submit “5 Tips for Living in Limbo.”
This is exciting news, and I want to share it: my first thought is to post it to my Patreon community. I love having these “aiders and abetters” in my corner. They see the whole process, from initial idea to brainstorm to draft to publication. If it feels this good to share a Medium story’s success with them, it will be AMAZING when I tell them my book has a publisher. Some day, some day …
The morning is warm enough to go outside, so I bring out the materials I’ve collected plus instructions from the internet. Isaac has trouble grasping that dinosaurs and humans never coexisted, and I want to make him a visual timeline on the neighbour’s fence.
It’s a labour of love. I’m not a details person.
After all my work, I piggyback Isaac along from the earth’s creation (purple balloon) to present time (yellow balloon).
ISAAC: “Neat.”
And then he asks me more Minecraft questions.
At 1pm, Isaac and I head down to the beach. A family is already playing on the sandpile so we play elsewhere. I wonder if our local government will close the beach eventually, if this apocalypse continues into the summer, or if they’ll organize “shifts” for when we get to enjoy our local recreational spots. Or maybe it’s like gym equipment: we’ll just take turns using the resources, because we’re polite people.
Mom bicycles down to join us for awhile. We watch groups launch their SUPs, kayaks and canoes into the water. Most are clearly family groups. The others do a decent job of “social distancing” from their friends.
Isaac plays, while four women social distance on their SUPs.
Around 4pm, more local families come down: there are five kids playing on the sandpile now, from four different families.
There are only about 20 people on this long strip of beach, yet suddenly this place feels too crowded for us.
We play for a little longer, then pack up for home.
It is still sunny and 19 degrees out so I decide to clean our car. I empty out all the trash, then wipe the windows with vinegar. They gleam.
It’s too hot to sit on the porch so we go to the north-facing deck. Isaac plays Minecraft, shaded under a blanket (at least he’s outside, I tell myself) while I drink homemade iced tea and scroll Facebook.
We play our Osmo coding game, have dinner (Mom’s turkey soup), re-watch the first Trolls movie, do noise time, and then read books.
Isaac wants to try staying up late one night. I tell him that if we play outside all day long one warm day, I’ll let him stay up late. Maybe tomorrow. We’ll see how long he lasts …
To celebrate my Medium story being picked up, I open a bottle of birthday sparkly wine and sort Lego while watching Community. Heaven.
April 21, 2020 (Tuesday) — DAY 37
Our day starts off with excitement: a neighbour is having a tree in their yard cut down. We watch the faller wield his chainsaw a good 25 feet off the ground and trim off limbs, then top the tree.
Isaac wants to stay up late tonight. I agree (why not?), with the condition that he has to play outside for most of the day.
We start by going to the high school track so I can run. He excavates rocks from the dirt path, then heads over to Dad’s to play soccer. Mom rides her electric bike down and does loops beside me.
Mom and I make long-distance conversation with two women who are walking laps. Another woman parks a stroller on the grass and throws balls for her two large dogs.
Before I shower, I do a short workout in my room: I really miss my stomach muscles and am determined to lose this apocalypse belly.
I feel fancy so pull on shorts instead of my usual pyjamas. The forecast predicted a hot day, but it’s getting windier outside. I decide it’s laundry day. For school work, we play our Osmo coding game.
On a local “fun things to do at home during COVID” Facebook group, I invited families to come see the string timeline of the earth’s history I made outside. My friend Astrid comes by with her daughter (Isaac’s school friend) and son to check it out.
Isaac invites me to jump on the trampoline.
It’s really windy, so I compromise and say it’s okay if he plays Lego or with the toys in his room instead of staying outside all day. We try to find our Lego RV set in the Lego closest, and I end up organizing the bins and bags. So that’s fun.
We play with our Lego people: more camping adventures.
Isaac’s friend Konnor is able to play Minecraft with him online, and I allow this exception to our rule. Friend opportunities are precious, these days. While he’s plugged in to the iPad, I wash dishes and do some computer work.
