Tag Archives: Minecraft

Pandemic Diaries: April 2020

A daily journal of the COVID-19 / coronavirus pandemic

April 1, 2020 (Wednesday) – DAY 17

Fresh snow! I love snow, but boy I sure miss reading in the sunshine on my porch.

I’m starting to see dust again, so I tidy up the house, clean our bathroom, do laundry and wash the dishes.

My wind-instrument band hasn’t been able to rehearse for many weeks, but we get a fresh set list and new music via email today. It will be fun to learn more songs on my clarinet.

Isaac is thoroughly addicted to Minecraft (in case you haven’t already noticed from these journal entries) and so I decree that we are going to alternate his iPad and Netflix time with non-screen activities. Today, that includes him playing, reading a book with me, folding washcloths and sorting socks, and dictating an email to his grade one teacher, Ms. Casey.

For “music appreciation,” I play Isaac his Dad’s favourite song: “Mr Jones.” I have very few regrets, but one is that I didn’t record Brock singing and playing this on his guitar.

I post on Facebook and send out an email, asking people to register their support for our grant application to raise awareness of the chamber’s online community events calendar. What a lovely idea, to think of attending community events again, and not just Zoom meetings.

Speaking of which: I partake in an online presentation on how to make the most of your LinkedIn profile, one of many talks I’ve signed up for via our local Iso-Learning Summit

Ryan tells me that local trades are seeing an increase in business: one painter said business is up 40%. Maybe because everyone else is stuck at home, and they see the reno projects that can be done.

I get another email about concert tickets being refunded. The concert has been rescheduled for March 2021, and I wish I had a calendar for next year so I can start writing down these events. There’s a pandemic business opportunity!

My body is craving exercise. I need a schedule, to get out of this lethargic, jigsaw-puzzling rut.

Evy has created a schedule for her family, mainly to get her teenage son outdoors and away from his video games a few times a day. Isaac is getting rude again and we need some structure here too.

I’m hearing more reports that this isolation / social-distancing will continue. Through April, likely into the summer, and then they expect a second wave of the plague in the fall.

This motivates me to consider the bigger picture: schedules, yes, and more exercise, and some structure so I can start writing my second book next week. This is not just one long weekend.

If this is going to be our new normal for the long-term, we will need to do something to help Dauna, who lives alone. I don’t really understand extroverts, but I know my extrovert friend is struggling. So I call her and invite her to join our “germ circle.” She can visit us INSIDE the house, come for meals, sit and work, sleepover in the germ-free guest room, whatever she needs. Sometimes mental health is more important than physical health.

I mess up my clean kitchen by cooking a deer roast (with thanks to Evy and Peter for the meat), carrots, mushrooms, gravy and Yorkshire puddings. I eat waaay more than I should. 

At noise time, we are joined by three other households, banging their pots from their decks and doors, and this makes me so happy.

Dauna comes over to eat Yorkshires and play a game, then she leaves and it’s books and bedtime.

I read a very long Minecraft book about creating circuits with redstone before my son falls asleep.

The federal government has launched their Canada Emergency Response Benefit. I am disappointed to read that the criteria have changed since the original announcement, and it is now only for those who have lost 100% of their income due to COVID-19. I’m down at least one job and many hours, and my son is no longer in school, but there is nothing (yet) that will help us financially.

How decadent this is, how Canadian, for me to have expected help. I make myself stop whining and instead be grateful for everything we have.

April 2, 2020 (Thursday) — DAY 18

Snow, again. Okay, this is REALLY feeling like the same day on repeat.

I watch a super useful presentation on Google tools as part of the (free!) iso-learning summit, and then spend 15 minutes sharing cool tips I learned with my professional friends via email and Facebook messenger. If I wasn’t so determined to prioritize my writing dreams this year, I’d start a career in digital marketing: I’ve always had a thing for SEO.

Isaac and I find a Minecraft-themed workout routine on YouTube and I get him to jump, run and swing his arms for awhile. First parent win of the day!

Last night, Evy sent me a link to an online fitness class that’s running every Thursday morning through The Lady Alliance, so I get sweaty doing that for an hour.

Then Mom and Dad invite us to join them on a walk around the neighbourhood. Isaac brings his shovel and unearths all the chalk drawings we did a few days ago. 

Back home, we get Dad’s advice on where to set up our 12′ trampoline, and then we set up an outdoor barber shop. I cut Dad’s hair with the clippers, and then Isaac attempts to cut his own. I finish the job: it’s actually not terrible. Just bad. The first of many pandemic haircuts, I expect.

Pandemic haircut #1.

Back inside, Isaac and I work on the castle we’re building in Minecraft. He wants to buy more Minecraft skins, so we call Dad and ask if there’s any work to be had at their house. Isaac spends an hour painting bird houses (and playing soccer) with Dad, and I buy him more Minecraft coins.

It appears the school district will continue to pay me, at least for now, even though my job as a noon-hour supervisor is entirely irrelevant these days. Yay income!

At 3:30pm I visit with my Victoria, B.C. friends Laura and Jessie via Zoom. Laura’s supposed to be starting a new job on May 1, but has no idea if or how that will happen. Laura’s husband, Jessie and Jessie’s husband are all working from home. With kids. So that’s challenging.

My sister invites Isaac to join her, my nephew and their dog on a walk. He meets them on the sidewalk and I’m left alone again.

I’m happy with how much my kid has been outdoors today, and he’s spent time with people other than me. Best pandemic day yet?

One other household comes out to join us for “noise time” at 7pm. We watch Shrek (“film study & social history class”) and Isaac rates it two thumbs, two hands and two feet up.

We read books (of course) and he falls asleep. 

Heather foretells the future

I trust the experts and understand why we’re supposed to be in lockdown. BUT the only ways I see out of this pandemic are: 1. we get vaccinated, or 2. our community develops herd immunity, which means that more of us will have to be infected first. And the sooner either/both happens, the better off we’ll all be financially and mental-health-ily.

I suspect our human nature will result in option 2: despite our good intentions, we will start craving contact again and gradually broaden our “germ circles.” Yes, this will lead to more infections, but it might save some of us from other dangers, like depression and alcoholism.

We will invite our isolated extroverts in. Separated families will reunite. Single people will fall in love. Our kids will want to hug their grandparents, or hold hands with their aunts. Extended families or neighbours will choose to form their own closed systems, so that their kids can play together.

Maybe those circles will continue to widen, encompassing streets or neighbourhoods. Gradual exposure. Within some of these circles, infections will erupt. And, eventually, we’ll have herd immunity and a return to almost-normal.

Or, we’ll all be locked down separately in our homes forever …

On a happier note, my 40th birthday Lego set arrived today!

Isaac studies the back of the box. My new modular building set is the one on the right. Mmmm.

April 3, 2020 (Friday) — DAY 19

My sister starts our morning (at 9:30am) with a group Facetime call: me, Evy and Mom. I’m on my second cup of orange pekoe, on the couch beside Isaac, who is playing Minecraft. Mom and Evy are both still in bed.

Peter returned to work this week. He drives the sweeper truck today, cleaning the roads, and dumps two more piles of gravel in our parking area.

Isaac loved Shrek so much last night that we watch Shrek 2 before noon. In other words: we have “film appreciation” class. We both love spotting references to other fairy tales in these movies. I consider this part of his literary education.

We play Lego: I work on my Assembly Square set, while he builds Queen Watevra Wa-Nabi shapes (from The Lego Movie 2). We bring his shapes down to our “master-building” rug, aka The Plains of Chaos, and create a story using all the Queen shapes.

He tells me we aren’t doing much schooling. I disagree. Our version of school is just different.

My butt cheek muscles hurt from the exercises yesterday morning.

I have a video date with my friend John Close: he and his pal Andrew started their Obstacle Course podcast 13 months ago. (My episode on grieving Brock holds the record for most downloads.) John and Andrew want to give their listeners a chance to engage more, so we brainstorm ideas.

I hear firetruck sirens and end our call. It’s our young neighbour’s birthday, and the Invermere Volunteer Fire Department is scheduled to make a (free!) appearance. They’ve been offering this to local kids, to make birthdays special during lockdown. Isaac and I race up the street, watch the trucks from 100 feet away, and sing “Happy Birthday” with the family and fire fighters. Everyone’s standing so far apart it seems weird. 

Back home, I rake down the gravel piles. Isaac gets a garden tool and creates Halo storylines: he played that game with Dad pre-pandemic. 

Isaac sets up a sprinkler and we cuddle under a blanket in our porch chair with hot drinks, watching our new water feature.

When it gets cold, we drive and deliver a present to Isaac’s friend Ella. She’s at home with two twin infant brothers, and I bet she (and her parents) are going squirrelly. I’m very careful about germs, packing the book, sidewalk chalk and small Lego set. Isaac uses hand sanitizer before he delivers the present. 

Karma is a funny thing: when we get home, our friend Juli arrives and delivers wrapped presents to me and Isaac from the toy store. Isaac’s is from “a secret admirer.” It’s exciting.

His pandemic haircut is growing on me.

There’s a board game and some creepy black sticky things that crawl like bugs on the wall. I don’t open my present or the card, assuming they’re for my upcoming birthday.

Every business and public service body has been sending out reassuring COVID-19 emails these days. Today I get one from Alistair MacGregor, the Member of Parliament from my old riding of Cowichan-Malahat. It’s the usual info about federal programs, and then an offer to help out constituents with their applications. 

And THEN there’s a bit about how he understands the CERB won’t help lots of us (e.g. students, “those with multiple part-time jobs”) and that he’s lobbying for financial support for these people. I’m cheered by this news, and then realize I’m supporting what the NDP party calls “Universal Basic Income,” which is something I disagree with, and feel conflicted. 

