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Showing posts from March, 2020

Captain Mom’s Log: Week 3: Day 16

The days are blending into one. It’s all one giant Groundhog Day, but less funny and with significantly less snow. Inner Beasts are itching to escape from every corner of our beings. I entertain Chief Mate and myself with acoustic jingles and spontaneous dance rap songs. Our own life soundtrack, if you will. I will spare you the recordings, although they do exist. Not sure what they will say about us when some future generation finds them. School has yet to formulate, but I have faith it will soon take shape. Many masterminds are working around the clock to make it happen. Math must go on. Reading must recommence. Science must continue to cause speculation. Art ... well you get the idea. Carry on, human race. END TRANSMISSION

Captain Mom’s Log: Week 3: Day 15

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The sun has been out for two days in a row. Virtual School begins today. Parents who are working from home, hang in there. This is uncharted territory for us all. Despite anxiety, grief, and other such discomforts, spring is still waking up. It is a new world. Let’s make it a good one. END TRANSMISSION

Captain Mom’s Log: Week 2: Day 14

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The creatures on this planet prove to be strange, but non-threatening. Exhibit A releases a terrible stench when agitated, but I believe it to be non-toxic. The creature in Exhibit B does not move even when the shiny orbed aliens come in for an attack. Chief Mate fended them off crying, “Save the frog! Kill the bubbles!” Life remains exciting despite confinement. END TRANSMISSION

Captain Mom’s Log: Week 2: Day 13

The stiffness is setting in. My body won’t stand up straight anymore. Corporate wants things to go back to normal this week. We all know this is a feeble attempt to regain control. The definition of normal has shifted tremendously. Control is an illusion. My body aches. If you exercise, your brain shuts off the stress valve. A therapist once told me this. She said that when you exercise your brain is physically incapable of releasing stress signals and the exercise allows your body and mind to meditate. Imagine actually being able to let go of these plaguing thoughts. Even for just a few minutes. Watching a 17 minute math-teaching video in my swivel stool hurts more than you can imagine. I decided to humor my therapist. “American teachers teach to get the right answer.” Boxer shuffle feels good. “Japanese teachers teach to understand a math concept.” Punch, punch, punch, punch. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. “If we teach with next week’s test in mind,” Lunge, 2, 3, 4. “Students mi

Captain Mom’s Log: Week 2: Day 12

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The enemy loomed above us. It surrounded us on all sides as the wind picked up speed. Its troops an assortment of colors and sizes. All oddly shaped as glistening orbs. We couldn’t escape. There was no time for a peace offering, they were upon us. Chief Mate acted fast. With no proper weapon at hand, he plunged his training sword into their hearts. The enemy exploded on contact. They were no match for his force. Blow after blow his precision impressed me. One exploded in my eye, but I did not fall. The enemy proved weak against our weaponry, though it is far from advanced. Chief Mate’s war cry reverberated off of the silent houses. “Yeaaaaaaaaagghhh!” echoed into the woods. Finally the last of the fleet floated off above the tree tops. A defeated retreat. Tonight we celebrate with mint milanos. END TRANSMISSION

Captain Mom’s Log: Week 2: Day 11

This is my attempt to reach out to the world. For anyone listening, How are you holding up? END TRANSMISSION

Captain Mom’s Log: Week 2: Day 10

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Specimen C is out of food. She’s a very particular creature. Only eats wriggling things. I refuse to catch spiders for her. Crickets are sparse. I’ve enlisted the help of local inhabitants to dig up worms. Let’s see if she will eat them. *** Success! After letting 2 escape and 3 dry up, Specimen C has ingested 5 earthworms. Now let’s hope she has no reaction to this new and plentiful food. END TRANSMISSION

Captain Mom’s Log: Week 2: Day 9

Squats. I am doing some today. After breakfast. The coffee is almost too strong. But who doesn’t need strong coffee when there’s no toilet paper on this half of the planet? We are the only part of the world without toilet paper, right? Only this ludicrous self-centered spoiled-kid-of-a-country side of the earth would ... Squats. 50. Today. Okay. At least 20. After home school reading. An unending song erupts from Chief Mate as he reads about tornadoes. His smile is infectious. He loves school. Kids love to learn. Even as the planet is falling apart. Kids are remarkably resilient. “I’m hungry!” He demands food. I’ll do 30 squats right after lunch. “Will you make me a sandwich?” Co-Captain Dad requests. Sandwiches are always better when someone else makes them for you. Piled high with spring mix greens, the bread squishes just right and the urge for a nap sets in. “Let’s go outside!” Chief Mate demands fresh air to squelch the Inner Beast. I MUST DO AT LEAST ONE DAMN SQUAT. To

