“Hey mom. Mom. Mommy. MA!”

For every ten minutes of substantive reading or writing I get done, I will have at least one of these “kidterruptions”.

As the world tries to curb the spread of the novel coronavirus by hunkering down in homes, children, largely shielded by their youth, seek fun and excitement from the only source available to them: siblings and parents.

I am incredibly grateful for the ability to hunker down and it makes me feel like a whiny asshole when I even begin to complain about my fraying nerves (“Are you done with your homework YET?!,” –– kidterruption, as I write).

I have a renewed sense of gratitude and appreciation for the healthcare workers who save our lives and keep us healthy, the grocery stores who plan our nutrition needs ahead of time, the truck drivers who transport our goods and the blessed delivery men and women who bring items to our doorsteps saving a trip –– and potential exposure –– to the store. I take seriously my responsibility to try to keep my family safe and not add to the load on our healthcare system’s back. 

While I am acutely aware of how privileged we are who get to help by simply staying put, adjusting to multiple revisions of daily life simultaneously inevitably takes a toll.

For parents working from home, or in my case, attending online college classes from home, the stress from life’s responsibilities suddenly shifting to the digital world while access to the real world has shrunk to the vicinity of the home, can be a bit much.

After a two-week vacation, my husband has returned to work, opting to stay in the RV in the driveway rather than coming in and out of the house every day. We agreed it’s the most sensible thing to do, especially considering a positive case has already popped up where he works. But emotions are strong, and I pace along the tightrope between pragmatism and convenience; cooking meals, struggling with schoolwork and missing my husband intensely as I go. The potential comfort of social media is tinged bitter with panic and the weight of the unknown lurks around every scary article I read, flipping me off.

Though I am prone to anxiety and overthinking, I am an optimist, and I know that even the mightiest of struggles offer opportunities for growth. The position the world finds itself in rings undeniably with the truth of consequence.

And we can rise to the occasion and come out the other side wiser, with humility and perspective that will translate to meaningful change for our future. It’s already underway with healthcare workers volunteering to work in hotspots around the country, private businesses switching production over to provide desperately needed ventilators and civilians hand-sewing masks for essential personnel in their communities.

For now, we take it baby step by baby step at a time through the thick of it.

The first official day of “flexible learning” was my first baby step.

I woke up excited about the structure and goal-setting home-school provides. I got the laptops out, roused the children, and plopped bowls of microwaved oatmeal next to them as they blinked sleepily at their screens.

My 14-year-old said he finished his work for the week in about an hour. I’m still not sure if he’s lying to me about it but frankly, there’s not enough space in my amygdala for another thing to worry about.

My 10-year-old, a fourth-grader, was not such a treat. He complained, he criticized, he attempted to lure me into an argument about the validity of his social studies vocabulary words. I would like to say I responded in patient, even tones and kept my cool, but words were yelled, in lecture form. I gave up after an hour and needed a nap.

I am currently facing a mountain of a paper that I have made little progress in scaling. The topic is interesting and the words initially came easily,  but current events are overwhelmingly distracting from the clear train of thought I need to arrange my writing.

And my conclusion is this: it’s ok.

It’ll get done. Maybe not the way I’m used to, but I am choosing to give my children and myself grace and space.

The context of our way of life has changed. The standards we held ourselves to before no longer exist and it is ok to undulate as we adapt.

Before Harvey claimed our belongings, l I had a copy of Be Here Now, a sort of spiritual guidebook and collage assembled by Dr. Richard Alpert/Baba Ram Dass and published in the early seventies.

The professor and doctor of psychology found himself dissatisfied with his life as a “collector of possessions” and lecturer of “other men’s ideas”.

He embarked on a journey of growth through psychedelics then India, to a life stripped free of his former identity and expectations. As he sought spiritual enlightenment, he re-centered with the mantra, “Be Here Now”.

Mental images of pages from this book keep popping up in my mind’s eye as life is distilled down to its most fundamental in light of this common threat. When the rat race is suddenly put on pause, what are we left with? How satisfying are our pursuits, really? Why is it so difficult to not be able to plan for the future?

I don't have those answers yet, but I do know the tug of meaning, the whisper of divinity is stronger, louder in the absence of the noise of the world.

All we have is now, and our children are begging us to enjoy it with them. We can be informed and aware. When that is done, I think we can learn to put it aside and embrace this gift of time. I will honor the devastating price and use it as well as I can.

No matter what is going on, a life lived in the present moment, with gratitude is a life well-lived.