Two weeks ago … Our son was preparing to take the SATs and considering the growing pile of college solicitations in our kitchen. Our daughter was thinking about tryouts for the high school lacrosse team and wondering if her shinsplints would impact her tryout.  And I was preparing, nervously, for a quick trip to Virginia for a conference.

My husband and I knew COVID-19 (Coronavirus) was coming. A few weeks before we had started filling the pantry – not hoarding, but making sure we had a little extra of everything. And while I could tell awareness of, and tension about, COVID-19 (Coronavirus) was rising, I had no idea what was to come.

I certainly had no idea how radically our lives would change by Friday.

By Friday, school had been cancelled for the weekend. SATs were cancelled in March. Athletics had been delayed. And my office, which I returned to on Wednesday, was trying to work from home for the day.

And again, I had no idea what was still to come.

By Sunday, school had been cancelled for three weeks. SATs were cancelled indefinitely. Athletics were on hold. Restaurants were being forced to cancel sit down service. Groups of over 25 were banned. My office shifted again, declaring we’d be working from home for at least one more week.

And I was in overdrive.

I am not one to describe myself as anxious, but as been said, these are unusual times. I started having trouble sleeping. I broke down a few times over small things. Snapped (primarily at my husband) over others. And, instead of comforting them, absolutely managed to stress out my already stressed out children.

By Monday, I decided to leave the kids alone to find their way, recognizing we may be receiving resources from the school. I focused instead on getting my mom cave cleaned up, setting a schedule for myself, and working – which, fortunately, was busy.

Which brings me to today.

In many ways, today is the same as any Saturday. I’m taking a deep breath after a busy week, and have a list of things to do – pick up groceries, do the laundry, get outside for a ride. But there is an urgency to these activities, particularly as I consider what things we need in the house, when the restrictions tighten further. 

My anxiety has, largely passed, replaced with that feeling I get before a long race or ride. Is it determination? Resignation? Perhaps a little bit of both.

I’m not worried about toilet paper, but instead what will I need to keep the kids (primarily our daughter) occupied. I’m also a bit obsessed with how to keep myself from falling into a pit of coronavirus-related news (on my list – edit podcasts, get our compost set up, learn to play guitar and make sourdough, journaling).

I just have to remember we are at the start of a long, slow, marathon.