learning to choose

These two perspectives about my current phase of life hit very close to home this week, as we hunker down at home in our first holiday with our beloved peanut in this "penumbra of plague". 

My small fry complaints include but are not limited to: a tiny, forlorn rosemary tree that died earlier than expected; no family pictures or energy for those cute pajama pictures that supposedly signal Happy Family Time; turning down a Christmas Eve gig in favor of Happy Family Time and health when finding out that vaccine and masks were optional; a cluttered house full of unfinished projects; a clingy dog and a film of even clingier dog hair everywhere; freezing rain so no hikes outside; and our annual discussion about when the goings-on of Christmas should actually happen (the evening of the 24th or the morning of the 25th). 

All of these are petty details are overshadowed by more serious things: illness, family, work. I am caught in the uncertainty of potential infection, constantly refreshing the Covid test results page and comparing my symptoms to previous sicknesses. I realize just how much I love the solitude of this pandemic-enforced staying home even though I was a little disappointed to un-invite our little family from a micro holiday gathering up in the woods combined with thinking about mom and dad having all of their 15 chickens and grand-chicks under their roof except for us. 

There is something so very quotidian about pursuing our daily routines because of the bebe who has no idea today is different (other than more screen time than usual with multiple family FaceTime calls). And all of this is surrounded by the nagging and dread in the back of my head that I need to prep my classes and plan my schedule to figure out child care which signals the going back to work phase of January and death knell of this ultimate luxury of time with the little one. I am grateful to be able to support my family: it is the conflict-ridden mechanisms of it that are hard for me to stomach. 

I was surprised yet again that it took all day to cook a vegetarian feast with 6 different dishes just for the two of us (and now we have leftovers for days). I tried to keep it as festive as I could. But opening gifts between the 2 of us was a little forlorn and a picture of what it might be like when we are old and even more grey than we are now. The tooth of time makes its daily appearance to keep me in check and make sure I don't forget my mortality and our fragile life on this blue marble. 

 And for all of that, the happiest surprises remained the smallest ones, things as insignificant as the lil' one relishing the chance to eat with us at the table. I usually feed her by herself and put her to bed before we eat. And the best one by far: her first taste of mashed potatoes and not wanting to stop the spoonfuls coming to her mouth. A girl after my own heart. 

I got that choice of remembering to eat a vegetable covered. It is the other 2 that are taking me for that emotional spin of feeling out of control. 

via {the New Yorker}