Post-Pandemic Activities Where Dressing like a Giant Toddler Who Still Takes an Afternoon Nap Will Still Be Socially Acceptable

As we emerge from our temporary sweatpants society, the following activities will still command a dress code of Giant Toddler Who Should Not Miss the Afternoon Nap:

Recreation
Attending a Cuddle Party

Cosplaying at ComicCon

Participating in a potato sack race

Being a contestant on “Double Dare”

Going as Maggie Simpson to a Halloween Party

Attending a Silver Sneakers chair yoga class

Doing the walk of shame at 7 a.m. from a fraternity party

Embracing Furry culture

Professional

Managing a Croc Store

Performing in a Beastie Boys cover band

Riding on the “Bananas in Pajamas Live!” Tour Bus 

Shooting an ad for the SnuggieTM

Tinkering in the NASCAR Pit

Rehearsing “Peter Pan” for the part of Michael Darling 

Launching the Lookbook for YeezyTM Spring Line

Working the child birthday circuit as a Strawberry Shortcake impersonator 

Spiritual
Believing yourself to have been reincarnated as a hashbrown

Personal

Being Pauly Shore

Recovering from pacemaker surgery

Heading to take an afternoon nap as a giant toddler 

A Tale of Two Cashiers

Unless you know my daughter, whose soul is a glittery black balloon filled with puppy love and a thirst for justice, this first anecdote will not make much sense. Ergo, a brief primer on Daughter: You know how in board game commercials for kids, there’s always a big hamburger faced lad who elbows out everyone to hammer the gavel joystick thing or whatever and then shouts I WON? Yeah, my daughter would have been the side kid looking on with amazement, genuinely happy that Burger Boy took the W. But in the last couple of years, she’s become a bit of a righteous crusader and she sees you winning Hungry Hungry Hippos and is all STOP HUNGER SHAMING HIPPOPOTAMUSES! JUSTICE FOR THE PIGMY! SAY HER NAME!

So that’s my shopping companion. Thus, our mission a few weeks ago on a rainy Saturday evening was to visit a very disorderly Dollar Tree in order to see what we could see. We watch a fair number of YouTube Momfluencers in which the Momiverse teaches us how to assemble baskets with only Dollar Store Items. It’s…amazing? We wanted to mount our own adventure and we thought it would be more fun to sidestep the bougie boutique in favor of a chaotic experience.

We were not disappointed. In COVIDian times, there are arrows on the floor of store aisles directing traffic flow, as everyone knows, and which 66% of people ignore. At this particular Dollar Tree, 108% of customers were like, I see your arrow and I raise you an I NEED THAT BAR OF SOAP IN AISLE 4, BREH. Please socially distance your own self while I plow through with my cart full of stocking stuffers and by the way, where’d you get those fresh Lisa Frank stickers, hon? This was the kind of store where you’d just find a pregnancy test stuffed inside a Valentine’s mug (not, like, totally unrelated but still not a major merchandising concept). 1-800-HOTMESS. By the time we got to the register, we could not explain what had happened and what we had bought. As we were checking out, I looked up at all the mylar balloons that had escaped capture and floated up to the ceiling and I pondered how a balloon graveyard is actually 6 feet off the ground (deep, yo). The cashier handed me my bag and I told him his Senegalese twists were pretty and before I could say Merry Happy, he YELPED, I mean, YELPED, “Ohmahgahh, thank you SO MUCH! I was doing my hair all night long, I was up until 4 a.m. and I was like this is taking FOREVERRR, but you all are just making me feel so good” And then Daughter yanked her bunny rabbit hat ears and he died and was buried under a graveyard of mylar balloons, ashes to ashes, dust to Dollar Tree dust.

