As we all hunker down during this unprecedented health crisis, there are moments of bliss that I would very much like to treasure.
In addition to being a Certified Financial Planner, I’m also a tax professional. In our household, the dinner menu of the first four months of the year is pretty much … nothing. I’m the first person out the door in the morning and the last person who comes home, nearly seven days a week. No matter how busy and chaotic my daily schedule is, I thrive on it. It gives me the purpose and satisfaction every day when I see every line item on the “to-do list” being crossed out. While I may be the lonely queen on my office throne, I am in control.
Not anymore. When suddenly I was ordered by the state governor to stay put—forbidden from interacting with my clients face to face—I almost felt lost.
For one, my three children were ordered to come from college and study online. Now, I have to compete with my own children for internet usage (we have limited bandwidth) and share office and equipment (printer/scanner) with them. I never realized how loud and interruptive they are. Did I also mention that they can eat? Almost every hour, there is one in the kitchen looking for food/snacks. And, worse yet—the perpetual question, “What’s for dinner?”
Before the shelter-in-place orders, my husband and kids never had to ask that question. The food would be on the table, and the kitchen, from the stovetop to the floor, would be thoroughly cleaned and sanitized. But now, that image has seemed to fade away. No one has complained because everyone knows how busy I have become. But subconsciously, I feel I have lost a part of who I was.
I love cooking because it brings joy and order to me. It amazes me every time when I see the final product: freshly made meals from ingredients I scoured from the refrigerator and/or freezer just a few hours ago.
One night recently I was Googling, and I accidentally stumbled upon myriad YouTube cooking channels. One featured a recipe for kouign-amann, an obscure French pastry. Although similar to croissant making, it requires additional steps. It’s all about planning and patience. From the moment you mix yeast with sugar and flour, you know it takes a couple of hours to rise. With each step, it’s more kneading, measuring and chilling time, from 30 minutes to an hour. All in all, the preparation time is about a few hours.
While I was making it, I continued to take calls from clients, make the trades to balance portfolios, and answer emails or media inquiries. In all my years of practicing, I have never missed one call or email. I once picked up a call at 2:00 am while in Japan from the home office to discuss clients’ paperwork. I’m on call 24/7, busier than a physician, as my husband can attest. So staying at home is not going to change how I do my business. What I quickly realized is I don’t miss a beat of my usual rhythm; the only difference is the environmental change.
When I finally presented the finished pastries on the table, my kids looked amused. “You’re cooking again,” they said. When they were brave enough to take a bite of a hot, semisweet, gooey inside, crispy outside kouign-amann, they were hooked. Before I even offered the entrée and a side dish, a half dozen kouignoù-amann were gone. Watching them eat, three young adults disappeared in front of me; they were the same boys whom I loved to please and share my joy of cooking with when they were little.
A sketch of Rose Swanger and her family. "This is how I want to remember my boys. They always be my little sweet hearts."
Yes, the current health havoc complicates things when doing work at home. I can’t easily access files like in the office, but all is not lost. It just takes some extra effort and ingenuity to find information and solutions. And one silver lining: I found the joyfulness of cooking again. It reignites me and connects me to my family. Those are the moments of bliss.
Rose Swanger is a Certified Financial Planner in Knoxville, Tenn.