The art of doing 5 million things in a pandemic. Or maybe it’s the art of rest and letting balls drop.
My husband and I did like all parents in America, we slugged and survived through the 8 weeks of attempting to work with no childcare and keep our house running. There were tears from our kids, regressions, bone tired days, confusion, sadness, a million emotions in one day, ranging 0-100…but simultaneously there were folks bringing hope through videos, creativity, sharing talents they never knew and finding new found hobbies. But one thing that stood true to me, the day I became furloughed was a complete and utter relief. It was as if a cop came to me and said “hands” up, you can surrender now. And, I was fine with that. Pre-corona after our second was born, I was on the hamster wheel in survival mode and just starting to figure out how to find some self care and pace our life, and pace myself. Lately, the days blurred together and they still do but now my brain can function doing the job of caring for my kids who need it right now big time. Like all these kids. Big emotions. Big feelings. Hard to express stuff. Mostly everybody needs a big wrap around hug and to just be with themselves. But I’ll tell ya, nothing like a pandemic to show you the parts of your life that are not serving you. The parts that need to be re-worked and for some of us, one partner has to give more right now than the other to their job and that’s ok. It was a lot of hats working full time and commuting into Boston, but the hats working parents are wearing now without childcare does not need a medal, they need some support. The working from home with kids on zoom, naked babies behind the screens and stuff burning on the stove while trying to do too many things are a part of culture that has been built in this country without the proper supports to help parents manage this stage of their life. Our families are who we are, it’s not something we should hide behind and it seems that this time is awakening the many things that happen in the seams of our intimate homes.