Captain Mom’s Log: Week 2: Day 8

The slog of the weekend is over. Our “days off” amount to what, exactly, when the virus hangs suspended over our lives? Worry doesn’t take a break. It doesn’t “weekend to Florida”. It festers and prods the mind until 2 am. 3 am. I wonder who else is still awake. 4 am. Finally, my eyes begin to shut. My breathing slows. My mind... But Worry agitates and stirs me awake as dawn gently breathes into view. Morning me argues, “Sun isn’t fully up. I still have time to sleep.” Then morning me plunges into a deep sleep just in time for sunrise and Responsibility to press its annoyingly peppy weight on my tired eyelids. “Good morning, Responsibility, could you visit another day?” But it presses on. Today I have to get out of bed for the sake of routine. Home school Week 2 begins. I can’t let down the crew. END TRANSMISSION

Captain Mom’s Log: Week 1: Day 7

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Which is a better find? Poop on the trail or poop in a bag on the trail. Who are these monsters we have found ourselves inhabiting the planet with? My only hope is that these are the ones who are out of toilet paper already. END TRANSMISSION  

Captain Mom's Log: Week 1: Day 6

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It’s been a hard day. I can’t sugar coat. It’s Saturday. Whatever that means. So no home school today. I slept until Co-Captain Dad said the coffee would get cold. My body felt 100 lbs heavier today as I dragged myself from the sweaty sheets. Outside is depressing. Cold. Gray. Everything seems Endless today. “We are going on a walk!” Co-Captain Dad is in charge while I pretend that everything is fine. I must keep the Inner Beast from springing forth. I sprawl on the floor by the door waiting for the 20 endless minutes it will take for the sluggish males to pull on their shoes. Chief Mate’s cheery face appears in my only line of sight. “Nerp-Nerp!” he chirps. A large white pom pom appears next to his jagged kid-teeth. I use what little strength I have to sit up. We play catch with Nerp-Nerp until the shoes have been slipped on. The walk is chilly. I almost turn back home. The boys can manage without me. But I plod on. Humans on the trail remind me that we are still he

Captain Mom's Log: Week 1: Day 5

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The weather is erratic on this planet. Temperatures jump from 21 degrees C to 10 degrees C within 24 hours. The land is saturated and the rains come in fast leaving the ground a muddy pit. Then as quickly as it came, the rain is gone and the sun is fierce and blinding. Humidity went from a hand cracking 26% to a smothering and sticky 52% overnight. This morning we found some sort of creature dwelling (see articles attached). I have advised my crew to steer clear, but their curiosity often gets the better of them. My chief mate has taken to sharpening sticks. It satisfies the Inner Beast. One stick resembles my dagger. Chief mate has gotten quite good at throwing. It lands swiftly in the mud. This skill may come in handy sooner than I anticipated. With the disease continuing to spread, we may be stuck here longer than our original plan. There’s no end in sight, but our spirits remain undaunted. END TRANSMISSION  

Captain Mom's Log: Week 1: Day 4

Settling into routine. Independent learning is taking off. We have found some other inhabitants. Keeping our distance, but conversing all the same. I believe we can learn much from them. At the very least it is a means of entertainment. Running low on meat. Have traded the locals floppy paper in exchange for some of their protein rations. Should last us another week. Toilet paper supply remains optimal. For now. END TRANSMISSION

Captain Mom's Log: Week 1: Day 3

Hours. Minutes. Seconds. What are they? Time stretches and I can feel my skin shedding and growing. "Moooommmm. I don't get it," whines a voice from the other room. Skin stretching and shrinking. Time ticking and growing. "I need heeeeeelp." I am nothing. I am everything. I am time. Tick. Tick. Taps a pencil on a distant desk. Tick. Tick. Tick. It speeds up, growing with impatience as time slows down. Suddenly the voice is in my bubble. "Mom." I look up to see the face of youth. Expectant. Impatient. Eager. "I don't get this math question." "What does it say?" "How are addition and subtraction related?" How is anything related? "This is your math work for today?" "Yeah. What does it mean?" What does anything mean? "Let's have a cookie break." "Yeah!!" Time turns to cookie crumbs and all is well. END TRANSMISSION

Captain Mom's Log: Week 1: Day 2

All is well for now. I can still hold off the Inner Beast as long as we stick to Planet Real School schedule. Time is relative. We don't count the minutes on Home Star the same way we did on Planet Real School. The local monsters are gathering outside for Recess while I forage for some semblance of lunch. *** Update!! The bacon is burned! Please Send Help! I cannot hold off the Inner Beast much longer!! His eyes are red. His face is twisting into an evil snarl. His teeth -- gnashing -- END TRANSMISSION