The Wattsonian: Thoughts During the Coronavirus Haze

As a stay-at-home mom, my emotional extremes range from whizzing about like a pinball until I blow the machine up, to shutting down bit by bit until I’ve nearly achieved hibernation. (Wouldn’t that be nice to do right about now.) This coronavirus haze has done what I didn’t think possible: made me crazy and numb at the same time. It’s a strange existence.

Clayton hasn’t noticed that his wife’s been feeling like a wacky zombie, so that’s good. I guess it’s more of an internal struggle that leaves me wanting to randomly cry, yell at an inanimate object until it cries, or stare blankly at my computer with music playing through earbuds into my turned-off brain. My physical needs have apparently stepped in to compensate for my flailing social and emotional needs, so I have this weird desire to hug everyone and I am just snuggling and kissing my children all the time. I don’t think they mind.

I’m trying to normalize myself with gratitude. We have a lot of reasons for that, with Clayton still working and making money; affording a house large enough to offer space from each other; and having a backyard where the kids can unleash their energy, harvest the sun, and reap the benefits of nature in a contained, coronavirus-free environment. Our routines are not all that changed; even though Clayton’s office now comes with an uncomfortable chair, average lunches, and visits from his favorite kids and wife, his work is the same. And obviously, I’ve experienced days stuck at home all day with our young children before. (Thanks a lot, winter.) I go to bed feeling grateful every night. It’s when I wake up that I feel lost and unmotivated, with no desire to face another aimless, repetitive day.

We have not made sacrifices anything like what so many others have: losing jobs and income, watching loved ones suffer or die from afar, working endless shifts on the front lines in hospitals and enforcement, sharing a living space with an abusive companion, losing mental strength trapped in a small living space, or living alone fighting depression or anxiety. My heart is with them all.

But still, this awareness of our blessings wrestles with my own struggles to adjust. I, the Mom, bear the brunt of making sure we’re not reenacting Groundhog Day. Not to say we don’t have a routine, but implementing new and creative, educational, and stimulating activities to tickle their little brains is not my greatest strength. If ever there was a time that I wished arts and crafts brought me joy, that’d so be now. But they do not. Still, I try. I do. And I try other activities, often ideas found online that I adapt for three little people aged 6, 4, and I-don’t-understand-what’s-going-on-so-I’m-doing-whatever-I-want 2 (nearly 3). Doing his own thing is fine unless it’s messing with our thing and then the frustration starts. My kids like forts, but poor Ariana is not yet old enough to comprehend how much space three kids need inside one, so they’re either fighting for dominance or I have to help her rebuild it, which she doesn’t always want.

I think I succeed every other day at giving the kids new things to try. Even then, I have to remind myself not to beat myself up for not always being “all there” for my kids. I’ve never really wondered before if I was enough, or doing enough, as a Mom. But now I feel it. I need to keep myself healthy and crazy-free, as well as my kids, all day every day. Am I? I don’t know. I hope so.

To their credit, our kids are awesome at finding things to do. Ariana and Brielle, who stopped playing together when school began, have renewed their playmate relationship yet again. They play off and on with Levi too. Ariana’s love for reading has flared up brilliantly and I LOVE it. Even Levi is constantly flipping through books and littering them around the house.

One of Ari's new reading positions...

My world has shrunk to the walls of my house and my kids. (And occasionally a walk around the neighborhood park.) The ever-present paradox of soaking in every laugh and hug and smile, while also needing “Mommy!”-free time, has grown—which adds to the weird crazy-but-numb emotions I experience nowadays. But more than anything, I am grateful to have my loved ones close, and that we’re doing alright. I can’t think ahead to the future or I just fall apart. Instead I focus on each day, and snuggle them whenever I can, and maybe play a lot of Stardew Valley.

All my pictures are of our kids since they’re a lot more interesting than the alternative, which is the walls: