Incorrigible Fuckers

The snow that has had the media and weather people all abuzz finally came. It dropped between 2 and 3 feet and now the world is quiet. My favorite thing about these enormous storms is the lack of sound afterward, how the entire world is muted.

I've had intermittent phases of well and unwell during this pandemic and this week has been something of a low one. I read some article about how hover-parenting combined with distracted-parenting is the most toxic of all parenting (this includes putting your baby in a blender head first, I guess?) and us gen-x/millenial parents are doing both of those things almost constantly and our children are on the fast track to be deranged killers who live in our basements forever while feasting on the crushed hearts and souls of their parents (and the broken dreams never realized by the little incorrigible fuckers).

So many things about the way parents are spoken about makes me feel like digging my nails into my palms and screaming; we are all trying so intensely to foster the growth of these kiddos and if others are so invested in the welfare of our children, then maybe we should invest more in families, maternity leave, childcare, early childhood education, and some semblance of support for parents and children. Because I can tell you with certainty that raising children has never been easy, but doing so in a complete and total vacuum because of a global pandemic presents challenges none of us are organically equipped to handle.

One thing about the pandemic is that it laid bare fractures and inequities, things that we had successfully buried, forgotten, or hidden. Race relations in the country were exposed by a hostile Trump administration and the pressures of Covid-19. The number of black and brown families disproportionately impacted by this virus is a statistic undeniably related to socioeconomics and underlying fractures in a health care system that prioritizes and provides more accessible and higher quality care to the wealthy. This was exacerbated by the shut down of schools in which we saw at risk and vulnerable kids suffering disproportionately in comparison with their privileged peers; our kids were in school 70% of this school year and it has entirely to do with the school district and the resources at their disposal.

I think the virus also laid bare the lack of support for parents and left many of us isolated, alone, and making decisions for our kids in a vacuum. And so I find it particularly rich when articles come out raking us over the coals for screen time or for being distracted parents or for not fostering a rich environment in the absence of school and extracurricular activities.

Meanwhile: individual parents are doing their very best to deal with their own mental health crises, anxiety, depression, loneliness, and isolation.

I take full responsibility for my children and their needs. But in the wake of a world that changed inalterably overnight, I feel justified if my children watch an extra hour of television every day. And if, at the end of the day, they are watching some STUPID show I would prefer not to watch, I am absolutely going to take out my phone and text with a friend who gives me solace and comfort and some semblance of normalcy. And at bed time, when we're all exhausted from a day of too-much togetherness, I'll still read to my kiddos and tickle them and listen to their soft whispers as fatigue descends.

But I refuse to feel even an iota of guilt for that extra screen time or for an increase in distracted parenting. I refuse to own the richness of experience a village could provide these children. I am just one person. One mother who loves her children intensely, but who cannot be an entire world for three young people. When the world returns to some kind of normal, then we'll dig deep and see what we can do to provide these kids enrichment and the social skills they have missed and the opportunity to swim, play piano, and whatever else peaks there interest.

Until then, I intend to offer myself infinite kindness, forgiveness, and grace. Because, my God, it's been a year.