Motherhood&…Adapting to New Normals

Emily, Wednesday 12th August, 13:20

It’s been an age since we last spoke — I hardly know where to begin?! It feels a bit over the top to say we’re living in a different world to the one we last talked about, but in some ways it is. I don’t know about you, but the difference means that every time we fall back into awful, predictable behaviour, it is somehow even more difficult to accept. I’m thinking specifically of the poor migrants risking their lives to cross the Channel and the predictable Tory response (“Don’t look at that (appalling death toll), don’t look at that (terrifying recession), look over there — strangers! STRANGER DANGER!”). Not to mention the journalists covering it from a boat alongside a group of people who are quite literally fighting for their lives in that very moment, and we’re watching it like it’s sport? I want to scream “Are we not better than this now? Have we really learned absolutely nothing?”

We are still acting like we’re somehow above everyone else when, if coronavirus has taught us anything, it’s surely that we’re all the same — in the sense that we’re all as vulnerable as the next person. We may think we’re richer, more advanced, cleverer and somehow special, but we’re all exactly the same and it doesn’t feel like we’ve learnt anything from our 10 minutes on the naughty step. Other people seem to be getting back to ‘normal’ life, whatever that means, but I still feel bruised and battered and really bloody tired. I don’t want to go back to what we had before — the curtain has been lifted and I’ve seen who is sat at the controls and I’m not on board — but I don’t know what I want instead.

I guess, in a roundabout way, what I’m trying to say is: how the devil are you?!?!

Rachel, Wednesday 12th August, 16:50

I really feel your exhaustion and tension, there, Em, and I’m recognising it in myself too. I think with any-sized catastrophe, the crisis moment itself is easier in some ways than the immediate aftermath, and that’s what we’re seeing here - in wider politics, in our personal relationships and within ourselves. You’re pushed into a crisis, and it’s scary and unbalancing, but you’re running on adrenaline and you have a solid list of things to follow and you’re doing it with other people, so there’s a sense of camaraderie. Then once the immediate intensity is over, there’s mess: different rules for different people, blame and recrimination, and distraction tactics, and shifting priorities, and urgh, our human brains do not like mess. Quick, let’s get angry over THERE! Anger gives us something to do!

This has been a really tumultuous period for us too, as you said: the months of lockdown and home schooling, sliding into six weeks of summer holidays like melting ice cream off a cone onto the dirty floor, and then the world’s worst house move on top of it. I feel a lot calmer now that the house is settled and we’re pulling into September with — hopefully — just a little more normality. But I am finding a lot of leftover stress and trauma still in my body and brain, and I think it’s important that we see it, name it and make space for it without hustling ourselves on too quickly.

What do you envision being important for you and yours over the next six months, as we recover and continue with all of this? What do you want to put in place?

Emily, Wednesday 12th August, 21:30

I really resonate with what you say about recognising the trauma of the past few months and resisting the temptation to throw ourselves back into hustle-mode. For me, the pandemic and lockdown kicked off just as I was starting to really think about what my career and life would look like post-baby. I was already feeling a bit lost, and lockdown heightened that. Now, while everyone is talking about getting back to normal, my brain is shouting: “But, what is normal?” I was in a state of flux before and I’m still in it. I veer from feeling really anxious about the future, to feeling incredibly flat, and I’m searching for answers to ‘solve’ this, when I’m not sure any exist right now. At least, they’re not going to come to me in the three minutes I have after finishing my work before O wakes up from her nap, or once she’s gone to bed and I’m lying on the sofa like a deflated balloon.

In terms of the next six months, my plan is to just hang on. We won’t be sending O to nursery for the foreseeable future (she screams every time I leave the room right now, I don’t fancy my chances of handing her over to a complete stranger). So I will be doing as much work as I can, embracing the extra time I have with her, with one eye to the future, hoping for inspiration or a lottery win. I know that at some point I will look back on this time and wish I’d spent less time worrying and more time appreciating watching O grow. Easier said than done, I know.

Do you think a lot about what life would be like if the pandemic hadn’t happened? It must be rare that a Sliding Doors moment is shared by most human beings.

Rachel, Monday 17th August, 17:10

Honestly, I haven’t given myself the space to wonder about that, and I think the fact that this has affected everybody to varying degrees has prevented me from playing the comparison game too much. When I do fire up the comparison engine, it’s very obvious to me how lucky we’ve been in contrast to many. I’ll never know what these six months might have done for me, work-wise — it all disappeared with the pandemic, and I’ll essentially be starting from scratch next month. But as we said in our last edition, there’s a clarity that comes when everything falls to bits. What do I really want, now it’s all gone? I have a few answers I didn’t have before.

(I’m quite glad we won’t have to watch the Look At My Glittering Achievements slideshows on social media in December, because it’s a WEAKNESS and I’M SORRY, but they make me hate everything.)

One of my most essential tasks over the next six months is creating stability for the kids. Emotional scaffolding after so much disruption and worry. I anticipate that school/nursery will stop and start as infection rates fluctuate, so my priority is making everything else feel secure: routines, traditions, creating bedroom spaces that feel good for them to be in, lots of parental availability and love.

The other thing I want to do is put solid boundaries around the things that help to fill me up, because all of the above takes emotional effort — and as the parent with the more flexible schedule, I’ll be bearing the brunt of whatever comes. I made a list the other day of my top anxiety-killers, and ordered them by how effective I think they are. If I can manage to do just one a day, I think I’ll feel like I’m keeping myself afloat.

