My brain is in a fog most of the days. I sit down and try to concentrate on work, or a book, and it’s like I’ve forgotten how to think. For a while I thought I was handling this quarantine pretty well, but it’s officially getting to me. It’s April 8th, and the last time I was in the physical office was March 9th. Which if you’re counting, is more than 26 days. My official count is days since daycare closed, but we had our own week of quarantine due to sickness at the beginning of all of this. It’s both impressive and scary how long I’ve been trapped in this house.
Trapped. Isolated. There is no possibility of help. You can’t call a babysitter for a break, friends and family aren’t coming for a visit, daycare is not opening. And when you don’t get a break, how are you supposed to function at work? It would be one thing if we were just home as a family. It would be like maternity leave – but no one is expected to do anything other than keep the children alive during maternity leave. Expecting people to both work full time and take care of small children is ridiculous and cruel.
Of course those aren’t even the only things that we need to do. There are meals to cook, and an entire house to clean. A very large house. This is a time when I have never been more grateful for the space we have, since it means we can spread out and run around and not go completely crazy.. but it also is a lot to keep clean. Adding to the brain fog, I also don’t think well when things are cluttered, which of course the house is. But finding the energy to clean it, when you know it’s going to get smeared with peanut butter and covered with toys tomorrow too.. is nearly impossible.
All this might sound like complaining, and I don’t want it to. I am very thankful that we can stay home. I’m thankful that we are currently healthy, that we have the money to buy multiple weeks’ worth of groceries so we don’t have to leave the house that often. We are very privileged to be able to hide at home and keep as safe as we can. There are many ways this could have been worse.
But I also want to acknowledge that this is hard. To quote a friend “This is collective trauma. It is not summer camp.” This isn’t a time to learn a new skill or finish all your house projects. This is a time to survive and do the best you can. If the only thing I manage to do is not get fired from my job, and keep my kids happy instead of scared or realizing that anything is wrong, then I think I’ve succeeded.
This weekend was supposed to be a big celebration.
The end of lent (yes, Tom and I have been surviving quarantine without chocolate or ice cream!), Tom and Olivia’s birthdays, and Easter! There was going to be cake and parties, adventures and friends. Easter last year we spent with my sister and my niece. That makes this year hurt even more, knowing that we can’t see them. Sure there’s still going to be treats this weekend, but I really wasn’t expecting to be eating them while singing happy birthday to a computer screen for a virtual party.
I probably shouldn’t, but I keep looking at the calendar. Scrolling out further and further. Wondering how many things need to be crossed off. Will we still be in quarantine for Mother’s Day? E’s birthday? Father’s day? Will I be able to make my eye doctor appointment in June, or will I be forced to call and see if they can extend my prescription before I run out of contacts?
There are no answers, and I know that.
