I am not a patient person by nature – actually, I can be exceedingly patient, just not with other human beings, and my 8-year-old daughter is massively and perfectly a human being; with poor emotional regulation to boot; typical, and normal… but this… this absolute clusterfuck of a situation we as humanity presently find ourselves in is not supposed to be part of the equation.

I now find myself a spectacularly mediocre person and mother… attempting to home school my daughter in the midst of an actual no fooling global pandemic. To top it all off, a week before this particular shit hit the fan I made the decision to go off my meds. Yep, I’m doing all this shit sans serotonin. I haven’t started day drinking yet, but it’s coming, I can feel it.

Up until now, I’ve been a pretty good “mom with depression” I had good days, great days, and worst of the worst days where I wanted to die. Sorry – too dark, but true. I survived by taking breaks when I needed them, asking for my husband to pick up the slack when I was unable to be the parent my kids deserved. I survived with bubble baths and alcohol; then weed, then medication. I survived. I survived and managed to extract joy, fulfillment, and even a bit of contentment from life – which any person with depression will tell you, is a difficult feat. I even survived while maintaining “best mom in the world” titles from my kids. They make art for me, and prefer my time to anyone else’s. I am so lucky I’ve been able to accomplish this; so lucky they still love me.

Now, everything has changed. I look out my window and wonder what the next day will bring, what new restrictions on our lives will be put into place? How much has property theft gone up as people become more and more desperate? How is my apocalypse garden coming along? Can I grow pumpkins in acidic soil? How the hell am I going to do this… do we have enough toilet paper?

We are entering week four of social isolation and having my eight-year-old daughter and three-year-old son at home. My Daughter should be at school, but she’s here. The first few days went pretty well, I printed out worksheets on photosynthesis and had her play math games on the iPad. We even did a science experiment and chemistry, yay!

We didn’t do any of that today. I didn’t have it in me. This is reality for the foreseeable future, that means it’s just me until then and I will be completely honest with you, I’m not cut out for it. I lost my patience today, I yelled at my daughter and told her she had to be more “mature.” She’s 8. I had to take a step back and realize my mental health was taking a nosedive, bringing her with it. It’s too much, this changing of hats, this ridiculous charade. I simply am unable to be a cook, maid, teacher, mother, nurse, wife, woman, and person all at once. It cannot be done, not well anyhow. So tomorrow is honesty day.

 

I am going to explain, in appropriate language, why Mommy is not going to be setting up work stations and fun Pinterest-worthy experiments every day, why we won’t have an agenda, and why outside time is now the priority. I am going to explain how shockingly privileged we are to live in a large house with an even larger yard. I am going to teach them how to cultivate zucchini and strawberries (the only things I have ever grown successfully) and how the other efforts in our garden may or may not work out – but whatever happens is ok because you learn little from success, but everything from failure.

I am going to teach both my kids kindness towards each other and how it’s ok to feel shitty, as long as you don’t take it out on others. I am going to teach them “boredom, how to cope 101” and that I am a human person, who is not responsible for their endless enjoyment. I am going to teach them that I am also a flawed and imperfect human person who needs their help to get through this, just as much as they need mine.

I’m going to stop pretending that I have all the answers and ask my eight-year-old to help me get her little brother into the bath and entertain him when I just need ten minutes to weep. I am going to teach them their bond is what will get them through these hard times now, and also the hard times when I’m no longer here.

 
Most importantly, I’m going to teach them to keep the tools they were forced to forge in this time and question what’s really important when this threat recedes. I’m going to teach them both what really matters in life, and it only took a global pandemic for me to begin to realize what those things are. 
 
I may not be a perfect mom, but that may just be the best lesson yet. 

    

Sarah Parker is a Beekeeper, Dog trainer, writer and Mom living in Victoria BC Canada. Her work has been featured on The Mabelhood, and Scary Mommy. She enjoys hiding from her family in the pantry and dreams of one day growing into an old crone who keeps a raven as her familiar in a deep and ominous wood.

 

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