Brock would love watching me work through these internal struggles. Not for the first time, I wonder if my deceased husband has sent us this virus, to teach us lessons in economics or as part of some philosophical experiment.

We have dinner, do “noise time” (with one household joining us), then watch Shrek 3. Isaac has some time for Minecraft, and then we read books and he falls asleep.

April 4, 2020 (Saturday) — DAY 20

Yet again, I wake up to find Isaac in my bed. This has to stop. Bad habits! At least we’ve broken the “sleeping in” habit: it’s 7:40am, which is much better than the now-usual 8:30am.

I publish my blog post on how the pandemic has made it tricky to choose a “when” for modern fiction stories, and then publish it on Medium too.

It’s frosty and overcast but looks like it might clear up: Evy and Peter have offered to pick up our trampoline and set it up for us in Mom and Dad’s backyard, so I use the morning to get some work done, adding more virtual events to our community’s events calendar.

While they work on the trampoline, I leave Isaac with my sister and drive the 15 minutes out to Radium to pick up a used XBox 360 I bought off our local buy & swap Facebook group last night. This is a long-term lockdown investment. If I can keep it a secret long enough, it’s what Isaac currently wants for Christmas 2020. I wanted the older, 360 version because two players can play together on it.

When I return, the trampoline is all ready (thanks, Evy and Peter!). Isaac and I bounce and wrestle and play for a long time, until it gets cold and I’m hungry.

We go back indoors for lunch-dinner, Netflix and Lego.

Sitting on the floor together, watching Shrek mini-movies.

I’ve subscribed to Acorn to sate my addiction to mystery shows, and watch the first episode of Midsomer Murders, season 23 while working on my current Lego set: Ninjago City. Isaac acts out his own dramatic story line with various toys.

I find a Q&A interview with an ER doctor in Chilliwack. It is positive, realistic, and informative. Dr. Marc Greidanus expects this extreme lockdown to last for another month or two, followed by gradually reduced restrictions, with a vaccine or treatment in 18 months-ish. He recommends wearing masks when out in public, and washing our hands constantly rather than wearing gloves.

We decorate Easter eggs with crayons and food colouring. This is our tradition: I buy a dozen of those fake, dye-able eggs from Walmart, and we decorate them over and over again until Easter. I save them every year: this is dozen number six.

My neighbour Camille comes out for noise time. Mom reports that she did too. We couldn’t hear her banging because we’re so loud.

Isaac makes a bowl of popcorn while I prep two chocolate ice cream cones: this is our new normal. We watch Netflix, then read our books. Tonight is: Flat Stanley, Dora, nursery rhymes to enhance our Shrek experience, and Sesame Street stories.

I am sleepy. A shower and bedtime for me.

April 5, 2020 (Sunday) — DAY 21

I’m awake before Isaac, which is a rare and magical thing. Our morning is, as always these days, spent drinking tea, playing Minecraft and having adventures with our Lego.

Isaac asks if we can play on the trampoline again, and I remind him we bought it, it’s ours, and we can play on it every day. 

We watch a YouTube video on how to do front flips, and then spend time on the trampoline bouncing, somersaulting, and doing tuck jumps to help us work up the courage to flip: not yet. I practice cartwheels, which I have yet to learn even though I turn 40 next week.

I’m grumpy today, and can’t seem to shake the mood. This makes Isaac moody too. We need a change of scenery, fresh air and more activity, so we head down to the beach at 1:30pm. The ice is melting on the lake. Isaac smashes the ice with his hammer while I use his little-kid rake to scoop up big pieces and step on them. It’s fantastic therapy for two people who have been together every day for three weeks.

Isolation therapy at Kinsmen Beach.

Eventually, Isaac is soaking wet so we go home. He cuddles up in warm pajamas on my bed and watches Netflix while I work on my Ninjago Lego set. 

Evy and Peter bring us groceries, and I make us an amazing lunch-dinner.

Our local fire department and RCMP detachment are doing a procession past the hospital and ambulance station at 7pm to thank our local health care folks, so we drive down, park, and cheer them as they drive past.

Isaac and I have the inevitable fight as we get home: we’ve been working toward this explosion all day. I get him into his bed and try to talk him through it, apologizing for being grumpy. We read Elephant & Piggie books together, and I’m amazed at how well he reads.

At 8:30pm, when he usually falls asleep, he opens his eyes and says he’s too scared: he thinks he’ll have nightmares. I read another story, and try to distract him, but it’s no use.

I update this journal, and then check on him: he’s still awake. So I let him move to my bed. I know he’ll fall asleep here. This is a bad habit to start, but at least I’ll have some time to build Lego tonight and try to cheer myself up.

April 6, 2020 (Monday) — DAY 22

It’s 5:30am and I wake up (in my own bed, with Isaac asleep beside me) because I’ve had a scary dream.

My grumpiness makes me inclined to lie there awake, alone: to put up walls and lock out the world. But then (this is so random) I think of Frozen 2:

PABBIE: “When one can see no future, all one can do is the next right thing.”

So I pick up my phone and reach out to my boyfriend, texting him about my nightmare: I tried to open a door in my house, but it was stuck, and when I shoved it I realized a man was hiding behind the door. 

RYAN: “I’m getting dressed and coming over right now.”

And he does come over, which is so nice: we cuddle on the couch and watch the sunrise until he has to leave at 7am. 

And then I go back to sleep. Isaac checks on me (aka harasses me) every 30 minutes until I am finally ready to get up at 9:30am.

It has snowed again. The skies are clear blue, and it promises to be a beautiful, warm-ish day. My grumpiness has dissipated.

I’m drinking tea beside Isaac on the couch when his school’s speech therapist, Karin, emails. He’s the first kid to request online speech therapy during lockdown so we’ll be her guinea pigs. We test Facetime, then she sends us a video to help us practice Isaac’s “L” sounds: our homework is to say “I like ___” sentences, carefully pronouncing the “L.”

While making our breakfast, I stumble into a Facebook conversation on my friend Morgan’s feed about the Canada Emergency Response Benefit (CERB). I’m not the only one whose income has been affected by the plague and yet doesn’t qualify for the CERB. The musicians are roused.

Mid-conversation, I Google “CERB don’t qualify” and see that the Canadian government has announced they’re working on financial support for people like me. Woot woot! 

Dauna invites us to join her on a walk along the paved Westside Trail. We bring Isaac’s scooter and shovel (some parts still have snow). It is sunny, warm and gorgeous out in the forest.

Back home, we do some “school,” doing literacy with Teach Your Monster and then numbers with a Sesame Street app on our iPad.

We head outside to plant the pinecones and burrs we collected on our walk in potting soil. Isaac creates a storyline with the hose: from what I overhear, it sounds like he’s waterboarding a rock.

On the trampoline, we practice our front flips, corkscrews and cartwheels, and then Isaac goes inside to play Minecraft while I work on my mystery subplots on the sunny porch.

It’s nice to have experts on-call while plotting my book.

I do a Zumba Strong workout via Zoom for an hour, while Isaac roasts hot dogs with Dad and my nephew at Dad’s fire pit.

We do noise time (joined by Camille and mom), and then watch Peter Rabbit for the second time. I’m so disappointed they’ve postponed the sequel’s release until January 2021.

We read books in bed and Isaac falls asleep quickly. This has been one of our best days in captivity yet.

April 7, 2020 (Tuesday) — DAY 23

We agree to tackle our “schooling at home” in the mornings. I chug orange pekoe tea beside Isaac on the couch and we practice phonetics via Teach Your Monster on the iPad, followed by addition games with our Osmo. It’s fun, and Isaac continues “school” even when I go make us breakfast.

I check in with Pete at the chamber of commerce, then spend multiple hours updating our events calendar, making it more COVID-19-era functional, and then posting on Facebook, inviting the community to share their events with us. Instead of becoming obsolete in this weird era of social distancing, our events calendar might be exactly what our connection-loving small town needs.

Mom and Isaac walk down to the mailbox, and Isaac returns with an Easter card from my in-laws and a birthday card for me.

It’s ferociously windy. I’m tempted to fly our new kite that Evy brought Isaac, but the wind would probably destroy the kite. We bounce on the trampoline instead: my front flips are improving, and I finish a sorta-cartwheel on my feet. 

I want to make an egg carton Easter flower wreath craft I saw on Facebook, and so bring the paint supplies up to Mom and Dad’s patio: they sit in the sunshine and watch us paint until it gets cold.

Back indoors, we play Lego for a bit, then I make chocolate chip cookies from my friend Maeve’s recipe

Dauna comes over after she’s done working (from home) and we finish painting our flowers.

Dauna participates in her first ever “noise time” at 7pm: we’re joined by Camille and Mom, outside their own homes.

After dinner, Isaac has a much-needed bath (with his colour-changing Hot Wheels cars and a bucket of ice water). Dauna and I hot-glue the flowers onto the cardboard wreath. 

Dauna leaves and we watch some Netflix.

We read Franklin, Berenstain Bears and our usual Shel Silverstein poems.

Once Isaac’s asleep, I tune in (30 minutes late) to my friend Adrian Chalifour’s Facebook livestream: he has an incredible voice and plays guitar songs for us, to celebrate his birthday.

Not everyone is doing this well

I read two interesting perspectives online today:

1. A Medium article about two parents working from home, struggling to care for (never mind “home school”) their son, who is struggling emotionally.

2. Two tweets from essential services workers: “Essential retail workers aren’t heroes, they’re hostages. They want to go home. … But they can’t.” And: “I do this because I have a child at home and I can’t get unemployment if I quit.”

I am reminded of just how lucky Isaac and I are, to be safe at home together, able to play and learn and have adventures together. I have no idea how to support all these other people, who are struggling.

