To mask or not to mask, that is the question

“If they tell us we don’t have to wear masks anymore, I will still, lowkey, mask up, yo,” my 13-yearold son Louie announced at the dinner table. Translation: He wants to continue to wear a mask — even if he doesn’t have to.

Why?

“Because he is a hashtag freak,” his 12-year-old sister Selma answered, helpfully.

I should add that I have no idea what’s going on with my kids’ language these days. “Hashtag” when used in a sentence means something like “worthy of social media attention” — as in #momisawesome, which would never be said in these parts, despite my suggestions. “Lowkey” is some sort of affirming explicative, or the opposite of its phonological suggestion, as in it’s “lowkey awesome,” which means it’s really awesome. The lexicon of a kid these days requires translation skills akin to the ones used for ancient hieroglyphics — and the net result is, I never know what is going on.

“Don’t you want to be able to show your face?” my husband, Ian, asked Louie, like an idiot.

“That’s the whole point — NO,” Louie told us.

“If you had his face, would you?” his 10-year-old brother George chimed in, ever-sensitive to the $10,000 worth of orthodontics that were just installed in Louie’s mouth. To be fair to George, Louie’s braces make him look like the guy who ate the cable car lines in the old James Bond movie — a film that is now deemed too sexist to reference with anyone of the current generation.

But regarding masks in this ongoing era of COVID-19, I am curious if anyone else is having similar discussions around their dinner tables these days. I feel like the whole world is talking about the critical importance of DE-masking kids, while our teenager argues exactly the opposite.

“You should have spoken at the Public Hearing,” Ian told Louie. The mere concept of Louie speaking at a Public Hearing makes me want to mask up.

This Public Hearing took place all day this past Tuesday, where the public unleashed its complicated opinions on lawmakers during a remote hearing. It was held in response to Gov. Ned Lamont’s recent announcement that he is hoping to let the authority over the mask requirement fall to local school districts by the end of February.

This will come to a head on Thursday, when lawmakers in the House plan to vote on Lamont’s ongoing pandemic orders — all of which are wrapped up in his emergency powers — which he is hoping will be renewed for the seventh time. Yes, the seventh time.

“Does that make the governor a despot?” George asked, with enthusiasm.

Now, if you have a kid who is anti-social, calls himself an “emo” (which as far as I can tell means wears black and hates everything) and believes his reality is a complicated mirage of forces throughout the multiverse — a concept that he (and only he) understands — you should NOT spend all day listening to passionate testimony on how masks are destroying our kids. Trust me on that.

But to be honest, I have complicated thoughts on masking — and most of them have nothing to do with the health of my children.

First and foremost, masks hide my double chin, which has taken on dimensions of Jabba the Hutt given the last two years of pandemic living. I know this because I googlesearched pictures of Jabba the Hutt and studied them closely. Not only does Jabba sport multiple layers of flesh around his geniohyoidic region, but he also tends to lounge predominately on his left, reclining in exactly the same position I have been binge-watching “Dance Moms” on our couch. Jabba even has a leash to which Princess Leia is tethered, which (given my recent demeanor) has made me rethink my current communication skills with Ian.

In other words, I get where Louie is coming from. I still get that thrill when I walk into the Round Hill Store that just for a second Hector may think I am some kind of bandit from the wilds of Conyers Farms, demanding unlimited access to Maria’s pork carnitas. And as February slogs on, transforming our front yard into something out of “Frozen” crossed with “Planet of the Apes,” it is helpful to mask my general mien to the outside world. The best is when people say, “Oh you’re the Mother Lode — your picture in the newspaper looks NOTHING like you?!” I’m not an idiot; I know what that means.

But hearing the testimony on Tuesday was nothing to laugh about. Kids with speech delays who have been stuck learning nothing for two years, depression rates soaring, teachers having no way to read their classrooms. When taking my kids back-to-school photos in September 2020, I caught myself yelling, “Smile with your eyes, dammit!” as all three of my kids looked back at me expressionless. Two years. When a father from Fairfield spoke about his son’s suicide, I had to turn off the hearing.

Should we wait until it gets a little warmer? Are our numbers low enough? Will the virus return in a more virulent form?

“In China and Japan, people wear masks all the time, even before COVID,” Louie pointed out.

Emergency powers, mandates, executive orders.

“Sounds like our house,” George said.

But another mom caught me off guard. We were talking about all of this, going on and on about the state legislature and what was happening this week in Hartford, and she looked me in the eyes and said, “What about choice?” Choice. Remember that?