COVID-19.
This is the first time I've hit the "post new entry" button in so long. Hello, livejournal. Here you are, a relic to my old, dumb, 20-something year old self. Between this and my first LJ (which predated being able to switch your username, so you had to make a whole new account), there's a whole lot of blogs about being drunk with friends, and getting my nails done. But I'm happy you exist, because I can visit you again in a comfortable place during uncomfortable times.
The world is changing.
Two weeks ago I excitedly designed my son's birthday invitation, for the second weekend in April. My biggest concern was that it was Easter weekend, and perhaps we'd see some people out of town. I had them printed, and left them with his teacher on a Friday.
In a faraway land (Wuhan, China) something called coronavirus was taking over the news. I'd seen images of Chinese people with masks on their face, and this was being compared to SARS - my understanding was that this was a part of their day to day life (ignorant, I know). Sadly, I wasn't much different in my beliefs than Trump... it was simply "that chinese virus".
Then the news began to change. First case in the United States. The news was quick to point out that it was travel related. OK, so they went to China and got this virus, but it's OK because we're here in America.
March 12th - Businesses locally start telling people to work from home if they can. It isn't really enforced, the government doesn't say much, and the streets are actually very busy. Nobody knows what's going on, but they're rushing out to buy essentials. They're tossing out words like "martial law" and they're not sure how to prepare. How do you prepare for a virus? It's not a hurricane. It doesn't have an end date.
I see on the news that some states have just shut down all their schools. Surely this is a gross overreaction, right?
Seemingly out of nowhere, schools in North Carolina began shutting down, county by county. My county (Wake) has a very competitive school district, known for being one of the best, and schools always face criticism here when they close. These super-babies need every second of their education to perform well on their tests. So my county stayed open.
March 13th - Rumors begin circulating that my county may close their schools. I'm seeing on Facebook groups, people are panicking "I can't find diapers for my baby, please help!" Nobody can find anything, everybody is stockpiling. I placed an online order for grocery pickup. I drive in, my order is put in my car, and not much has been substituted. It was just a week's worth of stuff, it seems ok. I pick my son up at his private preschool. He was good at school, and got to visit the prize box that Friday. We celebrate, we bake at home, and we play outside.
March 14th - Our local elementary school, just 2 miles away, has a teacher test positive for coronavirus. Wake County shuts down schools. The message on the news becomes clearer and clearer - stay the fuck home.
March 15th - It's a beautiful Saturday. We visit the playground, where only 2 children are playing (our playgrounds usually have 10-15 at a time). It feels weird. It feels like we're standing there playing in the middle of the apocalypse. The 2 other parents seem nervous. I feel nervous. Don't touch my child, kid. We leave quickly, suddenly very aware of ... well, everything.
My mom is staying locally. She dines at a restaurant nearby, and comments that nobody was there but her. Stores are starting to close, tons of emails are coming in. Meetings and events on my calendar are being canceled.
March 16th - My work inbox falls silent. I'm in marketing. Other than people asking me to notify their customers of new hours or closures, no new requests are coming in. I'm suddenly nervous about my own income, which has been stable and reliable since the second year I was in business. I've kept my son home from school that Monday, because of the "unknown" factor. He's elated to be home.
March 17th - Tuesday. More closures. More urgent messages "stay the fuck home". Every social media post I see is either remarkably tone deaf, or repetitive. My brands are staying away from social entirely, which is probably for the best.
March 18th - Every time my older son coughs, I worry. The baby has coughed a few times too and I'm breastfeeding as much as possible, to try and pass on any ounce of immunity I have. The entire town is out of most essentials.
March 19th - I place an Amazon/WholeFoods delivery order. Order toilet paper, receive paper napkins. Ok then. I have most things, including medicine/vitamins and enough food to cook for the next two weeks. Still as I see gaps in the supply chain, I worry. I realize how much I consume daily. My dog pees inside. I use paper towels to dry it, then I use Lysol wipes to clean it. I wonder about what I'd do without each thing I touch. The feeling of being entirely reliant on consumer brands is scary. Mason is a picky eater and often goes days without real food, he simply doesn't want it. I give him Pediasure on those tough days, to supplement calories. Would he starve without Pediasure? Would he become malnourished? Should I buy 50 cases of Pediasure?
