It’s been an interesting couple of weeks, if by “interesting,” you mean, “Wow, there is not enough coffee in the world to get me through this.” I did get through some of it (not all), and honestly, just the fact that I haven’t run away from home and am still sitting here seems like a victory.
Tangent: When the girls were little and everything was chaos and noise, that was sometimes the one bright spot in the day — that I hadn’t run away screaming. That I was still in the mess. Not going to lie, I prefer my older kids. It’s not any easier, but at least they’re saner. I see you, parents of young children. That shit is hard.
In which Abby gets COVID
Abby tested positive for COVID-19 last week (she did a variant reveal and surprise, it’s omicron!), which didn’t come as a surprise, given that her coworkers were all dropping like flies and she’d been working extra hours because, like, there wasn’t enough staff to cover shifts. (Uh that’s alarming.) She also works with COVID positive patients practically daily, and given how quickly this particular variant travels, it was only a matter of time.
Abby does not do well with sitting down, or being sick, or being isolated. Her symptoms were bad cold plus flu (fever, congestion, body aches, fatigue, etc.) and she got over the worst of it in a couple of days, although the fatigue has been lingering. And she’s so depressed — just really down and sad and lonely. The mental part has been the toughest for her, although the physical stuff hasn’t been easy.
OH WOW here’s a look into Abby’s psyche: She bought four skeins of yarn, thinking she would learn to crochet (yes, learn) and make herself a sweater (yes, for her first project ever) so she could have something tangible at the end of her quarantine. And then she was absolutely mystified that she couldn’t figure it out. I was like, kid, you’ve never crocheted before, that’s why, maybe try for a potholder, and her answer? “Yeah, but I’m good at crafts!”
Well, I did raise her to think that absolutely everything she does is amazing. I wanted her to have confidence to spare. And she does, so parenting victory. (I was mostly trying to get her through middle school — girls can be so mean — but the lesson stuck.)
In which I start therapy
I learned via my doctor that thanks to telehealth, I could pick a therapist anywhere in the state and have insurance cover it — so I picked one two hours away. I really like the idea that, if I’m going to spill my guts, I don’t have to see this person in line at the grocery store. I went to psychologytoday.com, also as per my doctor — they have a therapist finder, and you can sort through them by issues, gender, age, accepted insurance, etc. (Start with your zip code, then expand out.) It was super helpful and the reason I was able to find a therapist out of town / who seemed like she would be a good fit. I sent out four queries, heard back from three. Better than I expected.
I had my first appointment a couple of weeks ago, and it was kind of interesting — I didn’t know what to expect, and side note, everyone seems surprised that I made it this long without therapy. HA HA HA sob it’s fine. It was just intake, but she gave me some things to think about (I love having things to think about!) and try (I love having things to try!). My next appointment is this week. I’m looking forward to it.
In which we learn Gram can’t go back to assisted living
My Grandma, who turned 98 in December and has been in a care center for a medical issue, got the news a couple of weeks ago that she wasn’t going to be able to come back to her apartment. This has crushed her soul. She had worked SO HARD with her physical therapist to get to a place where she could go back — and honestly, it surprised us that the assisted living facility opted not to take her back because she’s doing better than she has been in a couple of years. So Eric, my parents and a couple of cousins came last weekend to get her apartment cleaned out. And that ends THAT chapter.
I haven’t been able to visit Gram because two of Johanna’s basketball teammates recently tested positive and, on the off chance we’re infected and asymptomatic, I want to keep my germs to myself. I’m not looking forward to seeing her, though — or really, having to witness that sadness. Getting old is so hard, that’s what I’ve learned from this whole experience.
(You know what’s funny? Gram was my age now when I was born.)
In which Jo gets boosted
I was despairing at Johanna’s last basketball game (to the parents of her best friend since first grade, we love these people) about Abby’s COVID diagnosis and how we haven’t been able to find a booster for Jo yet. And they were like, we got boosted at the pharmacy. And I was like, KDJFKDJFKLDJFKDF, because I even know that’s an option — and it still didn’t occur to me. So that night, I made Johanna an appointment online on the pharmacy website (which was great because I could get all her paperwork sorted ahead of time). She got it yesterday — no school today because of the Martin Luther King Jr. federal holiday — and I can’t tell you how that’s going because I’m writing this before the fact, yet in past tense.
In which I end this thing
I made a homemade pizza for the first time in years Friday night; Jo helped. We were listening to my Trisha Playlist (which is awesome) and “In God’s Country” came up. Jo was like, “What’s the difference between this desert rose song and the other desert rose song?” and YOU GUYS THIS IS WHERE I SHINE AS A PARENT. I was like, This song is actually called In God’s Country and it’s by U2, and it came out when I was a sophomore in high school and I have always loved it. And that other song is actually called Desert Rose and it’s by Sting, and that one came out the year Abby was born, 1999. ALSO U2 is Irish and Sting is English.
And she was like, Huh. AND CHANGED THE SUBJECT. I didn’t even get to tell her about The Police.
Oh yeah, the pizza turned out great.