2020: A Retrospective

What on Earth does one say about the year 2020?

It's now mid-March 2021, and I'm still processing the year that has passed. In fact, it's been almost one year to the day that the world shut down...and I don't mean that facetiously. The world legit shut down last year at this time due to the Covid-19 pandemic. And, in most cases and in most places, things are still not back to where they were.

Schools were closed. Corporate offices were closed. Theaters were closed. Libraries were closed. Grocery stores were ZOOS!

Toilet paper and - really - all paper goods were MIA. Hand sanitizer and soaps were backordered. Hell, I witnessed a toilet paper transfer across state lines go down online between two of my high school classmates!

Last year was like no other I've ever witnessed...and I've heard from my elders that it's unlike anything they've witnessed, too.

While I can't say that we did much, we went through a whole lot. Here's a list of how my 2020 went - the good, the bad, and the ugly:

• My job was eliminated in mid-January, which I tried convincing myself "wouldn't be so bad because it would give me some time and space to figure out what I want to be when I grow up." (Insert record scratching here) Narrator Keith Morrison: "But that's not what happened. That's not what happened at all."
• The girls and I roller skated at a seven-year-old's birthday party and I went home with a bruise on my backside. We also took a trip to the RISD Museum; created themed gift bags and decorated a portion of the lawn for Halloween; picked sunflowers, pumpkins and drive-thru picked up tulips; and swam, floated and paddled in a NH lake with friends.
• Harley and I indulged in donuts and champagne at PVDonuts for Valentine's Day; enjoyed an overnight at Graduate Providence (with Mona); were gifted a white onion by Xaco Taco on the eve of quarantine lockdown so we didn't have to go to the store; played Pandemic with the Welles family; and started a date night tradition of Masala and Dateline.
• I read Green Eggs and Ham to Mara's class as part of her birthday celebration, and brought Dallas' class cupcakes for her birthday. We also participated in many birthday parades and sent some well wishes via video.
• I celebrated Girls Weekend at The Stonehedge Hotel & Spa with the Larned Ladies. We brought and ate too much food, talked about everything under the sun, laughed until we snorted and cried, and enjoyed spa services. (Sidenote: the venue that has since shut down, which is a shame because it was a great getaway with the gals.)
• I enjoyed hearing Lite Rock 105.1 play Christmas music in March because there are no rules during quarantine.
• Home schooling from March-June was utterly exhausting. I started out with high hopes - ordering supplies from Lakeshore Learning, and trying to create a schedule, guidelines and rules. Many of those had gone by the wayside by April.
• We had engagement photos taken at Xaco Taco, the Providence Pedestrian Bridge, and India Point Park in Providence.
• I Zoomed with friends, bridesmaids, family, and potential employers; but visited family when the demand was too great to ignore.
• I spent more money on face masks, soap, paper products, and hand sanitizer than on shoes, clothes, parking, and potentially gas for my car.
• As a family, we ate dinner in the bed of a truck in the driveway because we needed a change in scenery; spent many days and evenings on the deck listening to music, drinking craft beer, and watching the girls play in the yard; and stringed lights outdoors at Christmas.
• I screamed at the girls for being jerks to each other and to me, and for not cleaning their rooms - once to the point of pulling a muscle in my neck, and at Mona for attacking a bird in the backyard.
• I read dozens of books, but nothing more memorable than The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas. I have made more of an effort to learn about the Black Lives Matter movement and speak up when and where I can. That being said, I can do more.
• I rented out my condo and got a temporary contract gig with a large employer in the state, which hopefully will act as a bridge to securing permanent work.
• I celebrated turning 40 by receiving my first mammogram, and tested negatively for COVID twice.
• I voted by mail in a presidential election and was thrilled with the outcome.
• I cried. More than usual. Harder than ever.

As terrible as this year was, my family and I were lucky. We didn't face anything that we couldn't overcome. Despite the overwhelming concerns and stressors, we came together when many grew apart.

As I write this, the sun is setting after a gorgeous, crisp, winter day. The weather is starting to turn here in New England and hope is on the horizon.

Vaccines are here and we're awaiting our turn. Restrictions are starting to lift locally and across the country and around the world.

Here's hoping 2021 can redeem, at least partially, the dumpster fire that was 2020.

Watch Out!

Have you ever been slapped in the face by a memory? It doesn't have to be a negative or a painful memory, but a reminder that you couldn't overlook?

Last week I was "slapped" by a joyful and silly memory, and it got me thinking. I've been meaning to tell you about it, so here we go...

I was pulling the car out of the driveway to go pick the girls up from school when I saw three middle-school-aged kids riding their bikes past the house. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they were done with their virtual classes for the day.

