The reminders of daily life pre-Corona are all around us. The calendar alerts for all the appointments I had to cancel, and all of the activities that, at the time, seemed so overwhelming and complicated. On my fridge hangs an award given to Eli from his 1st grade teacher. A teacher that has been a huge part of our family for almost three years.

As I protect our family from this dangerous virus, and do our part in “social distancing,” the frustration with others posting about continuing on with playdates and shopping at non-essential places only grows. Bodies are being put in refrigerated trucks because the hospital morgues are filling too fast. But for some reason, so many Americans can’t abide by recommendations given to us from some of the most respected and renowned physicians and scientists in the world. STAY HOME.

Adam and I have had conversations over what would happen should he be “pulled” from radiology and sent to deal with sick patients. We waver between him coming home and likely infecting us all, or him staying elsewhere. Why would he come home and possibly infect us? A) because we love him, and B) because at least there are ventilators available right now. In a few weeks or months, that likely will not be the case.

I have so many friends in medicine posting about being separated from their families. Grandparents aren’t seeing grandbabies, and people are growing more and more stressed about the financial implications this virus and subsequent shutdowns has caused. It is an extremely unsettling time.

The medical community is risking their lives to save strangers. Truck drivers are delivering food and needed supplies. I am eternally grateful to all of the essential workers who are out there exposing themselves to help our communities.

And the teachers… oh the teachers. How I miss each and every person who has had an impact on my kids’ education. The school secretaries, the paras, the teachers. It breaks me to think about us not returning to school this year. We have been lucky to have the most phenomenal group of people in our lives and I cannot wait until they joke about me coming so often I should have my own key fob.

I miss the normal. I’m not embracing the “new normal.” This time will pass, and one day we will all laugh about the spring of 2020 and how bizarre life felt. But I’m still sad and frustrated.

I’m trying to give my kids the best Corona Spring Break of their lives, so we aren’t doing much schooling. Truly, they are traumatized enough right now – they don’t need Mrs. Stibbe trying to teach them about math or writing, because 8 times out of 10 it has ended in tears.

Below are Scenes from Quarantine. This will be a photo book to remember.