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I’m about to get candid and share the moment I completely lost my dignity. But first, let me set the stage. This past year has been challenging in numerous ways. While our family has been fortunate—none of us contracted COVID, my partner and I maintained steady jobs, and our kids (now three and five) were safe with daycare reopening partway through the pandemic—it has still left us utterly exhausted, collapsing into bed each night like a couple of elephants.
This year has been especially odd for our kids, with the confusion of seeing us working from home and managing virtual daycare. Honestly, how do you convince a three-year-old to sit still in front of a screen when her toys are just a few feet away? I tried everything—juice boxes, popcorn, you name it—but that only bought us a few moments of peace. One day, during a car ride to get donuts, our then-four-year-old said with a hint of nostalgia, “Remember going places?”
Desperate to keep things engaging, we resorted to tea parties, increased screen time, paper plates, takeout, Science Sundays, shaving cream baths, and “spa nights” (we even used zucchini slices instead of cucumbers when we couldn’t find any). We binged every Disney movie imaginable, including Lion King 1.75.
As a child psychologist, I found myself deeply relating to my clients’ struggles. I lost count of how many times I empathized, saying, “This is SO HARD,” while trying to appear calm and collected.
For my eldest, whom we’ll call Lila, navigating social interactions has been especially tough. Last weekend, a friend from daycare invited the class for an outdoor gathering. Lila was ecstatic, bouncing in her seat during the car ride, barely paying attention to the Story Pirates podcast. We packed all the essentials: sunscreen, a bathing suit, a water bottle, and a towel. I thought we were ready, but I was unprepared for her reaction once we arrived.
Seeing familiar faces and kids playing outside felt like a taste of pure freedom for me. I was thrilled, but Lila was different. Normally an extrovert, she suddenly seemed scared and clung to my hand. “Do you want me to help you say hi to your friends?” I asked, but she hesitated. Eventually, she cautiously approached some friends who were engaged in fun activities like slip-n-sliding and water play, asking in a tiny voice, “Do you want to play with me?” The answer was always no, and my heart ached for her.
Unsure how to help, I felt a surge of desperation. I watched as Lila stood back, and then I asked, “Want to play with me?” She was silent, contemplating. In that moment, I decided to throw caution to the wind. I glanced at the other parents chatting happily while their kids played. Taking a deep breath, I put down my phone, kicked off my flip-flops, and sprinted into the sprinkler.
“What are you doing?” Lila asked, eyeing me skeptically. “I’m doing this!” I shouted back, as I dashed through the cool water, feeling liberated. It was a bit chaotic—my glasses fogged up, mud squished beneath my feet, and my hair was a tangled mess. But oh, that water felt invigorating!
Suddenly, Lila joined me, and we were laughing and running together. Other kids soon followed, and before long, we had a joyful crew of free-spirited runners, splashing around and embracing the moment.
The day Lila was born, I, a typically peaceful person, found myself declaring, “I’d fight a bear for this kid.” Thankfully, I’ve never had to, but parenting is the most extraordinary and challenging journey I’ve ever embarked on. My dad once told me that having a child makes your heart live outside your body, and I’ve felt that more than ever this past year. Each scrape and triumph felt like my own, echoing through me.
I’ve shed many tears this year, grieving the losses so many have faced due to COVID, injustice, and inequality. My emotions often hit hard, making me breathe through them like a labor pain. Yet, amidst it all, there have been bright spots of joy and triumph.
In the end, I’d choose that joy over any semblance of composure. So next time you spot me, don’t be surprised if I’m running through the sprinklers, fully embracing the moment.
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