When he was home with us, he was saying them all the time, and grabbing them off the refrigerator door -- they were magnetic gifts to give Mommy and Daddy as they struggled to work and play and teach this little man in the making.
I bought the magnetic letters just before COVID-19 hit. His grandparents had the same set and I thought it might be good for him to practice at home. In his thinking moments, my little boy would lazily chew on the corner of one of the letters. I think the B is the most worn. He knew this one straight away.
Just to let you all know -- I'm sitting here in tears over a chewed magnetic letter that I saw as I cleaned the refrigerator this evening. After work. After bedtime and my baby's last bottle before the long sleep. After everything.
And mostly after reading this. Read it and you'll understand.
My little boys are back in daycare. It's like we were pulled back from insanity. But is it OK to miss the insanity some too? It's like going through another end of maternity leave times two. And somehow it's all so much worse because I'm still at home. There's nowhere to go off to. I'm sitting here in our home office remembering my little baby gazing up at me as I tried to make work worth reading.
Having two babies in less than two years was a lot, but all that and COVID-19? I don't know how I'm functioning. I don't know how any parent is functioning. The heartbreak of these impossible decisions on a daily basis, if you really stop and think about them, will make you into a puddle in no-time. Do I send them to daycare and potentially expose them to children who are infected? Do I keep them at home and potentially lose my job for some mistake I made in my haste to not have my son swallow bleach? Do I continue to deprive my son of socialization in perhaps the most important time for socialization because his actual life might be on the line?
We're all just supposed to carry on. Yes. Keep calm and parent on.
But I don't think I'm going to keep quiet. This is all just massively stupid. Our world, our nation, our communities need better than this. We need a PLAN. We need OPTIONS.
Our plan when all of this started was to take the kids out of daycare and just do our best and only call on the grandparents and extended family when absolutely necessary.
When those options ran out, I actually seriously considered driving all the way to my mother's home in Pennsylvania, two babies in tow over a weekend's time -- more than 1,300 miles -- in order to find some relief.
That relief came when I finally did what I do -- I pushed. One Sunday or Monday evening about a month ago, I thought about it and realized what I'd been saying all along -- "This is unsustainable." It had become my end-of-the-day sentence. The New York Times author above called it all untenable. They're synonyms. We were feeling the same thing. We're all feeling the same thing.
I finally did what I'd feared I'd do. I said, "We're taking the kids to daycare tomorrow," and we did. I think my husband was probably happy I finally pushed hard enough. For so long, we both lacked the resolve to follow through with what each other was really knowing we needed to do. We were -- and are -- still afraid. There's so much to be afraid of.
However, when I say it's been the best thing, it's true. We now have some shred of the normal before the pandemic.
And still, oh-so-torn. The past few months have been amazingly sweet. I felt like a real Mom -- or at least some ideal in my mind. A mom who was always there for her kids. But in the same thought, I remember that the ideal isn't what reality was like. My sons deserved better than stolen moments and half of mom and dad's attention between conference calls. They deserve better than Mister Rogers as nanny. (Besides, he was shite at diapers.)
Now that I'm back working without the kids here, both my husband and I have found ourselves feeling lonely. The house is quieter. We know they're being cared for by the best, but it doesn't stop us from missing them, too. The magnetic letters are on the fridge in the laundry room. I passed them today as I threw in a load of laundry in during a snack break. The moment rushed back: My son handing me the C as I was typing up an article not too long ago. "C," he said.
I want two of me. I'm sure I'm not the only parent thinking that. Some probably want 5 or 6 of themselves. We want to experience this fullness of life, but constantly are split apart, but never in more stark relief than now.
I imagine this will all be the start of some great conversation -- long overdue -- about parents and parenting and work. Maybe there will be better society that comes out of all of this. Maybe some company will find a way for us to duplicate ourselves. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Let us all be careful about the maybes of now. It's more important, I'm finding, to keep this all close to remind us of how truly impossible it all was -- and is. And yet we've carried on. There's strength in us.
I'm going to stop bawling at my keyboard and look ahead. This weekend me and my nearly 2-year-old will be out at the drink fridge working with the magnets. He'll be screaming all the letters soon enough.
Hope you all have a happy Independence Day. May you find liberty and freedom where you can find it in these extraordinary times.
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