Yesterday I finally escaped 12 straight days of lockdown. 12 days of single-parenting house arrest. I reached my lowest point on the second consecutive Saturday of being trapped in pandemic prison. I chose to go to Paso where it was 94 degrees and sweat it out in my car while Nate played back-to-back outdoor and indoor soccer games. Anything to escape the mountain. I passed some cash out the window to him and he brought me an ice cold Coke. It was so good. And now we’ve finally come out the other side.
Back when Jacob missed his chance to go to sixth grade camp, we went to Catalina. And when Nate’s fifth grade field trip to the Monterey Bay Aquarium turned into a hike up Bishop’s Peak (hugest rip-off for the record), we went to Monterey. Jacob made it back to the last day of seventh grade– just in time to get his yearbook, turn in his Chromebook, and then come home for me to feed him lunch… again. It felt quite cosmically unfair that the person who got us into this mess was the first one to escape from it.
Unfortunately Nate never made it back to the last week of school, thus securing his classes’ inevitable loss in the final soccer playoff. And missing the majority of Sex Ed.
Catalina, Monterey, the Red Light District of Amsterdam?