So, here we are in a brand new year that, so far, feels pretty much like the same old one.
The house is still a mess of drooping Christmas decor,
the dog needs to be groomed so badly that he cannot even see,
and applying mascara and chapstick still counts as getting “dressed up.”
There was no giant shift, like I’d hoped there would somehow be,
so, I guess maybe we twiddle our thumbs and wait for whatever weird headline comes next.
Two days into this new year a fire engine raced up our road; the lights and sirens were blazing.
This was surprising because we live on a small country lane where nothing much ever happens at all,
but, by the time I counted engine number 7,
I knew something was up, and I put on my shoes to investigate what was going on.
Neighbors began coming out of their homes as we walked up the road, asking if anyone had information.
We’ve hardly seen each other except in 9 months of passing car waves, but something big was happening, and we are all starved for some kind of excitement.
Surely we could take a break from binging shows, while our 40th sourdoughs rose;
From all of our Pinterest baking.
We stood with our dogs sniffing each other in the street and talked for so long, it got dark out.
Soon we were informed that what had caused the commotion was that a neighbor’s barn had caught on fire – The catalyst for our distanced block party, revealed.
Everyone stayed out talking until after it grew dark, petting the dogs, and just feeling, if only slightly more human.
The main thing I noticed while I stood there is that hardly one neighbor’s eye was on the fire.
One neighbor used the opportunity to offer cartons of fresh eggs.
I returned home an hour after the fire was out carrying some, which really surprised my husband.
“Wait. I thought you went to see what was happening. What took you so long?
Also: Where on earth did you get EGGS?”
I cooked dinner that night and the family sat down at the table,
which is when my daughter Paige (right on her cue) had her nightly dinner complaint over some food/flavor/texture/ingredient she hates.
Paige complaining about dinner is a timed-honored tradition. We all expect it to happen.
No matter what I cook, No matter when it is served,
you can count on her turning into a 4 foot Gordon Ramsay.
This time it was that the onions I’d cooked were “burning her eyes out,” and “didn’t I even care about her?!”
There was no way that she could be expected to continue functioning like this,
under such grueling conditions.
Her solution was to eat dinner wearing a fuzzy sleep mask,
and to feel around blindly with her fork for her food.
She ate her entire dinner that way.
My little Bird-Box-nourishment-getter.
None of us even blinked twice at this scene.
We just talked about our days and the weather.
Surviving 2020 means nothing feels completely new.
We’re the musicians still playing as the Titanic is sinking.
Barn fire, egg cartons, dinner sleep mask.
I hate to predict where this strange beginning will lead us.
This morning, that same 8 year old daughter and I had this conversation:
ME: “Hey, Paige, Do you know the tallest building in the world?”
PAIGE:
ME: “The Buuuuuurrrrrrjjjjj……The Buuuuuurrrrrjjjjjj…”
PAIGE: “What is even HAPPENING right now? Are you having a stroke?”
ME: “No. I am not having a stroke. You used to know this! Remember?
You’re the one who told ME. Remember? Come on. You know it.
It is in Dubai? You totally used to know this!”
PAIGE: “People do not always remember things they learn perfectly, you know.
They learn some things, and then they throw some things out.
I mean,
I’ve seen YOU look up third grade math.”
Yep. Nothing has changed.
So far this year appears to be lather, rinse, repeat.
(with the exception of my thirteen year old deciding she’s now a vegetarian, for extra life-flavor.)
I’m still in sweatpants homeschooling one salty 8 year old kid,
two Jr. Highers mood-shift in their bedrooms,
and yes, Netflix, so kind of you to ask.
I AM still watching.
So, Thank you.
I’ll just remind myself that there is still time to be pleasantly surprised by something new on the horizon even if so much feels exactly the same.
After all,
We once went to a fire and brought home fresh eggs,
and eggs are a good start, right?
I bet Gordon Ramsay won’t even complain.
This article was written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
