Speechless

Speechless. That is how Sam left me earlier today when he came to show me the remnants of the letter writing material I had prepared for him for this week. Three pages of it - with drawings (art is not my strong point), and letter guides for him to write the words. He brought them to me in a crumpled up ball, wet and torn. His face was wrinkled up, much like the paper (now more paper mâché), and there was an audible hiss as he dropped the wad on the floor in front of me. I promise you, my mouth literally hung open before I calmly and slowly said, "Please go to your room."

I couldn't even reprimand him. I wasn't angry, you see. I was simply: speechless.

Seven weeks into lockdown, and eight weeks into "parent-led learning", I think I am officially cracking. Earlier into this reality, these events would have left me rushing to work out what Sam's  real issue is, trying to find a better way for me to teach him, before redoing the said material. But right now, I'm over it. All I feel is gutted - like I've just been sucker punched. I am both frustrated and concerned by the never-ending issues that accompany the young child's experience of lockdown. I am also saddened by the general increasing load and time demands on parents' plates, and my children's seeming lack of regard for my efforts. Because that material took me a couple hours to prepare (and I do it on a Sunday so that it's ready for the week). Most of all though, I am hit with the realisation of the overwhelming denial that we, too, are unravelling.

I wonder if perhaps going to work, in addition to some adult conversation, allows us to feel both productive and appreciated. I don't blame my kids, really; I mean, the oldest is only seven. But perhaps the recognition that we are given - even just in the form of a paycheck - makes working easier than parenting?

I am so struck by how hard this is for our kids. More and more I am reading - and living! - accounts of how children are going backward; regressing, it would seem, into their baby ways, because they don't know how else to deal with it all. In light of this, trashing school material seems inconsequential.

This period has been characterised by talking - announcing, speeching, complaining, exhorting, petitioning, questioning, pleading... Right now, I want all the noise to stop; I want to just hold my babies until we all feel ok. Without any more words. Just speechless.