And just like that, it was basically February.
And, well, 2021 is still going strong a month in. Which is good enough, since there's not much else to do but keep on keeping on the straight and narrow '21 path right into the great unknown. And so far, 2021 has got itself some promise.
A majority of my family has already been (or will soon be) certified covid vaccinated!! (fortunate timing in my sister's case, as two of her sons have now been sick with the blasted covids in the last week and no mom can really push her sick snotty feverish child outta bed)
Andrew and I will eventually be eligible for ours in roughly 2069 or so. And some day Allan may even get a shot at getting a shot. I'm looking forward to our robot overlords helping us finally get that jab. Until then...
The isolation and masking was so fun in 2020, we thought we'd double down! Next year, I'm looking forward to wearing 3 masks! And then 4 and 5 and 6 until we need to just bring our own oxygen masks to hide underneath. But hey, look into my eyes...
Yeah, not covered. Please don't sneeze or breath into them.
But nice to make some kind of contact with people outside the house from time to time. I mostly keep my social by having strings of doctor appointments (yay me), which are always hopeful for helpfulness but largely just rule of really bad things and then shrug at whatever ongoing symptoms I'm constantly having that no longer fit any obvious one-two diagnostic path.
I'm seriously going to start telling people I did have covid so I can be considered a long-hauler and actually get some attention, I swear! But everyone's very nice, so there's that. And I now have an ENT who isn't a crazy anti-masker and a dermatologist who hasn't just mysteriously vanished from the practice they were at. So... something.
Besides, the home life provides plenty to keep us all incredibly occupied.
But it was never meant to last. She now frequently opens her bedroom door and starts yelling for me or ANJHPAW (I'm typically Adeedtee but the variations abound... an awful lot for somebody who will have a total emotional breakdown if somebody fails to call her precisely "Allan" and who cries because somewhere out there may be people who still think she's "Chaya").
She mostly hovers on the stairs and throws things into the main level area, demanding for them to be returned to her. Then she yells "oh no, I need to come downstairs to get _____ (whatever she threw/a crayon/a popsicle/who knows)!"Most nights there is an array of Christmas decorations, clothing and toys festooning the stairs by the time I go up.
Followed by "what movie are you watching??? What's it about??? ADEEEEDTI come here!!!"
This continues until eventually Andrew says he's going to count to ten and she giggles ebulliently and plays chicken with the countdown. Luckily so far she's kind of a teeny tiny chicklet and goes running in a giggling zephyr by 4 or 5. Last night Andrew counted to 10 about 4 times. Eventually she gave up. Not sure what will come next.
She's also taken to turning her light back on and just leaving all the lights - the overhead light, the clock nightlight, the humidifier nightlight, her butterfly nightlight, her lamp, and her air purifier nightlight - on overnight. Andrew has come in and turned the main light off when he goes to bed when he is heading to bed at 11 or midnight. So far she's been asleep. So far.
Little Miss Sleepless-in-West-Seattle continues living a double life as a girl and a bunny. More recently she's more frequently acknowledged that she is not and probably will never be a bunny. Which is tragic. Sometimes she's so heartbroken about it and sometimes she's simply resigned.
Sometimes she forgets this revelation and is back to telling any person who will listen about her bunny family. I'm half certain the reason she wants to sign up for a class every day is just an excuse to tell more people about her cat froggy and her bunny family.
Usually at some random inappropriate time like when the teacher is asking people "What shape is this?" Allan then raises her hand and starts whining that she's not being called on. The teacher eventually calls on her, expecting to hear about the shape or some question about the class and instead it's a 10 minute uninterruptible saga of the Bunny Family.
Bunny family you ask? Yes, there's Brother Bunny (aka Peter), Sister Bunny (Allan - that's Allan) and Baby Bunny (aka Alley). Sometimes there also Kiddo Bunny who is a far less defined character. Then there's Goldie and Goldrash. Goldie is basically Allan's stage name. When we "pretend in books" (which is basically acting out a story vaguely using prompts from a given story), the story is always about Goldie and she's saving George from hot air balloons. Goldrash, though, is a legit member of the bunny family. She has a different mommmy but the same Daddy. Mommy bunny and Goldrash's mommy are friends though. Baby Bunny, Alley, is 2. Goldrash is 1. So we have all the babies covered. Goldrash has been traditionally described with "she" pronouns but it recently came out that (1) Goldrash has a little penis (2) Goldrash is a boy, and (3) Goldrash dressed up as a witch to scare brother bunny baby, (4) Goldrash broke Brother Bunny's shoes. But Baby Bunny's the one who pooped on daddy bunny's head, so...
In addition to the wonkiness of bed time, bath time has become an increasingly fruitless and terrifying battle. Since I'm allergic to most shampoos and soaps and bubble baths (and thus to the people who use them), I don't place a huge emphasis on the bathing experience. But I do like to scrub the monster down from time to time. She gets into some weird stuff and is about as sloppy as her mommy when it comes to random debris getting all over her.
And sometimes bathtime is fun. But more often it's a 2.5 hour ordeal. I don't mind the part where little bath bunny runs around cackling and evading capture and generally being a bit of a dick screaming outside Anjhpaw's office because she knows that will make me respond. But I do mind that once she is in the bathtub she starts running around the tub and really physically resisting any attempts at bathing. It gets to a point where I worry for her safety.
So we had a discussion, and our current solution is to sponge bathe it quickly and then spray a vinegar/aloe solution on her hair and comb through. It sounds minimal but so far she's been much cleaner and more kempt AND I'm not afraid she's going to fall and crack both our heads at once.
As a water child who swam from age 2 and had breakfast in the bath, I don't quite understand her aquatic reticence but there we are. Mom points for me.
The compromise I'm a little less happy about is bringing her kindle on walks with us.
But can't win them all. At least we still get outside and sometimes she forgets about her kindle for a good stretch of distraction.
And there are little hints of spring just peeking out here and there. Mostly in that the sun actually bothers to come up ever. Still dark in the mornings and evenings, but midday... the sun sometimes has bothered to rise!
And a sign of the changing times, Andrew's brother is coming out for a ski Odyssey at the end of February. He's been vaccinated, so... good for him! Andrew hasn't, so I'm like "remember to wear fifteen masks and bathe in Everclear (I'm allergic to most sanitizer, but grain alcohol is just perfect), honey!" But sounds like *the* thing to do this winter, since almost every ski day was sold out by the time Andrew thought he'd better get some practice days in first. And it's a lot better an option than most.
My thing to do this winter is mostly to stay home and stay warm and stay relatively intact. But to each their own. I write. I rant. I chat. I follow the wild one around. I survive.
Oh oh oh and still making music.
Hope you have all survived the begining of this big old year of question-marks and big hopes.
Meantime, here, have a few more masks. I got plenty.
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