"Being forced to slow down and navigate this new reality was a wakeup call." Photo / Supplied
"Being forced to slow down and navigate this new reality was a wakeup call." Photo / Supplied
On March 23, as I sat watching our Prime Minister announce New Zealand would enter a four-week lockdown to combat Covid 19, my chest filled with anxiety, fearing what this might mean for my small family.
I worried for the safety of my then 10-month-old, the security of my job and my husband's and the wellbeing of our extended families.
What I didn't realise going in was that this time would see me question the mother I was and re-evaluate my propensity for trying to be some kind of super-mum who's only ever existed in a heightened state of stress.
Being forced to slow down and navigate this new reality was a wakeup call.
And as my husband and I watched our son take his first unsteady, adorable steps, I realised it was also an incredible privilege.
This time has allowed us to share chores between the two of us - and feel okay if things don't get done. We've forgiven ourselves when the washing has piled up - because we are in a global pandemic - and realised that forgiveness should be an option, pandemic or not.
I've been able to watch my husband be a dad who not only is home for precious bath time, but also sits and shares, bite-for-bite, a fresh feijoa off the tree with his son. I've found bliss in watching the joy in this tiny face, knowing he has all our attention as he snatches the feijoa skin and attempts to shove it in his tiny gob.
It turns out that picking feijoas off the tree provides endless entertainment. Photo / Supplied
When we have to work we've established some sort of unspoken agreement to allow each other to do what they need while the other takes the moment to have one-on-one special time with our son - maybe going for a walk, or reading a book.
I have found my attention to details that really matter has heightened: choosing classic books I want to share with my son, watching old films with my husband in the evenings, and not fussing over how long they take.
I have realised perhaps it's okay to not have the right groceries turn up and that maybe a piece of peanut butter toast is an acceptable lunch if you're on deadline.
When I am done with work, I turn off my computer and don't check my emails until my next clock-in time. When that time comes, I'm not sitting in traffic over thinking the things I need to do, stressing because Auckland's clogged motorways have me late yet again and then desperate to find a car park for the day.
In the afternoons, at the time I'd usually be sitting in traffic again and apologising profusely for being late to the person caring for my son, I now go for a walk with him - and don't ever look at the time. I pop him in his front pack and hold his tiny hands for what has become our 30-minute ritual: a walk where we spot dogs at the park and bears in windows and tell Dad all about it on our return. This 30-minute stroll will be something I'll dearly miss post-lockdown.
"This 30-minute stroll will be something I'll dearly miss post-lockdown." Photos / Supplied
At weekends I used to make plans and worry who I'd offend if I cancelled or said no. We'd book up our hours with visits and errands in order to be the best parents. Now we use this time to create special new traditions, like pancake and pyjama Sundays where PJs all day are optional, but pancakes are compulsory.
Previously, when I did work from home, I was occupying my son's time with activities so I could work, cook, clean, pick up his toys, order groceries, pay bills, check social media and inevitably head out somewhere with him that neither of us really wanted to go. I believed, somehow, that the busier I was, the better I'd be as a parent.
It turns out having his mum and dad just watch him as he organises the magnets on the fridge and tries to put the letter K in his mouth for the 16th time that day, is exactly what fills my son with complete and utter joy.
I've also realised that he doesn't need endless new toys - an empty egg carton and blueberry punnet will provide hours of fun.
I recognise this time and this experience isn't the same for everyone. Single parents, those who have lost their income and those who have less time with their families due to their essential jobs, are in the thick of it. Those people have all my respect and admiration.
And don't get me wrong, there are people I can't wait to see after this is all over, but if I find myself cancelling on them because my son missed his nap and needed a pyjama day with mum and dad, then I will forgive myself, now knowing the joy that comes in surrendering to your child.
Spending this time with my son and husband, together, just us three, for days on end and not knowing when life will go back to "normal", has been a huge privilege.
This crisis has prompted me to ask the big questions about life, its purpose and what I want my life to look like, ironically during a time when we don't get to choose.
As it turns out, losing my choices has made the right ones so blindingly obvious.
