Worldwide pandemic just in time for our world trip? Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool.

I’m definitely the most laid-back member of our family. Sagan has actual anxiety. Mike doesn’t have diagnosed anxiety, but he sure as hell doesn’t run 100-mile races just for the physical health of it. And Story never stops talking for fear of anyone else getting a word in.

So I’m typically the least excitable/dramatic/anxious of the bunch. (Also the most lazy.) When I get tense, it builds up slowly and quietly until it bubbles to the surface.

Last week, I was going to come on here to write about how the bubbles were starting. One night I couldn’t fall asleep because my heart was a bit racy. Not sexy racy, but fast. I found myself creating more to-dos for my to-do list and realizing how quickly the days are ticking off. During the day, I was getting both more excited about stuff and also just more…tense. Usually I’m a pretty steady 4-6 on the scale of emotions in daily life. But here I was feeling more like a 2 or an 8 often. It wasn’t all bad. Sometimes I found myself really, really appreciating the little things in life. Like, driving the Tesla for the first time in a while on a sunny day…oh, it was so fun! And yay, Story was cooperative all day long. I’m the luckiest woman alive!

But then there was the underlying feeling of ohmygodIhavesomuchtodoandsolittletime! So I’d meant to come in here and just acknowledge my crazy publicly. And before I got the chance to do that, poor Mike accidentally popped the first bubble to hit the surface.

In case you haven’t heard (most likely because you’re already dead from it), there’s this thing going around called the coronavirus. More specifically, COVID-19. If you’re alive and you haven’t heard of it, then what the hell are you doing because I want to do that.

It’s in the news. It’s in emails from the school district. It’s on Facebook. It’s in every group text I’m in. Podcasts, TV shows, and today at my doctor’s appointment for allergy shots. “Have you traveled to Iran, China, etc. in the past 14 days? Yes or No.” “Have you come in contact with anyone diagnosed with COVID-19 in the past 14 days? Yes or No.” It’s everywhere.

So back to the bubbles.

I hadn’t warned Mike that my stress levels had just about reached the surface. I mean, I’d casually mentioned that “Haha, wow, we’re under 90 days from takeoff. Isn’t that crazy? It’s just right around the corner, right? Hahaha.” But he wasn’t fully aware of my underlying levels of tension. And then he said something simple:

“Man, it’s gonna really suck if we can’t go on the trip because of this virus.” (or something along those lines)

That was all it took. The tears came hard and fast. He’d said nothing that I didn’t already know, and he wasn’t saying it in any mean way or anything at all. But actually hearing the words out loud and letting myself picture all the possible ramifications was just more than I could take. He felt bad for upsetting me and (I’m sure) more than a little confused. I felt bad for losing it, but I just needed to.

The thing is, planning for this trip has been an unpaid part-time job for me for close to two years now. And for the last few months, it’s been more like a full-time job. It’s a job I love and enjoy, but it’s been work.

On the outside, it looks like all I’ve done is booked a couple of flights and places to stay. But even just that part - “just” the AirBnBs and Home Exchanges and flights - have taken up months of my life in total. Home Exchanges are amazing, but on average it takes about 15 conversations with other exchangers to find a match. Some people reply the same day. Others take weeks. Some are in English, some are not. Some will take Guest Points, others don’t. Some welcome kids, some have pets we’re allergic to. Some seem great, but when I map them I realize they’re not in a great location for what we need.

And let’s not forget how much time I’ve put in to gather up those Guest Points that only some people accept. I’ve basically been running a free hotel out of our house for years now. All those Home Exchange conversations I mentioned above? Well, they happen in both directions. I like to be sure that every guest has what they need and that our place has fresh bedding, towels, baby items, functioning internet, extra blankets, working light bulbs, coffee beans, and so on. I’m a pretty good hostess. I won’t lie - I have a cleaning lady help most of the time, and I’m super grateful for that. But I still have to get the house ready in all the ways that don’t involve a mop or sponge.

