50 Shades of Pandemic
“Come on, everyone is doing it.” “Why are you so stressed about it?” “What’s the big deal anyway?” “Whoa, this makes me feel like shit!” “I don’t ever want to do that again.” Sound familiar? That’s because you are a parent and you have been parenting in a pandemic. What the fuck is parenting in a pandemic? I have been doing it for nearly a year and I have honed in on an answer: Parenting in a pandemic is a paradox, but isn’t that on par with motherhood? With life? I have three kids under the age of five. I have two dogs. I have a beta fish, which was sold to me as a low maintenance addition to our family and I now realize anything requiring Maslow’s basic needs is not low maintenance but flushing her down the toilet doesn’t feel like an option. I have a husband. There is more family. There are friends. All the aforementioned breathing (fish breath right?) occupants of my life are part of the paradox; these beings are responsible for my beautifully-abominable breakdowns and explosions; these beings contribute to the nauseating-joy of the last year. Like I said parenting and living in a pandemic is a paradox.
I try to focus on the here and now because that is what my therapist suggests. It’s helpful, when I can remember, which feels like I am doing it wrong. Doing it wrong… that is what parenting in a pandemic often feels like. This past year has been riddled with decision making. Every time we want to leave the house, I do a quick run down of the pros and cons. In the beginning, this process wasn’t as unilateral, often my husband and I discussed every move we made, settling on an answer that never felt entirely wrong or right. Now, I do a quick assessment, pack up the brood, throw some salt over my shoulder, pray to the powers that be and hope that our errands and semi-living-life on the outside won’t earn us Covid.
If you think your decision to stay home is black and white, then you are doing it wrong, or maybe you are doing it right. If you think your decision to enjoy a meal outside is black and white, then you are right, or maybe you are wrong. Fuck, I am confused. I believe in science. I doubt the health of our minds as we persevere month after month. I believe in doing the right thing. I doubt if I can do the right thing every time.
The other day, me and kid the third were plopped on a queen-size sheet with my friend and her baby. Our oldest kids were participating in a masked-outdoor Hap Kido class. The girls kicked and punched as instructed; they held hands and laughed and despite not seeing their entire face we knew they were smiling… a lot. Our babies sat and rolled near each other, catching each other’s eyes, smiling and laughing. My friend and I smiled and laughed. She has been in my pod since pods were a thing and we still struggle with making decisions, nothing is black and white while parenting in a pandemic.
My friend brought up a meme she had seen earlier in the day. This meme depicted the year 2026, The Rock was president, and wearing eight masks was the norm. She laughed; I laughed too. But if I’m being honest, I had to hold back emotion. I could blame it on hormones but the truth is I am so fucking over the pandemic, and yet, I dread the day the pandemic is over. I am sure it is unnecessary to list out all the reasons why I am over the pandemic but just to make sure the beaten horse is dead, I miss: concerts, hugs, dancing, seeing smiles, travel, people watching, and being in spaces without fear. Those are my truths and I am also riddled with anxiety at the idea of life returning to normal because my husband will be expected back in the office, my social calendar will be full, family obligations will ramp up; in other words, the weight of normal life will be heavy and I am not sure that is what I want.
I remind myself that life is not black and white, and sure as shit, parenting in a pandemic is not black and white, which is why I am practicing living in the gray. In an effort to be in the here and now, in the gray, I leave you with this poem I wrote:
