I remember it was some time at the end of January our Christmas lights were still on, so I remember making a mental note that I already had the freedom to take them out. I was trying to get my son angrier at the door after a huge rain delay led me to arrive super late to pick him up from daycare. It was only halfway to put him down and running to make dinner that I realized I hadn't taken his coat off. He was crying because he was hungry and hot and I couldn't hear my husband and I remember kneeling down trying to take off his coat with tears running down my face.
My husband and I were both exhausted at this hour every night. My son in particular was (and to be honest, still is) a terrible sleeper because the family drama hit us on both sides. I only had about an hour with my son at night, and that time was spent in a hurry during meals and bath time. I remember thinking that as hard as it was now, things were only going to get worse.
And oh boy, they ever did.
When the pandemic hit in March, my little family of three was lucky in more ways than one.
My son was home and safe, and we were both still working. We could afford food and shelter, and frankly, after the last nine months of our lives, I couldn't ask for much more.
But then our "go-go-go" lifestyle stopped, like everyone else's, and we were confronted with a new reality. It was a complete change in the dynamics of our daily lives and our relationships with our children.
In the "previous" days, I was constantly tormented with maternal guilt for not having spent as much time with my son as I would have loved to spend.
Even on days when the trains weren't late, I couldn't spend as much time with him during the week. So, on weekends, I programmed us too much like crazy. We always went to some park, playground, or date night. We always had our grandparents to visit us for a few hours or to make a day trip. We spent time together non-stop, and frankly, that kind of non-stop lifestyle didn't make me feel as connected to my son as I would like to admit.
Of course, it was hard to go the other way.
I'm not trying to coat this experience with sugar. We are not destined to raise our children without a village. Mothers had to be strong in ways we should not have been, especially mothers in less fortunate situations. But in the midst of stress and worry, work and tasks, grief and exhaustion, I have seen a silver coating.
I'm beginning to feel more confident about being a mother.
Don't get me wrong: I still have a lot of mother's guilt and hating myself. But spending more time with my children than I ever dreamed possible has given me an undeniable gift.
The best part of it all? I lost the ability to care.
Really, the things I was insisting on seemed to me like totally silly worries. I feel like I don't have to. I need to capitalize on each second. I just… I can be with him. Sure, we do activities to keep him busy, but in general, just a simple pretend game is all it takes. It seems useless to sweat the little things when something truly horrible can happen, and that makes the moment much more rewarding.
During the summer, I let him run loose in the backyard with the hose. He was soaked from head to toe and a mess and it was pure ecstasy.
I let him "do my makeup" and I have time to teach him how to make "scrambled eggs" in the morning. In the late spring, we went for irregular strolls and flung rocks in the water. He helps with dinner and my kitchen is destroyed, but he is genuinely proud of what he did. My living room is a mess, my chores take a thousand times longer, and some days I completely forget that I am a more Zen mother.
But in general, 2020 has given me the gift of being able to slow down and savor moments with my children that would otherwise never have happened. Losing literally the ability to do anything else has really taught me that I don't have to be my son's social coordinator.
Don't get me wrong: I'm so excited to see my loved ones and do things again.
I can even kiss my son's daycare on the mouth and save up to buy each of them a car. I'm a million percent ready to get back into society. But one thing I would like to have is the ability to take my time and savor the little things. This forced domestic life has given me so many beautiful moments and given me so much confidence in motherhood.
And considering this last year, I take it as a victory and hope you do too.