We’ve been doing this whole quarantine thing for two (loooonnnnngggg) months. I know I’m not the only mom who feels like on some days the only thing keeping me from losing my ever loving mind is the countdown to school ending, and hopefully, restarting in August (we’ll remember, I’m not about that home school life), a whole lot of prayer, and the good chocolate hidden where the kids can’t reach it . . . maybe . . . I may or may not have threatened Andrew that if he touches my chocolate he will be grounded for at least a week . . . desperate times people . . . I mean, yesterday, I lost a gallon of milk. An entire gallon. I had it. Then I didn’t. I found it, thankfully within a few minutes, in the laundry room.
My youngest, Anna, is a mess . . . she’s beyond hilarious. So much so that oftentimes when one of us is correcting her the other has to leave the room so she doesn’t see us laughing. But she’s still a mess . . . a hilarious mess . . . you never know what new shenanigans each day will bring. And because I never want to be one to keep all the fun to myself, I thought I’d share just a small glimpse of what quarantine life with Anna looks like (it’s like normal life with Anna but on steroids).
She has this habit of shoving things into places they don’t belong. I will find shirts shoved in her jewelry boxes, toys and books and clothing behind the couch cushions, and laundry in the dog’s bed. But her latest and greatest trick is putting stuff through the small openings of the cover and straight into the wheel of the row machine. So I’ll sit down to row, and she’ll say, “No! Don’t row today!” Which is a pretty good indicator that I should take the cover off the wheel and check it, but I rarely do. I usually just try to row anyway, and whatever is in there sounds like rapid gunfire going off and flies out like shrapnel all over the den. At which point, I remove the cover and vacuum up the mess with her screaming about how much she hates the noise and the vacuum and promising to never do it again. No amount of disciplining, threatening, or consequences will stop her from doing it. Believe me. I. Have. Tried.
She wears, at a minimum, two pairs of shorts/pants and two shirts at a time. There’s usually a tutu and a tiara or hat plus a couple (or a dozen) pieces of jewelry thrown in for good measure. I am currently looking for a way to lock up her clothes so she’ll quit with the constant wardrobe changes. On Sunday, we went to a park for a little while to safely get out of the house. She wore shorts under leggings. I didn’t catch this until we were at said park so whatever. While we were walking on the trails she stops and looks at me and says, “Do you smell that???” To which I reply, “Smell what?” And her response (which was 100% serious), “It smells like coronavirus.” So I’m standing there trying not to laugh, “Okay . . . what does coronavirus smell like?” And to finish the whole conversation she looks at me and says, “Like a vacuum cleaner,” and then continues right on her merry way.
A couple days ago she got into a container of Vaseline, rubbed it all over herself, and tracked it through the house. But first, she turned the thermostat down to 57 degrees . . . and set it there. Because she ain’t about that quarantine life, and she’s going to make sure she keeps it interesting.
All that to say, she’s still the best little thing in the world. She lives and loves big and boldly and passionately. She’s emotional and funny and wants me to rub her back all day every day. And even on the days when I think I might legit lose my mind, I can’t imagine life without her.
Note one: Do not give me parenting advice. I’m not here for it. I love my kids. I take care of my kids. I discipline my kids. No one is mistreated. So just laugh and judge me in silence.
Note two: I also have a 12 year old that is an amazing, loving, and funny but also, smelly, hormonal, and a messy kid in his own right. But since he’s older and has opinions about all the things, but mostly his privacy, I don’t share his funny stories much anymore.
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