Two weeks ago I went to happy hour with friends. While COVID-19 was the main topic of conversation, I don’t think any of us predicted how weird life was fixing to become. We figured it out real quickly, though, when Lisa’s phone starting going nuts as we were leaving. Forty-five had just announced he was going to ban travelers from Europe. Which is problematic when you have a child studying abroad in Spain, as Lisa did at the time.
Shit got pretty real, really quickly. And it has proceeded to get stranger and stranger and stranger. The three of us texted yesterday, questioning how only two weeks could have passed, because it feels like years. Come Friday night, things will be going to the next level when shelter in place begins.
Friday will be my last day of work until who knows when. My position is seasonal, and was slated to end after tax day. Now, who knows? Working from home isn’t really an option.
Part of me is looking forward to the break. My house is in dire need of my attention and I’m very weary of putting on makeup and drying my hair every day.
But part of me is daunted. I have no idea what e-learning is going to look like for my kids. I have no idea how hands on should be during the process, which I realize sounds silly. My kids are 15 and 17. I’m guessing that means I shouldn’t be hands on at all, but it’s hard for me to imagine them having the self motivation necessary to make remote learning successful.
At church we sometimes sing, “You gotta put one foot in front of the other and lead with love.” I’m trying to make that my motto. What else can we do, really?