Thoughts on Quarantine, PART 1

Why am I writing this post? I mean, you're probably sick to death hearing "quarantine this" and "social distancing that" along with the occasional political argument about whether or not COVID-19 is a government conspiracy, an exotic meal gone wrong, or just a heaping plate of leftovers dished out from the plagues of Biblical times.

What else could Jen Yarrington possibly have to say about all of this that hasn't already been said?

Honestly, I don't really know. I'm just writing because I need something to do while being stuck at home.

Ah, quarantine. This actually reminds me of the good old days. When our kids were small, we would quarantine them for a week or so before we went on a trip to Grandma's house or on some other significant excursion during which we absolutely couldn't have children coughing up interesting colors of phlegm, spiking fevers or otherwise projecting bodily fluids in the general direction of whatever fun we were having.

However, it wasn't always a foolproof method. It may have happened (read: it most definitely did happen) that our children got sick at Grandma's house over the holidays. One managed to do the civilized thing and throw up in the house on some easily cleanable surface and that was it. However, her younger sister managed to wait until just the right time, which was when were traveling on a long and lonesome stretch of Highway US 2 somewhere in the Upper Peninsula. If you've never traveled this stretch of highway, you may not realize how few and far between the gas stations or other public establishments are. Meaning, as soon as you leave Manistique, it's just you and God's green earth (well, it was white at the time because, you know, winter) for the next 85 miles. Wait, is that right?  When I looked up this distance on Google maps, it said 85 miles. I can't believe someone got it so wrong. That expanse of deserted highway has to be at least 492 miles.

So we were moving along, slightly above the "recommended" speed limit of 55 mph and I handed out the sippy cups and a few snacks. It wasn't long before the previously unaffected child began to fuss. I looked back and she had just chugged a sippy cup full of yummy, red, juice in .00278 seconds flat. First came the whine, then the whimper, then the unmistakable look on her face that makes all parents panic, causing them to grab their kid in a football hold and sprint towards the nearest bathroom, knowing that vomit is imminent. And this vomit was. Imminent, I mean. Not to mention very red. And projectile. It's a wonder Al didn't get it in his hair (that's right folks, Al used to have hair) since the barfing child was situated directly behind him.

We pulled over on a deserted stretch of US 2 (have I mentioned how there's nothing on this stretch of highway?) with one kid puking, Al and me gagging, and the other kid looking an interesting shade of greenish-white. I threw the van doors open to get some of the smell out and let the frosty cold winter air in, and I began to dig through out luggage, but alas, there was not a single set of clean clothing to be found. So I resorted to digging through the dirty clothes bag and I found a warm and cozy sleeper that happened to smell like dirty socks, among other things, but it was far better than the pervasive stench of upchuck currently wafting through our vehicle. I managed to clean the kid up and wipe away residual puke from her car seat and other things as much as possible. Somehow we made it home with just the hint of "essence de chunder" for the next five hours.

Anyhoo, back to the word quarantine. It has been used in different ways over the years. We used to use it as a way to let the kids know that once we were within a week of any fun and/or family-centered event, they would forego their young social lives which consisted of play dates, preschool, and the occasional birthday party, all for the sake of having a puke-free vacation.

Was that whole anecdote necessary and relevant to what we're facing here in 2020? Not at all. I just really wanted to tell you the puke story. If you're ever interested, I have some other pretty good puke stories. And a few poop stories, too. Oh, and one time, one of our kids had the most disgusting rash on... well, never mind. (Send me a private message and I'll tell you.)

So during this current state of quarantine and/or isolation that is being “strongly suggested”, “mandated”, or potentially enforced by say, martial law, I'm completely at home in my element. I'm an introvert to the worst degree. It's so bad that when I am wanting to tuck in and stay at home, I instinctively want my kids to stay home, too. Why? Because going out stresses me out. Must be PTSD from the diaper days when I had 4 children, ages 5 and under, and going anywhere meant, wrangling children into a particularly small, enclosed area of the house, making sure each had gone to the bathroom, brushed their teeth and hair, and that they were wearing at least some kind of footwear. Oh, yes, it happened on occasion that my kids arrived at various public locations without shoes on because I assumed, wrongly, that footwear was an obvious choice for all living, breathing human beings who were leaving the house. And then there was the car toy check and the snack check and the diaper and wipes check, and depending on the age of the current baby, the spare outfit check. And honestly, that was just to go to Meijer.

Well, and don't forget the aforementioned puke and poop that occasionally happened while on an outing and the whole thing gives me flashbacks to battle scenes, mortars exploding around me, rockets whizzing by overhead, etc.

And I also remember the occasional, "well-meaning" (i.e. "nosy") individual who would make some snide remark upon seeing my teeming brood of children. One time I had one of those wonderful extended carts at Meijer - the ones that have a full seat behind the actual cart and handled like  semi truck - and I had a preschooler and a kindergartner on the bench, a toddler in the backpack, and a baby in the car seat in the cart. Now I was feeling rather proud of myself for accomplishing a shopping trip like this. But as I wandered down an aisle, minding my own business, a woman leaned into my field of vision and very authoritatively told me, "You need to stop!" I'm pretty sure she meant I had to stop having children, but I was so shocked at her audacity that I didn't come up with a really good comeback until much later, like when the baby started Kindergarten.

I have many thoughts on quarantine, some are insightful, some educational, and some, well, let's just say they may be the product of madness. Stay tuned for Part 2.