New York, New York...

Have you ever gone somewhere and the whole time you're there it's the newest, most familiar place you've ever been to?

That's New York. 

I remember the first moment I stepped up from the 7th Avenue Subway Station. It was raining, but that didn't matter, a place like New York doesn't stop or even slow down when it's raining. The raindrops made that first experience that much more exceptional. It was like poetry.

New York might even be more romantic in the rain.

I was gulped up by the biggest buildings I'd ever seen in my life, while the reflection of the streetlights radiated on the wet pavement beneath my feet. I couldn't even see the top of some of the skyscrapers because there was this ceiling of fog that seemed to rest among the middle floors of the buildings. I had never seen such monstrous cement wonders like that in my life. Lined in uneven rows. Even the small buildings were grand.

Everything looked like it was important, yet throngs of people hustled across streets and down sidewalks unimpressed or oblivious to the absolute wonder that I was taking in. Everyone in New York is coming or going somewhere. The city is far too big and far too busy to saunter through. 

The streets seemed like they were going to burst from the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Horns blared as cars inched their way through intersections. They honked at each other, people trapped in their steel cages on wheels in gridlock, not at the pedestrians hustling through the city.

We stopped at a bodega to buy two umbrellas. We were exhausted, but I was high from finally setting foot in the place of my dreams and Chris was high from my reaction. His hard work and end of year bonus paid for my dream, and he got to watch it and feel it come to life. While I obviously got the better deal, we were both very happy.

Being there, so far away from the empty prairie sky and from the appreciated, but ordinary life we lead, was exciting. We had three days to capture and experience as much of New York as we could. A modest timeframe, given all the city has to offer. We didn't bother to plan for much, because all I wanted to do was see everything. So, while the attractions where everywhere and accessible for a price, our feet and eyes and access to unlimited Metro Cards were what was the most valuable to us.

We made our way down the streets, holding our carry-ons in one hand and our cheap bodega umbrellas in the other. We walked by famous monuments, like Carnegie Hall and the Russian Tea Room, and almost didn't even notice them. In New York it seems like you are almost always close to some kind of monument or landmark. Everything looks like you've seen it somewhere before, and maybe you have because the city is renowned.

We ducked into Angelo's Pizza because we were hungry and tired of carrying our bags. Immediately we were sheltered from the noise and the rain and the from the bustle of the city. It was just a normal restaurant, only there were faded pictures of celebrities like David Letterman and Madonna in cheap frames on the walls. A proclamation of greatness because rich and famous people either ate there or mentioned that they had. 

Our pizza was more famous than we would ever be.

After we filled our bellies, we continued our adventure. The rain had let up, and we hauled our tired selves and carry-ons through Central Park. It was endless. Full of pigeons, park benches, people, and roasted nuts. It was so strange to be around so many people doing so many different things in one place. New York is a different experience for everyone, even if they are in the same space.

It's hard to explain. It's hard to articulate why I love this place so much, or why even if I went back a million times it wouldn't be enough-- This post captures my first hour in the big city. I could go on and on probably write a novel about my New York weekend. It was magical. 

A Friend once explained it to me like this; she said "In New York it feels like, no matter what you are doing, you are in the exact place that you're supposed to be, doing exactly what you are doing."

She was right. 

I love New York. 

Can we create a new normal?

I have been out of work for months and I don't know when I will get to call back to return.

I know this isn't uncommon during the pandemic. There are so many people who are in the same situation.

It's a bit of a conversation piece, this uncertainty. We're all steeped in it to various degrees, wading through this quandary, trying to live our lives in the most normal way possible.

At first it all seemed so terrifying and dire.

Not work? What?

I've traded a lot of my identity for my job title and profession-- more than I'd actually thought before all this started. It was hard to back away from. I always felt like my job was something in my life that was mine. I had this weird protective ownership over it. A silly notion, given that it's not so much mine as it is something I do.

When I stopped working, I felt a little bit lost. The absence of work felt weird and sort of empty. It took me a little while to get over the feeling that I should be doing something, or checking in with someone. Even though there is always something to do around my house, I spent the first couple of days dumbfounded and wondering "What now?"

Having time suddenly felt overwhelming. I felt guilty and lazy for not feeling overrun.