We were all going in the same direction so I slowed down as they rode down the street several yards ahead of me. As they approached a stop sign at an intersection of quiet backroads, they looked in all directions but didn't make a complete stop.

Not a care in the world! Ah - the good ole days of pandemic-required quarantined virtual schooling! (Does that even make sense? Oh well, moving on.)

Anyway, as they continued on their way, the biker in the middle of her two friends looked to her right to watch the young boy swerve around in a circular pattern on the cross street, and as she did so she rode her bicycle directly into a parked mail truck.

I, without hesitation, laughed out loud in my car for a few different reasons.

Not only was I laughing at this young girl because I had been that girl before, but I was laughing because, after her front tire bounced her back a bit, her first instinct was to get out her cell phone and text? Tweet? Take a selfie?

Who knows? I didn't stick around long enough to find out.

Oh, how times have changed!

As I drove by, I did, however, take a peek to verify whether the truck's driver was inside at the time. Nope. Off delivering people catalogues, election materials, and bills.

In the late-1980s, I was traveling down my street to see if my neighbor friend was home. She lived at the bottom of the hill so I inconspicuously rode past to see if there were signs of life at their house or in their driveway. If no one was out and about, I'd just head back home, likely stopping halfway up the hill to walk my bike because I was lazy then, too.

This is the same hill, and the same friend's house - in fact - that I bit it riding my bike past a few years prior. A fall which required three stitches in my knee. A scar I still rock today.

As I rode by, I didn't see any thing so I continued on for a bit and then turned around.

Nothing to see here. I'm just taking a leisurely ride around my neighborhood. I'm not spying on my neighbors at all.

On my return pass, I looked again. Maybe I had missed someone waving from their bedroom window or from the swing set in their the backyard.

DOOF!

I rode my bike directly into the back of a parked car.

I instantly looked around and confirmed that no one had seen me...or, at least, that no one was in the car or laughing from their front lawn. I guarantee that someone had been watching me from their front window and still laughs about it to this day. To them - probably the Connors or the Drudis - I say "You're welcome".

In that moment a few weeks ago, I laughed because I was that girl. No, I wasn't carrying a cell phone around with me while biking, but only because cell phones didn't exist yet.

I remember the color of the car. I remember how my face instantly flushed and I got hot with embarrassment. I remember making sure there was no damage to the car. I remember how quickly I got the heck out of there. I remember how I started smiling to myself before reaching the next house.

This young girl's friends were there and began laughing along with her and I'm sure it's a memory they'll share for years to come. Remember that time we were riding our bikes and you drove right into the side of the mail truck...and that crazy lady at the stop sign was totally watching the entire time and smiling?

It's interesting to see first hand how the same minor incident has changed over the past 30 years.

I'm not 100% sure I've ever told a soul about my mishap on Edgewood Road that day. I grew up in an environment where mishaps were things you could laugh about and leave right there on the side of the road.

Kids these days are growing up in an environment where they'll be reminded of this mishap year after year because social media will remind them of all their posts from this date for many years to come.

There's no more hiding. It's all out there for all to see.

Thank God I grew up when I did, amiright?

Every Night

There has been something on my mind for much of my adult life that I want to share with you. I only think about it when I lay my head down upon my pillow to sleep for the night. It always makes me smile to myself as I face the fan blowing in my direction.

"If I were standing up right now...in this identical position...how crazy would I look?"

Like, if I were in this exact physical position while in line for the bank teller or at the supermarket deli counter, how silly would I look?

I know this is weird. I know this because I shared this thought with Harley last night and he told me it was weird.

But it's true, every single night as I'm riding off into the sunset in Sleepytown, I ponder how crazy I look. What would others think if they saw me right now? And I know I would look pretty crazy.

For me, the coziest of all cozy sleeping positions is on my stomach and usually with my right elbow bent up with my hand either under my chest or pulling the covers into my chest, right leg jackknifed up with a few toes hanging off the mattress. The left hand has to be under or in between the two pillows.

I'm not self conscious of how I look when I sleep. I have many bus trip and sleepover photo evidence to remind me how unattractive I look while getting my Zs. I just think it's a funny visual.

Think about it - many of us are contorted into a position that feels most comfortable to us, but - to others - we would look pretty silly. Sometimes, I have a hand on my face, sometimes my left foot is dangling off the foot of the bed, sometimes many nights I'm trying to avoid being pushed off the bed by the dog.

Anyways, the only takeaway from this blog is to acknowledge your sleeping position when you go to bed tonight...and imagine yourself in the work conference room during your big presentation. You'll smile yourself to sleep. I guarantee it.