Isaac sorts the laundry socks, practices a song on the piano, practices his printing and draws a picture for his Earth Day homework from Ms. Casey.
We have noodles for dinner, then do noise time at 7pm.
I tell him we need to do one more outside thing before his late night. I walk and he scooters over to Evy’s house, where she gives him a popsicle. He’s tired enough that he rubs his eyes. We scooter/walk back home, and then settle in for the night: Isaac playing Minecraft on the iPad, me sorting Lego with an Acorn murder mystery on my phone.
Any bets on how late he stays up?
UPDATE: He makes it to 11:30pm with Minecraft and Netflix, then says:
ISAAC: “So, feel like watching some shows?”
We watch one episode of Trolls and then I turn off the reading light and cuddle him: he’s asleep in two minutes.
April 22, 2020 (Wednesday) — DAY 38
Happy Garbage Pick-Up Day! Happy Earth Day!
We woke up at 7:40am, both surprisingly chipper after our late night.
I finish sorting our “master building” Lego, which means all the Lego that isn’t part of a set.
We play our Osmo coding game, but Isaac is giddy (tired?) so I invite the family for a walk and we leave the house just before noon.
Evy, my nephew and their chocolate lab Caeli meet us at the dog park. I lead them to the spot where there are antique cars rusting at the bottom of the cliff: they’ve never been there before.
On the walk back, we collect a stick bouquet for Mom, including one branch with an old wasp nest and another with pussywillows, and fail to find a geocache hidden in a massive rock pile. Isaac and I compete to see how long we can stand barefoot in the freezing Toby Creek.
On our way home, I dip into the liquor store to restock on beer, leaving Isaac in the car with his Transformers magnet book. The store’s COVID-19 safety measures include a customer maximum of 12, hand sanitizer spray at the entrance, and plexiglass shields between us and the cashiers.
I feel self-conscious shopping these days, trying not to take too long in the stores, and feel frazzled as a result. I forget to buy Coronas.
At home, Isaac watches some Netflix and folds cloths while I do some computer work.
Ryan calls and says the RCMP closed down Kinsmen Beach today, sending everyone there home. There weren’t any closure signs up when we were there, other than at the playground section. But it makes sense, after seeing all the kids intermingling on the sandpile the other day.
Isaac eats noodles and then has his piano lesson: he has a hard time focusing so we make it a short lesson.
We play our Osmo music coding game, which he loves.
Noise time is rushed: Isaac insists on it every night, yet doesn’t like to stay out for more than a few minutes. We get back to our usual routine, reading books from 8–9pm. He falls asleep easily.
Ugh, I forgot to retrieve our garbage can. It’s dark out there now. Hope I don’t get eaten by a bear!
UPDATE: While I wasn’t eaten by a bear, I did remember (when I discovered the head lamp I’d worn outside wasn’t working) that bears actually are a possibility on my road at this time of the year. So I sang “Teddy’s Bear’s Picnic” the entire time I was outside, to scare away any attackers.
April 23, 2020 (Thursday) — DAY 39
Happy Recycling Pick-Up Day!
I get some computer work done in the morning, and then at 10:30am we join the TEAMS meeting Ms Casey has set up for Isaac’s class. He shares a drawing he did for his Earth Day assignment, of the earth high-fiving recycling.
It will be interesting to see how this “schooling at home” plan plays out among so many diverse families. I know there are families taking this more seriously than us: spending hours a day on math sheets and more. There are also families with no official “schooling” planned.
I’m content with our own routine, but still feel self-conscious when other kids are asking for more printing exercises, and Isaac’s barely touched his.
Isaac’s treehouse blueprint.
It starts raining.
For my new book, I’ve been creating a bullet-list outline of the plot: this helps me organize my thoughts and identify inconsistencies, and will also give me and Juanita something to discuss during our next plot consultation meeting.
