The Mask Conundrum - Parenting During a Confusing Pandemic

 I believe masks slow the spread of coronavirus. If you do not believe this, this post will be hard to understand.

At the beginning of the pandemic, I was a little shy to wear a mask. But I’ve overcome my discomfort mainly because I want to still see friends and neighbors and talk with them. I do it because I care about them. In general, I wear a mask anytime I am within 6 feet of someone who is outside my family, whether we be indoors or outdoors. I require my kids to do the same, and for the most part, they follow my example. When those around me have not worn masks, I don’t think too much about it. I know everyone has their reasons, and I all I can do is try my best to not catch or spread the disease. So far, this has worked out okay, but recently I have run into a mask conundrum.

I live in Florida, where masks are required for entry to most businesses and public schools. The mask compliance by the general public, however, has been spotty. There are always three or four people at Publix without a mask or wearing them incorrectly. Parents, who are picking up their masked children, congregate outside the school and converse closely–without masks. There are still backyard gatherings where the cars of the guests snake far along the road. And at public parks, throngs of people pack in tight, no one wearing a mask.

A few days ago, I took my three kids to a park to ride our bikes. We all wore our masks (except for our littlest who is still a baby). We bumped into a friend and her children unexpectedly. They weren’t wearing masks, but again, I wasn’t too worried about it. My reasoning was we were outside and my kids had masks on. I was happy to watch them play as I caught up with my friend - it had been ten months since we had seen each other. I looked up and noticed my daughter, Rosie had pulled her mask down to her chin.

“Please wear your mask properly, Rosie.” I called.

She grudgingly complied and went back to gleeful playing.

About five minutes later, Rosie was running around with her mask down again.

“Please wear your mask, Rosie.”

Again, she adjusted her mask.

Another five minutes pass, and I see Rosie playing with her friend, but this time, no mask in sight.

“Where is your mask, Rosie?”

She pointed to somewhere off in the bushes. She had taken it off and hid it.

I told her to retrieve it and as she put it back on, I said, “Rosie, we need to keep your friend safe. Your school has had some outbreaks, and we need to be careful not to spread it to you friend. Do you want to keep your friend safe?”

Rosie nods.

“If you take off your mask again, we need to go home.”

Not one minute later, she runs past me with her mask off.

I quickly gather my things and tell Rosie we are going home. Of course there is whining and complaining, and when we get to the car, tears.

As I am buckling up the baby, I tell Rosie, “I’m really concerned with your mask wearing. Is that how you wear it at school?”

Rosie replies, “no.”

“Then why don’t you wear your masks like you do at school?”

“Because at the park, no one else was wearing a mask.”

I was quiet for awhile, looking at my daughter. I understood that she wasn’t acting under defiance, but under confusion. It was easy to follow the rules in a school setting because everyone else was wearing a mask, but change the setting, then the rules and decorum change dramatically–that can be confusing for a child.

And now we are to my mask conundrum. How can I explain to my child the importance of masks when she sees so many people not wear them? How can we expect our children to go to school with safety protocols when, we, as parents do not follow them ourselves? It is duplicitous and confusing for children.

I’ve tried to explain to Rosie that we wear masks out of love for others. But it is only one step in logic away for Rosie to think up, “well, why don’t they love me?” The last thing I want to do is vilify our friends and neighbors. So as I explain things to her, I have to be careful not to talk too much about the people who choose not to wear masks, or to give them the benefit of the doubt. But I end up feeling hypocritical. I hold my family to a strict standard but explain away other people’s laxness?

Can I blame Rosie for being anything but confused?

Now if you are reading this and worried about our last interaction and wondering if I judged you for not wearing a mask, do not fret. I was probably just happy to see you. The latest casualty in this pandemic should not be our relationships.

If you wanted an answer to the mask conundrum, there isn’t one right now. Perhaps the only thing we can do is be more compassionate to our children, who have started to see the world in more shades of gray.

COVID-19 Induced Homeschool

Before this year, I viewed people that homeschooled as other worldly. They had their lives together, their kids were really smart and conversed well with adults, and they had halos over their heads. I knew that it was something I could never do...so when Rosie's public school shifted to online learning in mid-March due to COVID-19, I felt a lot of trepidation.

I remember feeling excited the first day, like at the beginning of a race. But as time went on, my stamina bar fell to zero and never refilled. Here is how our day usually goes:

Rosie does homeschool on her tablet or on my computer. 

