Sleep in a Pandemic

How are you sleeping? Have you been having crazy dreams?

I've been struggling with sleep. I have crazy, anxiety-riddled dreams. Last night I dreamed of touching contaminated things and then my face. I dreamed of my family getting sick. I dreamed of fear and anxiety. Last week, I dreamed my young son (11 years old) died because I didn't get up when he asked for something so he played with a gun.

Clearly, my anxiety, fears, and feelings of inadequacy are coming through whether I acknowledge them or not. I've read I'm not alone. Many people are reporting they are having crazy, vivid, or anxious dreams.

It's no surprise, really; we are all in an absurd situation where we are asked to continue as if the world is normal when it is anything but. We must continue working and take on schooling children. I've seen more and more people on social media admitting their weaknesses and acknowledging emotions, but then they pick up their mantle of optimism and return to their spreadsheets. What choice do they have? I admire my friends, family, and acquaintances who are being strong and forging ahead in reality. There is the alternative of giving up, I suppose. But the human spirit enables us to force our fear, grief, and uncertainty back down in order to continue to put one foot in front of the other. That beast rears its ugly head when our conscious selves finally rest. And we dream.

Does it help to acknowledge this paradigm? Perhaps. Perhaps in nodding to our fears we give ourselves permission to be scared. To acknowledge we are uncomfortable not knowing when the elusive "normal" will return. To face the truth that we have no real control over whether the virus takes hold of us or not-battling an unseen, unfamiliar foe with gloves, homemade masks, and cans of Lysol. To look our daily inadequacies in the eye and admit they have always been our companion, only amplified by bizarre circumstances.

And that last admission-that the inadequacies we already battled accompanied us into this twilight zone is an idea I've seen popping up more. Why did I dream I put my son off in my dream only to lose him because I wasn't protecting him? Because I know I'm not paying as much attention to his needs, his education, his anxieties as I'd like. Because I want to wrap him in bubble wrap to protect him from every scary facet of this situation. And because I never feel I'm doing enough for him and always want to protect him-even in the best of circumstances. I think of Marlin, the dad in "Finding Nemo," realizing that he would stunt his son's development if he protected him too much. I hold my son a second longer and make a point of reading a few chapters to him in the evening. And then I take a deep breath and try to remember I am only human.

This scary time is also an opportune time. It is a gift of time to embrace our limitations and to adjust what we can. To learn to live with ourselves, fears and all, even in the apocalyptic environment of sheltering in place. And to allow our conscious selves to wage these battles so that our subconscious, sleeping selves can rest and refuel.

May this night be full of peaceful, deep sleep for you, friends.

Parenting in a Pandemic

Yesterday marked the beginning of week 2 of pandemic homeschooling at our house. The local school district made the decision to move to "at-home learning" while we were on Spring Break and we had a week extra off after that.

I have read many articles about parents during this pandemic; they all boil down to this: parents are struggling. It's so true. I have made a schedule for our two youngest children (grade 5 and grade 7) that includes art, music, free play, outside time, and all the normal school subjects. It is divided by hour so I have set a timer on my phone and every hour when it goes off, I yell, "next subject!" This is what is passing for school at my house.

This sweat shop approach to learning has to be enough because in between yelling, "next subject!" I am trying to work from home. I have printed signs that read "In a Meeting" and "On the Phone" which don't stop my son from sneaking into the video conference and mouthing requests to me. I watch my coworkers shoo off pets and children and hold babies in their laps. We are all multitasking on a new level.

I know that I am not giving my all to my employer right now. I want to. But between demands from my children, my partner's need for attention, the anxiety of the situation, and the distraction of being in my living room...I don't have much left to give to work. And on top of all that, my job is to ask people for money for a worthy charity. A nagging guilt sets in when I even consider asking for money. And so we simply reach out and talk to donors and would-be donors. It is important to let them know we are still here, we still care about them, and our mission is still as important as ever. I try to wait patiently for the day they will be able to open their wallets to help again.

I know that I am not giving my all to my children right now. I know that because I am giving anything to my work, I can't give my all to my children. They are scared and uncertain right now. They don't have a normal so I try to give them routine. They don't see their teachers and friends so I try to give them some happy memories instead. They are not learning at their best, either, so I give them flexibility and understanding in getting assignments done. I know that our already taxed teachers will have a lot of review and reteaching to do in the Fall semester; I only hope that everything is back to "normal" by August.

I am so grateful my children are older because the stress of little ones is unconscionable to me right now. But I know that because my kids are tween and teen, they observe all that is going on so much more accurately. They will remember a time of grieving and fear where little ones will only remember the disruption and time together. But I know many of my friends are wiping faces and changing diapers while I yell to switch subjects; my heart goes out to those dear ones also.

We parents are trying to do our very best, as we always are. We are trying to be productive members of society earning enough to provide for our families while also nurturing and teaching little ones of varying ages. And now we are doing it in less than ideal circumstances that feel as uncertain as quicksand. Please show us and yourselves grace during this time. Reach out to parents you know and offer encouragement. If you are an employer, communicate with your employees and know that you will likely get decreased productivity for a time.

My mom has always quoted the bible during times of difficulty: This too shall pass.

Saturday in a Pandemic

Yesterday, we tried to enjoy a Saturday as usual. We actually did a pretty good job of it! We hiked in the nearby state park and got drinks at the local drive through afterward. We lazed around the house otherwise and my soon-to-be-stepson took a 6 foot apart walk with a friend.

On our 6 mile hike, we took pains to step out of the trail to let others hike through. We saw a boy with blue latex gloves and a few people with bandanas on their faces. We packed hand sanitizer with our snacks, water, and sunscreen. We wondered if we should have taken more precautions.

As we nursed our aching muscles, beginning of sunburns, and dehydration (I will pack more water for the next hike), my son's dad called. This was to be his weekend with our son. He called wanting to know when he would see him. My answer was I don't know. I don't think my son should leave our city (his dad lives in another city) at this time. We are all doing our best to contain any potential contamination. My son begged to see his dad, and I felt awful depriving him of that normalcy. We all crave normalcy right now.

After telling my son he couldn't see his dad, I felt guilty that we let my soon-to-be-stepson go on a walk with his new friend even if they had promised to stay 6 feet away and not touch. He is only 15 and I only see my mom through our glass storm door. We called him and asked him to come back. We all miss socializing in all forms. I had a Facebook Messenger happy hour with my girlfriends just last week.

I know that these types of interactions and reminders of the strange times we live in are happening all over the world right now. My household is unique in some ways (as we all are), but not unique in many more ways. I've read so many suggestions to have the kids journal through this experience. They could be another Anne Frank, they say. I am no Anne Frank. I do not claim this will last any longer than the moment in which I write it. But I do know writing about my experiences always helps me process them; maybe it can help you, too.