Pandemic Parenting Is A Whole New Kind Of Parenting.

Pandemic parenting is a whole new kind of parenting.

Who knew? Who knew that we could be a whole new kind of tired.

Who knew we could be a whole new kind of frustrated?

Who knew that the sounds of our children in the same house as us for day 31 could feel like day eleventy billion?

Who knew that we would crave the quiet more than we already did?

No one told me that I’d eat my weight in cookies, and feel the need to bake on the daily.

No one told me that I’d be homeschooling for this year. Not by choice. Not without complaining. Not without laughing maniacally at what is expected of me now.

Who knew that the frustrations of snack time after school seem like nothing now compared to the frustrations of snack time for 27 hours a day even though there are only 24 hours in an actual day?

No one warned me that pandemic parenting means that you go from wanting to be so dang proud of your kids for dealing with missing their friends, and missing their teachers, and missing their actual little lives they had going on to wondering why they are always up your butt crack 24/7 in a span of five minutes?

Who knew that I could cry more in a day than I had cried in a whole month before pandemic parenting.

No one cared to mention to me that a trip to Target was changed forever because of pandemic parenting. Now, it involves desperation and panic (simultaneously) to get out of the house but also to get back IN THE HOUSE as quickly as possible all so you can get that special kind of chicken nugget your child will eat.

Who knew the anxiety toilet paper would bring? And, that the angst of being annoyed that your kids don’t put the roll ON the holder is replaced by annoyance that your kids have to wipe their butts so much with your precious white gold (aka – toilet paper).

No one told me that in pandemic parenting I would miss the busy life of being the carpool mom.

I’d miss hosting playdates at my house with other people’s kids that I didn’t care for all too much to begin with. But now I wish I could squeeze their tiny faces one more time and oh boy how I wish there were neighborhood kids jumping on my trampoline again.

I had no clue that pandemic parenting would bring new squabbles about internet speed, and which spouse needed alone time the most, and who needs the MOST quiet for their zoom meeting. AND WHO LEFT THE BREAD OUT AGAIN?

Pandemic parenting means you let your kids eat cold, leftover french fries for breakfast and a cookie, because you don’t have a clue what they’re doing out there while you take a few extra deep breaths in bed before your feet hit the floor.

Who knew that pandemic parenting would mean that you let go more than you ever thought you could let go, and if you let go any more than you currently are your kids might legit just raise themselves, and you wonder – Is that a bad thing?

Pandemic parenting is new my friends. We are learning how to do things ALL OVER AGAIN.

Let’s be real – we had nothing figured out.

We didn’t know what anxiety felt like until we added pandemic anxiety on top of normal anxiety.

We knew nothing about what our kids did at school, and now we know how many of their school assignments are due this week, and how many we are going to have to fight with them over, and what a parallelogram is.

Before this, we took for granted that they had their own friends, but we’re damn proud of them for having each other now and looking out for each other and having moments where they are content playing with just each other.

Pandemic parenting makes us heartbroken in a way we never imagined. Proud like never before. Annoyed in a way that no amount of deep breathing could have cured.

And straight up bonkers to think we have to do it another day. Tomorrow. And the day after that.

Pandemic parenting is not for the faint of heart. It’s not a choice. But, we’re doing it. And, I guarantee you that when all is said in done – we’re going to look back on this more fondly than we realize and also shake our heads and say:

I can’t believe I survived that. But, also:

I hope I don’t ever have to go back.