We’ve all had to make sacrifices this year (that might be a very big understatement for some of us). But for the most part, I’ve been lucky. And even though we have six people at home for much of the day (Tim goes into work because he has his own office in which he can isolate himself), we still like and love one another (I think), and arguments haven’t increased since March. Of course, many of us are glued to our computer thanks to remote schooling—which all four kids are enduring now. So the time to be annoyed with anyone isn’t all that great.

I’m good with sacrifices, honestly, because I often think that someone sacrificed for me.

But sometimes, the sacrifice stings a little.

Case in point? A few days ago, I moved an old table into my bedroom so that I could have an “office.” Up until that time, I used the dining room table as a place for editing and writing, i.e., my job. Using that table meant I had to move my laptop, calendar, and editing notebook (I write down items I’d like to go back to into a spiral-bound notebook) out of the way at dinner time. And the side table that lived next to the dining table was getting cluttered, to say the least. I needed a change for my own sanity, and Aaron no longer needed the table. What better idea than to put it in a place just for me?

Yeah, that didn’t last long. One kid said, “I love your office.” The next kid asked to sit for a spell. When a third child pleaded to use the office for her class that day, I caved. And before kid number four could claim it in any way, I realized that it’s a great office, but it clearly isn’t mine. When I use it, I won’t be saying, “I’m going to my office.” Instead I’ll say, “I’m going to our office.”

And for 2020—the year that pushed us together as a family in ways we never expected—that seems just about right.

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