A New Normal
This is such an unprecedented time in our history. A pandemic is moving across the world, and all many of us can do is stay at home and wait for it to pass. I'm in the early stages of figuring out how to provide some sort of distance learning for my students. Husband is seeing a drastic reduction in his hours. No one knows how long this will last and where we go from here -- all we hope is that things don't get worse before they get better.
In the midst of all this I've found a strangely useful alternative to constantly hoping the phone will ring with news from the adoption agency. After being passed over twice at the beginning of the year, we haven't really heard anything new. It's always in the back of my mind, but dealing with the anxiety of the unknown because of COVID-19 has replaced the anxiety of the unknown about if/when we will become parents. I do worry a bit, though, that of all times this will be when we get a call -- despite nationwide shortages of diapers, wipes, and other essentials. It's scary enough to think about welcoming a child, but the idea of welcoming a child during a global emergency definitely takes it up a level or two.
During all this I've stayed quite attached to social media. Part of me doesn't want to because of a desire to avoid the negativity of the news, but it has become an outlet and -- as a teacher -- a place to connect with other educators entering uncharted territory. However, it's also given me a lot of time to think about how this situation impacts those with children versus those without. Many online complain of the boredom of staying home, but parents also bemoan the difficulty in keeping kids engaged and somewhat structured. Some are thrilled with the extra family bonding time, while others are dealing with the very real effects of cabin fever. For many, working from home has to be balanced with the demands of family. Everyone is off-kilter right now.
On the one hand, I am fortunate that as I make myself available to my students I'm able to do so without distraction. On the other hand, it's still just Husband and I. We are so lucky to have each other through all this, but in these quiet moments where there's not much else to do but think I look around and notice how empty the house feels. Yes, it's quiet and there aren't toys scattered all over the floor; yes, I'm able to work and meet with colleagues online without being interrupted. My friends with kids at home would probably jokingly tell me to enjoy being in this peaceful space. It's hard to explain, but I guess it just feels like the space is incomplete.
In the midst of all this I've found a strangely useful alternative to constantly hoping the phone will ring with news from the adoption agency. After being passed over twice at the beginning of the year, we haven't really heard anything new. It's always in the back of my mind, but dealing with the anxiety of the unknown because of COVID-19 has replaced the anxiety of the unknown about if/when we will become parents. I do worry a bit, though, that of all times this will be when we get a call -- despite nationwide shortages of diapers, wipes, and other essentials. It's scary enough to think about welcoming a child, but the idea of welcoming a child during a global emergency definitely takes it up a level or two.
During all this I've stayed quite attached to social media. Part of me doesn't want to because of a desire to avoid the negativity of the news, but it has become an outlet and -- as a teacher -- a place to connect with other educators entering uncharted territory. However, it's also given me a lot of time to think about how this situation impacts those with children versus those without. Many online complain of the boredom of staying home, but parents also bemoan the difficulty in keeping kids engaged and somewhat structured. Some are thrilled with the extra family bonding time, while others are dealing with the very real effects of cabin fever. For many, working from home has to be balanced with the demands of family. Everyone is off-kilter right now.
On the one hand, I am fortunate that as I make myself available to my students I'm able to do so without distraction. On the other hand, it's still just Husband and I. We are so lucky to have each other through all this, but in these quiet moments where there's not much else to do but think I look around and notice how empty the house feels. Yes, it's quiet and there aren't toys scattered all over the floor; yes, I'm able to work and meet with colleagues online without being interrupted. My friends with kids at home would probably jokingly tell me to enjoy being in this peaceful space. It's hard to explain, but I guess it just feels like the space is incomplete.
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