Magical Mistakes Were Made.
Warning: so much first-world complaining here, like, a LOT.
“You can’t come into my place of work and rage pound your head against the door!” said my husband to me, from his desk, in our daughter’s bedroom. This is his place of work. In pandemic world.
The pounding was about my daughter saying she was absolutely NOT doing distance learning school today, no matter what, and that I’m a mean and terrible mom for trying to make her. It was 8:16 a.m.
I’ve just woken from a two-day respiratory fever blur, and realized her suitcase is still laying in the middle of the room, its contents thrown all over her bedroom/his office. Also, the kitchen floor is an abomination and there are boxes all over the living room, which is our classroom (we’re back to distance learning for at least another week, while we’re in quarantine). In pandemic world. The boxes are from my mother’s day present (a replacement hammock for the one my pandemic ass broke) and a new TV to replace the itty bitty one we had, along with a sound system, because we want the full theater experience in our small living room, because there’s no going to the actual theater, or really leaving this room at all. In pandemic world.
We did leave. I shouldn’t feel stuck, I literally just got home from vacation, but let’s be real. Nothing really feels like a break. Traveling with kids, during a pandemic, just means moving the chaos, hassle, fear, screaming, somewhere else, compounding it by the inability to control strangers, the larger wants, the temptation and taunting of near-normal, near-freedom. Leaving the house is awful, being in the house, parenting is AWFUL in pandemic world.
I know we’re lucky in countless ways (see the death toll on India, my God, and the job loss and income loss and, and, and, and…it never ends), but I still ache to be without fear and claustrophobia. Being sicker than I’ve been in a long time leaves me with the sense that I’m being punished for trying to find fun that takes me out of isolation. The exhaustion and overwhelm would leave me in tears if I had any fluid left after all the snot I’ve poured.
I’m grumpy. Scared. Tired. Feeling dumb and super selfish for traveling. Aghast at the sloppiness of others but realizing, with every deep cough I launch, that I’m “others.” I got sick because I was exposed to someone while traveling for fun in the fourteenth month of a pandemic. Who knows who I then exposed, before I knew I was sick? Dumb, dumb, dumb.
Three days ago, we got home from a week in Disney World. The trip was a dicey choice, but when we scheduled it a year ago, we thought SURELY the virus would be under control by then. Since it clearly isn’t, and, in fact, Florida’s numbers are only worsening, we still went (sigh), but made sure all those in our group who could be vaccinated, were. We wore tight N-95 masks on the 5.5 hr flights- which, if you haven’t flown, are now *back to normal* where your’e sitting, eating, drinking, immediately next to strangers. Allegedly, there’s new and improved air flow in the planes. The only health requirement is completing an online check-in that you’re feeling fine, no temperature checking or any other verifications happening at the airports.
In the Disney parks, masks are worn by all. The poor staff has masks and shields…and costumes. When we were there, it was ninety-five degrees, with humidity reaching 60–70%. Most of the wait lines for rides have been re-routed from the air-conditioned, entertaining interior of the buildings, to the shadeless cement outside, often winding behind exhibits, into the stark employees (“cast”) only areas. Speaking of the Disney casts- they used to be from all over the world, enthusiastic, privileged to provide magic enhancements to guests. Now, they seem beaten down, exhausted, as they should be. I’m sure they feel the risk of going to work and facing the public every day, and now their jobs are mainly telling people to put their masks back on properly and to move back from the people in front of them. The magic has melted. Everyone knows it.
Time change and jet lag. Family conflicts. Grouchy kids and grouchy adults, and long, long, hot days. There were rare moments when it felt like vacation, relaxation, contentment, like almost normal. The pool was nice and refreshing, but it’s also probably where we contracted this funky gunk that’s making it hard to talk without coughing. No one wears masks in the pool, or around it. You just hope the breeze and chlorine will carry away the bad bugs.
My daughter and I started sneezing and coughing the day after we flew home. I have since developed a fever and a (reassuring) deep, wet cough. We’ve already had negative rapid COVID tests and are getting PCR tests tomorrow. We’re quarantining at least through this week, longer, if we don’t feel 100% better soon.
Everything is less tolerable when you’re feeling lousy, and this whole (gestures everywhere) is barely tolerable to start.
So, in summary, I went on vacation to a hugely populated and notoriously rule-disobeying state, I got sick, and now I’m mad.
Thank you for coming to my Turd talk.
