The Mrs. Yoy Blog: The Quarantine Coronacles

I was playing fake cupcakes with Little E yesterday.  Fake cupcakes is significantly less fun than real cupcakes.  Just in case you were wondering. Little E put a birthday candle in my fake cupcake and told me to blow it out and make a wish. I did. He asked what I wished for. FOR AN EASY MOVE NEXT FRIDAY. He gave me a puzzled look. YOU SHOULD WISH TO HAVE YOUR BEST FRIEND BACK ON EARTH AND TO BE HEALTHY. I teared up immediately.  My sweet boy.  He is very aware of what is going on, even at his age. I hugged him close, thanked him, and told him that I changed my wish.

My kids are easy to find. They leave a trail of their sh*t wherever they go.  They'll never be able to run away from me.  As all I'll need to do is follow the trail composed of their one sock, trash wrapper, and Thomas the Train car.  Just call me Gretel. At the large YMCA summer camp they are currently attending, this translates into them losing shoes (YES, BOTH OF THEM!), arriving home in someone else's clothes, losing swim goggles, and pool towels. We are still living the nomadic lifestyle.  All of our earthly belongings are socked away in a few pods somewhere in the metro.  We have very little.  I ran to Walmart the night before camp started to buy four towels for the boys to take to camp. As of Monday, day six of the Y camp, Little E had lost both of his towels.  And he has only had three days of swim. More importantly, he left his goggles, which resulted in a 45 minute meltdown during a swim playdate with some friends.   ...

Big E came home from camp with a nasty splinter on the front of his toe. Splinters fall under the same category as loose teeth .  The ickiness factor isn't as high, but it still makes my stomach do leaps. Big E would barely let me touch his toe. I had to promise I was just going to hold his toe still to look at it.  Because the splinter was approaching the size of a 2 x 4, I knew it would be easy to pull out. If only Big E would let me. I explained to him in my calmest voice, that I had to pull it out and it might hurt, but only briefly. Like a shot. (I regretted using this example as soon as the words escaped my mouth). After some persuasion, Big E agreed to let me try it. We sat down by the window for the most light and I slowly approached his toe with tweezers.  The second I touched the splinter, Big E lost his mind. Failure. He cried on and off for ten minutes. Finally, we agreed that he'd go to bed with splinter in tow and Dr. Daddy would look at it in ...

July has started off with a BANG! After tormenting me for days with his tooth, Big E finally wiggled that sucker out with minimal blood and gore.   Thank goodness ! The relief was temporary as then I remembered the next part in this process: the tooth fairy. I googled the going rate for the tooth fairy these days, because I am a 90 year old trapped in a late 30s body.  And guess what?!   It's well over $3 . Per tooth.   First, let me thank the good lord that he is not a shark, because this $3+ per tooth nonsense would get expensive. Fast. If I'm forced to choose between funding this tooth fairy thing or new curtains in the house, the curtains will win every damn time. Sorry. Second, I'd like to thank Greece for its inability to keep itself from defaulting on loans and causing a massive tremor in the world's financial markets, including our own.  Things here are shaky, folks. That's why I've deemed fifty cents to be an appropriate (and fiscally...