On Saturday, I was sitting with my family outside a bagel shop on a perfect spring-like day. You know those ones where you’re sitting in direct sunlight, soaking up the vitamin D, but neither hot nor cold? It was lovely in that I cannot remember the last time we sat outside at a coffee shop, let alone a restaurant. But I couldn’t relax. I kept looking around wondering if we should put our masks back on between bites, if we were too close to the table next to us, or if we should just leave. It was lovely, but certainly not relaxing.
As a pregnant mom of two kids under 5, I feel as though I’ve finally hit COVID decision fatigue. It’s been almost two years of living this way. More isolated, skeptical, worry-filled than is normal for human beings. Anyone who knows me as a mother knows that I’m calm and easygoing – if I do say so myself. 🙂 But really, it takes a lot for me to get worked up and stressed out. The last few weeks have been a completely different story. The strain of nearly two years of COVID-related decisions has finally come to a head leaving me completely mentally drained.
It’s exhausting when every playdate is prefaced with, ‘can I ask if you and your husband are vaccinated?’ Moms like me sleuthing out how seriously a family is taking COVID. Are they vaccinated? Do they wear masks? How big is their circle? Is it safe to take my kids into stores right now? They wear masks better than most adults but my three-year-old doesn’t like the surgical masks and apparently, cloth masks are virtually pointless now? Do we keep them out of school when they’re perfectly healthy but know many of their classmates were traveling over winter break? Ok great, so let’s flush that tuition money down the drain.
It’s been two years of running back into the house because there’s not a mask in the car. Two years of the rare, but understandable, the toddler doesn’t want the green mask standoff. Two years of leaving the park because there are too many unmasked kids or adults. Nearly a year of listening to people say they aren’t getting vaccinated because they don’t want to feel sick, or because they already had COVID, or because…they just don’t want to. It’s been two years of worrying every single sneeze is going to turn into something more. Two years of having to justify my risk tolerance or decisions. Two years of hearing, “they’re so shy”. Well no shit, they haven’t seen you in months. My kids haven’t been able to interact with people in a normal way. They haven’t seen strangers without masks since they were 18 months and 3 years old. It’s been two years of answering, “when can we stop wearing masks?” Two years of asking myself is this a cloth, surgical, KN95, or N95 situation? Or worse, is this just something we avoid altogether?
I’m lucky that during these two years I haven’t had to juggle a career and motherhood. Trust me, I know. There are not enough words to describe how grateful I feel. However, being a SAHM doesn’t mean you should be comfortable being confined to your home. I certainly don’t want to live like that. Part of the job of being a SAHM in my opinion is getting out – planning play dates, taking your kids to museums, finding community, showing them the world.
The fact that it’s been two years and it’s still the same for kids under 5 is just, exhausting. Yes, things are more open than they were in 2020. There’s no shelter in place mandate. But now there’s Omicron. And we’re seeing it affect children in ways other variants seemed to have spared them. Since Omicron arrived I feel this constant pull between sanity versus safety. And when I do make a decision I don’t feel 100% confident in it. My girls go to a small preschool whose COVID precautions feel appropriate and safe. However, since we’ve returned from winter break I drop them off with increased hesitation. They need to go to school, but they don’t need to be there. Ya know? They’ve been in a handful of stores in the past 8 weeks. We’ve canceled plans, turned down birthday party invites, and basically morphed back into a modified quarantine because the girls can’t yet be vaccinated and I’m pregnant. Every situation seems to be layered with risk. Have I mentioned those decisions are exhausting?
I have no brilliant insights. No secrets for making decisions easier. Every day is a buffet of COVID-related decisions, and each one seems to upset your stomach. All I can say is that if you’re a mom, a mom of kids under 5, or if you’re pregnant, I see you. I feel you. Solidarity sister.
