Forced Homeschool Parent Log – Day 61
Everyone is still here. In the house. With me. All day. Every
day. All of the minutes.
I had high hopes when the stay at home order was first
announced. I was going to be sooo productive. Oh, the books I would write. Oh,
the to-do lists I would smash. What great shape I was going to get in.
I laugh now, thinking about the optimistic, starry-eyed kid
I was back then. Boy, was I fooling myself. I have a hard time even scheduling
a shower now. Or at least, a hard time summoning the will to shower.
I exercised pretty regularly those first few weeks, if twice
can be considered “regularly.” Those days are long gone. Cardio now only comes
in the form of walking up the stairs in our house. I limit my trips between
floors as much as possible each day because there are seventeen damn stairs and
they are tiring.
I have toyed with the idea of moving my computer downstairs
and just sleeping on the couch to eliminate the stairs altogether, but the
computer looks heavy. And there are a lot of wires and stuff. Never mind.
My days have been whittled down to one single to-do item –
get Son Number Three to log onto his ten A.M. school video call every day. So
far, we are batting less than .500. The other two boys may also have school
meetings they are missing, but I lack the energy to get involved, or even care.
My wife might want to help with our own kids, but she simply
can’t. She’s in charge of attempting to get her high school math students to care
about their own online learning. It’s a lot like trying to get a colony of
baboons to care about online learning. Most days you’re just ducking the flying
poop.
Organized meal planning and preparation has ceased. We have
lapsed into unscheduled free-range grazing. We would buy larger clothes if any
stores were open, so we exist only in sweatpants.
Despite their blank stares and drooling, the boys have somehow
caught on to our ruse of keeping them away from us by getting “high COVID
readings” on my old Blackberry phone I told them was my “COVID meter.” My wife
and I are now forced to leave the house if we want to get away from them, but
that’s a lot of work. Noise-canceling headphones are now being used instead.
The boys desperately need haircuts. They have passed the
point of “shaggy” and have moved into “downright embarrassing.” Perhaps if they
would shower more, the unkempt eagle’s nests that are being called hair would
look a little better, but sadly, we may never know. I don’t even have the drive
to take my own shower, let alone harp on a teenage boy long enough to get one
to wash himself. I’m just doubling up on the weekly pool chlorine and hoping
for the best.
That’s all for now. Just trying to stay positive and looking
forward to Day 62, or Armageddon. Either one will do.
Nap time now. Boys, go downstairs and get me a snack! Boys!
Boys?
Dammit, I think they got ahold of our noise-canceling
headphones again.
See you soon,
-Smidge
Copyright © 2020 Marc Schmatjen
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