“M-m-m-my Corona”

Quick Note Before Reading
I recognize this is a really serious time for everyone and that while a lot of us are merely burdened with staying in our homes, people are dying. I certainly don’t mean to downplay the severity of the situation by bringing humor into it. We all cope with serious issues in our own way and humor happens to be my default, but please don’t mistake it for lack of compassion. If you’re not in a place where you’re down to laugh at some of the more trivial and comedic parts of what’s happening in the world, that’s totally understandable and perhaps you skip reading this particular entry. Much love and respect to all of you, even the assholes with basements full of toilet paper. 

So let’s begin.

Well, well, well…  we’ve really fucked up this time, haven’t we? Based on the pulse of my social media feeds, you are all feeling the various pains of working from home, having your kids home round the clock and generally feeling bored AF like a Disney princess locked in a tower – I see you, Disney+ peeps.

Dave and I are both currently working from home and Quinn’s daycare closed about a week ago – neither of which were a surprise to us, but while I’m used to the daily grind of being a working mom and all the shit it brings, there is no instruction manual for how to take on the full time job of keeping your kid alive during her waking hours while also doing the full time job of your actual job.


If you take only one thing away from this post today, let it be this – childless friends and family of parents who are currently working from home while their kids are off school/daycare,

We Are Not Ok

To add insult to injury, we have no idea when we’re going to be ok again. There’s no finish line to this marathon we didn’t sign up for. So if I see one more insta post about ways to get my “passion project” started during all the free time we have while staying home, I might have to lock myself in the pantry and sob into a bag of flour. My passion project, along with many others during this time, is survival. Just that.

Note: I realize the hypocrisy of that statement as I get my first blog post out in over a year. I wrote this around 3am on one of the many nights I couldn’t sleep, so that’s been fun.

The nights have generally gone like this:

Me: “Alright boys, time to shut it down for the day.”

Brain: “You know the economy might collapse, right?”

Me: “Yeah, but there’s not much I can do about it. So let’s chill for today.”

Brain: “Ohhh, ok…. Hey, remember that time you fell off the risers during the 7th grade choir recital? Let’s rehash that for the next four hours.”

Dear makers of Zquill, I owe you my life.

But anyway, we’ll get through it because parents are resilient AF, but I’m sorry Karen, no I didn’t see and immediately reply to that email you sent 20 seconds ago. Why? Because my child decided this was the moment to express her artistic talent with a yogurt window painting and I’m trying to explain to her why it’s just not a sustainable medium. But don’t worry, that logo resize you desperately need will be handled in due time.

I do have to give Dave and I some props here for adjusting as best we can to a new normal and establishing a daily routine. It goes as follows…

Wake Up 7am… ok, fine 8am. I’m not exactly fighting traffic to walk down the stairs, k? 
Get up and attempt to do work and get through as many emails as possible as quickly as possible before my kid duty shift begins. Shout out to the dozens of companies who send me emails about the insane virus sales you’re having on the daily. It’s totes helping me with this whole financial responsibility and saving money during tough times thing.

Yes, Nordstrom I do, in fact, want that new purse even though the most it would ever see the light of day right now would be on one of my few trips to the apocalyptic grocery store landscape where I’d probably end up trading it for 3 squares of toilet paper.

A good amount of actual work does get accomplished during this time, but the child hasn’t fully awakened yet.

Time for me to take my first kid duty shift, which means watching Frozen for the 57th time in 48 hours. I kid you not, the first words out of Quinn’s mouth upon waking up every single day are “Let it go?”

No, the irony is not lost on me.

I truly believe every parent of a daughter can divide their lives into two very distinct parts: The time before Frozen and the time after. I was blissfully unaware of the two distinct camps until shit got tough and Disney+ had to be depended on to raise my daughter for several hours of the day.

The Breh house now bows to the Gods of Anna and Elsa. It only took one day of trying to persuade Quinn to watch Aladdin and her swiftly declaring it garbage for me to give in and accept our snowy overlords.

She’s right though, Aladdin is garbage.


Quinn goes down for a nap and I get on the treadmill to continue training for the half marathon I won’t be running in June because cancellation is inevitable. In that case I’m going to run 13.1 miles around my neighborhood and make myself a medal out of a yogurt lid.

Jump in shower where I most certainly will not be shaving my legs because skirts can suck it right now (the female version of the covid-19 beard) and enjoy the 10 minutes of my day that isn’t set to the Frozen soundtrack.