I’ve been puzzling over how to involve my Patreon patrons in this stage of writing my book: I want to give my patrons the option of NOT seeing the story at this stage, if they prefer to avoid spoilers. I’ve decided to share this Google doc bullet sheet with them, once it’s complete, and then they can choose to view it or not.
After writing my first book alone, I see the value of having more brains involved in the process. I want to be able to discuss plot decisions.
It’s grocery day, and I choose to brave the store. Evy invites Isaac to help her with a video she’s making for her preschool, so I drop him off at Mom’s, the shooting site.
When I’m there, Mom shows me a looming bench that our friend Wes has given to me: the last of an amazing inheritance from his deceased wife Val, who loved textile arts. The bench opens to reveal all kinds of loom supplies, including spare parts for my own antique loom and shuttles. It feels like Christmas. We’ll use the bench for our piano until I get my loom cleaned up and operational.
It takes me an hour to get groceries. I go to Valley Foods, because it’s smaller and I like all the COVID-19 measures they’ve implemented.
I sanitize my hands outside the entrance with automatic dispensers, then take a shopping cart that’s been wiped down. My shopping list is divided by sections, to help me be efficient. All the shoppers do our best to stay apart and wait our turn for aisles. I make distanced conversation with one woman who knows my family.
When I bring my empty cart back to the entrance, the young man takes it and wipes it clean.
I drive through town, and am excited to see the sandwich board outside the deli: does this mean they’re open? I stop, to see if I can get sausage rolls for my Grandma. But of course the door is locked. I read the (many, many) signs and figure out that the store is only open, via the take-out window, for orders of “Bunker Boxes,” bulk orders of meat.
Of course. Silly me, thinking we can buy fresh deli sausage rolls now!
My final stop is the insurance branch. The storage insurance on my pop-up tent trailer expired yesterday. The woman in front of me uses her sleeve to open the door.
Inside, Bradley comes to the counter to help me. Usually in April I change my storage insurance over to six months of “let’s go camping!” insurance. But he asks me how long I mean to keep the trailer in storage.
It takes me a moment to realize that we won’t be camping in May.
Other than in our driveway, of course.
Once I’ve recovered, we decide to renew the storage insurance for a year, since it’s only $18. I can change it over once we’re ready and able to camp again.
They don’t have tap payment, so I sanitize my hands before using the payment machine. He tells me they wipe down the machines too.
Bradley prints out the papers and gives me a new, Lambert Insurance branded pen: “You get to take that pen with you.” I look around and realize the cups of shared pens are gone.
Back home with Isaac, we play Lego: our Lego people somehow end up in an alternative dimension (Isaac’s bedroom). The Paw Patrol and a Calaway Park dragon stuffy save them from a gigantic stuffed dog.
There’s a moment of sunshine, and the deck furniture has somehow dried. I bring out chips and French onion dip, homemade iced tea and my book. Eventually Isaac realizes I’m eating chips outside and joins me.
Ryan’s kids have gone to their mom’s: he comes over to sit in the sun, and when it gets too windy outside we play backgammon and eat a cheesy snack plate at the table. We both have apocalypse bellies, now that we’re not working out regularly.
The wind becomes ferocious, blowing sand up and bending the treetops. Despite the approaching black storm cloud, we risk lightening and take down the rebar pole that holds up my fake owl: this is my anti-woodpecker device. I don’t want the owl flying off the pole and shattering a window.
The storm passes quickly, and there’s a clear sky in time for sunset.
Isaac and I read books. He falls asleep twice while I’m reading, and then when I get up he tells me he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep.
He gets up a few times. I think he’s jealous that Ryan’s sleeping over: he’s not used to sharing me, after weeks of it just being us two. But eventually he falls asleep.
Ryan chooses a Netflix show. Even though the stand-up comedian is funny, I fall asleep by 10pm, curled up against my guy.
April 24, 2020 (Friday) — DAY 40
40 days and 40 nights. According to my “Bible as Literature” class at UVic, 40 is just another word for “a really, really long time.” Staying at home has become our new normal. The only unusual thing about today is that I wake up beside Ryan. Yay!
