Several weeks into government lockdown in many parts of the world, something is becoming clear… This is not an extended Spring Break, and things will not be ‘back to normal’ soon! We are going to be at home self-isolating, washing our hands, and wearing pajamas for the long haul. I have read many articles that talk about feeling overwhelmed, anxious, and even experiencing a sense of grief and loss. This is the end of life as we have known it, and things will not return to the way they were in a hurry, if ever. One common theme is that all these big feelings are normal during a time like this, a time of global catastrophe, a time that has been likened to war.

And yet, in the midst of all this change, uncertainty, and fear, there is still a bizarre pressure on parents to perform. Now we are home all day every day as a family. We need to keep house, source food, cook meals, clean up, teach kids, attend to other work and responsibilities, find ways to stay sane and safe and healthy… And yet, whatever we do, there is always someone who is doing more – using this time to learn a new language, take up an instrument, study philosophy, make masks for the whole community, shop for neighbors, learn to bake bread, get in shape, plant a vegetable garden, start painting, write a novel… And of course, as ever, these accomplishments are loudly and visibly displayed on social media.

I’m sure you’ve read one of those blogs where the posts start with things like “We’ve been so busy using up all of the bounty of the garden to can summer’s goodness for the months ahead/ getting started making holiday treats for all our friends and family (in June!!)/ making fresh salads that our toddlers just love (?!?! )/ feeding our unicorns… but we managed to put together this adorable craft that is great for teaching literacy, numeracy and juggling to kids…” You know the ones I mean, right?

And you find yourself thinking… What am I doing wrong? I have no bounty in my garden, other than resident weeds; I couldn’t force-feed my kids salad unless I covered it in rainbow sprinkles (and even then…); I have no time (or inclination to be honest) for canning anything or making homemade holiday treats for myself, let alone others… And I am literally home ALL THE TIME. I should have time for this, shouldn’t I? I should be doing something remarkable with this time. I should at least be working out every day and making delicious and nutritious meals every night. And yet, I feel constantly busy. I am not shedding pounds or taking up sewing or repainting the house. I am exhausted at the end of every day.

And, actually, I feel pretty good about serving fish sticks if they come with a side of frozen peas (an excellent meal when time and energy are short) or PB&J as a balanced meal any time of day. I feel pretty good when I wear something other than yoga pants for no particular reason. Or leave the house without food or homeschool projects somewhere on my person.

I love spending time with my boys – on family walks, cooking together, playing outside, doing crafts, building puzzles, but I wouldn’t even try to sell or even give away anything we make (except to grandma 😉 and I would not try to suggest that it is all perfect or even peaceful. I treasure the moments when I manage to speak coherently to another adult or I can look at my whole family, clean and fully clothed, for a minute or two.

I want to connect with other UNsuper moms – ordinary people who are just getting by and juggling every day, sometimes screaming at our kids, spouses, dogs, passers by… ordering take-out, wearing wrinkled clothes, wishing for a robot helper who could do all the stuff we don’t have time or energy for… I want us to support one another, rather than judging or competing.  I want to build a community so that we can be there for each other, even in some small way. That is why I share my stories. And I hope you will share yours too.

UNsuper moms and dads and oumas, I see you, I salute you, I support you! I am here to share the journey and offer insights and lessons I have learned along the way, often by accident. Please share your comments and stories. This is how we survive. And laugh! I look forward to seeing you back here and hearing about your UNsuper day!

It has been about 6 weeks, give or take a year or two, since we started lockdown, or what some more flatteringly call ‘sheltering in place’. The first couple of weeks were a novelty – making colorful schedules for each member of the family, embarking on homeschooling, printing out loads of fun activities for the kids every night, meal planning for the week ahead, cooking delicious meals, baking as math every other day, regular family movie nights, lots of bike rides… This time seemed like a gift and we tried to suck the marrow out of every day and maybe tried to sneak in some reading, writing and arithmetic on occasion. We had a large stockpile of groceries and library books acquired on the eve of lockdown.  There was little fear, lots of hope, boundless free time and freedom from schedules. Of course it was weird, and somewhat distressing, but it was rather novel and not too bad at first.

Then it was Spring Break and spirits fell. No trips. No fun places to go for the day. No bowling, no swimming, no parks. The early days of Spring Break were some of the worst for me. It felt like life was an endless reel of repetition and we would never again do anything but watch TV and chase each other around the back yard. I was crabby, the kids were crabby, everyone around us was crabby. If you think about this as a grieving process, a process of letting go of life as we knew it, this was when denial gave way to anger.  We went from “This is no big deal. It is actually wonderful to have more time to be with family. I am so enjoying this break from our hectic schedule.”  to “Why have they closed the playgrounds? How are children supposed to play? How dare they close schools? How are we supposed to educate these kids when we have work to do? Why can’t we go out to eat? Do you know how much work it is to feed this family every damn day? When is someone going to do something?! We can’t live like this. It is not FAIR!!’