Back to work work. Shit gets done.

I take my final solo kid duty shift and we probably start watching Frozen Two, but that sequel honestly feels more like a weird fever dream, so I’ll most likely encourage a switch back to Elsa’s OG Frozen freak out.

To those who haven’t had the pleasure of seeing either movie, I’ll happily fill you in. They both star a little brat named Elsa who has some kickass powers, but all she does is complain about them and lock herself in rooms and big ass castles because she hasn’t yet been clued into the gift that is anxiety meds. In the second movie she hears voices and it becomes pretty clear she has an undiagnosed mental disorder, but hey, she stuffs her feelings down by singing about it, so all good.

Also there’s a Snowman named Olaf. For some reason Quinn can’t pronounce his name correctly and it always comes out as “Hallah,” like the delicious Jewish bread.

Dave and I tag team Quinn’s dinner routine, which lately has consisted of her refusing anything that isn’t a yogurt pouch, black olives or one of the various forms of snack carbs we have stock piled.

Whatever kid, you do you. As far as I can tell, quarantine isn’t the time for nutrition. In fact It’s probably one of the few times you can just mow through a box of Triscuits while sitting on the couch and be praised for how well you’re handling the situation.

Bath time, also known as “Quinn PLEASE SIT TF DOWN” time. I’m not sure when or if she’ll ever learn how much more pleasant baths are when you’re not wading in them like those dudes in the cranberry juice commercial, but man is she in for a treat once she does.

Quinn’s bedtime. To be honest, this kid may have the energy of a Florida man on bath salts during the day, but when it comes to sleeping, she is all “Game on, let’s do this” and barely puts up a fight.

And yes, I know how GD lucky that makes us.

Kind of a toss up. Work more or eat another protein bar or watch DVRed episodes of This Is Us while crying uncontrollably or scour social media for virus related stuff that will freak me out and/or piss me off. The possibilities really are endless, but sadly do end at my front door.

Yesterday I received this message from Instagram and thought I had reached the end of the Internet. Like that’s it? We’re done?

I switched to Facebook.

Dave and I drag our tired asses up to bed where we’re currently doing a rewatch of Community and I typically pass out about half an episode in. Seriously, I don’t have a clue what the show is even about.

Reset, Rinse and Repeat the next day.

As most of you probably know, I live in a state that has a shelter in place order or lockdown or “don’t you dare try to get your nails done” order in place. The Brehs were actually doing this a few days prior to the order because social responsibility or something like that – translation: Dave made me because he’s a better person than I am.

We agreed to only leave our house for foodstuff essentials, which created the Great Milk Watch of 2020 – whoever was there to witness the last drop got to make the coveted run to the store, which in our house is currently more valuable than the last square of toilet paper.

As time goes on, I wouldn’t put it past one of us to “accidentally” drop an open milk carton in the sink and desperately wash its contents down the drain like a mafia snitch.

I honestly don’t know what day it is today, but I think it was around a week ago I was granted furlough to make a Target run. I don’t think I have to explain my special relationship with Target to anyone, but this trip felt a lot like breakup sex – bitter sweet, but largely safisfying.

I’m typically a pretty irresponsible Target shopper, but on this particular trip I was Marie Antoinette with a Black Card. Among other things, my haul included a toy parachute man, a bag of sugar (why? Because there were only a few left and I panic bought thinking other people knew something I didn’t) every single Mickey Mouse item I could find within those four walls, a mittful of their 5 for $20 thongs (super practical for around the house attire) a bath mat, a shit ton of bouncy balls, bubble wrap and cat litter.

$300 later I was at the self checkout pissing everyone off with my blatant disregard for the under 15 item rule – sorry, not sorry people of Rosemont. Nobody is going to touch my stuff but me. I’ll be damned if a contaminated bouncy ball is what takes me down.

For now I think the Brehs are pretty stocked up with the exception of toilet paper. Dave used the shortage as an excuse to buy a bidet. I’ve only tried it once just for fun and it was not dissimilar to that moment an automatic toilet flushes while you’re still sitting on it – cold, gross and violating.

I’m guessing I have at least a few more months to make nice with it and see an inevitable strong bond in our future as my neighbors continue to ensure the stores cannot, in fact, spare a square.

That’s it for today, pals. Stay safe and healthy out there and remember, drugs not hugs.

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