My boyfriend makes us breakfast, and then he leaves and I update my Pandemic Diaries while Isaac plays.
Yesterday, Isaac and I discovered a two-hour animated Minecraft movie on YouTube: we settle in and watch it.
By noon it’s sunny and warm outside. We jump on the trampoline for a bit while Mom and Dad work in their yard around us: Dad is rebuilding the vegetable bed frames and deer fence, while Mom is cleaning up the retaining wall beds.
We race home when I remember I have a Zoom group brainstorming session with a local entrepreneur at noon: but the host is having technical issues so the meeting is cancelled.
Back outside, Isaac plays in his sandbox with the hose. I sit and finish the book I got from Aunt Pat via my Sweet Reads Box. It’s literary fiction, a genre that I now find predictable and melodramatic thanks to my English literature degree, but there’s a gentle mystery plot that leaves me satisfied. It’s a good book and I’ll pass it along to Mom and Evy.
My chair on the porch is full-sun now so I settle in to figure out the timeline of my book’s murder. Alibis, whatnot.
Back indoors, I wash dishes and make us sandwiches. We’re getting on each others’ nerves and Isaac’s being rude, so I take us to the high school track. Isaac digs for rocks while I run laps. Dad appears with the soccer ball and they kick it around.
There’s a mom speaking French to her three young children. They’ve set up a little play area in the field, with toys, the eldest’s bike, their large stroller and a giant inflated pillow. The mom runs beside her cycling daughter around the track, wrestles with her youngest.
I feel sorry for this woman, trapped with three little kids during this time of no socializing. But then I remember that not all moms struggle with being moms: not all moms are introverts like me.
On the walk home, Isaac asks me if I’ve run out all my anger and grumpiness: I have. He’s in a better mood too. Our secrets for success are outdoor time, taking breaks from one another, and exercise. I do my weights and sit ups while watching Community.
For dinner, I have bean quesadillas and make macaroni and cheese for Isaac. Will I resist having a beer tonight? This apocalypse belly is annoying. But I deserve a beer, dammit. Only time will tell which argument will win the day.
UPDATE: The open bottle of sparkly wine in the fridge won me over.
April 25, 2020 (Saturday) — DAY 41
Ryan came over last night after Isaac was asleep; Isaac wakes us up at 7am. We have time for toast and tea/coffee before Ryan leaves for work.
Cody, my excavator guy, is digging up stumps across the road: he comes over at 8am to help me figure out how to create a fire pit area and improved sandbox in our multi-level yard. I have a stack of gift certificates from silent auctions this winter that should cover the materials, so I’ll just have to pay for his machine work.
Isaac and my plan for tonight is to camp out. I check the forecast and it calls for wind and rain, so we postpone setting up the tent trailer and build our campsite on the couch instead. We put all the houseplants on a side table for some greenery and play a “nature sounds” playlist on Spotify to set the mood.
Isaac arranges his stuffies appropriately, while I build a relatively comfortable bed out of our couch and coffee table.
Hopefully that scary snake doesn’t eat us tonight.
I check emails and end up on the Sisters in Crime website, perusing the archived webinars. There are many that interest me: I settle into one on “Your Author Brand,” by Dana Kaye. 18 minutes in, I have my first epiphany. By the end of the hour I have a page of to-dos, and start renovating my website.
From now on, my marketing priority will be my enewsletter. So here’s how you sign up for that:
I’m all psyched up to spend the day on my writing career, but — ah! I am a mom, and my kid needs me too. We go outside to bounce on the trampoline.
Isaac is giddy again today and I should keep him outside, so we join Mom on a walk around the area, heading down a trail I’ve never followed. We run into my friend Susi and her dog Morris.
We see our first crocuses of the year:
And a camouflaged deer:
All the neighbours in our subdivision are working on their lawns or gardens today, it seems.
Back at Mom’s, we find some rocks in the lot next door and paint them on the patio table. When they dry, we’ll put these “thank you” rocks at the hospital.
