Texts During the Pandemic: This Is How We Communicate Now

One minute you're okay, the next you're crying on the couch underneath your weighted blanket

Texts During the Pandemic

“Hey, you! This is some shit, huh? Sheesh. Yeah, hockey’s done for the year. Feels odd, not to be rushing off to a rink somewhere. No word on soccer or football, yet. Hopefully, this will all blow over, soon.”
“Living their best lives, my two. I’ve given up bedtime, they’ve given up wearing clothing, for the most part. It’s kind of a gift, really, this slowing down of things. Not only do I NOT have to do the things, I’m not doing the things for the good of HUMANITY. It’s like altruism, without effort.”
“Are you putting your kids on a schedule, for school? Like, making them stick to it, or just letting them do their thing from their beds? I feel kind of like I should be stricter, or something…”
“HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, this Google Classroom stuff is so hard. It probably isn’t, but how am I supposed to teach kids who don’t communicate with words, through my fucking computer?  And staff meetings, via computer. Good Christ. I have TWO CHINS! I asked my staff if this is what I look like, like, all the time. They LAUGHED and said yes. DID YOU KNOW THAT I HAVE MORE THAN ONE CHIN? 
In unrelated news, I am out of chips. How are things are your end? Do you have more than one chin, too? Please, say yes.”
“You’re cleaning the ceiling fans? Jesus, woman. Could you NOT? The rest of us are trying to sloth out over here. I mean, I organized the pantry sometime last week…could have been last year, I dunno anymore. WHAT FUCKING DAY IS IT?
“I’ve given up pants. Like, for real. I’m just gonna look like this forever, now. Did you see my FB post from the bathtub? HOT, right? I really just did that for accountability. And proof of life.”
“Mornin’! Happy Blursday! If you need gas, now’s the time. Also, there were no line-ups at Walmart, this morning. I went early. Well, 8ish. Sleep is not a thing I do, so I went. It was a bit eerie, to be honest and I freaked myself out by needing to cough. Like, what? NOW? Now is not the time or place for coughing. Or breathing. What’s your position on wearing masks? Can you make me one?”
Hey…checking in. Still alive? We’re fine, here. Just…antsy. A bit lonely. What’s our feeling about sneaking out to hang out in a parking lot? I saw a picture on Lucy’s page - a bunch of minivans, in a circle. Wanna do that?”
“Am rethinking the whole “meet in a parking lot thing.” I read a piece this morning that said we shouldn’t. I miss you, though. This sucks.”
“Hey! A bunch of us are Zooming tonight. I’ll send you the link. Bring wine.”
“HOW MUCH FUN WAS THAT? Thank you for singing with me. I went to sleep giggling and woke up smelling like whiskey. This is just who I am, now, I think.”
“I have spent the entire day on this fucking couch, crying. What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t even know what I’m crying about, for real. Just all the things. From like, birth until now. The boys were like, “Holy crap, are you ok?” And I was all, “I’m fiiiiiiinnnne. I’m just having a day.” And Luke was all, “You’re kind of freaking me out a bit, Mum. Do you need the weighted blanket or something?”
“My asshole children brought me snacks and the weighted blanket. AND they kissed my forehead. Maybe I haven’t completely failed as a parent.”
“Right. The wheels are falling off the bus, around here. Novelty has worn off and we’re getting bored. I totally don’t even know when the kids go to bed, but they sleep until 2. Are yours doing that? I should turn off the wifi, but I’m not sleeping either, so…”
“House Rules: Do not leave the house. Don’t drink the booze. That’s the sum total of discipline around here. Jesus. I am failing, as a parent and I can’t even care. This mental health piece is real. I asked the boys how they’re feeling, and they said fine, but what if they’re not? How would I even know, you know?”
“Are you doing garden-y things? I bought a rake. Not that I’ve used the rake. I mostly bought it for prop purposes. Maybe if I see it enough times, I’ll use it. Probably not, but it’s hopeful. The rake, I mean.”
“June. Now, they’re saying June, before this is done. Holy sweet Mother of God. What are you doing in July? Wanna hang out? We can burn masks and shit.”
“I read this thing on FB, that said, “If you gather your loved ones at Easter, you may not have them for Christmas,” and now I’m am sobbing mess because I miss my parents (yes, I am like, 12) and this whole thing sucks ass.”
“Thank you for the flowers, my darling! God, I miss you. They’re so beautiful. I’m sitting here looking at them right now.”
“How can I help with fractions, in FRENCH, when I don’t even get fractions in English? It’s like I’m at work, not getting the Math, but worse, because the boys are like, “Mum! How do you not know this?” Me: BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING MATH!
“It’s a thing now. Me: “Dinner!” Boys, one up, one down: “Give me 5 minutes,” or whatever. That’s FUCKING MATH, Mum!” And then they laugh, all proud of themselves. Jerks.” 
“Wanna sneak over to my back porch, hang out? Like, under the cover of darkness sneak, because social distancing guilt is like, a real thing.”
“Sigh. I know. I KNOW. I just….agh.”
“Honey, it’s totally normal. We’re responding to an unseen enemy, that we can’t fight or run from, so we’re like, frozen. It’s a real thing. Like being in a war zone, sort of. But without hot soldiers roaming about. And no guns.”
“Are you journalling this shit, at all? Like, “Day 563: did nothing, was sad, ate chips.”?
“Do you think that I should paint the kitchen red? I read - ha! - somewhere,that red makes you hungry. What’s the opposite of that? Like, which colour will make me stop eating all the fucking things? I’m not even hungry. I’m just eating  ALL these feelings.”
“Online Zumba? Uh…no.”
“If you could stop being all dressed and productive and beautiful in the middle of a pandemic, that’d be great. You’re raising the bar too high for the rest of us. That is all.”
“PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN! Just put pins in your hair and be done. Nothing good ever comes to those who cut their own bangs. You KNOW that. What is WRONG with you?”
“When this is over, I feel like life as we knew it will be gone. I guess that’s not totally bad, right? RIGHT? Like, maybe we’ll just be more mindful, as a global community? Or maybe just the lines on the floor of grocery stores will stay, as a reminder.”
“I miss you. I love you. Be safe.”

Photo by Matthew Henry from Burst



Liz is 46, and isn't sure how that happened, exactly. She is raising two amazing humans, and isn't entirely sure about that, either, but is mostly loving it. And them. And coffee