April 8, 2020 (Wednesday) — DAY 24

Happy Garbage Pick-up Day! 

I stayed up too late on the social medias and then Isaac decided we were getting up at 7:30am, so I’m sleepy. I drink tea and work on my Ninjago City Lego set. Isaac wants to build a set too, so we choose some options from our collection and he constructs a helicopter for one of his action heroes, Skunky (a Lego skunk).

That’s me, in my PJs, at the crab restaurant.

Mom, Evy and I tend to check in every morning via Messenger: I ask for help teaching Isaac to ride his bike. He’s reluctant and I suspect this is one of those life skills he can’t learn with his safety net (aka me) standing there

At 11am, our three households converge at the high school’s running track. Mom and Dad are on their bikes. Evy and my nephew bring their dog. I have Isaac’s bike and a soccer ball.

We get him on his bike for 25 feet, with me holding the seat, before he opts out.

So we play soccer, while Mom cycles laps around the track and Evy throws tennis balls for her dog.

We are self-conscious about being so visibly together on this open field, and joke about being shamed online by witnesses. But we’re careful to stay apart from each other, and we’re all doing our best to stay germ-free daily, staying home most of the time.

Masks have become a hot topic on Facebook and in interviews with health experts and politicians. Mom is sewing some for us. But we don’t wear them on the field, and none of the three people we see during our time outside are wearing masks yet either.

Back home, we do our “school work,” playing spelling, phonics and addition games on the iPad.

I wash my hands, bag up a toy crib (plus baby doll and accessories) and leave it outside for another mom to pick up: she posted on Facebook, asking for one. Once again, karma is immediate, because while I’m lounging on our sunny porch working on my mystery plot, a courier van delivers a large parcel for me:

It’s a 40th birthday gift basket from my best friend of 21 years, Quinn, and his sweetie. It is giant and decadent, and I spot bath treats and tea right away.

My magnificent birthday gift basket, sent via Pacific Basket Company.

This gives me an excuse to call Q, whom I miss. Q and Taylor live in Vancouver. They have both been busy working their respective jobs via video calls from morning until dinner time. Q says he even dresses properly, despite being at home. 

I remember that we’re supposed to pick up Isaac’s stuff from his school today: they’ve left a bag outside for him. He suggests we ride our bike-for-two down. Picking up this bag, containing his indoor shoes and all his artwork, feels definitive. When will our kids be back in a classroom? I cross my fingers for September.

We play more Lego, eat dinner, extend our 7pm “noise time” with a mini dance party on the deck, and then watch a Netflix show before books and bedtime. Isaac is asleep by 9pm.

A Facebook friend posts a controversial interview with Knut Wittkowski, who says this lockdown approach to the pandemic is all wrong. We’ll see what happens in Sweden long-term, I suppose.

Locally, our little town is bracing itself for an influx of Albertans this weekend, crossing the border to camp out in their second homes for Easter and beyond. 

We usually depend on these part-time residents economically, but our little outpost hospital has eight hospital beds and one ventilator: the mayor and local doctors have asked these families to stay in Alberta. The regional district has asked the Province to close the border to non-essential traffic, but we doubt that will happen in time.

April 9, 2020 (Thursday) — DAY 25

Happy Recycling Pick-Up Day!

I wake up with a stressful dream fresh in my mind: my renters had invited two more families to live with them in the one bedroom suite, and — shocking! — they weren’t practicing social distancing. 

So now I’m having stress dreams about the plague.

Once I shake off the dream, Isaac and I have a pleasant morning of breakfast decadence, tea, and Minecraft on the couch.

My financial advisor calls to check in on a matured GIC. I end up crying, not for the first time: it’s a complicated thing to explain, but money management is a grief trigger for me. Also, Brock and I were married 8 years ago today, so I’m extra sensitive. 

Brendan handles my weird weeping like a gentleman. It occurs to me that this “money + grief” should be a Medium story: I brainstorm some thoughts and share them with my Patreon community

I’m due for a shower. I go for a run first, and do a short work-out in my bedroom while watching more Community. This show makes me laugh so hard that it’s hard to do sit-ups properly.

Evy delivers groceries, plus a very thin copy of our local newspaper (they’re still struggling financially due to no one advertising). I discover a lovely “happy birthday” ad on the back page:

Aww!

Back to the plague: a Facebook friend says she’s “going to be Sweden” and I sense the rumblings of a revolt against this mandated lockdown. When I text this prediction to Evy and Mom, Evy reports that her husband has heard the same sentiments.

Another friend reports that a Tinder guy she chats with, who lives in Calgary, had his vehicle broken into and the only thing stolen was his industrial face mask.

My nephew invites me to play Magic the Gathering with him in their yard. It is sunny and warm enough for just a hoody. Isaac puts on his ninja costume and we head over: he plays jumbo Jenga with Evy while I battle my nephew.

We sit across a picnic table from each other: closer than the recommended 6 feet. This rebellious talk of Sweden’s approach and striving for herd immunity vs. waiting for a vaccine while our economy implodes is chipping away at my self-discipline.

Back home, I figure out how to set up our antique ipod so that Isaac can control his own music. He loves his “music phone” and is the happiest six-year-old ever.

We have dinner, watch some Lego Star Wars, read the usual stack of books, and Isaac falls asleep.

I really want to spend my birthday on Sunday with my boyfriend. He has two pre-teens and they aren’t as quarantined as we are, but I’m tempted to relax our lockdown restrictions. 

My friend Rob posted, back in the early days of all this, that he’s seen a lot of people “stop living” out of a fear of dying, and I don’t want to be one of those people.

But just as I’m thinking this, bracing myself to risk infection for a hedonistic smooch, I scroll through Medium and see a story about a 39-year-old man who died from COVID-19 (that’s my age!!), and another with the headline: “Social Distancing is Dead Serious. Hold the Line.”

My birthday isn’t for three more days. Time enough to decide.

It takes forever for me to fall asleep.

April 10, 2020 (Friday) — DAY 26

We wake up just after 7am, Isaac in his own bed (yay!).

I’ve been drinking that nice Murchie’s Rocky Mountain black tea blend since it arrived in Q & Taylor’s gift basket. It’s lovely. I decide to let myself start on my birthday Lego set, the bookshop modular building, and revel in new Lego while drinking my tea.

My new 2,504-piece Lego set. Happy 40th birthday, me!

I try to find that Knut article to share with Mom, and recent Google results tell me the guy’s a truther hero. My Facebook friend has deleted the link from her page. I check Sweden’s situation, and it looks like things are going to shit there too.

By noon, it is sunny and actually getting hot outside. We set up Isaac’s Hot Wheels car wash and painting shop on the porch, and he plays while I work on the subplots of my mystery book. 

Then we jump on the trampoline for a bit. Isaac plays rough. I think he’s frustrated with me, that I’m not playing as much with him today. This kid expects a lot.

Back home, I change into a bathing suit and toast in the sunshine: it’s 16 degrees and I get sweaty. 

Later, I work on my car decorations for the Easter Car Conga parade that’s happening Sunday. I make giant flowers out of tissue wrapping paper.

Hand prints for another craft, to be revealed shortly …

Isaac’s piano lesson is at 5:15 pm. He has a fantastic ear and sense of rhythm. It’s a shame he doesn’t love his lessons more. This is one of the few things I make him do. 

Then, it’s the moment we’ve been waiting for: Trolls World Tour (the sequel) is available online! We had planned to watch this in the movie theatre together, for my birthday. At least they’ve released it, instead of postponing it. The sequel does not disappoint. We pause it for a short noise time at 7pm.

After the movie, I give Isaac another thirty minutes to play while I work on my Lego set and have a video visit with Ryan.

We read books, Isaac falls asleep, and I get his Easter stuff ready. 

Facebook tells me that Vancouver Island is experiencing the same influx of vacationers that we are, with folks heading over from the mainland via BC Ferries. Of course they are. Did the premiers really think “asking” people to stay home this long weekend was enough?

I predict righteous vandalism, with locals “teaching” vacationers a lesson. I predict an upswing in small community cases after this weekend. I hope they’ll close the borders and the ferries, and maybe even set up road stops to check people’s drivers’ licenses. Maybe this weekend free-for-all is a good thing: they’ll see the problem, and have time to crack down before the May long weekend and summer.

Once again I think of Brock, watching all of this with his favourite, deceased philosopher buddies beside him, eating popcorn. They’re loving these social experiments in individual rights vs. the good of the whole, the ethical dilemmas, the politics, et cetera.

I stay up until 1:30am playing Lego, because I’m almost 40 and can do whatever I want.

April 11, 2020 (Saturday) — DAY 27

Our morning is typical: Minecraft, tea, Lego.

I make a lemon meringue pie for my birthday. The government doesn’t want me to share it, so I guess I’ll have to eat it all myself. (Yay!)

Once it’s on the deck to cool and set, I make our breakfast. We watch Trolls 2 again: it’s a rental, and we only have it for 24 more hours.

It’s time to do our laundry. 

To make room in my closet for warmer-weather tops, I pack away my winter clothes and some other clothes that I don’t foresee wearing anytime soon, due to the apocalypse: my concert band uniform, extra workout shirts, some fancier tops. 

I’m tempted to put away my collection of nice dresses, but you never know. Maybe we’ll have a fancy clothes parade someday. I heard some people in isolation are doing “fancy Fridays,” where they get dressed up, even wearing bras and doing their hair. To stay in practice.

It’s really cold and breezy outside, but Isaac wants to practice his scootering so we go to the deck and I wrap up in a blanket.

I’ve thought of another Medium post, examining the many ways that this apocalypse is not what I anticipated back when I was learning all those homesteader skills. I map out some thoughts for a future Medium story and share them with my Patreon supporters.