And then schools ramped up their remote learning and suddenly there were Zoom meetings everywhere you looked and we were scrambling for enough devices to keep every member of the family connected. (And we are a family with a gadget dad who has iPads stowed on secret shelves and who could jump in for IT support.) This was a tough time for logistics. I became a personal assistant keeping my kids’ calendars organized, making sure they got to their meetings on time, troubleshooting connection problems, and figuring out sound and mute buttons for meetings. And of course, cheerleading to keep everyone motivated to go to meetings and get some ‘school’ done. We were so busy, that we didn’t really stop to take stock. Once again – like before COVID, or even more so – we rushed from one appointment/ class/ activity to another, with one kid needing to be on Zoom, and the other on Google hangouts, and me on email and dad on a conference call. And in between the laundry piled up, the dishwasher ran constantly, the house got messier, putting on day clothes became optional, showering happened less often… We were stressed out and exhausted.  Anxiety and depression set in.

It finally dawned on me that I had lost control. The kids were miserable, I was plagued by anxiety and fatigue. I felt like I was constantly trying to get people to do things they didn’t want to do, possibly even myself. We started every day with power struggles about which meetings they HAD to go to, and which homework or tasks HAD to be done today. Our days had been hijacked by well-meaning interventions and too many resources and activities and tasks!

So slowly, day by day, last week marked another change of direction for us. After yet another Monday that started with tears and a tenuous hold on sanity, I finally admitted that endless Zoom lessons do not work for my 5 year old. I told his teachers that we were bowing out, and got a most wonderful response. Basically, I was reminded that kids are allowed to be kids. Encouraged, I then made the call to pull some classes from my 9 year old’s schedule as well. Again, the teachers were understanding and supportive. This is not a time to push, it is a time to be kind to kids and understand that they, like the rest of us, are going through a lot. They too are grieving the loss of their lives, the loss of the only ‘normal’ that they knew, the loss of social time with friends, and being able to play without masks and gloves and endless hand sanitizer.

Only a few days into this new trajectory, we had the best day we have had in weeks. There were fewer tears and more smiles. My 5 year old arranged a ‘playdate’ with a classmate on Facetime and they chatted for over an hour. I have not seen him so animated in weeks! They talked about animals, moss, clowns, songs, and who knows what else. It was absolutely heartwarming to watch. My 9 year old had a games evening with his class and he laughed as he tore around the house collecting items for some sort of scavenger hunt.  We played, we drew, we listened to stories and we sat in the sunshine. The day floated by and for the first time in a while, I didn’t keep checking the clock to see if it was a decent hour to just turn on the TV. Not much ‘school work’ got done, but there was probably some math in our board game, there was a little reading, there was real connection with friends. Isn’t that a successful school day anyway?

And then, finally, we had the first Monday in a long time that didn’t make me want to tear my hair out. Rather than just survive, we actually enjoyed the day. I never once had that anxious panicky feeling or the sense that my boys were miserable and I didn’t know how to help. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, and some moments got a little near that dangerous edge, but overall we were productive and not stressed out and frazzled. We painted and read books and even figured out long division in between planning a pancake party and eating snacks in the sunshine.

I don’t know if I would call this the final stage of grieving. I am sure there are more ups and downs on this rollercoaster, but maybe we are approaching acceptance. But perhaps, more importantly, we have taken control of our schedules, even where there is still so much out of our control. At least if we can decide whether to go to a Zoom meeting or not, whether to focus on painting or writing, whether to do a baking project or go for a neighborhood bike ride, we are calling some of the shots. And if we are steering the boat, instead of just being tossed around by the tide of coronavirus unknowns and uncertainty, we feel better about being out on the stormy seas.

So, yes, we have quarantine fatigue, and yes, it has been a bumpy ride. But I now believe we can get through this, however long it takes. As long as we continue to talk to friends and family and give each other pep talks. As long as we can see a real human being, who doesn’t live in our house, from time to time, even if it has to be at a distance. As long as recognize that we are all in this together, but are all having very different experiences. As writer Damian Barr wrote on Twitter, “We are not all in the same boat. We are all in the same storm.”

