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| Named "The Mistake," the girls' raft actually proved seaworthy! Mostly. |
Even as a family of introverts, we have displayed a few differing reactions to our self-isolation. Or, as the trail behind our house becomes as busy as an interstate highway on nice days, "isolation."
It's been two weeks, and we're no closer to boredom. This would be a good problem to have, except now I'm starting to wonder if boredom exists, if maybe our lives are still too packed with projects and education, and meals that take 45+ minutes to consume [eye roll], or if maybe I'm the problem because I can literally always spot something that somebody needs to clean up whenever they get a minute. What would it take to make us bored, if not this?
Meanwhile, life goes on. About 4 days in to our stay-at-home order, we did have to have a real talk about what isolation means, plus a slightly awkward text conversation with a neighbor. We measured out 6 feet. And on threat of not getting to even be in the same vicinity as friends even when they're literally in our backyard, the girls have actually done an awesome job of complying--except Naomi, but I'm usually out there with her if there are other people around.
Naomi spent the first 5-7 days of our self-imposed, and now city-imposed, stay-at-home order crafting. She makes so many super-creative crafts with literally no help from me that, before this whole thing came down, I had started a post about that--which I still intend to get to. So I won't expound on her crafting binge right now, except to say that it really did last her the better part of a week, probably at least 5 hours a day, and she's often still at it, when she's not reading picture books to her stuffed bunnies. She continues to be happy as a clam not going anywhere, and meanwhile, our house is fully decorated for Easter, 6-year-old style (lots and lots of bunnies). I do, however, need to order more tape.
Naomi's worm phobia eased temporarily (Matt at one point offered to give her a marshmallow for every 10 worms she spotted), but came back with a vengeance during our 6-foot-away walk with Grandpa on wet trails. Granted, it was a worm-haters worst nightmare: at times we nearly had to tiptoe to avoid stepping on any. She opted to walk in the very soggy grass, instead (because...um...no worms there, right?), crying the whole time and wetting her shoes, socks and leggings halfway up to her knees. Not her best day.
Matt has reacted to our stay-at-home order as though every day of it is his birthday. He made two banana cream pies, one after the other, to celebrate, and has been baking bread, raising seedlings, pushing ahead with the frog-cage project, checking headlines, joining us for lunch and wondering how he can make this last forever. Except for the times he remembers there's a brutal virus freely roaming our planet and mutating at will--then he gets nervous and angry at anyone not taking it seriously. He's also grateful to have a job, except when he needs to go in to it. So, along with probably thousands of medical and food-industry professionals, he's conflicted.
I have been teaching, cooking, cleaning, enforcing chores and music practice, spending a lot of time outside, deep-cleaning and decluttering in small amounts, managing the emotions of little people, and taking on extra writing work as the parenting expert I work for has her hands full of parents who are completely freaked out about both spending time with their kids and educating them. I've managed a couple baking projects and have been making Matt play Pandemic with me--because, pandemic. Same old, same old--although I'm grateful to get a couple projects checked off my "to-do-one-of-these-summers" list.
We've also entered the phase of "now everything is online," which meant that one or more of us spent hours last week in various forms of video chatting. We got creative, playing a card game with Aunt Nancy and even hosting Nature Club online, aside from theater class, piano lessons, and more. It's a great option; I'll still take in-person any day (although not driving has been amazing).
Kalina and Elise reacted to isolation and the warming weather by building a raft with a neighbor girl (6 feet away) out of small logs. They lashed the logs together using the paracord they'd been storing in their survival backpacks for a year. Naturally, they wanted to test the raft as soon as the weather was warm, so one sunny afternoon last week we hauled it down to the spot in the stream they'd identified as a workable launching place.
The neighbor girl arrived with two long ropes. Present only to observe and film, I watched them promptly get the raft stuck as they launched it. After they'd problem-solved and wrestled with it for a while, I got it free. In a flurry of excitement, a life-jacketed Elise hauled herself onto the raft, to which they'd tied a long rope to each end so it could be pulled around by the older girls.
And it floated...just barely...under the water with a jubilant Elise perched on top (yet also half under water). Naomi cheered her on. Passersby with nothing better to do stopped to watch as Elise, floating on air every bit as much as on a raft, was pulled from one side of the pool to the other. Kalina declined a ride (and the neighbor girl, who's older than Kalina, decided we needed more logs before she'd try it).
After about 20 minutes or so, the early spring water chilled even Elise's delight, and we called it good, with promises to try again. Immediate hot showers/baths for everyone, and then for the next several days Elise began every sentence with, "We built a raft and I floated on it."
I asked Kalina if she wanted to tour a Lewis and Clark landing site. Her eyes got wide, she got really excited, and she said, "That'd be so cool! But it's also nice just staying home."
