A new level of quarantine has been reached. I’m not sure if this is a reflection of our “hands off” parenting technique, or that we need to have an uncomfortable talk about how baby horses are made. In true parenting reflection, we have decided to ignore and post on IG instead.
Puppet Round Table. Current Topics on the July Agenda: •When we’re allowed to get the f’outta town and where we’ll go to escape reality. •Protocol for wearing pants. •End of homeschool celebrations (and how many liters of alcohol will be involved). •Reintegration of social interaction, since the last four months have been spent talking in squeaky puppet voices. Fingers crossed these muppets, I mean puppets, can get their shit together and agree.
Enough is enough. It’s our time to make our voices heard. Friends and fellow American expats, it’s our duty. Find out how to vote from your local embassy if you reside abroad. Vote in local elections. For judges. And for those that genuinely care about black lives. I think it’s pretty clear who does not. Posting a black square on social media doesn’t do shit unless we back it up with our collective actions.
So Peter and I were talking today about what’s going on in La Mesa, CA. The bank we use was on fire in an article I found, the Postal Annex where I send my mail. And it didn’t bother me that it was so close to home. I have some friends and family that keep saying things like, “violence isn’t the answer,” and “rioting is just making things worse,” which is obviously a pretty hypocritical thing to say given the circumstances of how all of this started. And then Peter summed it up perfectly, as he tends to do. Many White people want the “violence” and rioting to stop because they want everything to go right back to the way things were. Comfortable, safe, convenient and free. But Black people are TERRIFIED for things to go back to the way things were. Being treated like criminals, dying at rates far higher than whites, friends being followed by the police with their babies, many arrested often for NO reason. Their lives literally depend on things NOT going back to the “way things were.” So THAT is why people are getting violent. Because then YOU have to pay attention. So yea, one thing the girls have taught me living in the Middle East is that racism is taught. Most of their friends don’t look like them, and they’ve never noticed because we are all the same in the end. People just trying our best...just like the finger puppets who are missing eyes, limbs and especially the ducky who fell into the toilet today.
Meet Pompom. She has a very unhealthy codependent relationship with about 82643 stuff animals. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, except that every night at 2am, Pompom proceeds to collect all of her friends for the mass migration into her parents’ room. Inevitably, the microscopic finger puppet gets lost in the shuffle, leading to a Mach3 level meltdown. The parents try to talk Pompom out of her grenade laden hysteria, which (obviously) never EVER works. So in order to avoid the neighbors calling the police, they send out a search party for the aforementioned finger puppet puppy with a missing eye, which last night, led to its discovery in Pompom’s matted hair. I’m sure you’re not judging us, but like, you’re judging us. It’s fine. Can someone please recommend a family therapist?
Weekly recap, by Aniston. Quarantine day #whothehellknows! The best part of the week was when I spiked a 39 degree fever randomly after mom has spent the last 30-something days Cloroxing the shit out of everything in the apartment (including dad). I’m fine now, but it was fun to spice things up a bit. Pompom discretely discovered that mom has a mustache, which she then announced to our downstairs neighbors (and her teacher this morning while on Zoom). Mom randomly spent the next 45 minutes researching “at home waxing options.” Also, in an attempt to stifle her boredom with online shopping, mom *almost* purchased a horse on Facebook. Thankfully, she came to her senses when dad and her trainer reminded her she is NOT, in fact, a royal princess. But #thatsdebatable. To feel better, we all played dress up with the one nice piece of clothing mom owns, her #sadutunic. She paired it with her 23-day old stained sweat pants while playing unicorn mice with Pompom. Oh, and then she Googled cafes in Paris with @desperatediplowife because they decided they’re going to bounce the minute they can, and spend all the money they just saved by not going out for coffee. So yea, we’re all healthy, our thighs are a little thicker than last week, but things could be infinitely worse!! (No, but really, how do you get rid of a mustache?) #quarantinekkqueen #sadugoesglobal #sendwine #orponies
Um, Pompom, what are your animals doing? “Nothing. Just riding on a zip line.” What happens when the TV remote goes missing and the parents are too lazy to rip the couch apart to find it.
31 days. That is how long it takes for a family of four in a three bedroom apartment with no access to outdoor space/sunshine (other than a very small balcony) to lose their EVER-LOVING shit on each other. Hopefully this means we had a good ole reset and can last another 31 days! Cheers!
Organic recycled orange peel surfboards, the staple of any true hippie Californian art. (I think I may have about .027% of her creativity!) Please note, as evidenced by the cut orange peels, we ARE actually feeding our children healthy snacks while Peter and I hoard the cookies, brownies, Doritos, etc. We don’t actually let them play with knives (most days). Also, I’m over homeschool, and personally think life skills (like dreaming about San Diego surf) is far more valuable than math. Well, that’s only if she can sell her art. Also, Pompom refuses to put on pants or eat anything else other than yogurt. Send help.
So let’s recap the week. According to Google Translate, mom got a stern email lecture by a teacher because she was not properly uploading the 92643 coloring pages required to further French education. We have not brushed our hair in weeks, as evidenced by pretzel crumbs and hard boiled egg bits. Dad cried and fell into a deep depression over a cancelled elliptical delivery. He quelled his emotional outburst by baking sourdough bread. Mom and dad got into a fight over where the hypothetical groceries were left by the hypothetical delivery guy. The piles of wrinkled shirts are still wrinkled, meaning their excuse for “not having time” is a complete lie. Everyone has gained at least 5kg in the last 7 days. We assume our average step count is 100 steps per day...combined. We’ve all worn pants at least twice this week. So I’d say we’re pretty much owning this whole “quarantine” business because this is pretty much our typical reality. Any fun stories to share about your week?