Sweet dreams!

Quarantine Chronicles: Wedding Planning

I'm unsure how to start this blog. 

"As if wedding planning wasn't stressful enough..."

"As if being laid off from your job wasn't stressful enough..."

"As if trying to avoid and survive a global pandemic wasn't stressful enough..."

"As if trying your hand at homeschooling wasn't stressful enough..."

I'm stressed to say the least. 

Shortly after getting engaged in May 2019, Harley and I selected a venue and set a wedding date for early 2021. Plenty of time to plan without morphing into Bridezilla.

Wedding party chosen. Dress ordered. Theme selected. Save the dates mailed. First few vendor deposits paid and - BOOM - pandemic.

Everyone in quarantine.

Everyone stay away from others that don't reside in your home.

Hey you, the former HR associate, yeah, you're a teacher now...and also are responsible to perform in one hundred other roles.

This was not my plan. 

I'm doing my best not to freak out, but there is so much uncertainty that I'm finding it hard not to let it creep in. I realize that we still have several months until the big day, but think about the past few months - a complete blur.

What do I do if the next few months are also a complete blur and, pandemically speaking, things aren't better come the -ber months? 

Am I the bride that has to send "Release the date" cards because we can't go over a certain head count for our indoor venue?

Do I have to wear a custom sewn "Bride" mask to match my dress?

Is our first dance going to be to The Police's Don't Stand So Close To Me? 

I'm doing my best to act responsibly and be prepared. I'm hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. 

Hopefully it's all a waste of time. Preparing for the worst, that is.

Hopefully, by that point, I'll be able to hug my guests. Hell, hopefully my guests can come and not have to quarantine for 14 days prior for crossing state borders. Hopefully we can have a bar and a kickass dance party in the same vicinity. Hopefully we don't have to include hand sanitizer in our hotel welcome bags or as a favor.

Breathe. 

What's reassuring though is that I'm marrying my best friend. It's true. I'm doing it. Just like in those movies. And it'll be just as it should be. It'll be perfect.  

Quarantine Chronicles: The Purge

I love spring cleaning. Not dusting or vacuuming, per se - those tasks are for the birds; but getting rid of things we no longer need. I just love throwing away things, even if weeks later I realize that, in actuality, we do need the trashed items. Oops!

For years, I've donated items to Savers or Salvation Army or have taken bags to the dump after a productive condo cleanse. Last year, I was introduced to Poshmark, which is a site where you can sell (and buy) items from your closet or home that you no longer want or need. Think of it as an online tag sale. If we're not going to use it, why not give it to others (and maybe get some money for it)?

I love the idea of turning our very comfortable lived-in home into a Love It or List It final reveal, where no evidence of residents is anywhere to be found. Everything has a place and it's always magazine picture ready. We're never at that place for long, if at all. I try my best though.

What is it about airing out the house on a nice day that fills me with energy to empty out a closet just to put everything back in using some weird method like color coded or casual vs fancy? On days when we should be outside taking advantage of the nice weather, those are the days when I'm typically struck with the motivation and energy to take on this sometimes overwhelming task.

This past weekend, I tackled the closet of an eleven-year-old. Jesus, take the wheel.

Not only has no one gone through this closet in months, but the owner of said closet has (accidentally) pulled down the hanging bar and top shelf. There is very little space to actually put clothes to ensure it stays clean and organized. This particular closet is the largest in the house and has acted as a catch-some for months. Enough was enough. I had to bite the bullet and clean this sucker out.

With a little help from a Dave Matthews Band concert made available during quarantine, I emptied each pile onto the bed, looked at the sizes and quality of each item, refolded what was salvageable and returned those items into the closet. Clothes that were too small or trash went into different piles - reminiscent of that old TLC show Clean Sweep with the keep, sell and trash piles on tarps on the front lawn.

There's now a short sleeve t-shirt pile, a long sleeve shirt pile, a school uniform pile, a sweatshirts and sweaters pile, drawers for underwear and socks, pajamas, pants, bathing suits, shorts, and miscellaneous accessories like belts. For the time being, dresses are folded and slung on top of a plastic drawer organizer. We still need to revisit this closet and make it...not so embarrassing to look at.

Regardless how long it lasts - the organization and the clutter-free atmosphere - I felt good, accomplished, and productive. Maybe I'm extra proud of my work because I've got nothing else going on (unemployed and coming out of a pandemic stay-at-home order). Whatever the reason, I'm letting this feeling stay with me longer than usual. There are plenty more opportunities for this feeling - the bathroom linen closet, the basement, the game closet, the trunk of my car.

