In the days of Coronavirus 2020, perhaps the worst pandemic modern US has experienced, I was furloughed from my position as Creative Director of a sex toy manufacturer. I guess I should have been more surprised and devastated, but given the number of businesses and friends experiencing the same situation and the stresses I felt from the job anyway, I was actually relieved. I had been working constantly since I was 12 years old in my family’s Chinese take-out restaurant. I was eager to wake up relaxed, not always thinking about work and not constantly putting my family second. I told my son’s daycare that I could no longer afford daycare and needed to unenroll my son from school. My dream (perhaps temporary) of being a stay at home mom had finally come true!
My 5 year old son, Hunter, was happy to hear I had been furloughed. He had spent a couple of years wishing that I could stay home with him, be with him and play with him — not just work, work and work. Every time he tried to persuade me to quit my job, I said, “Talk to your father.” Then, my loving husband proceeded to give me the death stare.
As a working mom, you’re constantly up against keeping your kid alive and (if you’re aiming a bit higher, but not like Tiger Mom high) shaping a happy, healthy, productive, kind and smart leader of the future. Every dream of being the awesome mom who only feeds her child organic, free-range, whole grain nutritious homemade meals and is the Class Mom is easily surpassed by the thought of “Crap! I’ll get to daycare to pick him up 5 minutes AFTER they close and won’t have dinner ready for my uber-hungry-crank-monster angel. Praise the heavens for McDonald’ Happy Meals and drive-thrus!” And I give in to that because in the end I know, he’d rather eat McDonald’s anyway and I’ll be able to spend an extra 30 minutes of quality family time playing Uno together in bed. I hope the thought of playing Uno together ends up being the winning memory as he grows and recalls a happy childhood.
I created a plan for us to ensure we would get a balance of academic, creative and physical activity time. My only goal was to ensure he didn’t turn into a Youtube Zombie (you know…when they’ve watched video after video of kids playing with toys that they want and turn into a zombie because they don’t hear you, see you or feel anything going on around them. Then, you finally take the ipad away from them and they turn into a crazy-foaming-at-the-mouth beast wailing, screaming, kicking, crying and yelling, “YOU’RE A MEAN MOM!”)
At first the plan goes relatively well. My role was no longer Working Mom/ Creative Director. Now I had the dubious honor of becoming Educator, Housekeeper, Maid, Chef, Playmate, Dog Walker, Poop Picker Upper, Green Goblin, Ghost Spider, Entertainment Director, Nurse, Gamemaster and the list goes on. I worked hard at using the workbooks his PoPo gave him and tried to print other enticing and skill building worksheets from the internet. Hunter is very competitive and loves games so I made games to help reinforce what he’s learned at daycare. Together, we created games such as Sight Word Matching Memory, Math Dice board game — complete with Jump Stars and Cages — and Weather Dress Up with Jack, our paper doll. He was engaged and loved them all. We only deviated from the plan in the afternoon, but I figured it was all right. At daycare, he would’ve napped or played with friends at that time.
As one week rolled into the next and then next, it became harder to keep him motivated to stay on schedule. Hunter began to have frequent night terrors where he would wake up drenched from sweat a couple hours after falling asleep, cry, wail and look at me blankly, not seeing me. He could only be soothed by turning on the light and rocking him in the rocking chair as I did for many years when he was a baby and a toddler. I made sure not overstimulate him before bedtime and kept the bedtime routine calm and happy. I began to see other changes, too. He would frequently speak in a baby voice. His tantrums became a daily, sometimes hourly process where if he didn’t get his way he’d yell, “You’re being mean! YOU’RE A MEAN MOM!” Then, he’d run to the nearest bed or couch and bury himself under blankets, coats, pillows and cry, while I stood in place rolling my eyes and trying not to seethe. Breathe, Mary, breathe…wooosaaahhh….
I was cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner daily. This coming from a woman who bought lunch most days at work and bought take out dinner for her family at least 3-4 nights a week, I thought was pretty good (insert pat on the back here). If he didn’t like a meal I prepared, he’d throw a tantrum then he’d yell, “You don’t want me to eat! You’re being mean! YOU’RE A MEAN MOM!” And if I loudly tell him I’m not being mean, he yells back, ”Don’t talk in your mean voice! Talk in your beautiful voice!” (insert eye roll and secret laugh here.)
Ummm…excuse ME??!! When did I sign up for this tantrum-filled, guilt-laden part of the stay at home mom ride? Where was my idyllic notion of sitting on my patio with a lovely cup of coffee and my iphone to watch Korean/Chinese/Japanese dramas while my darling child sat at a table completing worksheets? I have the urge to show him how mean I can really be — insert scene of a mom taking all the toys in the house and dumping them one by one into the garbage can in front of her child’s grief-stricken face…while she laughs her evil laugh…MUAHAHAHA! — but then I recall the wild timeframe we are living in where people are incredibly sick and dying, where we are all locked in our homes to contain the spread, where we have the opportunity to spend time together and appreciate the moments and life we share. I remember the 5 heartbroken years of trying to get pregnant with Hunter and the 5 amazing years after he was born to help him grow, cherish him and love him. I remember the giggles during bath time and the high-fives of winning a game. I cherish the naps we share together because he sleeps more soundly when I am next to him. I live for the times where I create a fun activity like Sidewalk Chalk Obstacle Course and he says, “This is awesome! YOU’RE THE BEST MOM EVER!”
I am definitely not a perfect mom and I bet there is truth in Hunter’s tantrum-filled “YOU’RE A MEAN MOM!” words (like 25%), but I am a mom that loves him and will continue to try to inspire, encourage and motivate him to greatness. I’ll try to hold back on the meanness.