8:00 - Wake up and eat cereal.
8:30 - Rosie logs on to a "morning meeting" video call with all her class. She uses my computer (in the master bedroom) to do this. AJ goes into Rosie's bedroom/the office and starts his work. The door closes.
9:00 - I navigate the school's online system to gather all the assignments that Rosie needs to complete.
9:30 - Rosie does an online iReady program. If I turn my back for a second, she slips into the "gaming mode" in the program that doesn't count towards her weekly progress.
10:00 - Rosie does an online math program called Reflex. She complains constantly and shouts at the computer.
10:30 - I sit down next to Rosie as she watches videos filmed by her teacher. These videos include phonics and math. Rosie races ahead and tries to answer questions her teacher hasn't even reached yet. She falls down several times from her chair and gets mad at the chair.
11:30 - I let the kids play on their tablets while I stare at the ceiling and the baby pulls my hair.
12:00 - We have lunch. Sometimes, there is something called "lunch bunch" where Rosie has lunch with her teacher and a few of her classmates in a video call. It usually coincides with when the baby is napping in the same room as the computer.
12:30 - I'm still eating lunch. As I clean up lunch, I also clean up the morning dishes. AJ comes out of the office and grabs a shake. He goes back, the door closes.
1:00 - I let the kids play toys or their tablets again while I try to do something therapeutic for me. Sometimes it is work. Sometimes it is painting. Sometimes, I clean.
3:00 - I pull Rosie back to the computer to watch the last of her school videos, filmed by her teacher. The subjects covered are reading and a mystery reader. Rosie usually writes a sentence or two about the book she listened too, and I check her work.
4:00 - We try to complete some of the extra-curricular learning that Rosie's school provides, like P.E., Art, Music, and Chinese. As I turn in assignments, I stare in disbelief at the amazing art that other kids have turned in. I'm sure their parents intervened.
-or-
4:00 - We sometimes go outside in an attempt to ward off the vampire within. The kids ride bikes and draw with chalk while I sit just inside the garage, looking ahead with dead eyes.
5:00 - I make dinner. AJ is out now and playing with the kids.
6:00 - We have dinner. I sit slouched in my chair the same way a fire victim sits in the back of an ambulance.


So as you can see, homeschooling swallowed my life a little bit. I accepted that the two younger kids would have to be neglected a little in order to focus on Rosie. It isn't uncommon in the birding world to feed the biggest chick first because they are most likely to survive.

Simon lies face down during Rosie's homeschool - the neglected child. 

All while homeschooling went on, a thought crossed my mind. "Is this what it is really like to homeschool? What about so-and-so who does homeschooling? How does she hide the dead eyes so well?" If you are in the middle of homeschooling and feel the same way, here are some things to remember:

1. You are running a marathon you didn't sign up for.
There is something to be said about the mindset you have when you volunteer for something. It is more likely to be enjoyable to you because you said you would do it. I didn't volunteer for homeschooling, but I will try my best because I volunteered for kids. And it's okay if it's not my favorite thing to do.

2. You have less "going-out" options.
Homeschooling during pre-COVID-19 could include different play-dates, subject-swaps, sports, museum and zoo trips, etc. Homeschooling after COVID-19 is confined to your house, your neighborhood, and if you are lucky, maybe a park. Your kids have less opportunity to let out steam or explore, so it's going to require creativity on the parent's side to not go stir-crazy.

3. A third thing.

The good thing is, homeschooling is coming to an end. This week is the last week. I know it is a possibility that schools will not open in the fall, but let us not speak of such things now. I feel like I have survived something.

Rosie's teacher was awesome.

To Rosie's teachers who put together an online learning system overnight, I feel a lot of respect and gratitude to them. They tried hard to connect with my 5-year-old, even as she spun around compulsively in her office chair during zoom calls, or filled their message chats with nonsense. They adjusted the amount of homework they gave as it become clear that parents were overloaded. Rosie's teacher got better at editing and put together a title sequence for a short cooking show she filmed for the children. She even came by today to hand deliver a present to a surprised Rosie.

