A Pretty Nice Day

Just dated this post November 19th, that’s the kind of day we’re having over here.  Ok, I take that back a little, today was actually a pretty nice day by quarantine standards.  I’m tired because Will had a rough night thanks to some teeth that are taking their sweet time to come in, and hasn’t napped particularly well either, so yeah, November, maybe if we keep our fingers crossed we’ll be out of quarantine by then.   Maybe at that point I won’t define “a pretty nice day” by a drive to get gas and waiting in the car with the baby while Phil goes into the fish market, and maybe we’ll be able to visit my parents in person instead of just via FaceTime, which, while far better than nothing, is still sort of depressing.

There is so much of me that absolutely positively cannot wait for quarantine to end, but there’s one part of me, a pretty big part in fact, that’s going to be so incredibly sad when it does.  Watching my husband and son together, all day everyday, for the past five weeks, has been incredible.  Prior to quarantine there were days during the week, where Phil left before Will woke up for the day, and Will was in bed for the night before he got home; for them to go almost 48 hours without seeing each other wasn’t unheard of, and Phil doesn’t even work crazy hours.

We might be one of the only families that traded an apartment for a house during quarantine and actually lost square footage as a result.  That’s not to say that our apartment is sprawling, it’s not, but my parents shore house is a true bungalow, and while it is my favorite place on earth, it doesn’t exactly provide a lot of personal space.  Between the seemingly constant rain and the unseasonably low temperatures as of late, we’ve spent the past five weeks constantly rotating between two bedrooms and the living room/kitchen area so that my husband, or on a rare occasion, I, can take a conference call without our pterodactyl of a nine month old shrieking in the background, aside from that the three of us are on top of each other all day.  However, as this bizarre time warp drags on, we’ve gotten into a rhythm of sorts, and I haven’t once had to send my husband a text with a photo or video of our son doing something adorable, or tackling a milestone for the first time, because he’s been right here with us.  So while everything about Novel Corona Virus is miserable, and I’ve done a lot of crying over a lot of random things, some warranted, most, most definitely not, I don’t think any of it will compare to the tears I shed the day that the office opens again.  I'm going to try and remind myself of that the next time the sound of my husband breathing irritates me.