Saturday, March 21

This morning the total cases in the U.S. is more than 27,000. There are so many sites and graphs and projections. I try not to look at too many. And. I try to be sure that what I am spending time with is verifiable information from a reliable source.

In Massachusetts, Gov. Charlie Baker declared a state of emergency on March 10. On March 15, he, “ordered a 3-week suspension of school operations for educational purposes at all public and private elementary and secondary (K-12) schools in the Commonwealth (not including residential and day schools for special needs students), beginning Tuesday, March 17 and continuing until Monday, April 6.” (Quote taken from the Massachusetts COVID-19 State of Emergency webpage. I’m too fatigued to rewrite that and make it prettier.)

The same day — a week ago today — the governor also issued an “emergency order limiting gatherings to 25 individuals and prohibiting on-premises consumption of food or drink at bars and restaurants.”

Here’s what I think: Right now many of us in Massachusetts likely have in mind the April 7 date. The day that we’ve been told schools will re-open. But the models, the projections, and the scientists and doctors creating them seem to say it will be more like three months. Three months of: Stay at Home. Get groceries once each week.

Yesterday, I went to the grocery store. At about 8:15 a.m. My local grocery store has declared that the first hour of each day is reserved for shoppers ages 60 and over and those who are immunocompromised. Many stores are doing this. At 8:15 a.m., there was plenty of produce. Still no tofu or veggie dogs. (Or, AGAIN no tofu and veggie dogs? Difficult to tell, but when I went shopping on March 12, there was no tofu, and I scored the last two packages of veggie dogs.)

Other grocery store tidbits:

• I wore my winter gloves the whole time.

• The kids wanted Swedish Fish. There were none. I bought Trolli sour worms and Twizzlers.

• My middle child wanted black raspberry ice cream. There was none. I bought coconut.

• The baking aisle was decimated. No flour, baking powder.

• Spices were not fully stocked. Lots of room on the soup shelves. Very limited rice.

• We don’t eat meat, and I don’t usually go anywhere near the meat section, but I made a point to look. Lots of empty space in the meat coolers and butcher window.

• No toilet paper. Limited tissues.

• Plenty of eggs and milk. Enough butter that I was able to buy four pounds. I felt slightly guilty about this.

• Staff were stocking in multiple areas of the store: produce, dairy (cottage cheese, sour cream, yogurt). The cheese supplies were very low, but I was able to buy blocks of mozzarella and fresh mozzarella for pizza later this week.

• Very limited coffee and (slightly less limited) cereal.

Essentially, in every aisle I went down (which was every one except for the pet aisle), there were shelves that were clearly down stock and some large sections of shelving completely empty.

With three kids, and as co-head of a family that does not eat out frequently, our grocery needs are a big part of my daily brain energy. I generally do a giant shop over a weekend and then stop at the store on my way home from work every couple of days to replenish the eggs, avocados (yes, you read that right), beans, etc. It caused me a significant amount of emotional distress to walk through the store I visit so frequently and not be able to just grab what I need and know I could head on back later for that forgotten item. (Yes, technically I COULD do this, but I have committed to no more than weekly trips.)

We are so lucky, and I am so grateful. But I walked through the store yesterday on the brink of tears, shaking at times. Trying to get a 12-pack of Snapple into the cart I squatted, lost my balance, and fell backwards, ripping the package (but not breaking any jars!). I also ran my very full cart into a maple syrup display, trying to avoid a shopper coming at me and getting too close for my comfort. By some miracle, the glass bottle of syrup that fell from the top shelf to the floor did not break.

Three months. Let’s say that is 12 weeks. We’ve just completed one.

Here are some of the things that we had planned on over the next three months:

• My 11-year-old’s baseball season.

• My 14-year-old’s ballet performance(s).

• A band concert.

• Weekly drum lessons. Guitar lessons. Piano lessons.

• Ballet class and rehearsals, four times/week for the 14-year-old.

• Weekly adult ballet class for me. (I miss you, Kelly, and all of the amazing adult dancers who meet weekly to work their asses off and have so much fun doing it.)

• Taking the oldest to the RMV for his driver’s permit.

• Meeting the cousins’ puppy.

I have a stomachache now, thinking of all of these things and knowing how much longer I could make this list.

People are posting all kinds of prompts to social media about what to be grateful for.

When I go out, everyone waves and smiles from afar.

We are becoming more compassionate with each other. Kinder. Friendlier.

Is it because we have time? Because we literally ALL share something with each other now? Because all levels of measurement of worth have been stripped? We are all living in our homes, feeding our families, getting outside when we can. Grateful for the jobs that we have, even if they are not the jobs we thought we wanted.

My son made tea for himself and asked, “Do you want some, mom?” This is not all that unusual, but I paid closer attention than I would have a few weeks ago. I think that really sums it all up.

Stay safe, everyone.