Overcompensating and escapism have been the names of the game this summer. We are tired of being cooped up, tired of isolating, and tired of being house-bound. And yet, we are also unwilling to simply pretend that COVID-19 doesn’t exist like so many other Americans appear to be doing. It’s like people simply got bored of the pandemic and decided to return to business as usual. But business is not usual. Nothing about this situation is usual.
We want to give the girls a normal life, but we want to keep them safe. To that end, we have been seeking out mini-breaks that minimize risk but that are still fun. We created a family pod with our closest friends so that Pidge could at least have one other friend to play with. We are still overwhelmed, but we have been feeling pretty good about those decisions.
A month ago, we took a trip to the Maine coast. We watched as the little piping plovers darted about the sandy dunes and immediately thought that our second daughter should not be called Peach, but rather some derivation of piping plover. Piper? Pipes? Plove? She is so busy all the time!
Pidge enjoyed the waves of the Atlantic and the river estuary. We searched for shells, made a shell necklace, and swam in the pool. We wiped down every surface we came in contact with and used hand sanitizer non-stop. Every evening, we walked along the beach. Pidge ran naked, splashing and kicking in the giant puddles left behind as the tides receded. We snuggled and ate and breastfed in the sunset. On the third evening, fog crept in. It felt dystopian and weird, exactly how our time under COVID has felt. Parenting during a pandemic is the equivalent of doing essential work with no childcare, for no pay, and if you are lucky, doing it while also working a “real” job that runs concurrently. It is simultaneously impossible and indispensable. Every day I fight exhaustion from doing way, way too much. And yet, I would take it on tenfold if it meant keeping my little ones safe, protected, and feeling loved. I don’t want them to sense my overwhelm. I don’t want them to know my fear. I hope more than anything that this will be a passing moment in history; that someday we will tell the story of masked breastfeeding in the fog to our children as they listen, wide-eyed in disbelief. I hope more than anything that this is not a glimpse into their future. In the meantime, all I can do is my best—for public health, for my babies, and for myself.
Big breath.
And more escapism.
We went camping. It was Pidge’s fourth trip and Piper’s first. We set up our amazing tent, cooked hot dogs and s’mores (all vegan, of course), hiked, and swam in Emerald Lake. Funny, although Pidge definitely liked her first s’more, she was overwhelmed by the sugar. She ate three quarters of it and then asked for vegetables instead! The dogs came with us, and a good time was had by all. Rain had been predicted, but it hardly rained at all! When it did, it was a torrential downpour in a sudden cloudburst – exciting and fun. Pidge kept telling Mama to hurry and feed the fire, which she gladly did despite getting soaked. On the last night, we tried to start the car but it wouldn’t turn over. We used our jumper cables but didn’t have enough power to get it going. Piper was screaming, I was trying to nurse her in the tent, and my wife was running around with Pidge, asking for help. A very nice family from Connecticut came over to help us. They fidgeted with the engine and hooked up jumper cables to their powerful truck. No one wore a mask. We were so thankful, but we were also terrified. Thankfully, no one got COVID (at least not that we know), but it is just so hard to have what would be helpful interactions turn into stress and anxiety.
We went to Cape Cod with our pod family. The girls had a blast running along the shoreline looking for crabs. We enjoyed the beach house, cooking together, and taking walks through the neighborhood and on the beach. We talked about moving to Canada.
I took another camping trip with the girls while my wife stayed home to do her grad school work. She is currently attempting to write her thesis, all while parenting full-time as I work two jobs. Generally speaking, the camping trip went well. We arrived early evening and I was so proud of myself for getting the tent up with a toddler and a baby. Pidge tried to help with the tent stakes. She’s an amazing kid. That night, we had a fire and roasted hot dogs and ate s’mores. It’s becoming a camping tradition! We went to bed late, and around 3AM, Piper started piping. Loudly piping. At this point, Pidge was up as well. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole campground was up because Piper was LOUD. I ran everyone to the car to muffle the noise. Piper refused to breastfeed, so I started pumping. Pidge found popcorn in the glove box and started munching away as we listened to Putumayo’s Latin Playground on CD. What a memory! By then it was too late to go back to sleep, so we waited until it was suitably light enough to be officially up for the day and built a fire. We went on a morning walk and later took a hike to a large waterfall. We spent two nights at the campground and came home happy.
But,
We. Are. Exhausted.
I try to look on the bright side of everything. We are making memories and loving each other. But we are just so tired. And we can’t ask for help. And our overcompensating and escapism is beginning to cause more exhaustion but we are just so tired of being stuck – at home, and in this pandemic. We are tired of not seeing family. Pipes is almost five months old and none of our family members have met her.
And my wife’s grandma has COVID-19.
We decided to throw ourselves a baby shower. The only hiccup? We hate baby showers. So we decided to throw ourselves a Vermont-Style Baby Celebration: no games, no gifts, just a mellow gathering of fun in the sun.
sugar on snow 