The opportunities are endless because once I've finally reached the bottom of my project list, it's time to start over and do them all again.

The fun never ends.

Quarantine Chronicles: Things I Miss

Things I'm missing (perhaps more than I should) during this Covid-19 pandemic quarantine (in no particular order):

• Browsing library stacks for books to check out
• Smiling at friends and strangers, and having them see my smile, not just feel it or assume it's hiding behind the mask
• (I can't believe I'm saying that as it's not something I enjoyed prior to lockdown.) Going grocery shopping and actually being able to purchase everything that is needed for weekly dinners without experiencing a food shortage
• Experiencing long-awaited pre-wedding memories and attending planning sessions with vendors
• Not having to worry about whether all of our wedding guests can safely attend our wedding on the date we've secured
• Dining at our favorite Rhode Island restaurants, maybe even with people that don't reside within our home
• Getting a manicure & pedicure and a haircut at my favorite salons
• Staying home because I want to, not because it's required
• Celebrating birthdays, impending births, and other special events properly
• Hiring a babysitter to allow for a date night with my main (and only) squeeze
• Having the option to use a public restroom, if needed
• Enjoying an evening at a restaurant, bar, brewery, movie theater, etc
• Bringing the girls to the park for them to release some energy
• Sleeping restfully
• Picking tulips and other fun springtime activities
• Having the freedom to do what I want when I want to do it
• Taking a nap on the couch with Mona before the girls return home on the school bus
• Making school lunches that actually see the inside of an educational institution
• Watching Saturday Night Live and having it actually be live
• ...and so much more...

You may say that many of these seem trivial and are a luxury, and you're right; they are. My life will not end if these things don't resume soon or at all, but my life as I know it might.

All of the above are relatively insignificant. In the grand scheme of things, they don't matter that much. I mean, how much joy can "having the option to use a public restroom" bring a person?

I can do quarantine; turns out I'm not great at it, but I can do it. I've been doing it for over six weeks now, but I don't have to like it. I miss the way I've lived for the past 39 years. I miss having options and opportunities. I miss being spontaneous. I miss being part of a community and all that that entails.

Hopefully the end of quarantine is near, but - more than that - hopefully once this whole mess is behind us, the world is recognizable. I understand that we can't just jump back into it, but I'm not sure how long these restriction rollback phases will take.

I don't know how much more I can take of this. I'm not sure how much you can take of this, do you?

Quarantine Chronicles: The Day Trish Lost Her Mind

The day was Thursday, April 23rd, my late-brother's birthday. The specifics of that day have already started to blur just two days later, but I'll share what I remember...and how I'm hoping to move on from it.

Quarantine home school started off as well as it could be in week five. I was helping with fifth grade math in the living room while first grade handwriting was taking place at the kitchen table. Dividing fractions aren't my thing, but we worked together to finish it up and get it submitted.

I turned my attention to the kitchen table and, after at least 30 minutes of her working on it, no words were written on the page. Zero. Apparently, she had absolutely nothing to share with her teacher about why she missed attending school. I encouraged her to get writing because the six sentences weren't going to write themselves. Yes, I realize I've turned into my mother. Moving on.

Fast forward another half hour or so, I checked back in with her and there were two half-assed sentences written on the page...and one of them was complete fiction. I'm all for creative writing, but this wasn't the time for it. I needed to take a picture of that completed assignment and get it over to the teacher for grading.

After crumpling the piece of paper up, I sent her to her room, for her to reflect on her assignment and, truthfully, to get her out of my face. Not as a huge punishment...just a little time out.

She eventually came back to school (i.e. the kitchen table) and banged out her assignment. No problem. Submitted.

Lunch. The fact that lunch was a stressor for the day is nuts. As you might remember, one member of our household doesn't do "lunch". She'll have healthy snacks, but refuses to consume a sandwich or leftovers, really. She filled her plate with blueberries, granola bar, and some Easter candy. Not ideal, but good enough.

Ms. I-Live-And-Would-Die-For-Nutella, on the other hand, filled her plate with a large solid Easter bunny, three grapes, Oreos and stale fruit snacks that she received on Valentine's Day from a classmate while she pondered aloud, "Maybe I want a bagel for lunch," and "I'll make myself a Nutella sandwich". I said either of those was fine...but did Ms. I-Live-And-Would-Die-For-Nutella ask for either of those things or make them herself? Nope. As she's sitting at the kitchen table with chocolate all over her face, I said that she'd better get some actual lunch in front of her because what she's got wasn't going to cut it. She responded with, "I know. I will."

