We have been ordering takeout and having meals delivered from local restaurants. We are trying to help local businesses, but every order is sprinkled with guilt and smothered with anxiety. I am attempting to trust the common wisdom that ordering takeout from restaurants is safe, but every order is a journey.

First, I clear off the counter space. Next, I lay out the clean plates where I will plate the food. Then, I watch for updates on our delivery. Once the food arrives, I quickly bring the food in and place the bags on the counter. I take the containers out of the bag, then immediately dispose of the bag. I then pop open the containers, followed by twenty seconds (sometimes more, never less) of hand washing. After this, I swiftly plate the food, then dispose of the containers. With a Clorox wipe, I saturate the counter top and anything else I may have touched in the process (drawer handles for instance). After another bout of hand washing, I am ready to serve our dinner.

Over the past few weeks, I have become rather efficient with this process. However, I am always stressed and filled with anxiety as we eat. It is unlikely that the food itself is contaminated, but I still worry as Ashley and Max consume our dinner. I am on edge if Max is “helping” get dinner ready or if he wants to “help” unpack our groceries after a grocery trip. Not touching anything until I can get everything sterilized would be the greatest help of all, but a six year old hellbent on helping is difficult to deter.

Each time I order takeout or ask someone to risk their health by bringing us food, I feel guilt. I loathe myself for contributing to a system that forces people to work and risk their health at a time like this. To all the workers in the food industry, rather it be the grocers, cooks, or delivery people: I am eternally grateful. I make it a point to thank you as much as I can in our brief exchanges. I tip whenever I can.

Thank you.

I have been a remote employee for one and a half years. I miss working in an office, but I have grown accustomed to digital communication amongst coworkers. Even though I do not always go out for social gatherings, I still enjoy visiting with friends whenever life permits. The past few weeks have been tough. Some of my regular outings are no longer necessary (school pickup, taking Max to the park) or permitted (dinner and a beer, ice cream with the family at Jeni’s). Compound this with the absolutely dreary weather we have experienced over the last few weeks and I was quite glum.

During a walk with Brie (our mischievous Beagle), it started to rain. I was suddenly caught in a downpour. As we walked, I became drenched. I looked up to the sky and appreciated the warm shower. We finished our walk and I felt comforted. A few days later, the weather broke and we now have sunshine. Sitting in the sun, feeling a breeze, fills me with optimism that this will pass.

The last week has been a strange experience. Last week, we received the call late Wednesday evening: Max’s school would be closed on Thursday and Friday leading into Spring Break. Not a huge deal for us. Ashley is on leave, bonding with Adelaide. We had already planned a Spring Break trip to his grandparents’ house for Max. Through the weekend, we realized we were all uncomfortable with the idea of Max traveling during this time. Max was devastated, but we canceled his trip. We assured him he would get to visit his grandparents soon, but we could provide no timeline. It was difficult.

The gut punch came a few days later: school is now closed through April 3rd. We now realize how unrealistically optimistic even that timeline is. We felt it was necessary to prepare for the long haul. Ashley started putting together a schedule and a homeschool plan. Fortunately, Max is in kindergarten. It is easy to piece together a small lesson plan for him. Unfortunately, Ashley is caring for Adelaide at the same time. Ashley is remarkable though; the energy and thoughtfulness that she is bringing to this challenge is inspiring.

The most difficult part of this experience for me has been the time Max has missed being a kid. We are isolated in our home, leaving him unable to play with friends from school or even from the neighborhood. To his credit, he has handled this situation with patience. There have been a few questions of “Why?” and “Why not?”, but for the most part he has been great.

It has been an adjustment. I am fearful for the time that he finally asks, “When will this end?” I have no idea when things will get back to normal, or if they ever will get back to normal. At this point, I am just hoping for a “better than now normal.”