Not even one day later, I had to pick up a few more Christmas gifts at Target. As I was nearing the cashier, I had that sinking feeling that this was not going to end well. I saw it on the downcast face of the cashier. He was having a day. As I pulled my cart up to the register, I saw him look left, look right, and then yell, OH SHIT! THIS KEEPS HAPPENING. He then took off. I mean, there was no explanatory pause, like, “Pardon me, ma’am. I just need to go chase after this customer who forgot her bags.” Nope. Just BYE. Apparently the prior customer had forgotten to press the button that would have closed out her transaction, so the cashier just abandoned ship and ran after her. The security guard walked over and rested his hands on his head, sighing The manager also came over and tried to make sense of why there had been a cashier at register 7 a second ago, and that person had now vanished.

And the tale of these two cashiers pretty much captures the whole story about the way 2020 elided right into 2021. We either found a spark of joy somewhere in our lives, we perished, or we yelled SHIT THIS KEEPS HAPPENING and hoped management would swoop in and take care of this hot mess, STAT.

Documenting the Quarantine ed. 1

I have nothing patently interesting to say about life and love in the time of #coronavirus, but I am nothing if not a journalist so I am going to scribble some bloggy thoughts here and again.

We are all four plus the dog on quarantine in Massachusetts. I have glimpsed line graphs and spiked plottings and the confirmed cases and odds do not look favorable, even though numbers are colors to me. Generally whenever asked for statistical analyses or precision of any kind, my answers are usually a resistant lot of, “I mean, probably like so many or whatever” or “A baker’s dozen” or “A butt-ton.” I question most modes and customs, resisting them because I am a pain in the astronaut, but eventually I listen to the authorities who Know Things and I simmer down. Right now I am simmering down and it looks like this:

My e-mail inbox has been chock full o’ corporate branded messages that use phrases such as “We have been monitoring the situation closely” and “taking every precaution” but I did see Chipotle began offering free delivery and this was big news. I mean, what’s next, no charge for extra guacamole?! Let’s not get covidcraycray….

I have spoken to various friends and family on the phone lately and mostly I am in a state of irritation when they lament their cruise cancellations and the hassles of their work going online. So basically my disposition is the same. I have no capacity as usual for complainsgivings. I have tolerance only for great feats of human courage and radical acts that amuse me. I’m the same taciturn gal, just wearing yoga pants with more frequency.

Yesterday we took the offspring and dog to the DeCordova Sculpture Garden. Our dog freaked out at all of the sculptures and regarded them all with great suspicion, because you know what’s scarier than a whole case of resin sculptures that look exactly like multiple tiers of Jell-O molds? I know! The horror. HOLLLLD MEEEEE.

It was a lovely day in the sun, though, breathing the air that was free for breathing, before we made our way home to entertain ideas of doing Little House on the Prairie-type things. Wouldn’t that be charming and quaint? Playing board games and calling each other Maw and Paw and hustling up some supper? We fancied that for a moment and then I promptly took a QuarantiNap and Lovey Loverpants and I watched “Atlanta” on Hulu and ate whatever tortilla chips were lying around.

I think this is the chief difference between being a family with older kids and wee babes: there’s a lovely laissez fair spirit now, but I also miss the times of order and routines from the days when they—ahem, mostly I—needed structure and command. I long for days outlined by stickered calendars and behavior charts, snack packs and felt loveys all in a row. Now that we are a family with tweens, a.k.a. kids who can be interrupted from FaceTiming 18 hours a day to walk the dog, the quarantine presents a weird limbo. We’re all drumming up our little projects and social channels but it’s difficult to lasso us all into one solid collective of human life. We normally do this by leaving our home, but now that the quarantine is in full effect, we will have to find ways to come together without developing homicidal tendencies.

I am working to bring all of my classes online, and by working I mean that I have contemplated two minute dance parties for all of my courses and have not explored any other modalities that will empower my students to be good and competent citizens. I have one more week to figure this all out. Today I have a glistening stovetop to show for my efforts. Because you know what they say about teaching English composition. You can’t do it with a clear head if your stovetop is in disarray.