By: Revanche

Living in the time of pandemic: COVID-19 (37)

February 15, 2021

Week 48 of COVID in the Bay Area.

Week 48, Day 331: I’m struck by a peculiar manifestation of (Asian mom?) parental guilt that tells me that I’ve had almost a year with JB at home and my inability to have spent this time teaching them everything about money, science, math, history, music, crafting and a slew of other things is a failure. I especially feel the failure to impart sufficient money philosophy and knowledge keenly. Perspective, I do not have it.

For one thing, hello pandemic. Also hello being pregnant much of that time. And then having an actual baby. Also hello working FT as well. Where exactly was this magical pocket of time with which I would have schooled them?

For another, they are just at the very start of school age. All the academics aren’t necessary right this very minute.

And yet I feel the sting of “why haven’t you taught them how to play piano yet?” and “why haven’t you taught them how to do origami yet?” and “why haven’t you taught them the scientific method yet?” as if all I’ve had since March 2020 was time on my hands. I can’t help feeling some comparison to my mom who managed to teach me how to read and write in another language at a very basic level while we were growing up even though she was working 12-15 hour days by a certain point. My memory is a little hazy though so perhaps the time she taught us and the time she started working such long hours didn’t actually overlap like I thought?

Anyway. This is just to say I’m a little frustrated at myself and also frustrated that this is a feeling I’m having over something that’s objectively probably unreasonable.

Week 48, Day 332: I had to get up much earlier than usual today and thankfully I wasn’t so beat, so the top of the dresser that’s been cluttered for weeks was cleared off and I got a load of laundry done. Woo! I also cleared up one misunderstanding about my disability claim. Is it possible for that to go smoothly now???

***

We are vacillating between “we will live here forever” and “we need more space”. We’re pretty sure that the former will win out because we hate moving and I hate spending lots of money.

On a slightly less negative parenting note, Cup of Jo’s parenting nostalgia post reminded me of something. Despite the PPD this time around, despite the pandemic (and even partially because of it), I am actually, in my own very sleep deprived way, able to feel love for Smol Acrobat in a way that was blocked for JB at this age.

JB’s delivery was so much more physically traumatic that at this point postpartum I was still in so much pain I could hardly function. PiC had already gone back to work after a few weeks so I was hurting like hell, taking much of the night shift AND alone all day with a constantly sobbing infant and a concerned Seamus trying to direct me to do things he thought would help. The people who told me to cherish those moments were pouring sacks of salt in an open wound. This time around, I healed much faster, and I have PiC’s help during the day because he has long term Work from Home orders. Logistically it’s just easier for me to carry on with nights so I’m still a zombie this time around but I can cuddle Smol Acrobat and remember our experience with JB somewhat fondly when the inevitable memory comparisons creep up. Even when their face transforms into downward pointing crescents, when they smell faintly of old milk and cheese, when they flail and punch me in the eye.

I can still feel affection for them now and for past infant JB in a way I couldn’t viscerally access years ago. I appreciate that. It is going to get exponentially harder when I go back to work. But for this moment right here and now, I am appreciating the ability to exist in the moment in a way I didn’t get before.

Week 48, Day 333: I jinxed myself. Stinkin’ CA’s office that handles the disability claims is still trying to claim that I should have been back to work for a period of dates when I specifically have a doctor’s note for my being out of work. ARGHHHHH.

***

Boy this is my week for unaccountable guilt. Smol’s inability to stay asleep unless one of us is holding them has been super stressful. We’ve tried so many things: swaddling, a non-rocking Rock and Play (we always watch over them while they’re sleeping and the rocking option didn’t work anyway), creating a safe “wedge” for them, etc.

We finally desperately bought a giant seat that rocks and plays music and has a mobile overhead. They aren’t interested in this particular mobile but the rocking motion and the music were effective at helping them stay asleep for much longer intervals. (Safety Note – we have it set up where I can keep an eye on them at all times when I’m working and I never leave them unattended longer than 2 minutes even though they are buckled in. They are also quite strong and quite vocal about any time the lightest touch of fabric touches their face so the moment they might possibly have anything obstructing their face/airways, we hear about it. Even when they are in our arms, and it’s just a corner of a blanket that accidentally brushed their face. I might be paranoid but that’s just my comfort level for such a young infant.) And I was struck today with this bizarre guilt that we were relying on this machine to help them sleep, as if it was going to ruin them for sleeping later. They can sleep without rocking motions at night, it’s just the daytime sleep that has been impossible. I don’t know what that’s about. It’s not like it’s better for them to only get 5-15 minutes of sleep every 20 minutes and drive us completely mad and exhaust us so much that we make stupid mistakes. That’s definitely not healthier. Anyway, it’s silly but I’d rather air that thought and shake it off than let it fester.

***
Getting loads of laundry done reminds me that I need to request a review of our water bill later because they base our annual bills on the first two months of the year. Unfortunately for us, our water usage is unusual the first two months of this year because of Smol Acrobat.

Week 48, Day 334: It’s a (physically) too hard kind of day. Seems like I’m alternating between hard but I can manage days and nope can barely function days this week.

Wondering how to get more of the former (can handle the baby, can have patience with JB, can do a few chores without gasping for air) and fewer of the latter (feels like I have literal 50 lb weights on all my limbs, zero energy to do more than exist.

***

I had to call the doctor’s office again to try and get some traction with EDD for my disability claim. They’re going to try to submit more complete documentation again and it takes 24-48 hours to process so maybe by Wednesday they might be on the right track? Right now they’re insisting that I owe a week of pay because I didn’t have a valid reason to be taking disability. But I did. Sigh. This doesn’t help my PPD at ALL.

Week 48, Day 335: Today is a more physically functional day, thank goodness. My fingers are crossed that I can break the alternating cycle a bit.

I’m taking small victories where I can: Smol taking a nap longer than an hour. Being able to cook dinner. Being able to keep my composure and not overreact when meting out consequences for JB being rude and bratty. PiC and JB got out for a short outing. I managed to pull together a spreadsheet to track our capital improvements to the property for long-term use. I’m almost done with collecting our tax documents. Many of these revolve around the kids right now because they’re taking up all my time and attention while I’m on leave but I’ll be back at work soon and boy is that going to be a heck of a transition. I’m hoping to clear as much paperwork before I go back to work as I can. At the moment, the way we’re holding things together feels like it’s with two strings and a stick of chewed up gum.

***

I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that the vaccine rollout is finally starting to come together. I was thankful to hear that my older aunties have been vaccinated – they didn’t have the same problems that I have heard people are experiencing everywhere. After four years of bad news upon bad news upon terribleness upon nearly a full year of lockdown, my emotions may be stuck in survival and defensive mode again. That’s my default and frankly I don’t remember how to shift out of that. It’s familiar from many years of really stressful and terrible home life but the transition out is not so familiar.

:: Is anyone else having trouble with finding hope or positivity? Where can we get a huge shot of energy? I’m so tired.

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