Year 2 of Quarantine: Vanity is Dead, Rise of the Heroes, Just be Nice

So I go this from a friend today and literally could not stop laughing:

Because for reals . . . I've been looking in the mirror, and each day I think I age about 10 years.  No joke.  I'm out of my special night cream (it works miracles . . . Derma-e anti aging . ..I'll tell you more about it later) and I haven't been able to go get my monthly facial and I think I'm forgetting to even wash my face let alone lotion it . . . 

So really, I look like Sue.  Only I'm 45, so I'm more like an Egyptian mummy . . . 

What are you guys doing without?  

I don't think of myself as a vain person or even a high-maintenance person, but holy cow, turns out I just MIGHT be.

My nails, without their every few weeks appointment, look horrible.  Who knew that under my years of toe polish are some really ugly, not so healthy nails?  Oh . . . and my poor finger nails.  

But those are all easily hidden to the public eye . . . my hair . . . NOT SO MUCH.  

So I've sort of given up on that (have you noticed a theme here?).  Who cares? I tell myself, No one can see me.  Right?

So this is me this morning:  I found two elastics (one conveniently located on the carpet beside my mat) and before I did my 30 minute (only made it thru 25 by hey . . . I tried) Jake DuPree work-out (he's my favorite EVER! he's also going to literally kill you), I decided to put in two pony tail buns.

This is how they turned out:

Front

Back . . . 

(I know, you are soooooo jealous of my mad hair skills, huh?)

They worked pretty well, but sort of fell out a little.  But who cares?  Quarantine, right?  Bad hair for days!

While I was FaceTiming Henry this afternoon, he said, Mom, I really like your hair.  It's like Wendy's hair.  The girl on the Wendy's Restaurant. 

Really?

I looked in the mirror and thought, Darned if he isn't right.

That's when I remember that AFTER I worked out (or attempted to work out), I ran upstairs to find John talking with some blind (like new blinds for our windows) people who came to give us a bid (we stayed 6 feet apart and no hand shaking or breathing at each other) about new blinds for our house.  I chatted with them and looked at everything and then said good-bye . . .

. . . With my hair . . . . JUST LIKE THIS!

Like the Wendy's girl HAIR . . .

What is wrong with me?

Corona brain.  The only explanation.  Corona Brain is when you simply forget all rules of polar society: you can't talk normal, drive crazy, eat basically any and everything to do with carbs and sugar, and obviously can't do your hair properly.  

That's what we are calling it these days and I'm passing it along free to all of you.  When you find yourself NOT yourself, just simply blame it on Corona brain.  

We all will nod understandingly and forgive just about everything.

Also, do you guys remember last year or was it two years ago when we could go to a mall and get a new outfit?  Wasn't that wonderful?  And remember when we used to actually shower and use things like flat irons and blow dryers (do those things still exist?) and put on something called make-up?  

Weren't those days fun?

I wonder if those days will ever come back . . .

I've been feeling exactly like that for the past week--that this world is just a little too crazy for me to deal with right now.  And that life as we know it just won't ever come back.  

In short, I've been feeling sorry for myself . . . thinking of all the things I've been missing or will miss or loose because of this shut down.  Trips, money, friends, and in many ways normal everyday freedoms like being able to go and do what you want when you want.  Those are all curbed (and I recognize that where I live I have so much more freedom than most other places . . . I can still go outside and Lowes and Ace hardware are open to help me get though the projects I thought I'd do but am not).

And it's hard. 

It's sad.

We probably all feel angry, helpless, frustrated, alone, afraid, and so worried sometimes we don't sleep at night.

It's feels so hard for us individually.  For me, individually.

But then, I spend the afternoon reading about the Health Care Providers and First Responders in all the world fighting this virus and interact with all the grocery store and Target employees and my heart pretty much fills up with so much gratitude and admiration and love that I can't help but feel so glad to be alive right now to see all this heroism.  

Because it is heroic.

I read about a nurse today in Spain who has the virus and just is anxious to get better so she can go back and help again.  That's her one wish.  To go back and help her fellow comrades in arms to help heal and fix and cure as best they can.

This, my friends, is heroism.

So literally, after I read that article, and looked at my wonky hair and dry and wrinkly face and unshaved everything, I said, NOPE.  Not anymore.  If those men and woman can get up and go to work and bust their butts trying to safe the sick, get food to us, and fix this stupid sickness, then I can do my part.