We are again beginning to appreciate the time we have together. We are witnessing signs of Spring , and working in the garden, and seeing nature and her creatures reclaim their space. We are noticing how hard teachers are trying. We are grateful to be together, to be able to order paint and paper online, to be eating well. With a few special people supporting us, at some distance, we can do this.

In January, we came back from a wonderful holiday in South Africa and I found myself very aware of time. While we were away, time was fluid and generous. We spent whole days staring at the ocean and digging in the sand.  We ate when we were hungry and slept when we were sleepy. There was plenty of time to be together, watch the waves, fish in tidal pools, gather around the fire and braai some lamb chops or crayfish tails, or even just sandwiches. I don’t think I once said, “We don’t have time to make a fire tonight” or “It will be too rushed if we try going to the beach now”. We just flowed along with the days, waking to see the sky lighten and invite us down the beach for a morning walk or a scramble on the rocks, and finally growing dozy with the pinks, purples, and oranges of sunset, as we watched the sun sink into the sea. The day in between was free – we could simply sit, cook, start a fire, play in the tidal pools, dig in the sand, talk about our lives, read our books, doze off in the shade…

And of course, that was holiday, and daily life is a little different, but it struck me as we got home and the kids said, “It was nice when we were away. We didn’t have to worry about anything”. I was saddened that these lovely little boys feel that their regular daily lives are too rushed and too stressful. This should not be the case for a long time to come. I want them to have that sense that time is fluid and generous, there is plenty of time to live, play, and be. I don’t want them to worry about all the things they have to do, complete, achieve. And we generally take a pretty low key approach, or so I thought. The boys don’t have many after school activities. They do have to go to school every day, a fact they like to complain about bitterly, telling me how they would much rather stay home and have time for their projects. They are creative souls who love to draw, paint, invent, design, experiment, tell stories… And it is clear they do no feel as though time is on their side. They come home from school tired, and pretty soon it is time for dinner, bath, and bed. And the day is done. We are not rushing to sport or clubs or events, but even so, there is precious little time to be kids, to play, to create, to have a sense of time’s generosity.

I have been wondering if I am creating this sense that time is precious and limited. Because of my own stress and long to-do list, have I made them feel that there is never enough time to just be? How do I undo this? How do I free them? How do I return the freedom of childhood to them? We watched the movie of “The Little Prince” while we were away. It is a beautifully made movie based on the timeless tale by Saint Exupery. A little girl lives in a world of charts and to-do lists; a world without color or joy. Bt meeting the aviator and hearing his story about the little prince, she rediscovers childhood and color and play and joy. And she learns that human connections are what matter most, and the heart is what guides us to “see rightly”. It is a very moving story and stays with me because I see our lives in the grey, structured, joyless life that the little girl leads. Of course, the movie shows extremes to make its point, but it frightened me to think that we may be sucking the childhood and the color out of life by worrying about time “running out”.

When I was a child of about 10 or 11, I had a teacher who constantly talked about “getting ahead”. I never understood what we trying to get ahead of, and why. It seemed to just cause stress and put pressure on everyone, but the reason for doing this was never clear to me. Looking back, she was living that life of charts and achievements which left little room for children to be children. She was focused on exam results which would lead to more exam results which would lead to better colleges and “brighter futures”. But would any of the children enjoy learning? Would they be happy adults? Would they add color and joy to the world? Would they even care about the planet or other people?

I am reminded of another book I read as a child, “Momo” by Michael Ende. It has been a long time since I read the book, but I remember the horror of the time thieves who stole time and made people feel more and more stressed and rushed. It feels like life has continuously sped up over the last 50 years, so that we are attempting to do more and more, always be connected (to our devices, but not necessarily each other), meet deadlines, make profit… We have lost the ability to just sit, to enjoy simple pleasures like a home-cooked meal, a walk in nature, a conversation with a friend; or even just a little flower on the side of the road. Has all this “progress” really helped us? Our planet is sick, animal species are rapidly going extinct, people are obese or suffering from high blood pressure, there is never enough time! And instead of healing ourselves with food and exercise and human connection, we attempt to take a quick fix of pills or such, and keep going at the same breakneck pace. So even as we are allegedly more efficient, and have more technology to help us, we live emptier lives. We are lonely, isolated, anxious, disconnected, never allowed to stop…

Until now. We have been forced to stop. To stay home, cancel all activities, and just be. We have no choice but to learn how to get along with ourselves, without all the distractions we are used to. We are required to cook and teach and learn and live, every day. We are confronted with the challenge of creating our own structure, finding new comforts, just making it through each day. Of course, it is not easy – we are breaking every pattern, disrupting every routine, forbidden every comforting ritual. We can’t drive in to work, eat out, meet friends at the pub, play tennis, climb a play structure, send kids to school!!

