Have You Heard the News Today?

Fortune for the day – “Tend to your vital heart, and all you worry about will be solved.” – Rumi

I will not look at the news today.

I will not look at the news today.

I will not look at the news today.

I will not touch my face today.

I will not touch my face today. (You have no idea about how much you touch your face, until some entity tells you not to do it. I was literally resting my head in my hands, reading the warnings about not touching your face, due to this %$#^&**^ coronavirus.)

I will not touch my face today.

Today, I will do my best to heed Rumi’s above-mentioned advice. My two middle sons are home for their spring break from college. Due to studying needs and lack of money issues, home for spring break became their best option for this year. Staycation, home sweet home. Can I get a whoop, whoop?

“What can I do to make this break at home for you guys, “special?”, I asked them yesterday, as I took a brief pause from Twitter’s CoronavirusFlorida2020 and threw a frozen pizza into the oven.

“Oh don’t worry about it, Mom,” my second son said, earnestly. “I already knew that it was going to suck.”

Now, in all fairness, this son has spent this break, so far, taking practice MCATs, which are eight hour long tests, a pop. That does suck. This is the same child who once told me that he didn’t like to have get-togethers with his soccer team at our house, because I act too “homely.” He doesn’t mince words. In drawing that conversation out a little bit more, while trying not to get hysterical, it seems he meant that I behaved a bit too down-home friendly and welcoming to the soccer boys, not ugly. From then on, I knew to be much bitchier when his soccer mates came around. Ha!

I will end today’s ridiculous, pointless blog post (give me a break, I spent all day yesterday obsessing about the coronavirus and had little time to read or to watch anything actually more interesting and worthwhile, than every three minute coronavirus updates) with an idea my friend texted earlier. We middle-aged women should really be renamed, “Queenagers.” I love it! My Queenager-ness trumps all teenagers, living at the house and otherwise. Today I am a Queenager who will not watch the news nor touch my queenly (not homely) face.