We are not fine

We are not fine.

It is a Monday morning in April of 2020 and I wake up with my anxiety racing.  It’s 5am, my girls will be up within the next hour.  I am awake early to find some solace before a hectic day at home, but I am already stressed. 

Today I have a meeting from 10am-12pm and I don’t have any childcare coverage.  It will be fine, I tell myself.  They have played on their own for 2 hours many times before, I will put on a movie if I need to, it will be fine. Stop stressing.  

I have a flexible job, which means I am the default parent.  Which means my work and my parenting collide worlds more often than I would like. I asked for this. I wanted a flexible job so that I could be home with my kids, this is what I signed up for. But what I didn’t anticipate in this mix is how hard some days would truly be. How some days the energy it took to bounce from mom mode to work mode was enough to leave me feeling like I belonged in an insane asylum. There are days I really do wish I could keep home and work separate, but the pandemic brought a whole new level of complexity to working from home.

If I get a sitter, I am putting my family at risk for COVID19.  If I don’t get a sitter, I run the risk of losing my patience on my kids…again. Or with no help, I run the risk of being both a terrible employee and a terrible mother.  Sweet.

9:45am rolls around.  I set out a table full of snacks and put on a movie.  My girls don’t get movies or TV much so when it is on they are LOCKED IN.  In comes the guilt. 

Really, Jill? Using TV as a babysitter?

It’s fine, I tell myself, it is a rainy day out, we had a busy weekend, it will be good for them to chill out this morning with a movie while I sit in this meeting.  

You are a good Mom, it’s just one flipping disney movie. It’s fine. 

Meeting starts rolling and all is well.  Girls whine at each other here and there, but otherwise smooth sailing. Until 11:00am.

My 4 year old  starts whining that her sister is touching her.  Then her little sister starts crying because her dress is bothering her and needs to go get changed. I look at my zoom screen.

 MUTE. VIDEO OFF. 

I help her change, being anything but the kind and gentle Mom I want to be. I rush her through, I plop her back in front of the movie and come back to the meeting. Guilt guilt guilt. It’s fine. I’m fine.

My 3 year old continues to start whining again, now crying, now screaming. 

Oh no. I know this scream, she has to poop.  No no no no no not now.  I am supposed to actually talk in this meeting in a minute, please not now. 

The screams grow louder.  Poop all over the floor.  The 4 year old is also now screaming out of disgust. I privately message my colleague to ask her if she can give my update.  Terrible employee.  I yell at my 3 year old for pooping all over the floor even though it is not her fault, she cries harder.  Terrible mother. I am so frustrated. I am so overwhelmed.

The meeting ends and I realize I’ve barely been able to be present for much of it and of course my kids go back to playing nicely. I also realize how mean I was to them in that two hour span. It wasn’t their fault I had a meeting.  It’s not their fault I’m trying to do two things at once.  I cannot do both.  I cannot keep doing both.  I am not even DOING both.  I am ready to break.  It is not fine, I am not fine.

Nursing a baby while conducting a meeting via zoom.  Finding creative ways to occupy a toddler that is not screen time (but sometimes desperation wins).  Navigating childcare inconsistencies, employee needs, E-learning, dinner to be made, reports to be run, butts to be wiped and programs to plan.

This is just a sliver of what women have carried this year.

The media calls us superwomen, the true heroes of the pandemic.  But if I could guess, most of us don’t actually want to be superwoman.  Most of us just want help, we just want to complete a single task or thought without interruption. We want rest and we want the expectations of working moms to be blown to bits once and for all. We are not fine.