One of my favourite pairs of shorts has a hole in the back. I track down my sewing supplies and find a scrap of quilting fabric to patch on. 

We’re doing Osmo math when Evy arrives and kidnaps my son. They have a secret playdate. Perhaps it has something to do with my 40th birthday tomorrow? I use the time to hide two of the three clues for Isaac’s Easter bunny treasure hunt tomorrow.

Ryan brings me sushi (my favourite food) for dinner. He and his sons have been around too many people for me to let him in the house, so we eat our fantastic dinner outside, with a pot of green tea. By 6pm it’s chilly in the shade, so we put on warmer coats and gloves and walk around the block. I manage to resist smooching him, but we hold hands.

My bestie, Q, texts and says he wants to Facetime at 6:15pm. When Ryan and I get back to my house, we go check out the 40 flamingos that have appeared on my lawn. This makes me so happy: I’ve always wanted lawn flamingos for my 40th!

Quinn calls, and then I hear a siren and honks, and suddenly there’s a parade of cars driving past my house, led by Evy and her husband in his truck, which is decorated with balloons, a huge banner and pretty yellow pompoms. Isaac and my nephew wave from the back of the truck. The second vehicle is a fire department pick-up truck, with a SIREN! 

This is so sweet. My mom and dad have inflated flamingo pool toys strapped to their car and truck. Aside from Dauna, every other driver is a friend I haven’t seen in over three weeks. Even the mayor (a family friend) and his family make an appearance.

Evy and Peter stop post-parade to decorate my porch and deck. Dallas has left me a birthday present and wonderful homemade card.

Isaac agrees to have a bath and wash his hair for my birthday. Then we set traps for the Easter bunny, as is our tradition. 

I invite him for a “sleepover” in my bed, as a special treat for me (I say), and he falls asleep happy.

Once I place the final clue for Isaac’s Easter treasure hunt on the trampoline, I settle in for some quality, “last day of my 30s” time with my Lego and Netflix.

What a great start to my 40th!

April 12, 2020 (Sunday) — DAY 28

Happy 40th birthday to me! Happy Easter!

Ugh I have to pee at 6am and this means risking waking Isaac. But I’m not going to start my forties by peeing in my bed so I get up. He stirs and at 6:30am we’re checking on our trap for the Easter bunny.

Yes, the bunny did indeed come during the night, and he evaded our traps: it’s a wonder we didn’t hear the maracas, tamborine or mini cymbals crash to the floor!

One perk of being a parent is that we get to create our own traditions. Isaac and my Easter tradition is that we decorate another dozen eggs, and then the Easter bunny comes and STEALS THEM on Easter Sunday. He’s a villain. 

But luckily the bunny has left a scrap of a map, which (we hope!) will lead us to our precious egg collection.

It takes a bit for Isaac to figure out the first clue, which gives me time to drink orange pekoe and start waking up.

By 6:40am we’re on the deck. It is -7 degrees and we’re shivering in our jammies. We find the next clue (along with some chocolate eggs, to fuel Isaac) and retreat back inside to puzzle over our next location. 

By 7am we’ve visited the trampoline and the tree fort, rescued our collection of eggs, and Isaac has a basket of treats to make up for the emotional trauma of the Easter bunny’s annual home invasion and theft.

With Easter conquered, Isaac brings me a piece of a photo collage and a clue: we will spend my birthday on a treasure hunt.

After solving the first clue, Isaac and I start fighting (my spoiled only child doesn’t like that it’s not HIS birthday), and runs away to Mom and Dad’s. 

I celebrate my birthday independence by returning home to work on my Lego set, drink a glass of sparkly wine and eat two pieces of lemon meringue pie for breakfast.

Evy comes over and we decorate my car. A local woman has organized an Easter car conga. Our three households head down to Kinsmen Beach for the 11am start. Isaac joins me in the car for the event, then returns to my parents’.

(Photo by Ryan Watmough.)

The second puzzle in my birthday treasure hunt is a sudoku. I am so happy. My sister knows me really well.

For the rest of the day I solve puzzles (a word search, a crossword, geocaching, scrambled words — which I hate, kaleidoscope puzzles, location riddles). Hunt stops include my boyfriend’s front porch (he has a hot cup of tea waiting for me) and Dauna’s patio. 

The final clue brings me to my parents’ cul de sac at 3:30pm, where everyone is waiting (spaced appropriately). At the designated McLeod area is a box of lemon cupcakes, a chocolate cake with my face on it, a basket of cards, a 7′ inflatable flamingo water lounger, and a bottle of sparkly wine. 

We eat cupcakes, drink sparkly and then everyone lets me go home so I can recharge my introvert batteries while Isaac plays with his cousin. Mom gives me a dish of manicotti for my birthday dinner.

I settle into a sunny spot on my porch and read through my birthday cards. I love all the pandemic jokes: this is a stack of cards to keep.

Isaac returns at 6pm. We do noise time at 7pm, then he watches Netflix while I have a bath with some of the decadent bath salts from Q and Taylor. I am so tired. My eyes won’t even stay open enough to read books. I fall asleep cuddled up with Isaac. 

April 13, 2020 (Monday) — DAY 29

We wake up at 7am, after sleeping for 11 hours. Wow!

It’s another cold, clear day outside. Isaac heads off to visit Dad. I work on my birthday puzzle from Ryan, then start collecting info for my accountant. Kyla has sent me a list of amounts to gather for my 2019 taxes, and it feels like day two of my treasure hunt.

By 1pm it’s warm enough to head outside, albeit a bit chilly. I grab the kite Evy gave Isaac and we go down to the high school field, inviting my sister and Mom by text.

The wind comes and goes, but we get the kite out to the very end of its string once for a long time.

Walking home, Isaac excavates rocks from the dirt trail. We see our neighbours: a teenager and her mom. I ask Emma about her apocalypse experience. Are the teens these days faring well, since they’re so used to texting anyways? She says that physical contact is still important to her circle, and she misses her friends.

It’s actually hot in the sunshine on the porch. I get out my ukulele and discover the 4th string has snapped. To my great relief, I have an extra set of strings. I fix my ukulele and retune it constantly as I play through my music book.

Before spring break, an older kid from Isaac’s school asked if they could play Minecraft together. Konnor’s mom and I get them set up and today Isaac gets to visit Konnor’s world for the first time. Isaac is so excited: he keeps waving at Konnor’s character, even though Konnor can’t see him. I teach him how to use the chat bar.

Evy delivers A&W for our dinner. This is the first time in at least 29 days we’ve had fast food and it’s an event.

Yesterday Evy and I mused about why the B.C. government still allows take-out and delivery from restaurants: what about spreading germs via packaging? What about the sushi I ate Saturday that was hand-rolled? Maybe I could have shared that pie I made. Haha too late — I’ve eaten most of it.

I’m sleepy again by 6pm. Is this what it’s like, being 40? I won’t be able to stay up past 8pm anymore?

Noise time at 7pm. I can see people on the bike track by the skate park. A girl rides by on her bike. We are so lucky to live where we do.

After Isaac’s asleep, I have a video visit with Quinn and Taylor (and their dog, Rigby). We were supposed to drink champagne and celebrate together on my birthday night, but I fell asleep.

I work on my jigsaw puzzle and watch Agatha Raisin on Acorn via my iPhone. At 11pm I get into bed and have a video visit with Ryan. We talk until we’re both falling asleep.

April 14, 2020 (Tuesday) — DAY 30

My dreams have been really vivid lately. Sounds like other people are experiencing this too, due to pandemic trauma.

I drink tea on the couch while Isaac invents a machine to eradicate the coronavirus. Specifically: he wants to erect a forcefield around Invermere that will emit energy beams, killing all the coronavirus germs. He builds a prototype in Minecraft. I film it in operation and send the video to Quinn, so he can share it with the scientists he works with.

I send it to Evy and Mom.

MOM: “Thank goodness. It’s about time someone was proactive.”

Isaac draws a picture of his invention, and I send it to Ms. Casey, who is trying to organize online meet-ups for her students on the Teams app.

Then Isaac races off to visit with Dad for a bit (i.e. play video games). I use the time to finish collecting numbers for my accountant, so we can file my 2019 taxes.

When Isaac returns, I tell him he can do whatever he wants while I have a shower, but he needs to tell me something he’s learned once I’m dressed. He chooses to watch season 6, episode 1 of Trolls

What Isaac learns: “Even if you aren’t friends with someone, you can still get along.”

We continue our “schooling at home” by playing Osmo number games, and then challenge each other with number puzzles using Lego.

It’s overcast and gloomy outside so I’m not eager to get us outdoors. Konnor invites Isaac to play Minecraft and they do that for awhile: Isaac loves this so much. 

We walk to the mailbox to check our mail, and Isaac gets a parcel from Indigo: it’s a book, The Bad Guys, from his secret admirer. (Don’t worry, it’s not a creepy person: it’s my sister, being amazing.)

He finds a stick on the walk back and we bring it up to Mom and Dad’s campfire area, along with a carving knife, hotdogs and a Corona for me. Dad lights a fire and we end up toasting hot dogs (Isaac), veggie dogs (Dad) and elk smokies (me & Mom) for dinner.

While we’re at the campfire, the courier delivers one of the two Osmo coding games I’ve ordered from Walmart.

Back home, we set up the game and it is so fun. Isaac experiments with the commands and asks if he can please play it first thing in the morning when he wakes up, breaking our usual rule of waiting until 7am for devices. 

I tell him yes: the coding game is school, and he can do school work ANYTIME.

We do noise time at 7pm, then watch some Lego Star Wars mini-episodes via Disney+.

We read The Bad Guys, three Elephant & Piggie books, two Ninjago stories, Sesame Street, and poems.

