Ramblings of an Expectant Dad 2.0: Pandemic Pressure

You know what sucks? Global pandemics.

 (Um… yes?)

Yes. I last worked a full day wearing dress shoes and a button-down shirt on March 11,2020. We left for vacation the next day, and the day after that the world went off the rails on a crazy train to hell and forgot the handbasket. When we returned, we went into quarantine and never looked back. I’ve maybe been in the office a half a dozen times since, for no more than an hour or two at a pop, to retrieve or print documents. Otherwise the wife and I have been home, each of us working full-time from our respective spots in the ol’ homestead. And you know what else is hard?

(That’s what she said…)

*gives stink eye*

What else is hard is trying to work full time, juggling two, full-time schedules, and caring for a toddler who had entered the “why” stage of her short-to-date life span like the f***ing Kool-Aid Man busting through walls. “Why daddy?” “Why mommy?” “Why you go upstairs?” “Why mommy tired?” “Why daddy curled up in the corner rocking in the fetal position clutching a bottle of scotch and softly weeping?”

(I… don’t think she actually asked that.)

Well, she probably could have at some point in the last three months. Any time, really. The days all blur together. But here’s the point I’m trying to make: You know how I try to say things out loud? Those things that others may be thinking but are maybe unable to express? This is another of those moments. We all know parenting is difficult. But parenting during a pandemic and trying to work and care for an active toddler and balance schedules with your wife, and, and, and….

(So how did that go?)

Put it this way: Once I was in the middle of a conference call in my home office when offspring walks in and declares at the top of her wee lungs “I WANT MORE CHEESE.” I mean, who doesn’t, really, but that’s just one illustration of the difficulty of child-rearing during COVID-19 quarantine. It sucks. Like, a lot. It sucks like a Dyson vacuum on steroids. And it makes you question everything. Am I being a good enough father, spending enough time with my daughter? Am I being a good enough partner, giving my wife enough space to work productively in this environment? Are we leaning too much on Sesame Street and Moana instead of more constructive learning activities and tasks? Am I doing all I can to care for a woman who is caring for another child growing within her?

(The answer of course is y--)

No. I’m not. I wasn’t.

(Something tells me you were.)

*sigh* 

I know. I know I was. But these circumstances in which we’re living will try even the stoutest of constitutions. For a guy with anxiety who is constantly trying to make everything for everyone everywhere better and constantly worrying about whether he’s doing a good enough job at it? Yeah, you probably know how that’s going.

What makes it worse is that it has taken some of the joy away from having another child. We can’t just enjoy it. We have to make sure we stay healthy, safe, take precautions when we leave the house, be extra vigilant, even more so than usual during a pregnancy. Sure, there are those times when we curl up in bed and I talk to the baby in the belly, or my wife reads parenting blogs to let me know our darling little human-to-be is now the size of a green pepper.  But…

But.

Because of this ucking-fay andemic-pay, I wasn’t even able to accompany my beloved to her 12-week appointment. I couldn’t see my to-be-second-born first-hand on the ultrasound screen. I wasn’t able to hear that tiny little heartbeat rhythmically beating away with my own ears. I couldn’t hold my wife’s hand, see her smile, or share her tears. So, for that…

Fuck you, pandemic.

In your face.

Sideways.

(There’s still a lot for which to be thankful, though….)

Yes, of course. Of course there is. Offspring Numero Uno is finally starting to understand that she’s going to be a big sister. But… the more we explain that mommy has a baby in her belly, the more the little miss traipses around daycare [yes, daycare is open, thank you dear sweet baby bejeebus daycare is open] pulling her shirt up and declaring that she too, like her mommy, has a baby belly.

*sigh*

It’s funny, in a way… all the stress of quarantine has helped to temper the more stereotypical anxiety you’d expect of a still relatively new parent preparing for a second child. Those thoughts are starting to creep in though. So everything’s shiny, captain, not to fret, I’ll be writing about those soon.

(Firefly reference?)

Firefly reference. Kaywinnet “Kaylee” Frye rules and don’t you let anyone tell you otherwise. Anyway… What was I saying? Oh yeah – stress as a distraction from stress. Try it some time.

[Narrator: do NOT actually try it sometime.]

If there’s one thing that being cooped up at home with your entire and growing family, with two adults trying to work full time and care for a toddler on top of it, will make you realize, however, it’s the importance of space. Work space, personal space, space for sleeping, space for toys, play, and goddammit I tripped over a little people hippo and where is the remote and did you move my this and where’s the that and can we have one room in this house where we can take TWO STEPS WITHOUT STUMBLING ON LAUNDRY OR TOYS OR WAS THAT A SQUIRREL HOW THE HELL DID THAT GET IN HERE AND…..

(Breathe. Breathe now….)

Just… watch out. You can run out of space real fast. So, to recap: Pregnancy. Pandemic. Toddler. Small House. All create an arse-load of stress, right? So why not add some more! Yay!

(Oh dear cripes, what did you do?)

Oh, you know, just decided to buy a house twice as big and expensive as this one during all off this. So let’s add “buying house; selling house; and moving” to the Stress-o-Meter. Give the wheel a spin! What’s going to raise the blood pressure today?

(You… really are insane.)

I know. But you know what else? I can still close my eyes, take a deep breath, open my eyes, and look at my beautiful wife with her growing belly, look into the eyes of my daughter, hear her laughter, see my wife’s smile…. And for a few moments at least everything else washes away. I can stop and think and imagine my daughter rocking her new baby brother or sister. I imagine the glow of my wife’s skin after she gives birth to our new addition. And in those moments my family, my growing family, is everything.

Everything.

I’m gonna be dad again. And I cannot wait.

[Oh, and just in case you missed it, you can read the first installment of the New Ramblings of An Expectant Dad HERE.]