This is the Face of the Pandemic

By the end of February begining of March, it was becoming clear that things were changing around us. Never did I ever think I would be told to close my business. My small business was thriving then. I literally could not breathe. If that sounds dramatic, I’m assuming you have never owned one. It’s a heart and soul and all your dollars kind of commitment. The worst part, no one gave an estimated reopen date. I know it depends on the severity of the pandemic progression, but there’s got to be a planned ‘screw it, let’s just reopen’ date. Even if it changes, it’s the psychological affect of the unknown that gets you.

I worked up until 5:00 pm sharp, the very last minute I could.

My husband has a very successful business doing custom back yard designs and putting greens; and it started booming. All of the time spent at home now, and all of those fancy government checks everyone seemed to be getting is what kept us a float. A lot of his work was out of town though, which left me home with the girls alone most of the time.

Gosh Almighty I didn’t think I would make it past those first two weeks. I managed to successfully blow out my left knee via a cooked sliced carrot left on the floor after separating my younger two from their battle using a deck of cards like ninja stars. Two days later I stapled a piece of compressed cardboard to my right knee cap while fixing a dollhouse my then three year old used as a step ladder to try and steal eggs from the refrigerator. Still not sure why. Last but not least while plugging in a lamp, I took 120 volts to the pinky finger, apparently my electric found it to be a great time to show it had a short. On the bright side, I think it helped my carpal tunnel. The following few weeks were amazing. Seriously amazing, not sarcastic amazing. We were stuck there, in the house, with a six foot by eight foot craft closet housing millions of possibilities. We made faux stained glass with coffee filters, piñatas, elephant toothpaste, and a volcano. We took our ship sailing in the uncharted waters of the back yard in search for burried treasure. Often we would ride around playing eye spy for a while just to get out. The entire den became a fort and bonfires with s’mores became an all too frequent occurrence. We even turned the staircase into a cave tunnel thing. But one of my personal favorites was the silly string war. Fully equipped with loading stations, bunkers, and other structures to hid in and around. Did you know that silly string doesn’t come off of concrete after it dries? Me either.

It was most definitely 200° that summer, probably because no pools were open, so on my thirtieth birthday the kids and I were determined to find a blow up version of what we missed so much. Zero, zilch, nada. You couldn’t find a bull shit baby pool, let alone one big enough to put several humans in. So we improvised. The look on my husband’s face was epic and won’t soon be forgotten. When he walked out through those sliding glass doors after being gone for nearly a week, and there we were. All four of us girls each in our own plastic storage tub filled with water in the yard. Amelia was so proud and couldn’t wait to tell Dad about our “personal pan pools.” I think he said something to the effect of, “what in the white trash Tracy is going on out here?” Best. Day. Ever.


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