Back home, I make pumpkin pie as per Isaac’s request.
Isaac is still squirrelly so I text Evy and ask what she’s up to: they’re preparing for a “front porch photo shoot,” a fundraiser for the local food bank where a photographer comes and shoots whatever poses they want outside, while keeping a safe distance.
Obviously Isaac and I want to witness this, so we drive down and watch the action from our parked car, as per the photographer’s rules.
After, we lawn-visit with Evy and Peter, despite the increasing wind and chilliness. Evy brings me a Corona. (Will this joke ever get old? Not to me.)
We leave at 6pm, to dine on pan-fried hotdogs and elk sausages, with pumpkin pie for dessert.
Reading together is usually my favourite part of our day. I find all the camping-ish books in our library and we cuddle up on the couch. It’s pouring rain outside.
Isaac is asleep by 8:30pm. I have hours of freedom until it’s time to join him on our camping couch, as long as I’m quiet and don’t wake him up.
We walked through grass today and I’m feeling tick-itchy: that certainty that a lyme-disease-causing bug is somewhere in my pants. I do a very uncampy thing and have a bath.
April 26, 2020 (Sunday) — DAY 42
Isaac and I stir at sunrise: even though I’ve closed all the blinds in the living room, light finds its way in through the door to the deck.
Isaac’s pumped for another day of Minecraft, but I need more sleep so I move to my bedroom.
My son discovers “skin packs” on Minecraft and asks me what needs to happen for his avatar to look like a teenager dressed in red and blue. The cost (I say) is that he has to complete all his school to-dos, practice piano, do a job for Mom or Dad, and walk the dog with Evy. He’s onboard and whips through his schoolwork before I’m out of bed.
It’s too early for the other activities so I get him to sign a contract, promising he’ll do the required tasks, and then buy him the skins. This gives me time to work on my website and draft my April enewsletter.
We do our own things until noon, when it’s hot and sunny and I make us leave the house.
At 1pm we meet Mr. Weller at the elementary school: we need a strong rope for Isaac’s “ninja training tree” in Evy’s yard, and Mr. Weller has offered to give us one of the old ropes from the school’s climbing wall.
At Evy’s, I knot the rope around the tallest, strongest branch.
We have a lawn visit with Evy and Peter. Evy makes us tea; Isaac gets popcorn, M&Ms and milk.
We’re home by 2pm. I read Gail Bowen’s Sleuth and brainstorm book ideas. Isaac joins Mom and Dad in their backyard and paints the garden gate as his “work.”
We have dinner. At 6pm I get a call from a Vancouver number: it’s A.J. Devlin, my new crime-writer friend who’s been reading my first mystery manuscript. He says glowy, encouraging, nice things to me for an hour, and I officially move on to the “send my book out to publishers” stage of my writing adventure.
While I’m distracted, Isaac figures out how to rent Trolls 2 via our Apple TV. Ugh $20. We watch the end of the movie while I sneak a celebratory call to Quinn, and text Mom and Ryan. When Isaac asks for ice cream, I send an update to my Patreon community.
Isaac and I read books in his bed and he falls asleep quickly. Ryan comes over and we have a celebratory feast: his homemade beef jerky, chocolate from my birthday gift boxes, sparkly red wine and Applewood smoked cheese.
Tomorrow I will start researching dream publishers, and draft my submission letter.
Publication of my first mystery in 2020 looks like a realistic goal.
April 27, 2020 (Monday) — DAY 43
Much of our morning is spent renegotiating the terms of our YouTube video agreement.
Old agreement: if Isaac doesn’t come into my room from bedtime until 7am, he can watch a Minecraft YouTube video on my phone.
New agreement: as outlined above, but if Isaac blows this overnight opportunity he can redeem himself by completing ALL of the following challenges:
practice piano
complete a printing sheet
run/walk around our house
stretch, or jump on the trampoline
complete a math sheet OR a level of our OSMO math game
brushing his hair, washing his face & brushing his teeth
Technically we strive for him to do all these things daily already, but it’s worth a Minecraft video not to have to FORCE him.
