Spoke with my mom at Easter, and although most of the conversation fit the same old pattern, when we got to the post widowmania segment Mom asked me about my life and I threw out my carefully crafted non-answer. In this case, “LOL, well, we were supposed to be in Rome today.”

I’d snagged extremely cheap tickets during my post-Dad-death Google flights obsession, and had spent quite a bit of time prepping my offspring (and myself because I am remarkably untraveled) for the previously unknown joys of being International Kids/Adults of Mystery.

Anyway, missing Rome was a nice bookend, disaster-wise to my other international travel attempt, where my mother had to drop out last minute and Mexico’s National Guard was called in to deal with gang warfare resulting in severed heads being left on the main tourist drag, and the handful of tourists who kept catching bullets in street shootout mayhem. “With the luck I’ve had, I should probably be banned from choosing any further adventure spots,” I told her.

And then my mom did this thing she used to always do, which was say, “Hold on now,” and list all the ways that we’d been lucky instead of unlucky.

(True: we got extremely cheap tickets to Mexico, which meant taking an outgoing flight at 3:25 am (Whhhhhyyyyy? Why would anyone ever?) that was spontaneously changed by the airline to a delightfully convenient 11am the day of our planned departure. The National Guard had arrived by the time we did, and things felt (sternly, militarily armed style) peaceful and safe, we had a good trip, etc. As for current plans, because of Covid, the airline had allowed us to move our Italy tickets to June for not cost, and although we probably won’t make those flights either, they were also very purchased for very little and upgraded to much better by accident.)

As I was listening to her upbeat voice, basking in the warmth of her attention, it really hit home: How easy it is to discount the power of kindness and emotional support, especially when I am the one with extra energy and it means little to put a positive spin in someone’s day. Easy to forget how overwhelmingly valuable and validating it can feel to receive it. Serious. It’s been a few days now, and I’m still kinda warm and fuzzy inside when I think about it.

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This week, I’ve had a series of mishaps. Two of my kids’ friends had birthdays, and both friends wanted to do variations of us driving by their house to honk and wave, or them driving by our house while we hold up signs for the birthday kid.

I messed up the first one. The family initially sent out birthday invitations at the cusp of the Shelter In Place order, and I ignored the text, not wanting to jump in with a HELL NO, COVID, and figuring they would realize on their own everybody would be declining the invite. Over a series of weeks and texts, the invitation changed to Please Send Our Kid a Letter, and then a small graphic which I believed to be a reminder it was the kid’s birthday coming up. Had I enlarged it, I would’ve seen it was further request to drive by their house in some sort of conga line caravan parade of birthday wishes.

Anyway, I was mid-way through dinner prep when I got an ARE YOU COMING?!? 🙂 text that had actually come in twenty minutes prior, and upon realizing my mistake, spent several texts apologizing, and when I asked how long it was going, because I could get there right after dinner, got no reply. Which? I GUESS I DESERVED THAT. But also sheesh.

When explaining the situation to my kid, she revealed she’d known before it was a drive-by, but was extremely uncomfortable with the idea maybe the birthday kid would want her to get out of the car, and hug, and all that, so she’d opted to pass and not mention it to me.

I’m not sure how I feel about the last part. On one hand HELL YES, the birthday kid is huggy, and perhaps the intention of the drive-by was in fact for hugs and I 100% agree with my kid on wanting to dip right out of that situation. But also? I am a bit of a cold fish with few friends because I don’t really like touchy feely social constructs, so maybe I am leading my kid down the path of social isolation and gaining a reputation for being an aloof, unhuggy jerk.

Chastened and unsure, I was out on our lawn the next evening with my other kid and some hand made signs whooping it up to redeem my reputation when Other Birthday Kid and their mother rolled by, parked on our street, opened all the windows, and we yelled from a 12 foot distance what would otherwise be a very casual conversation. HOW ARE YOU? HAPPY BIRTHDAY. WHAT DID YOU DO FOR EASTER? NOTHING? US TOO.

I managed to fuck this one all up as well, despite my efforts otherwise. The mom asked HOW I WAS DOING IN ISOLATION?

I yelled back MOSTLY FINE, BUT RECENTLY I’M GETTING SOME SERIOUS CABIN FEVER.

And by her expression, realized I was supposed to keep it breezy and positive, because I then got herded, Volume 10 into agreeing my situation was certainly better than FAMILY MEMBERS WHO WERE IN THE MEDICAL FIELD THESE DAYS and EVERYONE ON THE EAST COAST and AT LEAST (my) JOB WASN’T IMPACTED and because (I) WAS FAMILIAR WITH WORKING FROM HOME SO IT CAN’T BE MUCH OF A TRANSITION LIKE IT IS FOR OTHER PEOPLE, RIGHT?

Which, yes, there is absolutely the point that I’m really lucky, and there is always a way in which things could be worse, and all I have to do is sit at home, not brave the front lines in the hospital, risking my life. PS: THANK YOU, OMIGOD, THANK YOU, first responders. THANK YOU, essential workers. THANK YOU for being there so, preventing society from falling into chaos. THANK YOU.

There is also the argument of Brave Face For Kids and I don’t know this person’s private life, but it sure sounded like she was worried about people dear to her, and probably trying to give me a pep talk by way of making me realize how good I had it. Which was interesting in the sense that she was basically doing exactly what my mother had done earlier in the week, but one felt so positive and the other felt like getting swatted with a rolled up newspaper. Which, arguably, I deserved for complaining when there is enough bad stuff out there already.

I eventually got off my grass, knowing I’d biffed it despite my conscious efforts otherwise, fully just like, WHY DO I EVEN TRY TO PEOPLE?

The last thing that happened yesterday was I got 4 rejections via email (my personal most rejections ever in one day! Whoooo!), and for the first time since sequestering began a month+ ago, was able to cry.

Progress! Prior, it felt as though I was still at a level of hyper vigilance that couldn’t soften up enough to feel anything.

But OMG, I sure did cry a SHITLOAD yesterday.

Even in my internal monologue, I am somewhat unsociable, and, upon hitting whatever minute mark typically defines an ‘Anne-length cry’ was all, “H’ooookay, time to wrap it up.”

But I did not wrap it up, and continued to cry into what could safely be double usual cry time, until on the outside I was still sobbing, but on the inside, I was getting bored and vaguely worried some internal pipe had broken and cry-face-snot-nose was going to be my default look as I could not sense an end to the tears. Like, dehydration was an issue.

Anyway, despite being a social misfit, this blog has taught me that if it’s happening to me, it’s probably happening to some of you. So, in case you need it: I love you. You’re doing good. This is hard, even if on the surface it seems like nothing in comparison to X. Your kindness, when you can manage it, is super valuable to others and makes a difference. I whoop on my lawn at your birthday with 100% enthusiasm, on the off chance you happen to drive by, because you are awesome.

PS: My kids have started doing this with my canned items, when I’m not paying attention:

They think it’s funny now, but wait until I make them dinner.

PPS, speaking of dinner: I liberated one of those octopus limb sized stalks from the giant spring onion, sprinkled the slices over tacos, and it was delicious!

PPPS, speaking of food: I am at this very moment attempting to bake bread. I had to Frankenstein the recipe for various reasons, and the oven is on very high, and I’m anxiously waiting to see if I burn the house down  to satisfy my cabin fever style boredom funneled into bread making which my inner Paul Hollywood will call, “Extreeeeeeemly close. Look at that. You’ve underproofed it. I can”t eat that. And see there, it’s caught a bit, hasn’t it?”