Maddie in the Middle (of Quarantine)

We have created a children’s eBook that can be used as a tool for kids and parents during this unprecedented time of COVID-19↓

I used to envy those who were quarantined without children, day-dreaming about a responsibility-free day—but I now know parents are the lucky ones. Children, like Maddie, with their simplicity, joy, and innocence place us right back into the present, where we all belong.

Thank you for reading, sharing, and supporting our series!

-Jessica, Author

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Missed Maddie the first time? Check it out here↓

This Too Shall Pass

I remember vividly, standing over 4-month-old, Charlotte, on her second solid hour of crying with colic, and thought to myself, this was how mothers went crazy. I checked all the boxes and did all the things for her, but still, she persisted. I had nothing to go of off, no experience, nothing, so I didn’t know it would stop, nor did I trust that it ever would. I couldn’t tell you exactly how long this phase lasted, somewhere between 2-3 months; all I know was there was a before, during, and after. I’m confident someone told me it would pass, however within those months, I believed in my heart and my gut, that it could go on like that, forever.
It’s so easy to allow the walls of our mind to collapse inward.

If we let them.

In the grand scheme of things, this wasn’t the most difficult, or painful experience. There are varying degrees of human suffering and nothing is more frustrating and less helpful than when someone dismisses a hardship and puts it on a lower shelf. We shouldn’t guess what is considered monumental to others. Regardless of its size, the feelings are real.

As the years progressed and we weathered sleep regressions, eating refusals, tantrums, more sleep regressions, I had gained and relied on one truth: this too, while painful or challenging, is temporary. Sometimes it felt like one tough phase would end, only to begin the next, but we always managed to make it through to the other side. That side, was a wiser place that empowered us with a touch more grit and a lot more gratitude.

Now, here we are—twenty-some-odd days into sheltering in place and some familiar feelings are starting to resurface. We don’t have a concrete timeline, there seems to be more questions than answers. The madness teeters a little too close to the edge for comfort. Fear and worry are so heavy in the air, we could almost paint with the layer that encases us.

We say things like, “I could handle staying home, if I just knew for how long. It’s the not knowing, that’s hard.”

It’s true, an end date would help. But with that out of our control, instead, let’s regard in gratitude all those helpers, out there helping. Perhaps, for now, we can trust in the idea, like all hard things in this life, this too shall pass.

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The Thinking Corner

I am currently osculating between denial and acceptance pretty consistently every other day. Yesterday was a particularly dark day in my mind. I gave myself permission to be saddened by the idea that my daughter will likely be robbed of her last quarter of her kindergarten year. I thought of the economic crisis we are only just skimming the surface of. I wrote about where I needed my thoughts to go, because a brave face in isolation with children is heavy (you can read it by clicking below). 

But today, I have opted to change my internal perspective. A dear friend sent this message, which helped me shift my view:

Photo credit Brooke Anderson @movementphotographer

It got me thinking about opportunities to think differently, perhaps changing our perspective towards forced isolation with our families. If we look at it in the way we present our children with consequences, in our new-aged-parenting-wisdom, we don’t put them in a chair or on a timeout, we sit with them in a “thinking corner”.

Maybe we could view this as an opportunity for introspection.

I feel like every home-bound adult has been forced to look inward as our pace of life has shifted. 

Before we were in isolation, my baby wasn’t completely sold on walking. But in the past five days, she is committed, and confident. She’s a walker. I am wondering, if she’d been previously stalled because we were always rushing around when I had her strapped to my body, in the stroller, and car seat going from place to place. 

See, I thrive in the busyness. 

But maybe she doesn’t. 

It’s something I could have only learned here; in my thinking corner.

The weight of the patience I must carry now, for my daughters, is heavier than before. Yesterday, it felt like a burden and today, I’m grateful for this chance to place things into their right categories of urgency. We have been handed a paintbrush to label once petty things “unimportant”.

It’s been six days, but I can say with complete confidence that when we come out on the other side, we will love each other differently.

We will love each other better. 

If absence makes the heart grow fonder; I can only imagine the fondness we will feel, when we can finally all come back together hand-in-hand.

Photo credit: Michele Meze with Fit4Mom Davis-Woodland