I wake up. My head hurts. No matter what I do, I don’t sleep well. The days have begun to blur together. The kids are downstairs fighting. I look at Dave, still slumbering next to me, and decide to be nice. I will be the one to make the coffee this morning.
It’s been 3 weeks. The kids no longer get dressed. There is simply a 24 hour period before the next set of pajamas are worn. The upside is there is a significant decline in the amount of laundry I am doing. I personally alternate between workout clothes and leggings with a hoodie. Having had my haircut cancelled, it grows wild and uncontrolled. How high shall I wear my messy bun today? Or perhaps I mix it up with a low ponytail? Do I dare wear a high ponytail? These are the big decisions of the day before I sit down at my desk around 8:30 am.
After a week of trying to teach and parent, Dave and I agreed to divide and conquer child responsibilities. Linus gets to more or less fend for himself while I monitor Eileen and Dave deals with Robin. Dave pays Linus $1 a day to make lunch for his siblings. It’s still hard.
Every day Robin is excited to show his classmates something during their Zoom meeting. Every day the moment the meeting begins, Robin turns the I-pad over and runs from the room. Everyday Eileen slips me the smallest scrap of paper while I work. The note reads, “I finished all my work.” When I get a moment, I begin to run through everything on her weekly schedule that I’ve printed out.
Did you do this? ……No.
Did you do this? …..No.
What about this? ….I don’t know. (This means no.)
Eileen Powerschool (the online gradebook) says this is missing, but I did it with you this morning……Oh. I didn’t turn it in.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
I can’t dwell too much on my 3rd grade parent failings because I have to teach. Even the most minor lesson is time consuming to prep, especially when what would have been straightforward now needs to be adapted. Oh, the adaptations…….
I can’t find balance. I forget to lie down. I often forget to take my medication. The result a return of tremors and stuttering every afternoon. Speaking of tremors.
It’s amazing how the world adapts when no one is allowed to leave the house and the hospitals are too busy dealing with a pandemic to have regularly scheduled appointments. Instead of an hour drive for Robin’s sleep clinic follow-up, how about a phone call? Yes please. How about a weekly Zoom appointment for therapy?
The phone rings. It’s Danish Blueberry Neuroscience. I’ve been waiting for this call. My appointment is only two weeks away. No surprises. They need to cancel. They want to know how I feel about a virtual appointment. Considering I really want to the doctor to see my twitches and tremors, this does not excite me. I have options. I can do a virtual appointment or I can wait until July. Is this April Fools? Yes it is actually, but the woman on the other line is not joking. Fine. I’ll take the virtual appointment.
Now she gets excited. Great! First I just need to ask you a few questions. Do you have a MyChart account.
Umm. Yes. I get lots of messages from you guys.
Okay. Now, do you know what Zoom is?
Lady, I’m a teacher right now. Of course I know what Zoom is. I eat, live, and breathe zoom.
Okay. Good. So first, you are going to want to download the app. Let me explain.
I am running out of patience at this point.
Do you have the paperwork we sent you?
Yes. Do you want me to scan it and send it as a PDF?
Oh no. Just maybe have it with you and hold it up for the doctor to see.
It’s a good thing this is not a virtual phone call so she can’t see me losing it. This is all so dumb. I thank her and promise to download Zoom.
Back to my new reality, something has to change. This is not sustainable. After a particularly long day, Dave comments, “I feel like I’m having trouble balancing work.”
I am not amused as I am in the middle of loading the dishwasher, having already taught a full day, helped all three kids because he forgot, and made dinner. “I noticed,” is my only response. The conversation ends there.
I resolve to draw up new Quarantine survival rules. The big one is: everyone gets dressed and brushes their teeth. I rework screen time rules to reflect our new reality. Mom’s Film Literacy, a surprise hit, gets to stay. I’m surprised when no one disagrees with the new rules even though it means less screens.
Maybe everyone is realizing quarantine is exhausting and we need a little more structure.
**if you are interested in our new quarantine rules, email me. I’ve got it saved as a Google doc. There is no color coding or regimens. The screentime starts reflect the 1 hour before that child goes to bed.**