Next thing I know, her lunch plate is being put into the dishwasher.

Ummm...oh, hell, no. I told her she needs to have something of substance - something healthy. She responds with, "I had grapes!" Three grapes. Three.

I come back with some sassy retort about how terribly dinner will go for her. Spoiler alert - it didn't go well.

I eventually go downstairs to switch over some laundry and relax for a bit now that their school work was completed. I get interrupted with the sounds of bickering wafting down the stairs. I begrudgingly made my way up the stairs to see what the heck was going on even though I already knew. We play this game at least once or twice a week.

Again, they're fighting about "her" stuff being in "my" room. We're very territorial these days. "So-and-so won't let me in to put my things in the game closet." "There's no room in here."

I brought up my great idea to the girls - an idea I was really excited about. "If you don't have room in the game closet for these things, that means you have too many games/toys. We'll get rid of some."

Their reaction didn't match my excitement. I heard a lot of whining and "nos". The volume of my voice began to rise...higher and higher. As I threatened to throw the full contents of the closet away next time they argue, I screamed so loud that I shook and I pulled a muscle in my neck.


What have I become, you ask? Possible valid answer options:
* A total screaming lunatic.
* A 39-year-old woman crying on the couch when asked by her fiancée "How was your day? What's wrong?"
* A creeper listening in to an adolescent Zoom meeting hoping she won't overhear, "So, Ms. Trish lost her freakin' mind today."
* A woman who has been cooped up in this house with these kids for over 40 days and no where she can go to escape. Forty days of this house not being big enough for all of us. Forty days of those under 12 not pulling their weight, not helping with chores, not making things easier for anyone.

Dinner planned for Thursday was ground beef nachos. I browned the beef, shredded two types of cheese, laid out the chips and assembled them the way I wanted to, adding refried bean dollops. This is not how I have done nachos in the past, at least not in the past three years. No more Ms. Nice Lady. I didn't leave a section for the meat-and-bean-haters. Almost all of the chips had some beef or beans on it. Like I said above, it didn't go well for all involved. Ms. I-Live-And-Would-Die-For-Nutella ate approximately four chips that she deemed appropriate for consumption. I didn't care. You want to starve to death? Knock your socks off. I refused to get into it with her. She made her choice; she'll have to live with it.

As I sat comatose on the couch waiting for reinforcements to get home from work, I began to cry. I eventually put myself to bed before reinforcements walked through the door, only to be awoken by a text. I read it, felt guilty, and threw my phone to the carpeted floor.

Damn it, I forgot to call my father. I had left my Mom a voicemail earlier in the day, but things got so crazy I didn't get to call Dad. It's customary for me to wish them a Happy Jimmy Day to acknowledge his birthday.

After a few beats, I got out of bed, wiped the tears from my eyes, walked into the backyard and called him. When I say that my father thought someone had passed away, I'm dead serious. In the time it took him to answer the phone, I was ugly crying. I couldn't get words out and I was practically hyperventilating.

In the past, I have really tried not to call my father to vent or ask for anything. I'm not sure why, but I never want him to think I can't get through life on my own. I want to play the role of the strong woman that can do things on her own, without Daddy's help.

Well, not on Thursday. I cried like a baby. I swore. I told him that I was totally overwhelmed. I told him that the girls were acting this way - driving me crazy - on purpose. I told him about the game closet. I asked him to Zoom punish them by taking away summer pool privileges.

I finally calmed down. Either he talked me off the ledge or I was getting tired from my outburst.

Thursday's reaction was the sum of so many components that had been adding up over the last few months. I burst.

On Friday, I read a book from cover to cover. I had some wine. I showered. I Zoomed with friends. I hung out with Mona, our English Bulldog. It was a rainy day and a good day to recharge.

I needed to get that all out of me. I need to do a better job of picking my battles. I can't make everything a big deal...not during this time. Going forward, I will do my best to not yell. Dirty rooms, candy for lunch, bickering about idiotic things - the quarantine childhood experience of some of that is healthy, right?

Anyway, it's not healthy for me to be that close to blow. I need to find more outlets to release the steam. I need to be able to separate myself from them. I need to let them work things out on their own. I need to let them make their own choices and have them deal with the consequences of those choices.

I feel a lot of pressure to keep the train on the tracks. There's so much added pressure and stress just living through this unprecedented time. We're living through a pandemic, for Christ's sake.

The house has to be clean; dinners have to be planned, prepared and healthy; everyone has to be happy, well-rested and calm. These are expectations that I set myself...and I'm announcing now I'm letting those go.

Our only mission now is survival.