Once Isaac earns his video, I get some time at the computer to research publishers and draft a cover letter.
It starts pouring rain. Isaac and I settle in for a day of guilty pleasures: screen time! He builds amazing things in Minecraft while I tweak and send out my April newsletter.
I want to grow this newsletter and am considering offering an incentive to my subscribers: maybe sharing the first part of my mystery novel? I survey my Patreon community for their input on this, sending them the excerpt.
We need an exercise break so I lure Isaac to the TV and we do Cosmic Kids’ Trolls-themed yoga routine.
Mom mentions baking in our family text group and this inspires me to make banana chocolate chip muffins, using Graden and Nancy’s recipe: the secret is to beat the wet ingredients until they’re frothy, before stirring in the dry ingredients.
Mom brings over a parcel from Brock’s Aunt Shelley that was delivered to their house: it’s a vintage Fireking mug, a mini one that matches the two larger mugs she gave me a few summers ago. So pretty, and so thoughtful.
It’s been a long day of too much screen-time. When I take the iPad away at 5pm, Isaac gets angry and violent, then “runs away.” I message Mom and Evy to warn them. He arrives at Mom’s and tries to worm his way onto her iPad. He’s addicted: I must do better tomorrow!
Foiled by Mom, Isaac returns. The sun is out now and I force us outdoors. Isaac plays in his muddy sandbox, while I lounge in the warm sunshine. He discovers a long-buried Hot Wheels car.
Indoors, we set up a car wash and give a bunch of his cars fresh paint jobs with washable poster paints. Once again, it starts to pour rain outside.
We have dinner (chicken fajitas for me, leftover mac & cheese plus a hot dog for Isaac), then settle in to read our books. Isaac falls asleep within 20 minutes. I’m surprised, considering how inactive our day was, but maybe it takes energy to fight with your mother?
I get in some work time, updating our community’s events calendar with a drive-through fried chicken fundraiser, an AGM, and some literacy events via Zoom.
April 28, 2020 (Tuesday) — DAY 44
Isaac wakes me up at 5am so I growl at him and then sleep until 9am.
Since he blew the “let Mom sleep” condition of getting to watch a YouTube video, he’s already tackled some of the list items for the Plan B condition.
The morning is weirdly foggy and feels medieval. I set out playdough-making ingredients last night, to remind myself to be a good mom: Isaac sifts the flour.
At 10am, Isaac has a video meeting with Ms Erin, an education assistant from school. He responds to all of her questions with a Minecraft-related answer.
We play with the dough, do some schoolwork, and then plug in to our respective screens. I get some work done, while he plays online with Konnor and one of Konnor’s friends.
At 2:30pm we walk to Isaac’s school, to pick up some (Minecraft) books his teacher has left outside for him in a Ziplock bag. We wander around the deserted field: the playground equipment is all taped and signed as “closed.” We hunt for his friend Sydney’s earring, which she lost sledding in the winter.
We take the long way home, ending up in Evy’s yard: she’s out somewhere, but my nephew joins us in the yard. Peter comes home and sits in the sunshine with us. Evy returns from delivering “make your own bird feeder” kits to her preschool kids’ homes.
Isaac is playing well with his cousin so I walk home, cook rice for sushi, and then grocery shop.
The store isn’t crowded and I feel calmer this time, taking my time to get all the things on my list. I used to LOVE grocery shopping. I loved lingering and picking up spontaneous treats. Social distancing and all the germ-awareness (you touch it, you buy it) makes shopping so stressful now.
I pick up Isaac, then make sushi: he’s eaten pancakes at Evy’s house and only wants an apple and milk.
He’s due for a bath so I lure him with a bath dance party: glow sticks and bubble bath in the tub, our strobe light, and his favourite techno music on the speaker. It works. We have a little dance party with the glow sticks after he’s dried off.
