Well, the longest March in the history of Marches is over. (The #90sKid in me wants to rewrite “Long December” to be about COVID-19. It’s been the longest March now and there’s reason to believe/ maybe April will be longer than the last. I can’t remember the last time I was around other people/ And my hygiene’s dropping fast…)

It’s also been exactly 3 weeks of social distancing. We’re still in the calm before the storm here, compared to what’s happening in the USA and other countries. It seems like a bad idea to think about “after,” but last night I was up at 3 a.m. worrying about Dot. After months of being around me 24/7, how will she adjust to being around people again? Will we ever be able to leave her with a babysitter? What will happen to her social skills if she’s never around other children? We really have been in our own little universe.

While I was making muffins this morning (again! By request! And this time they were delicious!), I wondered how long until it will be until I set an alarm for 6 am, get up and ready, pack Dot’s lunch in the dark kitchen, running down a mental checklist of lunch – snacks – water – Eugene the stuffed owl – more clothes – extra sweater as I pack Dot’s bag, then tiptoe in to wake her up by rubbing her back. How long until we listen to a podcast in the car while she sips a pouch, on the drive to daycare? How long until I get back in my car by myself and commute out to Surrey, stopping to get a giant iced coffee? How long until I sit for a few minutes in my office — iced coffee in hand — and take a few breaths before seeing students? How long until I see a student again?

This train of thought helps no one. Best to enjoy a breakfast of warm muffins, and a cup of coffee, and a sleepy toddler beside me on the couch patting my arm every once in awhile. And so I spent the day trying to plan in a more productive way. I made visual mockups to block out one of my classes for next semester. I sketched out the semester, dreaming up new assignments. It’s good to focus on what you can control.

A mockup of Arley's course planning documents, which contains several modules separated by sub-modules.

Speaking of what you can’t control, today Dot learned 2 new phrases, both of which she has been delighting in saying. The first, courtesy of a frustrated construction worker, is “t*tty f*cking Christ.” The second: “we don’t pick up poop.” A life lesson for us all.