But in spite of that, it almost seems as if this novel coronavirus brings us a gift. We are free from the obligations that had us rushing from place to place, day in and day out. We finally have time to let kids be kids – to play, create, make messes. We finally have no choice but to stay home and get to know ourselves. You may choose to clean the house from top to bottom and sort all the junk drawers. You may choose to be super homeschool mom and give your kids a better education than they would ever get elsewhere. You may try to juggle your work from home with their school from home and the endless need for snacks and those aggressive attention-seeking dust bunnies. You may decide to learn the violin, or study French, or write your first novel. You may be overwhelmed with anxiety and barely making it through the day sometimes.  You may be facing a storm the likes of which you’ve never known. We will all experience this differently, and deal with it differently, and that is OK. There is no rulebook, there is no HAVE TO, there is no ‘proper’ way to live this strangeness.

My wish for all of us, amidst the battering waves and uncertainty, is that we can take time to enjoy life, smell the roses, taste the honey, marvel at the colors of the world. Without worrying about what we have accomplished or whether it is enough. 

 

 

And maybe, if we can be patient, we will begin to heal from the manic pace and relentless pressure on ourselves, our families, and our planet.

 

Well, I have about 20 unfinished posts drafted, but it feels like this is the time to talk, to connect, to share ideas. A few shorts weeks ago, we heard about this new virus in China. We felt slightly concerned, but it was far away. Then within the last few days, things changed more rapidly than we could have ever imagined, and we went from concerned, to stockpiling to self-isolating, practically overnight. Now schools are closed, business are increasingly closing their doors, cities and states are declaring states of emergency… We are suddenly navigating a new normal. Every day is a new adventure, a new challenge.

I am not going to try and share facts about COVID – there are way too many of them out there to keep straight as it is. I am not going to share links about where to find the facts, or the latest news on the subject – again way too much of that already, and I frankly think we may need a break from the constant assault of news. All I want to do, all I can do, is share my feelings and my experiences.

So, here we are, almost a week since schools closed, trying to understand how to live this new life. My boys had missed 2 weeks of school before the doors closed. They had colds and coughs, and it really didn’t seem to be the time to send even slightly sick kids to school. So we have had a lot of time together lately. But now, the dynamic has changed. I feel obliged to teach them things, and they are acutely aware of the change in routine, the newness, the strangeness of staying home beyond a few days, beyond their sniffles. And of course, there is the general anxiety. Theirs, mine, the neighbors’, grandparents’, friends’… We are trying to limit our exposure to news and the virus. Trying to find ways to be kind to ourselves, to one another, to our community – from afar. Trying to enjoy the time together beneath the cloud of COVID.

So yes, this is traumatic for most of us, in one way or another. We are the lucky ones, struggling to figure out ‘homeschooling’ and how far to stay from others at the park. Many have much more to worry about – how to pay the bills, how to feed their families how to care for kids when they still have to go to work, whether they will be able to get the medical care they need… But none the less, even the lucky ones are all dealing with some sort of trauma. Parents and teachers are grappling with ways to care for kids in new ways, grandparents can’t be with their families, children are out of sorts and trying to make sense of their new days at home. Some parents are weirdly over-attentive, and full of routines and charts, some parents are desperately trying to work at home, leaving kids to hours of TV, some may even be playing board games endlessly. No matter what, these days are different for kids, and different can be very hard on children. So we try to stay calm, at least on the outside, and do what we can to be ‘normal’, like get up and have breakfast and brush our teeth. We tell them it’s our job to take care of them, and they don’t need to worry. We struggle to set up routines for our unstructured days, to create a semblance of order. (More on all this soon… I will share some resources for talking to kids about COVID and managing their anxiety and your own. I will also share some activities we have done, and hope you will do the same. Because stir crazy is real!)

Amidst the trauma, the challenge, the lack of toilet paper, the empty grocery store shelves, we also have a unique opportunity. We have the chance to spend real time with our families – those that share our home that is. We have an opportunity to show care and concern for those further afield with calls, online grocery orders, drawings from the kids, music played on the square for all to enjoy from their homes… We get to do all those projects we have put off for months, or didn’t have the time or energy to do. Most importantly, we have time to slow down, take stock, and take care of ourselves. And we have a call to be kind and to show some compassion – everyone is handling this differently, finding their owns ways to cope, to have fun, to protect or assist their communities. Let that be OK. And find your own way, even if that means lots of mess, lots of TV, and whole days in pajamas.