I've spent four and a half years on autopilot, multitasking full-time work with trying to manage my home life and being a parent. For the last half decade it seemed like every shred of time was accounted for or claimed by something or someone, because as cliche as it sounds, there were never enough hours in the day. Becoming a working mom, meant becoming a very mediocre version of supermom.

And then the pandemic hit, and I got laid off and all of a sudden I felt like I could take a breath.

This lockdown, though uncertain and terrifying in it's own way also felt like a bit of  a lifeline amidst the chaos. For the first time in a long time-- probably since returning to work after my mat-leave, I don't feel like I am drowning in my life.

That sounds unreal. It took a pandemic to stop feeling like I am drowning in my life.

But it's true. Right now there are no anxiety-riddled mornings, hauling ass trying to get three kids to two different schools across the city from one another before O'Canada starts. I'm not hastily grocery shopping for a few things on my lunch break, or racing to get a kid before the daycare 'closes.' We get to spend more than the three hours before bedtime together every day, and we have found time to do some of the things that we've always wanted to try, like camping, or fishing on the creek by our house.

Of course it's not always rosy or Instagram-worthy. Our time is also sometimes met with boredom and the need for a break from one another. The kids still watch loads of TV and I still struggle with what to make for dinner every night. When we had to homeschool, I struggled immensely. It was hard for all of us. We miss some of the aspects of our pre-COVID existence and are always in a constant battle with the uncertainty of it all. I'm still super busy, but well rested.

Chris is still working, though his office is our dining room table for now.

I never expected to have this much time in my life again. Not while my kids were young anyway.

This isn't meant to disparage or undervalue my job by any means; in fact it has nothing to do with my actual job. This is more of an observation of the entire five day 40-hour workweek structure as a whole and how hard, or perhaps impossible is it to try and raise kids and maintain a sense of self and balance within that structure.

Prior to this pandemic unemployment, there wasn't really a balance. Our pre-COVID life was so fast paced and rushed. From the moment I opened my eyes every morning it was like "GO!" Every single second of the day was like a long haul relay race, where I was the leader and my team did their best but wasn't always the most coordinated.

I want to go back to work, or go back to working. I want to be able to spend time with my kids and have time for myself, and I don't think it's unreasonable to want it or have it all. I think under the current version of a normal 40-hour work week system it is impossible, because (again with the cliche) there aren't enough hours in the day. But, if there is a takeaway from this extraordinary situation that we find ourselves in, it's we have the opportunity to reinvent normal.

There are other advantages for a shorter workweek that are beneficial for the planet, people and the markets, not just for tired moms like me.

I know that big shifts and changes like the one I am speaking about don't come quickly or easily, but considering that the 40-hour work-week is rooted in industrialism and was started at a time before people had the tools and the types of jobs to work anywhere at any time, and before dual incomes were the norm in partnered households, changing the standard to meet our changing lives seems obvious.

Pandemic babies

The other day I was thinking about the people who have just had babies. Pandemic babies, hunkered down in their homes, while anxious family members wait to meet their newest. I remember having my daughter, and wanting to present her to the world by holding her up the way Mufasa did to Simba in the Lion King. It was a long running joke between Chris and I, because it seemed so over the top, but that's how I felt. I was beaming. I was proud, and I wanted to present my greatest love and accomplishment to the entire world.

I'm sorry for anyone who longs for the same, but can't. Somewhere inside of this all, there is a good lesson or experience. I think.

But, that silver lining or whatever it's called doesn't take away from the fact that it's hard and it sucks.

Exhausted new parents are having to navigate a whole new way of life without hands-on help. The village is virtual, and none of them even fathomed that a physically empty, virtual only village was an option when they found out they were going to be parents. How could they have?

This pandemic rewrote the plan.

Becoming new parents can already be a super insulating experience. Afterall, not only is a baby born, but a mother and father are born too. It's hard. It's gritty, and it's something that you can't quit, even when it's unforgiving or you just feel like it. Sometimes it's not easy to see through the fog of it all. Even though there is a nearly year-long wait to welcome a baby, it's nearly impossible to prepare for being a first time parent.

If you have any new mom and dad friends, check in on them.

Perhaps I am equating too much of my own feelings into this. Maybe there are other new parents out there who relish in the fact that they don't have to share their new baby with the world just yet. Maybe the isolation has some merit. I hope that's the case, and I hope more people are feeling like that., than feeling abandoned.

