I thought when my kids were back in school, when the endless Spring Break 2020 had finally ended, that things would more or less go back to “normal.” Maybe I was being naïve or daydreaming because it hasn’t felt that way. I’ve been back in the office since June, my husband working from home until 2021. Our youngest two headed to VPK/daycare, our son back to brick-and-mortar elementary (virtual was an option only for him, and we both work, so back he goes), and my daughter to a new middle school where we knew she would thrive and be loved.
And yet, life doesn’t seem any easier than it did in March, April, May, March, March, March, March, June, July, or August. And I can’t figure out why. I thought the relief I’d feel at having my kids in schools I loved with people I loved would take a huge weight off of me, but it hasn’t. I am not second-guessing our decision, we didn’t have much choice regarding virtual or in-person school, but I’m also sad as to why I don’t feel any lighter.
Baseball has started, masks and all. Ballet includes masks and temperature checks, signing up ahead of time so the studio isn’t crowded, and lots of cleaning. Work includes masks and cleaning. I don’t feel unsafe (except maybe at the grocery store, where I am near many people in a way I am nowhere else), but I still feel stressed out and exhausted. I am thankful, for sure, that our kids can go to school, that ballet and baseball are options, that only one of us parents must get fully showered, dressed, and ready in the mornings, which has relieved some morning chaos. We try to create joy at home. We’ve made many buttercream-frosted pinkalicious cupcakes and cakes, painted and colored and created with sparkles and glitter pens. Prosecco is a good Sunday night treat for the adults in our house. We have even managed, thankfully, to see some family.
Still. I feel like there is some joy missing from life. Sure, my kids are happy to be back, to see their friends, to dance and play. But. We still stay home on the weekends. With the heat of late summer, being outside for glorious long walks like we did eight years ago back in March isn’t really an option, and the lack of interaction with friends I think is wearing on us. Wearing on our spirits. My daughter is happy at her school, but it’s hard to make new friends in a new place or even recognize people day to day when everyone has a mask on. My son still misses his friends even if he sees them across the playground or classroom. He misses being able to play chess during extended day, to throw a ball with someone on the playground, to play tag and sit in circle time and share a book with another student. He misses being able to play with other kids. This lack of closeness, even with people we aren’t necessarily close to, is wearing.
The world is not normal. I’m not sure how long I can go on willing myself to throw glitter around and pretend to be happy all day when the daily grind is that much more smothering with the number of concessions to safety we are making. I know it’s for the good. And it seems to be working. But the fatigue and frustration are taking a toll. All of the things we look forward to in the fall — football and pumpkins, visiting Amazing Grace Family Farms, Halloween — they still seem to be up in the air. Even Christmas festivities do at this point. And not having something to look forward to, to offset the cycle of school and laundry and meal prep and work, well that’s getting tough.
Still. I know, for my kids’ sake, I’ll dig up some pumpkins and find some fall sparkle somewhere. We will discuss costumes and plant fall flowers, find a fun recipe, and make a trip out to Congaree and Penn to see the animals. I’ll help them rearrange their rooms, paint a new wall for fun, hang their artwork. I’ll build more LEGOs, play more Sorry, color more pictures, help my little girl dress up in tulle and Tinker Bell, search Target and Pinterest for one more fun project to do to fill the long weekends, and play dolls again. Somewhere, inside, is the pure strength that comes only with being a mom — and with that the fierce desire to create happy times and some sparkle and magic for my kids who are already coping with so much.