And now, let us look forward to a good summer. In order to not be too depressed when looking into summer, my kids, AJ, and I made a list of things we want to do this summer. I was humbled by one of the things Rosie said. She wanted to have a pizza feast where we made our own pizzas. She made one shaped like a heart and she got the biggest smile as she ate it. I would suggest making your own list of things you want to do this summer to help you look forward to the future - even if it's just a reminder that the simple things of life are still here for you to enjoy.

Our list of things we want to do over the summer. 

The heart-shaped pizza.

Me, hiding my dead eyes.

Was homeschooling the same for you? I'd like to know. This can be a start to a therapy group.

Three is a Crowd

The first thing AJ did after I checked into the hospital to be induced for Baby #3 was to slather lotion on my legs. "That way the doctor won't be so grossed out by your lizard legs," he said as only a loving husband can. My scaly legs must make quite an impression, because the first thing my friends did when they arrived at my house on the morning of my wedding (9 years ago) was the same thing–butter up my legs. Fast forward (back to the hospital), I'm sitting on the hospital bed with moist legs and ready to give birth.

The Birth

My nurses were incredibly nice and relaxed. They laughed when I told them I thought my varicose veins were herpes and they imparted crucial knowledge to me from their past deliveries - like did you know STDs smell like fish? Everything progressed normally, with a pitocin drip, breaking the amniotic sac, and increasing contractions, an epidural, but all I could think about was how hungry I was. The doctor had instructed me not to eat anything that day in case I became nauseated from the drugs or the need to operate, but I was borderline delirious from hunger in the afternoon. My husband ate a hamburger from the downstairs cafeteria, and I shed some tears watching him eat it. When the doctor came in and predicted that I would give birth around midnight (in eight hours), I felt dejected. My mind did the math. I thought to myself, "If I want to put in a dinner order to the cafeteria before it closes at 6:00 p.m., I need to give birth within the next hour." And like magic, it was so! The doctor came back in to check on me and then there was a calm but rushed gathering of their tools because I was ready to go.

The nurses each grabbed one of my legs for support because the birthing stirrups were broken, and I began to push. "Mmmm!" the doctor commented, "cucumber melon!" That was the scent of my leg lotion. To push the baby out, it took longer than my last one because he was "sunny-side up," but at a quarter to 5, the baby made his loud and slimy appearance. "I'd like the turkey and stuffing dinner!" I told the nurse.

As I first held my baby, I noticed how loud he was for such a little guy. He lay on my chest, crying and hacking up fluid from his lungs. It was cute. I held him for a long time. Hen-hen.

Living in the hospital for the three days after was great! I pursued the cafeteria menu and planned out the wonderful things I would eat. I watched hours of, "My 700-Pound Life" and "Hoarders," on TV. I did no house work and only took care of one kid! I was sad to leave.

Life After Birth

Now that I am back home and AJ is back to work, I'm awakened to the cruel reality of three kids. Rosie, the oldest, is incredibly jealous of Hen-hen and has chosen to win our love by being snarky and rude. Simon, once a fully functioning 3-year old, has decided his legs no longer work and needs to be carried everywhere. Hen-hen is a good baby, but chooses to contribute to the chaos by producing diaper blow-outs daily. Sometimes at the end of the day, my ears are ringing from the constant noise. This must be another reason they say, "three is a crowd."

But I am learning slowly how to handle the herd. After a hard week with Rosie - in which she proclaimed she no longer believed in God and that everyone hates her - I lay in bed pondering the situation. I'd received several rounds of advice, all urging me to spend more time with my kids or pay closer attention to their needs. This frustrated me because as I sat, I thought to myself, "I don't even have time to pay attention to my own needs." That was when I had an epiphany. I imagined an empty cup trying to pour liquid into several other little cups. Nothing happened, because the first cup was empty. That was when I decided to break the cycle by being a little more selfish. I was going to take care of my needs first.

Most the time, I'm so frazzled with taking care of Simon and Hen-hen during the day that when I go to pick up Rosie from school, I'm like a wilting flower. I'm barely able to say, "how was your day?" Now, before I go pick her up, I try to do some things that are enjoyable and restful to me. I read a book. I eat chocolate. I take a nap. I shower. Sometimes, I even go to the bathroom. I try to save my best energies for her at the end of the day by being more selfish earlier in the day. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but it has helped me curb the downward spiral.

And so while two is company, three is crowd–at least it's never boring. With each new stage, I'm learning something new. Gotta go! I'm going to pick up Rosie from school; I want to be one of the first ones there.