Weird thing I’ve noticed this week: I’m less wasteful than I was pre-pandemic. Specific examples include: I put the two ketchup packets from our A&W take-out into the fridge, instead of throwing them away. I kept the plastic veggie bag, to re-use it. 

Am I getting all wartime-thrifty? Possibly. Good habits, I suppose.

April 15, 2020 (Wednesday) — DAY 31

Happy Garbage Pick-Up Day!

Isaac plays his new coding game before I’m out of bed, and then we continue together once I have tea to drink.

He is eager to keep his character moving, and this leads to errors: I tell him that patience and checking your work are the two first lessons of coding.

Colouring therapy. (I printed out a comic I saw on Facebook.)

Quinn alerts me that the federal government is about to announce more financial supports that might benefit me: eventually the news comes, that they’ve expanded the criteria for the Canada Emergency Response Benefit and we can still qualify if we make up to $1,000/month. Yay! I hope this will help folks working for minimum wage, aka many of our essential services people. I can apply starting Friday, since I was born in April. (They’ve staggered the application days, so as not to overwhelm the system.)

Evy delivers a bin of groceries. It’s mostly bread and eggs and she judges me a bit for not asking for any fresh vegetables. I vow to eat more celery today.

For breakfast, I cook up the last six pieces of thick-cut bacon. Isaac says it is perfectly done. This is the nicest feedback he’s ever offered on my bacon, and I tell him my happy bucket is full (that’s primary school language). He offers to say something mean, so my bucket doesn’t spill over. Six-year-old logic.

It is a beautiful day, but then the wind picks up and continues for the rest of the day.

Mom shows up with a thawed turkey. I’d forgotten that I’ve offered to cook one for our family, but it’s not like I’m busy doing something else. It’s a 12lb bird, so I put it into the over at 3pm.

Isaac goes to play soccer and video games with Dad. I try to sit on the porch, but at that moment the sun goes behind a huge cloud so I work on my mystery plot indoors instead.

I’m feeling overwhelmed with plot decisions. I write a post to my Patreon supporters, then reach out to Juanita to book our second plot consultation.

Isaac returns. We create a Lego storyline about an evil doppelganger and a super-powerful ninja with amnesia. Isaac’s teacher calls to check in and I assure her Isaac is still learning.

He’s playing Minecraft when his piano teacher texts and I remember our weekly video lesson. Isaac grudgingly plays through the exercises. He doesn’t like it that I force him to learn piano. I hate the battle, but it’s good for us to have one thing I make him do. And piano is such a great skill to learn.

Peter arrives just before 6pm to carve the turkey. We parcel out shares for Mom and Grandma, Peter’s grandma Oma, my sister’s family, and us. Peter delivers the carcass to Mom so she can make soup for everyone.

Social-distance family turkey dinner: one turkey, shared over four households.

Someone somewhere in Canada has decided that Wednesday is “Takeout Night,” to support local restaurants. My first thought is that this is a terrible idea, to concentrate all those orders on a single day. Within hours I see a restaurant ask for people to NOT all order on the same day, since it overwhelms their skeleton staff. Told you so. How about a little consultation, people?

After Isaac and I eat our turkey dinner, we play Osmo some more.

We do noise time at 7pm, then watch a few episodes of Trolls before reading a stack of books. Our new bedtime routine is to start books at 8pm (an hour later than pre-pandemic times), and then Isaac falls asleep around 9pm.

This gives me an hour or so to myself each night. Even when I’m tired, I try to stay awake and let myself do something fun. Tonight, that means working on my jigsaw puzzle and watching the pilot episode of “The Brokenwood Mysteries” on Acorn.

For April 16 and beyond, read Part 2

(You can also follow the series on Medium.com. We started recording our days on Monday, March 16.)

(Please feel free to post a comment.)

(Thank you so very much to my Patreon patrons, who continue to support my writing through this complicated time.)

Pandemic Diaries: March 2020

A daily journal of the COVID-19 / coronavirus pandemic

March 16, 2020 (Monday)

It’s Day 1 of spring break. Isaac is sick. The cough he’s had for weeks is worse. He woke up crying, because I wasn’t cuddling him: for my six-year-old son, neediness is another sign of illness.

I decide to stay home instead of going to the gym class I’d signed up for.

He must be really sick because, after throwing up once, he sleeps for most of the day. This is extraordinary, for my active boy. Once, he wakes himself up by puking again.

The gym announces that it is closing. With all those shared touch points, e.g. weights, it’s probably a smart move.

My sister and her husband flew back to Canada from Cuba last night. They’re coming home from the city today. They had to read a declaration at the airport, acknowledging that they’re being asked to self-isolate for 14 days. Evy was worried about missing work, but her boss says she has to stay home. They have plenty of rum and cigars so Peter’s okay with the news.

Mom brought me a stack of mystery novels from the library.

I’m worried Isaac has the coronavirus, but Evy & the internet assure me the disease is respiratory, and his breathing is fine. I’m wondering if I should call the helpline so someone can come test him.

Isaac has a fever. His scrawny body radiates heat. I have children’s Advil in the cupboard and can drug his fever every six hours. I wish I’d bought that children’s Tylenol at the pharmacy last week: I could be layering his doses every three hours. I ask mom to buy us children’s Tylenol, if there’s any left in the stores after the panic-buying this weekend.

My boyfriend, Ryan, goes grocery shopping after his renovation job and texts me a photo of the empty pasta & sauce shelves at No Frills:

I let Isaac sleep in my bed. We watch a movie and he’s able to eat popcorn.

March 17, 2020 (Tuesday) – DAY 2

Isaac throws up the popcorn at 2 am. He wakes up feverish and asking for a cold bath at 5 am.

I discover the government’s online COVID-19 self-assessment tool and am reassured that Isaac probably just has a normal sickness. I’m doing the right thing, just keeping him at home.

Ryan delivers milk, and gatorade for Isaac, to replenish his electrolytes.

On Tuesdays, as a volunteer gig, I usually deliver 190 copies of The Valley Peak around town. It’s like the Coffee News in other communities but entirely local and with way more pages. I tell the editor I can’t deliver today: I don’t want to spread Isaac’s fever-sickness to the care home, hospital, clinic and businesses to which I usually deliver, and I can’t leave him at home alone sick anyways. The editor, Rob, was in the hospital last week with pneumonia and I squirm at the idea of him delivering on my behalf. He’s vulnerable to the coronavirus. But I can’t think of any other option.

Evy and Peter are stuck at home: my 14-year-old nephew has returned home to be with them in quarantine. (He stayed with Mom and Dad while Evy & Peter were in Cuba.)

Mom and Dad do an errand run, dropping off another bottle of gatorade. Dad takes Mom’s new electric bike for a test run around the neighbourhood.

Just after noon, the British Columbia government announces that school will be “suspended” for an unknown length of time. I am soooo relieved that B.C. hasn’t shut schools down until September, as Alberta announced it was doing on Sunday.

I proofread our community newspaper on Tuesdays. Due to Isaac’s being sick, I pick up the pages and mark the typos at home instead of staying in the office. Many of the ads and even articles are already out of date: both our ski hills have closed now, instead of just the major races being cancelled. Most of the community events have been cancelled. There’s no mention of today’s school suspension announcement.

It’s incredible how quickly things are changing. A line from Instagram resonates with me: “What a year this week has been.”

My third part-time job is to maintain the online community events calendar for our region. At home, I login and start deleting all the cancelled events. With no new events being announced, this is about to become a VERY part-time job.

Mom and Dad eat the first microgreens from her new mini-farm in their sunroom. Things feel more apocalyptic today and I’m glad they live just across the road from us.

Isaac’s temperature is back to normal. He falls asleep an hour before bedtime.

I watch Outbreak, because it sounds like a funny thing to do.

Isaac wakes up as the movie finishes and moves to my bed before falling asleep again.

Across the road, my parents watch Contagion, which is now the #9 movie in Canada on Netflix.

March 18, 2020 (Wednesday) – DAY 3

Isaac throws up twice overnight but sleeps for 13 hours.

Evy is playing online board games with her friend Steph. Peter putters around the house and yard.

PETER’S FACEBOOK POST: “Day 1.25 of bring quarantined with a teenager. Who wants to have a drink across the fence with me?”

Dad exercises in his man cave and I see him out for walks. Mom bakes a rhubarb pie, reads, and works on her 2,000-piece jigsaw puzzle with Grandma, who lives with them.

I realize self-isolating will be hardest for the extroverts.

The Canadian government announces an $82-billion response package to help individuals and businesses. Sounds like I’ll get more money via our monthly Child Tax Benefit and the quarterly GST rebate. Also I can apply for support as a worker who doesn’t qualify for Employment Insurance. I wonder how long it will take for this money to get to people.

Westjet announces possible contamination on six recent flights, but Evy and Peter flew with Sunwing.

Evy and Peter realize they will need propane if there’s an apocalypse. I wish I’d bought a BBQ last fall.

I make little boats out of duct-tape and cardboard and lure Isaac outside to race them in the gutters: the snow is melting.

Racing homemade boats in the gutter. Sadly, we lost a member of the macaroni family.

Our neighbourhood is a ghost town.

The day care where Evy works shuts down. Evy is officially unemployed. She starts investigating Employment Insurance.

Canada announces the Canada-U.S. border will (finally!) close, effective Friday/Saturday.

Isaac usually has a piano lesson on Wednesdays. Instead of meeting at the church, his teacher, Arne, does the lesson via Facebook Video Messenger.

We watch The Lion King, and then I put Isaac to bed in his own room. I tell him he can come into my bed if he wakes up and needs me.

One of my renters has been laid off work: I tell them we’ll adjust rent if necessary. We’ll see what happens over the next few weeks.

