Love in the Time of Quarantine

My husband and I have been in that hard part of marriage and parenthood for the last five years.

Our son, J, is five. He is Autistic and speech delayed. He started Kindergarten in the Fall, and so our days are filled with a full day of class for him, PT, OT, and Speech before school, and hours of ABA therapy after school.

Our daughter, B, is two and a half. And a spitfire. She is the queen of her kingdom. The right combination of sassy and sweet, adorable and intolerable. How sweet that she wants to play baby dolls all day! How annoying that she only wants to play if I join in. I know there is some point in the future that she won't want me to hold her constantly, or snuggle her to sleep every night. But at the moment I am completely DONE with it.

My husband works an IT job that has him talking all day - an particularly exhausting task for such an introvert. He comes home exhausted and not particularly feeling chatty, which is exactly what I crave after a day spent in the house with a two year old.

My job as a college professor and musician has me working nights and weekends to keep up, since I am the primary child care provider (and chauffeur, and cook, and appointment-maker-and-keeper, and shopper, and homework-doer...) I need to work, and there are only so many hours left at the end of the day to put in my time.

For the past few years it has felt like we barely saw each other, except in brief exchanges in the morning and evening, like two ships passing in the night. We haven't had a conversation about something other than the kids or household projects in longer than I can remember. We don't even sleep in the same room anymore just because it makes bedtime for the two kids (who each insist on sleeping with a parent) easier. And sometimes you just need to get by, to sleep through the night, even if that means sharing a twin bed with a two year old who hates to have covers on top of her.

Arguments came easy, so did sarcasm. We would go days without even touching each other. Not a kiss hello or goodbye. Not even a high five when B used the potty.

To be honest, we weren't great.

To be fair, we were both at fault.

We were trying to get by. To look to better days. To when the kids were older, we were less frazzled and pulled in so many directions. "It will get easier when they are older," he kept reminding me. "We just have to wait it out."

And then.

And then a global pandemic, which those of us who pay attention to world events saw coming, even though the American administration largely tried to bury their heads in the sand, arrived at our doorsteps.

And now we are to remain in the same house 24/7, save a weekly grocery trip that he and I alternate to have an excuse to get out of the house and just have some time alone.

The kids are online all day - whether it is Kindergarten or ABA therapy via Zoom, it's story times from our favorite local bookstore being live streamed, and virtual field trips to zoos and aquariums. And there are some days that the kids act more like caged animals than humans. But we are doing our part; we want to #flattenthecurve. And, by some miracle, we - my husband and I - are remembering why it is we are together in the first place. How it is that we ended up committed to each other with a house and two children.

Which is not to say that it's roses over here. But he can finally see the work I do throughout the day with the children, and the way I scramble to keep up. And because he is home, he can also step away from the home office set up (on our dining room table) to help with homework or making meals. It's easy to assume and misjudge. To get pent up in the inequality of any situation and point fingers at those who we perceive to be doing less. Not that it is at all egalitarian now - I still am the primary child care provider, I am the one who makes sure that J sits still and participates. I am still the one reading books and playing baby dolls with B.

But when we have no other option but to buckle down and make it work, we're figuring it out. We are spending time together again. And even if that time is anxiously reading the latest news from around the world, we are together. And reminded that there are things that matter more than who last emptied the dishwasher.

This is a truly horrible situation. We can only begin to imagine the long term effects that this virus will cause globally over the next several decades. It will be a formative part of my children's lives. And it was also the time that we all learned to be a little softer, patient, and more tender with one another, especially in our own homes.