And what is that?

We all know wash your hands, stay inside, don't go out unless you have to, and buy local.  But what else can we do?

It's utterly and totally cheesy, but this what else:  I think make our home the best possible place for our people to be in (since we're going to be in them a LOT).  

I have not been so great at this.  Along with lack of personal hygiene and just getting myself together, I've been absent a little from the kids and John.  

We were having another "discussion" yesterday morning (about literally the stupidest thing EVER) and I looked at John and thought, What is wrong with you?  Why can't you just calm down and be NICE?  WHY YOU GOTTA BE SO MEAN?  (Literally thought those exact thoughts).

Then I looked at him, sweet man, and realized something . . . I, ahem, wasn't exactly being nice either.  I took this deep breath and instead of telling him how wrong he was (he was obviously wrong), I said, "I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean it like that.  What can I do to help you?"

He looked over at me and told me exactly how I could help him (and not too nicely either), but I kept taking deep breaths (a lot of them), and just thought, be nice be nice be nice . . . 

And guess what?

I'll be honest here, I stopped listening to him.  

He was talking through and out things and I let him, but I wasn't listening not because I didn't care, but for the first time in a long time, I was actually looking at him and seeing him.

I was looking at him and thinking about what he'd gone through in the past week.  He had to temporarily lay off 85 workers and there was a chance he'd have to lay off six more next week.  All the goals and projects he's been working (and were doing sooooo well) the past six months have been put on hold indefinably (and may never happen).  He has seven kids and a grandbaby to watch over and take care of not to mention two sets of parents (he takes these things very seriously) and our ward and our friends and family.  And yet he got up each of those mornings and hugged me and told me he loved me and tried so hard to be positive for every single one of us.  And I never once have said, Gosh that must be hard.  Or Thank you so much for taking care of us.

In fact, I was sort of bugged at him, so I really wasn't as affectionate as usual.  Or really at all.

And I was that way with the kids (horrid mom moment) too.  They were making me mental!  I just needed a minute, ok?  So my hugs were fast and furious and my attention span with them short and distracted.

Maybe, I realized, I was the one who might possibly be part of the problem.  Ug. 

So yesterday, I spent the whole entire day chanting in my head BE NICE be nice be NICE.

After many aborted attempts, things began to change.  John started smiling at me again.  Finnegan didn't tiptoe past me and look at me sideways, wondering if he dare get a hug or not.  And Piper, she began talking to me again.  Celia talked to me about her friend (that's a boy) and actually helped me with dinner.  At dinner, we talked for an hour about silliness and memories and stories of when they were children.  

It felt normal.  Hopeful.  Happy.  Warm.  Safe.

So even though it took me until 5pm to shower, I am dressed and have a little bit of makeup on.  My hair is done and I am trying my hardest to be nice.

If all those men and woman can get up each day and brave physically and emotionally challenging environments, I can be nice.  

And also, I can try my hardest to help where I can.

I hear we can make masks.  I am abysmal at sewing in general (my grandmother bless her heart, was positive and encouraging about everything, and she even told me after an attempt to sew a dress that I should try some other hobby).  I have a serious fear that if I sew these masks that I will in fact sew them so poorly that they will be worse than nothing.  But I am brave.  I will not give up.  It may take ten tries, but I am determined to learn this.  

I don't have any elastic, but maybe someone does (if you live by me and do . .. can I borrow it until after Covid-19?) and I will do something.  Even if it's small.

Hope you all are surviving these times with laughter and joy between panic attacks.  I'm telling you, who needs cardio?  PANIC attacks work like a charm to get my daily dose of heart rate increase

Silver Linings.  They're real.

Also, does everyone have toilet paper?  I have extra.  I know . . . crazy how I can make one Costco bag last two years!

 

What greeted me this morning . . . Yep!  God's telling us to STAY INSIDE!

School . . . nap time . . . stare off into space time . . . 

And it turns out, we can indeed play hours and hours of video games like it's 5 minutes.  Because . . . time no longer exists.

JOhn's new office . . .the new is fantastic

Best for last . . . Hero's newest skill: Mouth Bubbles (she's got TALENT!)

WE GOT THIS!  (SORT OF . . . )

Until tomorrow, I mean a decade from now . . .