March 19, 2020 (Thursday) – DAY 4

Isaac sleeps through the night without throwing up. Yay!

Isaac woke up wanting to play with his science stuff. Plenty of food colouring and water …

After some morning science fun, I take him for a run around our neighbourhood. We see one neighbour, out walking to the mailbox: we veer off the sidewalk to give her space, and say hello.

Isaac returns home and I do another lap. My body is hungry for the gym. I get home and do sit-ups, then lift my weights.

Mom is back to work at the library today. It’s closed to the public, but they’re wiping down books and doing computer work.

My friend / boss Dauna at the newspaper tells me advertising revenue is down, because so many local businesses have closed, and they can’t afford my proofreading anymore.

A week ago I had three part-time jobs, totalling about 11.5 hours/week: I’m now down to about 2 hours/week.

Evy asks about our flour supplies. I have 4lbs. Apparently it’s getting hard to find in the stores.

My renters set out for the grocery store and ask if I need anything. I request frozen spinach. I have everything else I need to make spanokopitas.

Isaac and I are back to our bedtime routine: we read books in his bed. He’s asleep within 30 minutes.

I watch Contagion. When it’s over, I have that feeling I always get, of withdrawing from the imaginary-world of the movie and returning to real life. But this time, real life is eerily similar to the movie. So much for escape.

March 20, 2020 (Friday) – DAY 5

My Instagram feed is full of funny posts about self-isolation and social distancing. We Canadians are getting giddy.

It appears this mass social-distancing thing is working in Canada, if this Facebook graph is to be trusted:

I visit via Facetime with my friend Cory. His family has a goat farm and they make cheese. Their wholesale distribution chains have evaporated overnight, and they’ve decided not to risk attending their farmers’ markets. They’ve laid off all their staff, so are doing all the work themselves now. They’re trading goats for wine, gin and other essentials.

Mom and Dad get groceries for us. I ask for flour, lard, more meat than we usually eat, eggs and plenty of fruit.

Our first local person has tested positive for COVID-19.

I visit via Facetime with my friend Jessie, a government auditor in Victoria. Isn’t it interesting, she says, how audits are no longer relevant? It’s all about the health care workers, the grocery store employees, the garbage collection people these days. That’s the critical work.

Our little front porch gets sunny and warm around noon: it’s become a daily outing, to sit in the padded chair with a blanket and read. Today I finish The Crossing Places, by Elly Griffiths. Isaac comes outside for a snuggle.

We go for a walk down to the recreation park, staying far away from the other people. I’m shocked by how many kids are playing together: in the field, at the skate park, basketball, frisbee. Aren’t their parents worried about all this social contact?

My kid has somehow learned plague shame:

ISAAC: “I hope no one hears me cough.”

I’m starting to feel his cough in my own chest. It isn’t surprising if I’ve caught it, what with all the snuggles.

We continue on to my sister’s house, text “knock knock,” and visit on the lawn 10 feet apart. Peter gets me a beer wrapped in a Lysol wipe.

Back at home, the courier has delivered the Lego I ordered online, and we build the bigger set before dinner.

After Isaac’s in bed, I Facetime visit with Dauna, who lives a 5-minute drive away. She’s the editor of our local newspaper, and is a bit overwhelmed by her responsibility to communicate this pandemic to our community. She’s an extrovert who lives alone, and is getting squirrelly after days of self-isolation.

Isn’t it interesting how technology has made all these friends equally accessible: the friend a short walk away, and the friends a 13-hour drive away.

March 21, 2020 (Saturday) – DAY 6

It’s starting to feel normal now: waking up, expecting to spend my day at home with Isaac. 

Our morning starts with a jigsaw puzzle delivery. Our amazing local toy store is offering 25% off puzzles and free delivery.

My husband, Brock, would have wanted to support our favourite businesses in these crazy days, so I buy gift certificates to the toy store and our local escape rooms. I hope to buy from more places when I better understand our financial situation.

I turn 40 in April and have booked many adventures to celebrate: Legoland California at the end of April, an outdoor-skills women’s retreat and half-marathon in May, a Vancouver reunion in June, two weeks of family camping on Vancouver Island in July, Cumberland Wild in August. One by one, these adventures look less likely. I keep getting refunds for concert tickets and courses I’ve signed up for. It’s a weird way to “make” money.

Yesterday Evy said she’d heard this “first wave” of the virus is expected to last six weeks. Today I see an article about “social distancing” lasting months. The more I hear these long estimates of time, the more I start to believe and almost accept that school will be cancelled until September, and my son and I will need to reinvent what our “normal life” looks like.

Isaac is still coughing lots but otherwise is his usual healthy self. Our neighbour, Juli, gave him an old iPad charger cord and he’s able to play Minecraft and Teach Your Monster again, so he’s content.

We play Lego a lot today: Isaac acts out his epic storylines while I build elaborate modular building sets at the table. 

This is the bakery (under construction) from the Assembly Square set. Isaac built all the cakes.

In the afternoon, I tune my ukulele and give my unsuspecting neighbourhood a rusty performance from my porch.

When my fingers hurt, I go back indoors and make spanakopitas.

I force Isaac to come outside with me. We play catch in the sunshine with our baseball gloves, then snuggle and read The Fellowship of the Ring on the porch.

Mom walks down with Grandma to pick up six raw spanakopitas, so she can bake the germs away. I am horrified when Grandma eats a cookie from Isaac’s plate: how ironic, after everything we’re all doing to keep her germ-free. Grandma assures me she grew up eating dirt, so will be just fine.

On a local Facebook group, someone calls for us to go outside and make noise at 7pm, to thank the health care workers and other essential-services folks. Isaac and I have a noisy dance party on the deck and bang pots. It feels good to cause a ruckus in our ghost-town neighbourhood.

It’s my turn for Isaac’s cough, and I feel a sinus cold coming on too.

My favourite social media quote today: “You have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to stay at home, lying in front of the TV, to save the world. Don’t screw this up.”

March 22, 2020 (Sunday) — DAY 7

Every morning there’s that half-awake lag, when my pre-caffeine brain struggles to remember what Real Life is. And then I remember we’re quarantined at home, with the Apocalypse happening all over the world, and am struck again by how bizarre this all is.

Ryan, grocery shopping. He’s being funny, but the mask is probably a good idea.

People are doing amazing things amid this pandemic: online writers’ workshops and international art festivals, Facebook groups where volunteers will deliver groceries to isolated folks, etc. 

This morning I learn that people are cutting out paper hearts and putting them in windows. This makes my heart happy so I (before tea, even!) cut out a bunch of hearts and tape them up where they’re most visible to folks outside. One of our neighbours, Andrea, sends me a message: “They made us all smile.” 

After tea, I decide to be responsible and figure out our financial situation. I’m not brave enough to look up how terribly my stock investments have collapsed, but I check out the bank accounts and impending credit card statement. Two of my three part-time jobs have disappeared, due to the pandemic, and the 3rd has reduced hours: this makes me panic a bit.

Research suggests that some of the 2020 adventures I mentioned yesterday are non-refundable. My two WestJet airline trips will be reimbursed in “Travel Bank credits,” not actual money. The marathon and music festival have no-refund policies, which didn’t bother me a month ago, but now … ugh.

I’m not sure how the federal government’s financial aid plans will affect us, and I can’t apply for those until April anyway, so I decide to clean our floors instead of worrying about money.

After seven days at home, I’m starting to see the dust.

I sweep, vacuum and wash the floors, then cuddle up with Isaac and read Rhys Bowen’s Love and Death Among the Cheetahs.

I make chilli and Johnny cake, my family’s sweet version of cornbread.

When I’m out reading on the porch, Ryan comes by with a delivery of Coronas to replenish my beer supply. (We both think this is hilarious.) I miss my boyfriend, but manage to resist smooching him.

After dinner, Dauna calls us as she jogs past so we can wave to her from our deck.

These long-distance interactions are unsatisfying, even for an introvert like me.

At 7:02pm, we have “noise time” on the deck: Isaac’s new favourite activity. It’s cathartic to disrupt the neighbourhood silence with our loud music and pot-banging. 

Tonight is less silent, though: a bunch of 20-somethings are playing a sport (cricket?) in the field below. It’s strange how some of us are self-isolating and diligently social-distancing, while others are frolicking about in herds. My Canadian Facebook sources suggest an enforced lockdown is coming, due to this cavalier behaviour.

Every night is movie night at the McLeod house now. I make Isaac his requisite popcorn and we watch Inside Out. My six-year-old is an English literature scholar, and he asks who the bad guy is. He knows every story needs a bad guy.

March 23, 2020 (Monday) — DAY 8

I wake up laggy and with a head cold. Isaac’s still coughing a lot. But no more fever, and nothing to suggest these symptoms are plague-y.

We have bacon (a gift from Mom) and pancakes for breakfast. I’m grateful for my flour and baking powder supply.

In the morning, I write a Medium post, then share the draft with my Patreon patrons: I’ll publish it tomorrow.

Then I update our community’s online events calendar, which means deleting all the upcoming events. But I actually have a few events to add today, all of which can be enjoyed from home. People are so darn innovative.

For the first time this week, the recreation park visible from our window is empty: the usual pack of elementary and high school kids has disappeared. Via Facebook, I learn the district has posted signs and closed the parks and playgrounds.

It’s not as warm today so I don’t read on the porch. Instead, I fill three spray bottles with water and food colouring: red, blue, green. Isaac spends a lot of time spraying/melting/painting snow and ice in our driveway. 

Mom and Dad walk over from their house and stand far away, watching him play and shouting hellos. Mom has a cold plus her cough now, and is stuck at home full-time, like us.

My Dad, age 69, is the only one in our three households who’s still allowed to go grocery shopping.