March 20th - My client that manufactures cremators has me send out a notice to their clients (funeral homes and such) notifying them that they're an essential business during this time, and that they'll be staying open. On one hand, I'm glad this client won't be leaving me anytime soon... on the other hand, what a morbid and horrible thought.
What began as a virus that was "like a flu that's much worse for older people" has now infected a 7 month old in South Carolina. Her parents weren't even allowed to go with her to the hospital, because they're quarantined. She's just a baby, and she's sick and alone. I watch an old lady struggle to cross the road at a grocery store. I pray for her.
I realize that we all have that person who pops into our minds when we hear of the "worse case scenarios". Mine is my dad. My dad who's epileptic, has had several types of skin cancer, prostate cancer, and has been a smoker since he was 16. His lungs are in poor shape, and he's one to downplay his symptoms. If he were sick, I don't know that he'd make it. With each report out of South Florida of people ignoring warnings, I think of my dad. Please stay away from people, dad. I love you, dad. I check on him every day.
March 21 - Another day at home. The state has waived testing for students this year, which was the remaining hurdle for schools. They're now officially closed through the end of the year. I read articles from every end of the spectrum, from alarmist to pragmatic. I'm not sure what to believe, so I just keep making sure my family is rested, hydrated, fed. I worry for my business. One client that owns 8 stores tells me that if the economic stimulus package doesn't come through, he's closing. Layoffs begin on Monday. I calculate my personal costs, what I need to contribute to the household to keep us afloat. I wonder if I can make it, how many clients I would need to retain and how many I can afford to lose.
My son's preschool still hasn't closed officially... but I notify them that we'll be cutting his enrolled hours next month at least. I say this with the hope that I can send him for at least a day or two, but knowing somewhere in the back of my mind that I won't do it. I wonder how I can run a business, acquire new clients, teach my child as much as his school did, and pay bills. I stress eat. We go through the Dunkin Donuts drive thru to pick up a dozen, and I eat four donuts. I feel awful in every way. I read advice about exercising, reading books, cooking... but my kids are so young. I'm writing this during a rare moment where the baby is napping and the other is playing on my phone. I can't. I don't say this a lot, but I really feel like I can't do everything I need to.
I mourn heavily. My brick-and-mortar agency plans vanish. My dad was going to give me a loan for a part of the startup costs, and my client load was going to pay for the first two employees. My plans, my big plans...
I feel conflicted. My husband's job is at a gun store and it's seeing a huge burst in traffic. He is not going to be let go anytime soon, North Carolinians are buying more than 900 guns per day. I'm upset that this many guns are being panic-bought in the community. It scares me. What do they intend to do? Gun each other down over toilet paper? The store runs out of ammo. My God. I'm appalled for the state of humanity. I don't want to say anything to my husband and make him feel as if I don't support him. I keep my mouth shut, and he knows something is wrong. I express my neurosis every time we talk, and I can tell he's tired of it. He's one of those men who's a compulsive fixer. If he can't fix it, he doesn't understand what I want from him. He can't process emotions that don't have a call-to-action attached to them.
March 22 - Today. We're home. My son continues to cough, and with each cough, I wonder if it's really allergies... Sigh. Of course it's only allergies. There's just no end to a mom's worry. So I give him medicine and we play video games. I eat another donut, and we're off to a fine start.
I hear the distinct sound of a gunshot from the woods behind my home. I watched a family of deer there this morning - and venison is a protein-rich meal that can feed a family for an entire month. It's illegal to shoot inside county lines, or close to a residence at all... but I'm guessing they're desperate. Either that or somebody just killed themselves in the woods behind my house (kidding... I hope).
Group chat with my family is all about who's depressed and why. I try to make a list of books I want to read, and tell myself that I'll go to bed a little later to give myself time to be at peace, reading before bed each night. It's 70 degrees in my house but I'm shivering. Probably blood sugar - fucking donuts. I examine my vitamin stash and decide B3 will give me some warmth and a niacin flush. This reminds me of my gym membership - the gym that's currently cl0sed. Got to remember to cancel that. I cancel my son's birthday party, which brings tears to my eyes although I'm fully aware it's the smallest of problems. He asks me "why am I not at school?" and I cry. I mourn "normal" from two weeks ago. I wonder what life will be like by the time Cameron is big enough for school. I wonder if I'm a housewife now, if my business is just going to wittle away. Cameron smiles at me. Mason dances in the living room. My kids ... I love my kids. I can be who they need. Just, maybe not today.