In any event, whatever the case, for what it's worth, to all of the new parents who are navigating your new life during this panmenic, I see you and your struggles mom and dad. It's hard and you are doing better than you think you are.

Long after this is over and the world resumes into some kind of normalcy, whatever that looks like, your babies will be the pandemic babies. They'll regale people with stories about how they were born in the middle of a world-wide lockdown. They will tell their kids, and their grandkids and it will sound almost unbelievable, like a myth.

It's a weird time for everyone, but especially for those who are navigating through a whole new way of life.

Perhaps this new isolated reality and my current unemployment will allow me to breathe new life into motherhood, myself. Maybe, in the midst of all this I can find some rays of light and nuggets of gold. I've only ever had a year of being a mom that didn't feel like it was completely bursting at the seams. Maybe more time with my kids is my silver lining.

Who knows. I suppose perspective is key.

New parents, you are doing amazing. Better than you think.

Check in on your friends. More than anything right now, we need one another.

**PHOTO/Sunny S-H Photography, April 2015

The Village Throws the Best 5th Birthday Party Of All!

My daughter's fifth birthday was last Saturday.

We had been planning for, and looking forward to this big day for so long. This year was a milestone. she turned five-years-old. A whole hand! It seemed like a big deal, and we intended to treat it as such.

The plan, initially, was to throw a "real" birthday party with her preschool friends. We rented out the community centre by our house and planned to have a "queen puppy" themed shindig with a disco ball, rock 'n' roll music and a piñata. We talked about it often, and she was so excited. 

And then COVID hit and the world started to lock down.

In the midst of a global pandemic, a five-year-old's birthday party is relatively unimportant. There are bigger things to be concerned with, like trying to stay healthy by staying home and practicing social distancing, especially when uncertainty and sickness are looming. But, in the same breath, it is important. It was important to her, and important to us, no matter how miniscule it is in the grand scheme of things. It mattered, and I felt so bad that I had talked up her party, only to take it all back and completely change the celebration.

Kids are resilient though. My mom guilt outlasted her disappointment. 

Her dad I explained to her that we would have a special birthday with just our immediate family in our house. We would have cake, and her favourite macaroni. We'd rent the new Trolls movie, and she could even help picking an extra special gift online-- A duty that thrilled her.

It wasn't the birthday we'd planned for. I was scared that it wouldn't be enough, and then the most amazing thing started happening... 

People started showing up for her.

Both of my sisters, my nieces, our friend Marie and my parents all showed up outside our house at different times of the day to bring gifts and birthday greetings from the step. They arrived with their signs, sparklers, balloons and gifts.

Grandma Facetimed from BC, and patiently watched Riel eat her lunch and talk about her giant LOL Surprise doll gift. Our friend Michelle sent specially picked gifts through the mail, and my stepkids' mom Donna dropped the kids off for our pandemic-style family party, even though it was her day to have them.

Ace Burpee made a short birthday video for Riel. My friend Melanie, made birthday cutouts to stick on the window. My friend Barbara dropped off a beautifully painted Louis Riel rock, and one of the mom's from two of Riel's preschool friends reached out and asked if we'd like to FaceTime. The director of Riel's daycare reached out over email to wish her a happy birthday, and share a picture of her own daughter who shared the same birthday.

Numerous people, many of whom who have never even met my kid, sent her birthday wishes over social media. 

The day was sprinkled, like confetti, with all of these small but super meaningful and thoughtful gestures. 

Then our family-- my parents, sisters, nieces, and my Aunt Rose, along with Chris's mom and her partner John gathered together over a video chat to sing a very out of tune rendition of Happy Birthday and watch Riel blow out her candle.

They say it takes a village to raise a child, and our village came through in a big way on this day. People went out of their way to make sure Riel's fifth birthday was special, and to show her that even if we couldn't all be together, they would be there for her. They did their hardest to make sure that she knew she was loved and important, and they helped give her one of the best birthdays -- maybe the best birthday -- she has had to date.

Thanks to everyone who showed up. That was the greatest gift of all.

The layoff notice...

I got laid off a few days ago.

It's a temporary layoff, but it feels crushing.

My situation isn't unlike so many other peoples. There are so many of us who woke up this morning in this weird, almost alternate universe, where this virus is spreading, our jobs have been temporarily suspended, and all aspects of life have changed and are changing drastically. We need to adapt to a this new normal. Less responsibility seems really heavy under these circumstances.