How do you think your partner relationship has been affected by this unusual year? Both as you relate to each other, and as co-parents to O?

Emily, Thursday 20th August, 21:00

Can we just take a second to appreciate how bleak the end-of-year recaps are going to be?! 8 Out of 10 Cats is going to have its work cut out making this all seem funny. Personally my ‘Glittering 2020 Achievements’ will include setting a new personal record for how many chocolate digestives I can eat in one day and how many times I’ve seen Frozen 2 (and I still don’t really understand the story).

I think my relationship is ok — I seem to remember a few heated discussions during lockdown when I threatened him with divorce, but I can’t remember what I was annoyed about now so it couldn’t have been that bad! Generally speaking, lockdown didn’t come as too much of a shock to us — we both work from home and are used to being around each other a lot. The past few months has made me really appreciate certain things about him — he’s always been passionate about building up his savings and I used to call him Scrooge McDuck, but I was so incredibly grateful for the feeling of security it gave us when this all started and now that the state of the economy is looking a bit desperate. It’s awful when your husband turns out to be right, but it turns out he was right (no one tell him I said that).

I actually think lockdown was, in some ways, beneficial for us as parents. Because he was at home every day he could see for himself how tough full-time parenting can be. And lockdown caught us at a bad moment — O got eight new teeth in that time and didn’t we know it. Dan may be in the garage, but no amount of soundproofing can block out the noise of a toddler who doesn’t want to get in a high chair.

So what are your top anxiety killers? Thanks to lockdown I’ve realised that I really enjoy cooking something properly for our dinner, once O is in bed. Something about chopping things, while listening to a podcast, helps me unwind. That and an industrial sized quantity of Dairy Milk. Side note: I listened to the Goop podcast with Oprah Winfrey recently and wow, that woman is a walking soundbite.

Rachel, Monday 24th August, 15:00

Oprah! The QUEEN. I listened to Glennon Doyle on Brene Brown’s podcast recently and basically just cried openly during the whole of my walk. I thought ‘if anyone asks whether I’m ok, I’ll just tell them I’m listening to Brene Brown, and they’ll understand’. But everyone just awkwardly avoided my gaze instead.

That’s so interesting that you both being home during lockdown has allowed him to see behind the curtain of 24-hour toddler parenting! It is No. Joke. Tim’s job used to involve a fair amount of travel — he was gone at least one or two nights, once or twice a month. And even on an ordinary day he almost never got home for dinner. A couple of weeks ago he had a meeting that ran over dinner, and I was OUTRAGED at how hard it was to gather the three of them and supervise them all eating cheerfully…and then I thought ‘Darling, this used to be your every day’. And I thought it was amazing how anything can become normal over time.

We’re not sure when or if his job will go back to the way it was, and I’m definitely not sorry to have him around more in the medium-term.

As for anxiety-killers, my top three are probably: 1) punchy exercise most days a week. I started this in lockdown and haven’t got bored of it yet — and this week I just noticed how much lower my resting heart rate is now, so big wins there; 2) having catch-ups with Tim where we both put our phones away and put the kettle on and empty out what’s inside our heads. Feeling distant from him emotionally makes me anxious, so I love resetting ourselves so we’re on the same team; and 3) dealing with life admin efficiently. The back of our microwave is a utility bill graveyard — I hate opening brown envelopes! But then it’s like they’re glaring at me every time I make a cheese toastie. So I want to be better about admin. Do you think a *really* fancy letter holder will help? I think it will.

What’s one thing you’re looking forward to in the next six months? Let’s end with the positive.

Emily, Monday 24th August, 20:12

A fancy letter holder will definitely help.

I am looking forward to autumn like you WOULDN’T BELIEVE. It is my season — I get that back to school/bouquets of sharpened pencils feeling (hopefully someone somewhere will get that reference). This is also when I annually start pining for Oxford. I didn’t think it was possible to miss a pile of bricks as acutely as I miss Oxford, but it’s all I can think about once I can feel a new term starting.

It’s our fifth wedding anniversary in September and our wedding venue is serving food on the weekend at the moment — we are going to take O and show her where we got hitched. We wouldn’t be able to do that otherwise, as it doesn’t really open up except for weddings, so that is one plus point of this whole shebang. That and being able to relive our wedding meal, which I didn’t really get to savour at the time *remembers that we will be with a toddler and will be given approximately ten seconds to eat*

Oh and I am SO looking forward to Christmas. I’m trying to keep my expectations small but I’m so excited. We visit Oxford in the run-up to Christmas every December and we did it for the first time with O last year — we took her to Blackwells to choose some books and I want to do that every December. It makes my heart happy. That and a steaming mug of mulled wine at the Turf and a Ben’s Cookie the size of my face.

Rachel, Tuesday 25th August, 13.50

Beautiful. Lovely. (Bouquets of sharpened pencils! Shall we watch that movie in sync on September 1st?)

I’m really excited to get them back to school and nursery, as problematic as I assume it will be — I can’t wait for them to get those relationships back with their teachers and friends. I can’t wait to fancy up our kitchen and living room for Christmas — I have visions of sitting around the big fire doing jigsaws and eating treats, with The Muppet Christmas Carol on in the background, like a balm for all the terrible parts of this year. Hopefully we’ll all get a moment like that at least once. And I’m holding a Ben’s Cookie in my heart ready for you too. Let’s do this.