17 May 2020: Daily Tale + Humor

Funny!

Has there ever been a time in our country where THIS felt more plausible?

LMAO.

Yesterday, a lovely neighbor mentioned that he’d overestimated the amount of lumber he needed for his new fence and would we like the excess plus the extra nails for his nail gun?

Can I hear a HELL YES?!

Initially, Tom intended to replace egregiously ugly old slats and then decided to build a new fence door because ours was both egregiously ugly and broken. Then, it occurred to me that A) the boys and I wanted to learn how to use both a nail gun and the circular saw, B) much of our fence was egregiously ugly, C) it was a gorgeous day, and D) what a great family project building a new fence could be. And so, while Tom worked on the new door, the kids and I got to work tearing down the old slats and cutting/sizing/nailing up new ones. We decided to go with a more modern look, and I plan to stain this once it ages sufficiently.

As we built, Oliver repeatedly sang, “I’m so happy! It’s a perfect day! Perfect temperature! I woke up in a box fort! Now I’m building!” We had so much fun, and honestly, doesn’t this look terrific? Plus, life skills, people!

We did it all without hurting the lilies!

12 May 2020: Daily

Hi Friends, At nearly 9 weeks in, more to go, and more than 82,000 Americans dead, I am wondering if the coronovirus comedy stretch has reached its max. Though I have largely stopped reading parenting articles, and I have fully stopped reading parenting books, a friend sent me this tonight, and damn if it wasn’t as if this woman crawled in my head and wrote out so many, most, of my thoughts and feelings. Per the usual, don’t read the comments.

The author knows she is privileged. So do I. I feel grateful every day; that doesn’t make any of this easy.

This evening, while cooking dinner and after virtually cocktailing with my friend, L, with whom I virtually cocktail every Tuesday, thank you lord, I watched a Politics and Prose Live! event with Barbara Ehrenreich and Jia Tolentino, two of my favorite writers, activists, thinkers, and critics. They discussed economic inequality in times of crisis, specifically during the coronavirus pandemic. I cooked, fist-pumped, and commented my way through, and should you wish to watch the conversation, you may do so here.

It is starting to seem unlikely that the boys will return to school in person this fall, an idea made tougher by the fact that Jack has chosen to attend a new school for high school, and we still don’t know the yay/nay regarding camp this summer.

For now I guess I’ll just keep the damn tomatoes wrapped until we finally get warm weather, keep my fingers crossed for the little advancements, and laugh when the moments present themselves as one did yesterday morning when Oliver got in bed with me to snuggle before school, I quickly went to the bathroom, and when i returned he pulled up landwatch.com and a plot of land he wanted to buy in Baltimore County.

Wut?

Yes, Oliver is angling to buy some space where he can “dig and build.” Bless his heart. I wish I could provide him a parcel. He sent this treasure to all of his friends.

Jack snorted and said, “they misspelled sweet equity.”

I nearly perished. It’s the little things.

9 April 2020: Daily Humor direct from my children

Ah, friends. Last night I was reminded that in hard times, when raising children, pretty much throughout life itself, it is critically important to have a sense of humor and see the lightness in things when you can.

Picture it. And if you need a quick focus longtime friends and readers, this is more FBI than sink plants.

It’s after 7pm, and the boys, having finished a lengthy day of distance learning, were outside playing on a spectacularly balmy, beautiful evening. Oliver had recently come in sweaty, asking if he could bring the bottle of cold sparkling apple cider in the fridge out for him and Jack. I handed him two plastic tumblers and sent him on his way, thankful that they love playing together so much.

I turned my joint Hamilton and Queen playlist louder, checked on the turkey roasting in the oven, and gave thanks for a kitchen in which no one was talking. What heaven it is to be alone in a room sometimes! What bliss to think in unencumbered fashion, to be alone with your ideas and musings!

After the half hour chimed, I heard the kids tumble through the front door, laughing hysterically, and run towards the kitchen. I turned to them, smiling beatifically, for the turkey was golden, the fruit salad was tossed, the broccoli was steaming, my wine glass was full.

They could hardly speak, their laughter was that hearty, and then I noticed Jack clutching the empty cider bottle like a wayward drunk.

Oh dear. A bit of a stirring stirred. I turned down the music.

“Mom, OMG, it’s so funny, OMG, Mom, the neighbors, our bikes….” You could not make out details. Both talked as if seized by a loquacious spirit (which, frankly, isn’t that out of the norm, blessed is me).

“Boys, slow down.”

“Ok, we were riding around on our bikes, calling out ‘Bottle check!’ Boy is this champagne delicious. Oh, hey, watch out for the wombats. Do YOU need help catching the wombats in your house?”

Readers, they were swigging directly from the apple cider bottle, fully aware of walking neighbors’ suspicious glances their way, and carrying on about wombats and help needed in their capture.

I could only laugh. Roar with laughter, really. I am not sure I formulated words for many minutes. I was both marginally mortified and astonishingly proud. Then I had to send an email to our neighborhood listserv to assert that no, my children are not youthful alcoholics but, rather, cabin-fevered youth enjoying some much-deserved silliness and release.

I’ve received two responses: one from my next-door neighbor who snort-laughed a note: “Hah! Wombats!” and the other from a neighbor I don’t know but can tell I’d like: “Emily, this my favorite post of the corona era.  You are doing good, mom.  You will get through this with good memories.”

What a time to be alive, friends!