May 12th. Day 57.

Day 57.

We have entered our final week of digital learning. On one hand, I'm relieved. I will no longer have massive battles with my children over doing 20 minutes of Moby Max on a daily basis. I will miss all the cleaver, loving phrases they shout at me and all the amazing excuses as to why they are unable to do their work. Now. Or Ever.

On the other hand, now we have the whole day wide open. Our new digital learning free schedule will be as follows:

9AM WAKE UP
9:01AM-10:00PM WATCH TV, PLAY NINTENDO SWITCH, PLAY COMPUTER GAMES**
10:00PM-11:00PM TOSS AND TURN DUE TO INABILITY TO FALL ASLEEP BECAUSE OF SCRAMBLED BRAIN
11:00PM-9AM HAVE NIGHTMARES ABOUT ANIMAL CROSSING AND SUPER MARIO BROTHERS
9AM REPEAT
**SNACKING INTERSPERSED THROUGHOUT DAY. NO MEALS SERVED. ONLY CRACKERS

Mr. Yoy has been working from home this week. Little E likes to work in the same room with him. There is a significant drop in back-talking when Mr. Yoy is around and this seems to be the only way I can get Little E to do his work without resistance.

Yesterday, Big E's teacher surprised him with a sign drop-off and a lovely note written on the back. Plus candy. Good thing Big E dressed up for the occasion with his fancy day pajamas. In fact, he had his Hugh Hefner robe on most of the day, but took it off to go outside. We ran into his 4th grade teacher the day before, late in the afternoon, and she called him out on his pajamas. But I think this is one of those things that will last way beyond quarantine. Pajama fashion. We all dipped our toes in the pool with athleisure, but the quarantine pajama phenomenon is next level. We may never wear real clothes again. 
THE END IS NEAR

Tuesdays are my "busy" days. I have a lot of my weekly zoom meetings happening on this day. I spent a good chunk of my afternoon in the office. My kids popped in every so often to report back to me whatever breaking news was happening in the back yard.

Today in the middle of my Education Committee call, Big E came into the office. He had a very serious look on his face. He cupped his hands around my ears to deliver a seemingly very important message. Probably from his dad, who was on his own call upstairs.

"YOU HAVE 2-4 MINUTES TO LIVE, BUT EVERY TIME YOU BREATHE, IT RESETS."

And then he was gone. I tried to stifle a laugh. First of all, I wanted to know who gave my kid weed. I looked at my committee cohorts. None of them had weirdos creeping into their office to death whisper random phrases into their ears. His hot, goldfish breath still lingering in my space. 

The rest of my day alternated between straightening up the pantry and finding all the Yoyser greatest hits such as:
THE COSTCO SIZED BAG OF CARAMEL/CHEDDAR POPCORN. CLIPPED LIKE I ASKED THEM TO DO, BUT STILL WITH A GAPING HOLE ON ONE SIDE.

And, non-stop wrestling. There was pillow throwing. Chair dragging. Head-butting. All while it was 72 and sunny with the gas fireplace cranking the whole time. 
CRAZY EYES

It's dinner time. Mr. Yoy just rolled downstairs, poking around about dinner. I'm hiding in here writing. It sounds like he's pulling everything out of the freezer, so it will be turkey meatballs, uncrustables, and thin mints for dinner. Two thumbs up from this girl. 

Have a good night, y'all!

P.S. Mr. Yoy just walked into the office with nine bags of frozen riced cauliflower and told me I was on RC probation. No more Shipt orders. 











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