AirBnBs tend to be easier, but even that took me three or four tries to reserve for our time in Chile to see the eclipse. And international flights? Don’t even get me started on how much I hate booking those. How many layovers? Is there enough time to change planes? How much for luggage? I have no idea how many kilograms my bag weighs. I’m a dumb American! Will we arrive in the middle of the night? How big a factor is jet lag?

Add in coordinating all these things with friends who are going to join along the way (which is absolutely wonderful so this isn’t a complaint), and it gets that much trickier to coordinate. Worth it, no doubt at all, but it’s a lot to keep straight.

We spent eight hours one day just deciding on which cabin type we wanted for a cruise.

And that’s before we’ve even touched on:

researching how to homeschool
meeting with teachers and principals from three schools to discuss options
touring two high schools for Sagan because we’ll be gone the year he’d normally do that
downloading apps, books, and podcasts to entertain and educate
researching travel vaccines and medicines we’ll need to get
getting those travel vaccines and medicines we’ll need
packing those medicines
packing our clothes
picking out clothes
picking out how to pack the clothes
realizing the clothes you picked aren’t actually going to work, and starting over
doing all the above for shoes
ohmygod the kids keep outgrowing their travel clothes
getting the house ready to show to potential renters
listing the house to find potential renters
writing up the lease for renters (Mike and Zillow did the heavy lifting on this step)
trying to figure out what to do with our fish and pet rats, who insist on living long, healthy lives
scheduling dentist appointments for before we leave
scheduling dentist appointments for during the trip
repeating those for doctors’ appointments for each of us
researching travel insurance
researching medical insurance
researching homeowners and auto insurance changes for when we’re gone
clearing space on bookshelves, in drawers, in the pantry, in the closets
changing out family photos for neutral art for renters
donating, selling, giving away all the stuff I’ve cleared out
working out what to do with our mail for a year
working out how the hell to vote against Trump from no known address

I mean…the list goes on like this for pages. It’s a lot. And again, I’m very grateful that we can do any of this. I’m excited about it, and I like the learning process. It’s all been a labor of love, so it’s not like I’m claiming some hardship here.

But.

But, the thought of having spent all this time. The thought of having waited for this specific year, because our kids are at specific ages and education levels that will work well for us. The thought of having just signed a lease to let our house go to others starting this summer. The thought of having told everyone our plans and having let the schools know we’ll be gone and having coordinated with friends to meet up with us in London, Chamonix, and Copenhagen. The thought of just…not…doing it. Can you imagine? It was just too much.

With all that flashing before my eyes from Mike’s simple statement about how it would suck, perhaps you can see why I’d burst into tears?

We talked more that night and discussed a simple Plan B. I said that if nothing else, if we could basically spend the 14-months in, say, Australia and New Zealand, I’d still be content. We’d avoid the planes, trains, and automobiles from place to place to place, which would reduce the risk of getting stuck somewhere under quarantine or due to cancellations, or - worse - spreading the disease even more to those who really need to not get it. We’d still be on a grand adventure, and I mean, who’s gonna complain about getting to explore those beautiful countries for a long time? Not me, that’s for sure. So having a Plan B, even a very vague one, makes me feel better.

And another thing that makes me feel better is a bit silly, considering I’m an atheist. I keep thinking of the phrase “let go and let god.” The god part doesn’t do much for me, but I actually appreciate being at the stage where I have virtually zero control over the situation. We’ve decided for now that we won’t make any changes based on fear of the virus itself. That’s not to say we aren’t throwing in a small bit of germaphobia to our lives at the moment. A little extra handwashing certainly isn’t a bad idea, and I even used Purell today at the doctor’s office today. (I usually avoid the stuff like the plague, so to speak). But no canceling travel plans unless we’re forced to. We’re not booking anything new at the moment, either, but Jesus is taking the wheel on the plans already in motion. (Why do Christians get all the good sayings for this?)

And one last thing that’s helping is that I’m letting myself do Alison-style meditation a little each day. Reading a chapter of David Sedaris, coloring, or putting together my beloved Liberty Puzzles. Shutting down my brain for a bit really helps me CTFD. (Google it if you don’t know that acronym, and then use it in your daily life. I highly recommend it for everyone.)

Thanks also to whoever is reading this long post, because venting here is yet another excellent outlet. :)