Man Plans, God Laughs

Every morning, I usually wake up my kids by yelling “Wake up, party people!!” with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. I did this same routine on school days and weekends. It got them ready to start the day (hopefully in a good mood).

But the last couple of weeks, I’m lucky if I can squeak out a very weak, “Time to get up.” Sometimes I just open their doors and motion for them to come out. I guess I’ve lost the spark.

Life has been very different lately. It feels like the world changed overnight, although I know the buildup to this Covid-19 pandemic has evolved over a matter of months. As late as early March, I was at a restaurant, celebrating my birthday. But I remember even then, I felt a little uneasy about touching the giant Connect 4 game pieces they had sitting on the outdoor patio.

Before my birthday week was up, the coronavirus was quickly spreading across the country. My husband was being directed to work from home. Shortly after that, my kids (who were on Spring Break) had the start of school delayed for a week. That would eventually turn into a cancellation of the rest of the school year and a move to online learning.

Since then, I’ve had this knot in my stomach. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions. Fear, frustration, anger. At what or whom is this anger directed to? I don’t even know. The virus for ruining my plans? I guess I should take a number. All I know is that everything changed. And that was not the plan.

I should back up a little. We announced the building of a new house last year. Well, that didn’t work out for various reasons that don’t even matter now. But there were no tears shed because we knew it wasn’t the right situation for us. We ended up buying an already built house instead, and we’ve been happy and settled. The neighborhood is nice, I love the elementary school my sons go to and my daughter seems happy with her school.

After moving, I made a promise to the kids. I told them that as long as I could help it, this was it. They would stay in this house and stay in their assigned schools until they graduated. We’ve moved a few times in the last several years and I wanted them to know that nothing would change again. Until it did.

EVERYTHING has changed. Their school year has ended abruptly, without a proper goodbye to their classmates or favorite teachers. We are stuck in our home most of the time, except for backyard excursions. It took awhile for my youngest to understand why our weekly restaurant visits are no more. Online schooling has had a rough start.

These all sound like 1st world problems, I know. But I promised my children that the disruptions to their lives would stop. That was an important promise that both my husband and I meant to keep. But I was wrong about everything. So very wrong.

I am grateful that we are safe at home together. That no one has lost a job. We have our health, which is more precious than ever. And when my youngest children express concern about this deadly virus they keep hearing about on the news, I put on my big girl pants and tell them everything is going to be alright. Even if sometimes I wonder if it really will be.

Everything feels weird and surreal. Groceries are now regularly delivered and the bags and items are met with suspicion. Packages I used to look forward to are yet another unwanted invasion of the safe space we’ve created in our home.

My son just celebrated a birthday. We couldn’t go to his favorite restaurant and we weren’t able to have it delivered. How he looked forward to going to that restaurant as he does every year. He had been talking about it for a month. We told him that his birthday would be different this year, as everything else had been.

We opened presents that day and dad took the day off. We ordered a birthday dinner from another restaurant and ate outside in the backyard (a fun thing we do every blue moon). We had cake and ice cream as usual, although it was homemade and not the regular bakery cake. And the birthday boy said it was the best birthday ever. He was genuinely happy. My guilt faded away and so was I.

My son didn’t care that everything wasn’t perfect and plans were changed. He cared that he was surrounded by people who love him. He still had fun toys and good food and a beautiful day to go with it. He saw what is sometimes difficult for us big people to see. He saw the bright side of things.

One thing that has come out of this is an unintended but beneficial slow down of our lives. Things can get very busy around here. Dad leaves before sunrise in the morning and often gets home after dinner. My daughter gets off to school and comes home with multiple projects to work on. I’m helping with homework and getting dinner ready. We were like ships in the night.

I used to dread the morning rush off to school. We were always running late and I would be dragging the boys as they fooled around kicking rocks or twirling around, so carefree. Now I miss those walks, especially the lively talks on the way back home with my youngest. So many things taken for granted. Yet what we have gained is the gift of time with each other.

Sometimes I still want to cry. Because my promise of consistency was a lie. Not a lie really, but it surely didn’t turn out to be true. I will remember this time vividly. For the bad and the good. The good of appreciating that health truly is wealth. That the love of family can make any situation bearable. That plans are just plans and everything can change in an instant. What is the old saying? “Man plans, God laughs.” How true that is.

I don’t know how long we will be under quarantine in this new reality. Weeks? Months? But my daughter said we should write in a journal during this crazy time and that she would too. That way we would always remember “Coronavirus 2020”. I don’t think I will need a reminder, but consider this my first entry. We’ve got nothing but time.