Hand me a Corona...no, not that one!!!

So my mother suggested that I write a diary (old people speak for a blog) about our Corona Virus experience. And at first, I was like, yeah, I don’t have time for that, but then I realized that if I sat at the computer for a half hour, the kids would think I was “working” and leave me alone. Mothers – they really never stop teaching us.

Fair warning though – my mind is a disorganized, off-schedule lump right now, so, say it with me: you get what you get and you don’t throw…insults. Or virus parties – don’t do that shit either. 

So far, our COVID quarantine has been fairly chill. The kids are learning new things: that their mom’s math, which was never shiny and sharp, is now rusty and dull, forever ruining my credibility; that the same mom will destroy their souls in dodgeball; and that their farmstead is filled with all kinds of gross and neat and also gross biology (including a grove of empty glass beer bottles – which made them question whether this was originally my family’s land as opposed to their dad’s, but first of all, newbies, my kind use cans…).

And I’ve learned something about myself….that I never, ever, ever, and never want to full-time homeschool my children. If you do, that is awesome! You have some Mother Teresa style patience and strength that I will never have. But these loin creatures of mine talk, all. day. long. And if I’m honest, it’s 99% just garbage stuff, like “I had a dream last night that I put my hand down and squished Merry the gerbil – what would that look like?” or “There’s this Fortnite meme…” Sweet Jesus no. 

But I have to at least pretend to listen because what if in the middle of Suttie’s scene-by-scene comparison of the Beetlejuice and Hamilton musicals, he slips in that his friend smokes meth and sells illegal parrots? I can’t let him be exposed to parrot smuggling at age 11 because I put on AirPods to listen to this week’s true crime podcast. Can I? But like can I, you think? 

Basically, I need someone who works for the NSA and is used to listening to the gibberish of a thousand callers just to pick out that one tidbit about tax fraud. That’s the level of desensitization it’s going to take to make it through Suttie talking about what he and his friends did on Minecraft to blow up somebody else’s house and then make a bigger house, but it wasn’t a house, it just looked like a house but it was more like a house/fort but with no bathrooms and a lava moat and when they finished they put up a flag that said, “I like turtles.” I’m not even fucking kidding you right now. 

So if you know of anyone in the market to listen to a 7 and 11 year old talk about life and current events and the shape of dog poop and why their sibling isn't doing something right, give them my number. As you can tell, I’m willing to pay them in large bills or blood.