Today is laundry day, which is more complicated than normal because I share our laundry room with my renters, so I Lysol-wipe all the touch-points before and after I wash our clothes.

Then I drag Isaac out for a walk with me around our neighbourhood: we stay a good 20 feet away from the three other groups we encounter. We aren’t the only house here to have hearts in the windows: I count four others. This makes me smile.

At home, we play Lego, get noisy on the deck at 7pm, and then eat dinner while watching the 1995 cartoon version of Aladdin

We usually read a pile of books at bedtime, but after the first one Isaac asks me to just cuddle him and he falls asleep.

Evy reports that my nephew, the one we skied with on Sunday, has a deep cough.

I’m more interested in the emotional and psychological responses to this pandemic than the economic or political, but I’m starting to agree that there should be more testing. I think Canada is only testing the serious cases, while instructing those of us with mild symptoms to just stay home. How can we know accurate stats when most of us aren’t being tested?

March 24, 2020 (Tuesday) — DAY 9

While making my first cup of morning tea, I feel guilty about shopping recently, now that our income has been reduced — and then remember I haven’t been in a store for over a week now, and so realize it was a dream. Yes, I dreamt about paying for something, and not being able to stop myself spending. So I guess I’m subconsciously a bit stressed out about the money thing.

Facebook tells me our British Columbia government announced their financial supports for people and businesses yesterday. It looks like we’ll qualify for some help provincially, too. Hopefully that’ll stop the stress dreams.

The hardest part of this self-isolation is not knowing when it will be over. Isaac is still coughing, and I’m stuffed up with a head cold: how long after we’re healthy again do we have to wait to ensure we’re germ-free? Another 14 days? That means at least another two weeks of self-isolation. 

Not that our days are terrible. I spend the morning building a Lego set and drinking too much tea, while Isaac plays. We do some math and writing together, and I get out his painting supplies.

Lego-Heather and Lego-Ryan don’t worry about pandemics.

I plan to write letters to some friends, because getting mail is fun, then realize it’s kinda terrorist-y of me to send germ-infected letters in sealed envelopes via Canada Post.

My sister and her daycare coworkers are posting videos on their Facebook page: Evy posts one about making playdough.

Isaac is squirmy today. It’s our ninth day cooped up together, after all. We take his soccer ball up to my parents’ street and kick the ball around with Dad for an hour. Soccer lets us stay far away from each other, and we don’t have to touch the ball.

Mom’s sick in bed. She’s congested, with a cough, and very sleepy. In British Columbia, they aren’t testing us for COVID-19 unless the symptoms are serious (i.e. respiratory). 

I publish my new Medium story, “The Silver Lining of Self-Isolation: 5 ways pandemic prevention is making us better humans.”

We play Lego, then I read while Isaac watches Netflix. I get him to watch Super Why, so it’s sort of educational.

After dinner, we visit from the deck with Dauna, who is mid-jog, and wave to Bailey and her family, who are stretching their legs with a dog in tow. 

We have a one-song dance party on the deck at 7pm, then watch a short Frozen-spinoff movie and read Curious George until Isaac is too tired to keep his eyes open.

March 25, 2020 (Wednesday) — DAY 10

Today is exciting, because:

  1. It is garbage day. 

I am the first person in our neighbourhood to get their garbage can to the curb, and part of me wonders if I’ve missed a Facebook update and garbage collection no longer happens due to the Apocalypse. But, back indoors, I hear another garbage can scraping its way to the road and feel reassured. Some aspects of our world, at least, remain normal.

2. The district is cleaning the gravel off our streets, now that most of the snow has melted.

The most exciting thing to happen in our neighbourhood in 10 days.

Again, this reassures me that our governments have yet to collapse into anarchy. AND: I’m one of the households in our neighbourhood that has a gravel driveway and has offered to take the sweepings, to save Shawna the drive down to the District’s materials yard, which means I’ll have piles of gravel to rake out at some point today.

3. A local gentleman, Doug, has agreed to trade Isaac’s current bike for one that will be easier to pedal and learn on.

Doug collects donated bikes, repairs them, and then distributes them to families that aren’t able to afford bikes. I wouldn’t normally ask him for a bike, but given that we’re living in lockdown I ask if we can please trade bikes, and he agrees. We manage this with a lot of disinfectant and 2 metres of distance between us. I promise to give the new-to-us bike back once Isaac outgrows it. I am so excited for Isaac to have a healthy way to expend his energy.

It is a blue sky, sunny day, with just a bit of a cool breeze. I rake gravel in bursts, resting to read and eat and play iPad games with Isaac in between.

At one point, Isaac and I rake gravel into a volcano, nestle a container of baking soda inside, and pour vinegar in to make it erupt.

Another moment of excitement:

4. Our neighbours set up their trampoline.

I watch them from my porch and cheer them on.

Dad offers to make a grocery run for our three family households, and brings us milk and bread. Evy thanks him for risking “Coronaland.”

On the interwebs, there are stories of experimental vaccine testing on humans, and contradictory info on how long the COVID-19 virus can stay catchable on surfaces.

People are getting nervous about their groceries: can the virus spread on canned goods? On bread bags? I hear our local food bank is struggling, maybe for this reason. People have set up sanitizing stations for their groceries, or are leaving things to sit for days before bringing them into their homes.

I suspect that no one really knows what’s going on.

On Facebook, I fall into an American thread and read more than one post about how the “staying home” directive is only meant for people wealthy enough to miss work: it’s not meant to apply to everyone. I feel a chasm open between Canada and the U.S. that I suspect will widen over the coming weeks/months. We are so very lucky to have our social safety nets here.

Speaking of which, the federal government changes their financial aid plan to a temporary $2,000 monthly payment, in place of our EI program. 

The B.C. government announces rental assistance.

I remember that we have Osmo educational games: Isaac and I play the math one. If this is “homeschooling,” we can do this. 

Dauna jogs by and stops to visit: I Mr. Clean a chair for her, and we sit far apart, but it’s nice to see each other and not be shouting from deck to yard.

Isaac has his second piano lesson via Facebook Messenger with Arne.

After dinner, we start watching Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, which might be too scary for my boy but he’s played the Lego game version of the story and says he’s up for trying.

Once he’s asleep, I run a bubble bath, crack open my last can of Fisher Creek’s Belgian Wit, and have a video call visit with Ryan: we use the silly filters and both wear rabbit ears.

March 26, 2020 (Thursday) — DAY 11

For the first time in 11 days, I feel low and grumpy. I try to raise my spirits by playing Lego with Isaac and drinking too much tea.

We realize we need a jail for our bad guys, and I start building our Arkham Asylum set.

Somehow this turns into buying the new movie Onward on iTunes and watching it in the middle of the day. It’s about a family that lost the dad to cancer, so the protagonist grew up without ever meeting his dad, and yet I manage not to cry.

After our movie, it’s warm outside so we get our bike-for-two out of storage and take it up to Dad’s: he fills the tires with air. We ride it back to our house and Isaac gets out his Mickey Mouse-themed mechanic set to work on the bike some more.

I work on plotting my new mystery book on the porch while Isaac watches Netflix inside.

Eventually I realize I need some exercise to lift my grumpy mood. Isaac opts to play soccer with Dad instead of jogging with me, so I drop him off up the road to play and run around the high school track a few times. Someone’s at the (closed) skate park. A couple out for a walk waves from 100 feet away.

When I’m done running, I play soccer with Dad and Isaac until it gets too cold. We check the mailbox, and then go indoors.

My friend Ryan in Cumberland reaches out and we have a lovely phone chat, trading apocalypse experiences. After we hang up, we trade our favourite plague memes by text.

Favourites to date include:

and: 

Ha ha.

We remember “noise time” at 7pm, and for the first time someone notices: a woman in a red car honks enthusiastically, and stops at the intersection to watch us bang pots on the deck for a bit. Isaac feels validated.

I make macaroni and cheese for dinner. Without my gym classes, my squishy belly is coming back so I decide to forego a Corona and break out the vodka instead. Mmm crantinis.

I’m craving the movie Groundhog Day. After Isaac’s asleep, I watch the start on Netflix and work on our Arkham Asylum Lego set until my boyfriend’s free, and then we video-talk until we fall asleep.

March 27, 2020 (Friday) — DAY 12

Kids deal with stress in lots of different ways: my son finds his way into my bed in the middle of the night. Not for the first time this week, I wake up to find a warm, scrawny body beside me.

I realize that I used new words yesterday, on my phone call with my friend in Cumberland. “Plague.” “Apocalypse.” Normally it’s just me and Isaac, so he isn’t used to hearing two adults discuss our situation. Maybe those words scared him and led to him needing extra Mom-snuggles mid-REM sleep. I vow to be more careful in the future.

Our day starts as usual: tea and Lego. I update the chamber’s community event calendar while Isaac watches Netflix. 

Building Lego’s Arkham Asylum set.

As is typical of my relationship with money, I order a 12′ trampoline (on sale!) for Isaac (for future curb-side pick-up), and the new Lego modular building set (to be delivered) for my 40th birthday present. 

It’s warm but overcast today. I work on my mystery novel plot for a long time on the porch, while Isaac plays Minecraft and has a Facetime visit with his cousin inside.

He re-watches Onward while we eat lunch, and chews over the “dad who got sick and died” plot line. This movie is grief therapy for him.

We head outside: Isaac and Dad play soccer while I walk around the block, then I join in and we play until dinnertime.

Isaac loves “noise time” at 7pm. We’ve been rocking out to Fifth Harmony’s “Worth It.”

We watch Paddington. I don’t know if my kid has always had an amazing laugh, or if this is a new development, but he lets out this wonderful giggle-cackle when something is extra funny. I love it. I need to record it somehow.