We read one of his new Minecraft books in his bed, then he rolls over and asks for a Sesame Street story to help him sleep.
I have a video visit with Ryan. I wish we could play backgammon virtually …
When I was researching publishers yesterday I found an old UVic friend on Douglas & McIntyre’s “featured authors” page: Arno Kopecky. I emailed Arno to say howdy and ask for his publishing advice.
I check my email and read Arno’s encouraging response. He offers to help connect me with an agent, if I want to expedite the submission process. He’s with a Toronto publisher now, ECW Press, which is on my own shortlist, so now I have an in there too. Suddenly, it all seems so easy to get my book published. It can’t be this easy, right?
April 29, 2020 (Wednesday) — DAY 45
Isaac wakes me up early again. At first I fight it, but then I remember his new Trolls World Tour Lego set arrived yesterday, and we can build it this morning, so by 6:45am I’m on the couch drinking tea.
Ryan comes over for a quick pre-work visit: we play backgammon and I slaughter him.
After Ryan leaves, Isaac lets me build most of the Lego set (what a good sharer!). Then he does his school work.
I NEED to go for a long drive and be somewhere other than our house today. I pack up Isaac’s swimming stuff and some snacks: Evy, her son and dog pick us up around noon.
We treat ourselves to takeout lunches. Evy gets Subway for my nephew and A&W for Isaac, while I take care of Evy and my butter chicken burritos at a fresh food eatery.
I have to touch the pay machine because there’s a tip option: I feel germy so wash my hands in the restroom afterward. While I wait for our order, I watch the next three customers touch the machine, with no sanitizing between uses. I’m kinda glad I can’t see into their kitchen.
Back in the car, we head north on a compacted, unpaved forest service road.
Most of the land around us is owned by the Province, set aside as forest district land: lumber companies can lease the land, but it’s open to anyone to explore. Usually we can camp out here too, but camping isn’t allowed right now because of COVID-19.
On the drive, we meet three mud-spattered vehicles with Alberta plates. This has been an increasingly contentious issue in our valley: Albertans fleeing their cities during lockdown, choosing to come here and recreate in our back country instead. They feel justified since they own second homes here.
We head for Evy’s favourite lake, but have to turn around when we hit snow. It’s still winter in parts of the forest, and we’re driving Evy’s SUV with summer tires.
Instead, we swing onto a road leading to a lake we’ve never been before. There’s no one there, but it’s beautiful (of course) and we’re impressed by the (very basic) campsites: large enough for our three-household family to park trailers, right by the lake.
We follow a trail and balance on the logs across a stream.
The trail continues: I have my bear spray but we make a point of being loud. We want to get to the large island on the edge of the lake. We find a fallen tree that we can walk along to reach it.
On the island is a small but sorta-fresh pile of bear poo (lots of berries): we’re extra noisy on the trail back to the car.
Isaac and his cousin change into their swim suits and dare each other into the water off the dock. The water is clear and green.
The wind picks up: it isn’t the 18-degree sunny day we expected, and the wind makes it even colder.
Isaac changes into dry fleece jammies and we walk around to the other side of the lake, to explore the third large/group campsite. We can see ourselves camping here, if that’s allowed this summer.
Just past the campsite I follow a trail into the trees and find trees where the bark’s been scraped off: the bear has left claw marks.
We return to the car, load up the wet dog, and drive toward home.
We detour to Dogleg Lake, one of our favourites. On the drive, we spot a (not allowed) camping trailer. At the lake, a man with a B.C. government truck is taking photographs of an (illegal) tent site, an Alberta truck and a garbage-filled campfire pit. Things feel tense, so we turn around and head back.
On the drive out, we see five more Alberta vehicles and two with B.C. plates.
Back home, we settle into some quiet time, Isaac playing Minecraft, watching Trolls and eating a snack plate (aka dinner) in front of the TV. I drink a cider and watch a Sisters in Crime webinar by Dana Kaye on “Growing an Engaged Community.” I feel like I’m training for my eventual book launch.
