In my house we have a routine - I get to sleep on Saturday mornings, and Daniel gets to sleep on Sunday mornings. We chose our mornings for one simple reason: Daniel is much better at keeping the kids quiet than I am, and on Sunday mornings it's easier to take the kids out of the house. In non-COVID world (also known as the “before times”) I would take my kids to breakfast and the supermarket in those early mornings - we would be home by 9:30 with full bellies and groceries for the week. Even now, we leave the house once everyone is awake, drive through Starbucks and up and down the coast. I like to do things. I like to be out of the house. I like to be busy.
COVID has put a damper on my neatly scheduled Sundays. We no longer have birthday parties or family gatherings, and I can’t fill a long, empty day with a playdate or a trip to a museum. Hiking is tricky with an unpredictable four year old, and there are only so many times we can go to the beach - especially given that one of my kids hates sand. I really do enjoy doing things with my kids - the shared experience, watching their joy and wonder, knowing I am building vocabulary and background knowledge for them that will permeate their consciousness for years to come - but I also like having something that absorbs time in a way that is fun for all of us, including me. And if I’m being honest, having a 45 minute tea party in my living room, with water in my cup and pretend cookies on my plate, doesn’t have the same thrill as ice skating or a concert in the park.
I know there are parents who truly love imaginative play with their kids, who don’t mind if their kitchens are destroyed while baking, and who are completely content building a lopsided fort for hours. It’s just not me, and I often find myself feeling guilty about the fact that endless tea parties do not sound fun, that most art projects are out because I don’t want to make a mess, and that I can only build so many Lego structures in which the windows are not where I would place them. And now, in COVID life, these feelings are amplified because I’m also not able to provide my kids with the wide array of enriching experiences we used to enjoy.
But instead of giving into the guilt, I’m trying to reframe the situation for myself: How do I continue to provide experiences that are worthwhile and meaningful for all of us? How do I find a balance between meeting their needs, giving them chances to learn and grow through our experiences, with my own need for self-preservation or self-care? And if I just leave them on their own and encourage independent play, am I really just abandoning any attention to their development so that I can get a break?
As I have been weighing these questions in general - and specifically knowing a long winter break is approaching - I think there are a few ways we can address our concerns about child activity, our own engagement, and play:
First, as is always the case with kids, structure and routine are essential. My kids know that on Shabbat, we can stay in our pajamas all day but on Sunday, it’s time to get dressed again. During the winter break, we will be creating and maintaining structures and routines: everyone should be dressed by 9AM, beds should be made, meals should be enjoyed at set times and bedtimes should happen. It doesn’t matter what the routine is. It’s the repetition and boundaries that provide security for everyone in the family unit. The structure of the day, and the familiar routines, gives me that feeling of productivity, helping to demarcate the day so it’s not one big Blursday. And the structures and routines give my kids a way to understand the balance between enjoyable tasks such as play, and functional tasks such as brushing their teeth.
Second, pre-planning. I find that I enjoy empty days much more when I wake up knowing the plan for the day. I rarely have a successful day when we begin our morning by asking, “what should we do today?” And given the restrictions currently in place, it’s important to pre-plan the things we can safely do now. This past summer we started a tradition of making a list of everything we want to do over the summer, and then on empty days, we looked at our list and selected an activity. This is the time to brainstorm a fun new place for a bike ride, to look through cookbooks for an interesting new recipe, or to commit yourselves to producing a family talent show. Angie Bass suggests that families put these ideas in a jar and pick one each day - and then whatever you get, you do (this would work well in households like mine, with at least one strongly opinionated child!). A list like this can help provide opportunities for collective brainstorming, and collective fun, and give you a pathway out of playing tea party for hours on end, day after day.
And finally, recognize that this is temporary. While pandemic life is not as short-term of a situation as we may have guessed last March, the first doses of the vaccine are being distributed, and we can see that our current situation is not going to last forever. While I don’t want to be complacent in not engaging with my kids at all, it’s also ok if this winter break isn’t filled with the same level of activity that last winter break was.
Here’s the thing: We are all carrying too many emotions right now and juggling the needs of too many people. But I know for certain that guilt is neither helpful nor useful. Do what you can, do it with intention, and then release the rest. More than anything, while we each need to strive to be our best on any given day, we also need to shed any guilt we carry if our best in this moment means watching movies in our PJs on the couch and avoiding those tea parties at any cost.
Wishing you all a safe and happy New Year.
