Tue, May 12, 2020
Read in 5 minutes
Edmonton Hub, Alberta, Canada Originally from Alberta, Canada
Covid-19 has been called the Great Pause. A pause on everything that we thought was normal, expected, and preferred. People have paused working, paused schooling, paused evenings out and travel plans.
I’m As a working mother of two young children (age 6 and 4), I’m not sure a pause is what’s happening. My daughter is in kindergarten and, while the stakes are relatively low, I’m responsible for teaching her a limited curriculum. In French. Thankfully I know my numbers, letters, and as a Canadian, enough French to read a cereal box. The weeks go by so quickly as homework assignments (30 minutes a day) pile up and worksheets go undone. While I’m sure she will learn enough and Grade 1 won’t be too difficult for her, I can’t help but wonder: Is this really going to get our children ready for next year? I’ve heard of some of my friends “quitting” and a part of me is attracted to the idea. But to be honest, homework is one of the few sources of structure in her day and keeps her and her brother from turning into zombies in front of the screen. This time has made me wonder (somewhat longingly) about what I would do if I didn’t work.
But, yes, my husband and I are fortunate to both be working full-time. Fortunate, because there is security in being employed and having one less burden - in fact we are saving a tonne of money on childcare costs and downtown parking. But juggling full-time work and parenting/schooling is hardly a pause. Each week I print off a calendar of who watches the kids when between 9am to 5pm. We try to be flexible, but flexibility comes at someone’s expense. So we stick to a rigorous schedule broken into 30 minute blocks so we can at least maintain an illusion of working.
I’m as grateful as I am, I’m emotionally stretched because I work in Human Resources and it is hard to be in HR these days. It’s a business juggling act where it feels like no one is a real winner. I’ve always loved HR but when things are hard in business, we are often the profession on our miniature front line. We have the hard conversations with our people and hear first hand who is impacted and who is struggling. I have worked to create an intimacy with our people that feels like a liability when I need to be clear headed.
So I’ve been wishing for a pause. A minute to truly reflect and collect my thoughts instead of moving from one urgency to another until I lay down fatigued at the end of day in front of the TV; hoping for some entertainment to remind me of a different time and to do all the thinking for me. I take off all the hats of the day - mother, colleague, spouse, friend, daughter (of parents who are barely managing to stay home), and decompress. And sometimes it takes a while and sometimes not at all before the next day starts.
But you know, even though I haven’t been able to pause, there is one thing I have done: calibrate. Before all this I had an intense FOMO (fear of missing out), to the point that earlier this year I deleted Instagram so I just wouldn’t know what people were doing. I was bouncing from idea to activity to achievement and juggling the evening schedule with my husband - to the point that parenting felt like a relay race. When the self-isolation started, all of that necessarily fell away. There was no obligation to do any of it. My duty to myself, my family and my community was to stay home and not be busy.
And with everything stripped down, the most important things remain. It’s been an incredible privilege to have these intimate moments with my kids and see how their little brains work. My son is a meticulous colourer who is happiest jumping every moment (long live our couches). My daughter is clever and whimsical. She wants to punch coronavirus, but she would be sure to put on gloves first. Hearing them sing Happy Birthday while they wash their hands (even though they’ve not left the house in weeks), still melts my heart. My husband and I have something to talk about other than scheduling and have enjoyed working on hobbies side-by-side when our kids finally sleep (I knit a blanket, six years in the making, he paints figures). I’ve started FaceTiming people instead of calling them. I’ve gone on walks and put on kilometres on my bike. I’ve seen the waves of my energy ebb and flow and it’s helped me develop a deeper empathy for my work colleagues I support. I’ve celebrated both of my children’s birthdays, mourned the loss of my grandma, celebrated Easter and Mother’s Day in ways that still feel intimate and special.
Through it all, I’ve been able to align what matters without all the usual noise. Over the past years, I’ve had a few personal challenges that I thought would help me slow down, but getting over the challenge usually meant getting back to my regular pace. Old habits die hard. They say it takes 66 days to make a habit and COVID has put me at day 60 at home.
And so while I don’t get to pause, I still get time. Time to wonder “who do I want to be when this is over?” and then enough time to learn those new habits. And maybe I’ll develop enough resilience through this that I will actually be able to pause. When I want to and not when the world shuts down.