44 Days Of Quarantine

Kids always near me

Morning, afternoon, and night

Mom needs a drink, strong


It is day 44 of lockdown for my family.

44 days of no school.

44 days of no driving anywhere.

44 days confined to only our home and yard.

My husband is an essential worker, so he goes out. Me and the kids? Nope. 44 days at home.

We are totally doing our part to “slow the spread,” but we are also getting a little antsy over here.


Something I’m having a hard time with right now is getting alone time. I LOVE my babies. I love them more than life! But there are three of them and I can’t seem to go anywhere in my house without being followed.

This is normal for kids anyway…but the ‘Rona has made it so much worse.

If they’re not following me, they’re yelling for me.

If they can’t find me for two whole minutes, they use Alexa to “make an announcement.”

True story:

There was a day this week I was really on my mom game. We got home schooling done early, without tears (mine or theirs). I folded a bunch of laundry while Little Guy napped and my girl sat by my side, eating popcorn. We made dinner and then chocolate chip cookies from scratch together. Then we ate the cookies and painted soup cans to make bird feeders.

We finished what seemed like a super fulfilling day around 8pm. It was finally time for me to sit down with Hubs and just chill out for the night.

The second we sat down to have a beer and some adult conversation, here comes our little girl, crying because I’m not sitting right by her side anymore.

I. Want. To. Scream.


I get it. I do.

School was closed very abruptly. Their entire little world changed. Stability interrupted. They are holding on to their constants – and that’s Mom and Dad.

Life has been getting easier. We are all getting used to the New Normal.

But our kids are still suffering.

They are longing for play and interaction with others. It breaks my heart that we can’t just call up our cousins and have a play date.


It’s still OK that we don’t have our shit together completely.

It’s OK that my kids follow me around like I’m mother-clucking mama duck.

It’s OK that I just want to be left alone for five minutes.

We are still healthy. We are still nourished. We still have a home. We still have one another.

It’s OK.

Just don’t judge me when you find me in the bathroom, door locked, with a bottle of wine and bag of chocolate.

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