Isaac and I read Elephant & Piggy books, because he loves them and to practice so he can read one to his teacher. I studied English lit at university and it makes my heart warm when he expresses the emotions on the characters’ faces, or in the punctuation. He delights in abrupt plot turns. Isaac offers some offhand character analysis: “Gerald is so intense,” and I’m aglow at my gifted son.
We try to read a new book that came today in the mail, another gift from his “Secret Admirer,” but it’s a bit too complicated for him to follow, especially when he’s sleepy. I read Angela’s Airplane, and then he falls asleep a few pages into our fifth book.
UPDATE: Peter says those “claw marks” are hatchet marks, and not from bear claws. Well, the adrenalin was real, at least!
April 30, 2020 (Thursday) — DAY 46
Isaac has his rescheduled piano lesson at 9:45am: he can now play a memorized song with both hands. He’s also shockingly quick to master flats and sharps. His next challenge is to learn 3/4 timing.
Isaac’s class’s video meeting starts at 10:30am. Ms Casey invites each kid to share something from a time they were in nature this week. I’ve primed Isaac, reminding him of our afternoon adventure at the lake with Evy yesterday. He chooses to tell the class that Evy let him drive on one of the forest roads.
I’ve resolved to reduce Isaac’s Minecraft time, but then he’s invited to play online with Konnor, Konnor’s friend and that friend’s little sister. This is a rare opportunity to socialize and practice interacting with other kids, albeit in a pixelated, virtual world limited to typed conversation. I allow it.
At 2pm, Evy comes over and we tune into a Facebook Live event: Theresa from Taynton Bay Spirits guides us through 3–4 recipes for “camping cocktails.”
The first drink involves a rim of chocolate sauce and crumbled graham cracker cookies, with a toasted marshmallow garnish:
When the tutorial ends, Evy and I take our drinks to the couch and enjoy the campfire. I play a “crackling fire” sound effect on the speaker and it’s almost sorta like the real thing … no.
Arno emails: his agent has offered to meet me via phone! This is exciting. But I’ve had three shots of liquor by now so I’ll wait to send my introductory email.
It’s been raining hard for most of the day. When it stops, Isaac and I set out for a walk. Mom joins us. We head to the high school, then toward Evy’s house, where Isaac stops to enjoy a popsicle and have a sword fight with his cousin in the yard. Mom and I walk home.
I use this free time to read the first 16 pages of Iona Whishaw’s An Old, Cold Grave. It’s enjoyable, but I’m craving chips so I go to the grocery store and restock our grocery supplies, plus chips.
At home, Isaac completes his schoolwork (finally). He falls asleep when we’re reading books, then wakes up so we can read two Elephant & Piggy books together. Then he’s back asleep. Wow, he really loves those books.
There is drama on Facebook: I’ve posted the pictures from our lake adventure yesterday, and am now challenged to justify the “germ circle” Evy and I have established, given that we’re all supposed to be social distancing with non-household members. I draft some neutralizing (I wish) responses in my head, then decide it’s not worth the effort and just delete the post.
I realize that when I was judging those Alberta drivers yesterday for coming here to play in our forest district, they might have been judging me and Evy for driving around in the same car.
In the decades that I’ve been writing, sharing my personal stories on the Internet, I’ve often found it tricky to choose how much truth to reveal, whether to spin it, and what to leave out.
In one “non-fiction” story about Brock dying, I lied: I changed an anecdote because I knew he wouldn’t have wanted the intimate truth shared. My falsified version still got the point across, without causing him unnecessary embarrassment.
I started these Pandemic Diaries to record my family’s experience of this crazy, society-changing time: I don’t want to feel like I have to edit these entries to avoid someone’s judgment. So I’ll continue this diary offline, as of May. I’ll wait until the shaming-dust settles. And then maybe I can post those entries publicly, to complete my historical record.
Thank you so very much for reading, and sharing this story with me.
