children

The kids are back in school this week, and it has already done wonders for their mental health. They are not mooning about the place with long faces and crushed social dreams. They are stimulated, engaged, interested and once again full of life.

They are disengaging from the gaming consoles, and their constant screen companions these last six months. They are seeing real faces, attached to real people, and it is doing them undeniable good.

I have heard, I have heeded the Provincial health officer’s warnings and decrees and I have followed them. But I don’t quite understand this next step.

As aforementioned, I understand that the kids need to go back to maintain positive mental health, and so we don’t create a mass group of children who have unrecoverable gaps in their learning. I understand that school, for a large part of the work force, functions as a day-care, and British Columbians need to get back to work. I inherently understand this economy needs to get back to (semi) normal in order to move forward and not collapse in on itself.

But walk with me…

We are to have a bubble of no more than six. This keeps us safe. And my children (middle school) are to have a bubble (or cohort) of no more than 60. But what if my older son’s class doesn’t wear masks in the classroom? Doesn’t that make his bubble the size of his classroom, plus all his peers’ personal bubbles of six? And what if each of my children goes to a different school, thus cementing the fact that each child is bringing home possible exposure from two completely separate cohorts?

My younger son’s class does and doesn’t wear masks; some around one ear, some under the chin. So is he now is bubbling with his cohort of 60 plus all of their bubbles of six?

And while math is not my strong suit, doesn’t that mean that our bubble just expanded to 2 x 60 for each child’s cohort plus 2(6 x 60) for each student’s personal bubble, exposing me to a potential new total of 840 possible new people I just got exposed to when my children came home?

Is my math off?

And while the Government insists we must reopen carefully and we must move forward with measured, controlled unavoidable exposure and cases, is it just me, or does it feel like we have all just been thrust into a giant social-experiment-petri-dish with a “wait and see in two weeks” kind of shrug?

I guess we’ll see in two weeks.

I am unclear how to measure time right now. When did we start physically distancing? Was there a start date or did it slowly creep in? First it was no masks, now it is masks: keeping up with the news cycle is a herculean task in of itself. I find myself breathless and numb every time I check the Canada.ca website for updates. I am naturally anxious, and this pandemic isn’t helping.

Some days are good, some days are bad. Some days are extremely dark. I worry about my partner, who remains in the field (as we have been deemed an essential service) exposing himself to multiple job sites and people daily. He practices physical distancing, he takes all necessary precautions, and washes his hands regularly. However, he is a smoker over 40 who is not particularly healthy. He brings germs home. He exposes himself and our household every time he leaves the house.

But I must let these thoughts go. I choose to focus on my children: we colour Easter eggs, rainbows and hearts for the front window. I organize a “Good Friday Frolic” – a visual Easter egg hunt for the children of the neighbourhood on Friday. We will compete to see how many eggs we can ‘collect’ in our virtual baskets.

As a community, we have come together, apart. I wave to my neighbours each night at the seven o’clock noise making party for the First Responders and Front Line Workers. I check in with my elderly neighbours. I marvel at their openness and honesty when we meet in the lane and (from a good 2 meters + apart) they admit they are afraid, and uncertain. Our WhatsApp chat group has grown to include much of my entire block. We are all learning Zoom.

I focus on each day at a time, and doing what I can to support my children, my husband and myself. I try not to consider the awful consequences of one or both of us getting sick. I withdraw emotionally and shut down frequently. This is not a tidal wave of emotions, but instead a relentless lapping of little moments, highs and lows. Each day is an exhausting sprint through quicksand: the rules are ever-changing, shifting and moving. It shifts from day to day to minute to minute to hour to hour.

Just. Keep. Breathing.

Another Gluten Free Foodie

Cooking & living GF, and learning what it takes to raise a Celiac child

Cue the Petri-dish