I’m seeing more Facebook posts about how lucky some of us are, to have this luxury of being able to self-isolate in comfort and avoid infection. One meme talks about word choice: instead of saying we’re “stuck” at home, how about saying we’re “safe” at home?

Just another amazing breakfast. Those are Mom’s microgreens on my eggs.

I do know and appreciate how decadent this is. Come on: I ordered a trampoline this morning.

March 28, 2020 (Saturday) — DAY 13

Isaac’s found his way into my bed again. He wakes up, says “I love you, mom,” and goes to the kitchen to get me a molasses cookie.

I want to shake up our morning routine so I sort Lego pieces instead of building a set. Isaac and I sit in my room, Lego all around me, and watch Paddington 2. 

Around 11am, Isaac heads up to Dad’s to have a campfire and roast hotdogs. I keep sorting Lego and finish watching Groundhog Day. It’s the perfect movie for these days.

When Isaac’s home, I go for a run and then do sit-ups and lift weights. I wonder when I’ll be able to to to gym classes again: we’re all going to be out of shape, once this is over.

I shower and then wax my legs, feeling grateful to have the supplies at home, and feel civilized again.

Isaac and I sit on the couch and play with all his learning games: Osmo and Teach Your Monster with the iPad, plus the vTech “laptop” his aunt Kirsten gave him years ago. Then I work on my new mystery novel’s plot and Isaac plays Minecraft.

At 6pm I stumble onto a livestream concert from James Keelaghan’s Facebook page and start watching. I have happy memories of this singer-songwriter: hearing him perform live at folk festivals as a kid, singing along to his songs in the car on family road trips. In 2000-ish, my friend Quinn and I were in Perth, Ontario and somehow found ourselves at a music festival. I saw a poster, and we ended up having dinner 5 feet away from James as he performed in a small restaurant. That night, I requested “Timeless Love,” and he played it for me.

I watch the livestream concert for an hour, hosting my first ever “watch party” on Facebook. It’s pretty neat connecting with my family and friends this way: maybe I’ll use that tech tool for my 40th birthday in April, somehow.

We make noise at 7pm on the deck, have pasta for dinner, and then watch a few episodes of Ninjago before books and bedtime.

I’ve invited my boyfriend over tonight. Isaac and I have self-isolated for 13 days and I’m not worried about us being sick. Ryan might have been exposed, but he has no symptoms. I decide to risk seeing him.

This pandemic has put a lot of relationships on hold, made it impossible for single people to date normally, and increased the risk of exposure to divorced families that share custody of the kids. We do our best to stay safe and healthy, while maintaining important relationships. We all make our own choices about how to balance those sometimes-opposing values.

March 29, 2020 (Sunday) — DAY 14

Ryan makes us breakfast, including homemade shredded hashbrowns. Yum.

It’s an overcast day: cool and windy. We make a kite out of bamboo skewers, hockey tape, a plastic bag and an old ribbon. I have kite string in my mechanical room.

We head down to the school field and meet up with Ryan’s youngest son, Harley. The kite refuses to fly straight, circling and crashing instead. The middle support snaps. We have learned lessons from this prototype.

We kick the soccer ball around and Isaac agrees to ride his new bike around the track, as long as we hold onto the seat handle.

Ryan heads home with Harley. Isaac and I drink tea and sit on the couch together: I finish plotting out my mystery book, while Isaac builds a mansion in Minecraft.

Then we play Lego for a bit. My character is Shay. Shay always has a cup of tea in her hand, even when she’s battling bad guys. Isaac’s character is Lucy, who is also the water ninja, an Oni, a ghost, the queen, and omnipotent. Lucy’s usually the one who saves the day.

Groundhog Day has inspired me: if Bill Murray can learn to play piano, maybe I can learn to dance hip hop. I watch some YouTube tutorials: Isaac joins me sporadically.

We eat dinner, then have The Talk:

Today is the last day of spring break. Tomorrow is the start of …

HOME SCHOOL.

Isaac draws / writes what he thinks that should look like. I do the same. We compare notes.

We watch a few episodes of Trolls and I sort my new jigsaw puzzle: edges, yellow pieces, words.

Then books (Isaac wants plenty of Berenstain Bears tonight) and sleep.

March 30, 2020 (Monday) — DAY 15

I walk into the living room at 8:30am and see my son on the couch, playing Minecraft.

ME: “Oh my gosh, Isaac, we’re going to be late for school.”

He laughs.

ISAAC: “Mom, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

For our first lesson of “school at home,” I learn how to buy a Minecraft skin with real money. It’s all part of getting my kid onboard with the day.

During breakfast, we have “music appreciation” class. I put on a song he’s never heard before: Randy Travis’s “Deeper Than a Holler.” I explain the country music genre, we discuss metaphors and I ask him to guess what a “Holler” is.

Instead, he requests “Old Town Road.” I explain how this song blends country with pop, but he’s too busy dancing to listen.

He needs a break after “music appreciation”: he plays Minecraft while I work on my jigsaw puzzle.

It’s windy and cold outside so we do “gym” in front of the TV. Cosmic Kids has a Minecraft-themed yoga routine. Perfect. Isaac lasts longer than I expect.

I lure him into drawing a story. He’s happy if he can sit on my lap. He draws another episode in the life of Wiggles the Rainbow Worm, and even writes some words down (“the” appears as “d,” because of phonetics). I ask him to read some words I’ve written down from his story: he reads “the” perfectly and this perplexes me.

We move to our Lego rug and act out the story he’s drawn, with Lego chains as the various worm characters. Even I enjoy it.

Then I get him back to the table and we draw out the end of the story: the baddie’s in jail. I ask him to write “the end,” and he does it perfectly. I’m an amazing teacher. This homeschooling thing is easy peasy.

Isaac’s back to the iPad for more Minecraft and I do some work: emails, promoting my Medium story that was just curated by Human Parts (woot woot!!), updating my Patreon patrons.

We read a book about how communities have changed since 10,000 BCE. Isaac is astounded that, until fairly recently, people pooped into buckets.

My sister and her husband are done their travel-caused isolation now. They go grocery shopping for us and some other families, and feel self-conscious about the full buggy.

EVY: “We’re not hoarding! This is for four families!”

There are so many new kinds of shame these days.

I make black bean brownies and Isaac sifts the cocoa. “Life skills” class.

My friend Maria calls via Facetime video and we visit over tea. She’s a grief expert and advocate, and is starting a new venture called the Healthy Mourning Revolution, to help people grieving through the pandemic.

Isaac has a bath while I make dinner. We go play soccer with Dad, and then walk around our block, chalk in hand to draw hearts and other happy graffiti.

We draw custom graffiti at the houses of neighbours we know: music notes, a golden snitch, kids on skateboards, initials in hearts.

Noise time at 7pm. Popcorn and a show. Books and bedtime.

We nailed this “schooling at home” thing today.

March 31, 2020 (Tuesday) — DAY 16

It snowed. In this new, Groundhog Day world, it’s pretty darn exciting to have a different view out the windows.

Isaac and I shovel part of our road, and then head up to Mom and Dad’s to shovel their driveway and patio.

Last night, while reading books, Isaac said he needed a break from me and asked if he could spend some time with Aunt Evy or his grandma.

So at 10:50am he heads out the door to join my sister and nephew on a dog walk and trip to the beach. (This is the “field trip” part of our school day.)

I have a video conference call with my fellow primary school support staff at 11am. There are plans to have the children of essential-services workers attend school again, and the school is figuring out which staff might be willing and able to work with these kids at the school. Some of us have elderly family members, or our own children at home.

My first gut reaction is: “yikes, I need to stay away from the school to minimize my own exposure.”

And then something shifts, and I realize that this pandemic is my generation’s “call to arms.” Many people are being asked, or choosing, to risk their own health to serve our community. I’m not an EA: I’m only a noon-hour supervisor. But I offer to help, if needed. Emergency under-ducks on the swing, or whatever.

On my way to pick up Isaac, I detour through downtown. It’s my first time on our main street in weeks. I see hearts in some windows. The florist has been putting out bouquets and collecting money on the honour system, but they’ve already sold out today.

Closed sign at a local bar.

I pick Isaac up. At home, I declare “choice time” for the rest of our school day: Isaac plays Minecraft and I work on my jigsaw puzzle.

He challenges me to build a cafe in Minecraft, and when I accept he keeps trying to micromanage my build.

Today is my husband’s birthday: Brock would have been 41 today, but he died 2.5 years ago. (For more on those years, click here.

While the box-mix angel food cake is baking in the oven, Brock’s parents Facetime call us. We wish each other happy birthday and have a nice visit. I show them Isaac’s freckles, which he inherited from his Dad.

Our chamber of commerce is sponsoring an online business summit: I tune in for the day 1 wrap-up session. I’ve registered for 12 other free events over the next few days.

The panelists concur that how we do business has changed forever, but I don’t agree with that. I think that we Canadians will be eager to return to shopping in actual stores and interacting with real people, as soon as we’re allowed to do so.

We have tacos for dinner (one of Brock’s favourite meals). I ice the cake with chocolate whipped cream.

We miss “noise time” at 7pm and Isaac is devastated. He cries, yells, and is furious at me yet still tries to nuzzle in for a cuddle. I assume this is how a six-year-old grieves his Dad. I let him get out all the anger, cuddle him, and promise we won’t miss it in the future. Then I help him move forward, with cake. 

We light candles, sing “Happy Birthday,” and Isaac blows out the candles. It’s too big of a cake for just the two of us, but I can’t share our germs with our renters or my nearby family.

Instead of a movie, Isaac and I watch some new episodes of Barbie on Netflix.

(Continued … click here for April entries.)

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What does a day in your life look like now? Please share in the comments. If you know of other online daily journals being kept through this pandemic, post them in the comments as well.

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