I am hanging my hat on the word 'temporary,' and the notion that life will go back to normal, or whatever the post pandemic version of normal will be. The mass layoffs and closures, the anxiety and fear of looming worst case scenarios, and this invisible sickness are all perishable. Amidst the chaos there is hope.

It will end or change eventually. If losing my job temporarily is the worst thing that will happen to me by the end of this pandemic, then I'll count myself as lucky.

I figured a layoff was coming given the near complete shutdown of our province. I didn't know when, and I had hoped that it wouldn't, but it was looming. I thought I would be prepared for if and when it did happen. I didn't expect to feel such sadness. It seems foolish or overreactionary, but I spent two days teedering from being fine to weeping and not understanding exactly why.

Not all feelings are logical, and not all of them make sense.

Perhaps the job loss is an easier thing to feel sad about than the giant mass of uncertainty that is causing this shift. It's somewhat tangible and concise, and it even has a direction that I can focus my emotions at. Perhaps it was the realization that my I had let my job become so deeply ingrained in who I am. I let it become a huge part of my identity, and losing it felt like I was losing a part of myself.

I saw the job more as something I owned than something I do.

There is both grief and comfort in knowing that we are all in this together. So far it's still early for us. Manitoba has only just been touched, while other places around the world are reeling and plagued with infection. It will get worse before it gets better, and the outcome relies on how seriously the population is heeding the advice to stay home and practice social and physical distancing.

Isolation is a luxury, albeit tedious at times.

Perhaps a bonus of being unemployed during this time is that it will restore other parts of my life. For nearly four years I've felt like life was bursting at the seams as I tried to juggle being a working mom. While the circumstances aren't ideal, this situation may give me a little bit of breathing room and allow to be a better mom. We'll actually have time to read an extra story, go for that bike ride, or play that game...

I hope amid all of this, there are silver linings for all of us.

Stay safe.

Update from the inside...

I still can't believe what's happening.

This pandemic is surreal, like it's right out of a movie or a book.

We've only been isolating ourselves in our homes, and "self distancing" (The newest buzz word of 2020) for a matter of days. A week or two... But it seems like longer. The situation changes by the hour, and it seems surreal and sort of apocalyptic, yet normal. Or a new version of normal anyway. Watching daily briefings from the prime minister and premiere, and other leaders from other countries makes the world feel so much smaller.

We are all affected.

Time as a whole feels different. It doesn't matter as much as it did last week, and it's a lot more abstract when you don't have anywhere to go, but you still have to maintain your daily life. For now the routines have been tossed out the window. Low grade anarchy for all of us, but we're managing. The kids are even getting some school work done.

I have developed a deeper appreciation for their teachers and early childhood educators.

I don't know exactly how to navigate this new normal. It's only supposed to be temporary, but who knows how long this pause will be or what normal will look like after life outside the house resumes. I get anxious when I think about it. This pandemic could last a lot longer than I'm ready to admit. I have to think day-to-day right now or I may go crazy.

I think the strangest part of it all is how big this is. It's moved from something that we watched distantly across the world while we went about our lives to a new way of life. It has changed the way we interact with each other and has already infected us with a deep sense of fear and paranoia.

I am so afraid... Of catching the illness, or of dying or having people I know and love die from this. I am scared of surfaces, invisible germs, and contact with people. I'm scared of the uncertainty that looms over the entire world, and the changes that are bound to come of this.

I'm scared, because my sense of normalcy is disrupted.

Who knows how this is going to turn out.

Like so many I sit in the comfort of my home, being afraid and doing my best to make this time and this life normal for my family.

I recognize my privilege of isolating. We can protect ourselves from what lurks outside. Or, protect outside from what may lurk in us. Other people don't have the option. The unsung heroes of this pandemic have been grocery clerks, restaurant workers, delivery drivers, doctors nurses, truck drivers...

As the world seems to crumble, many of the people on the front lines keeping it going don't even make a livable wage. It's so fucked up.

This is only the beginning. I understand that... The world is changing, and so are we.

Self isolation: Birthdays, school and breakdowns!

Tuesday was my niece's twelfth birthday. The plan had been to go to Montana's to celebrate for a family dinner, but life seems to be changing by the second and we all need to stay home to try to flatten the curve of this pandemic.

Self isolation. It all still feels like a dream when I actually think about it too deeply.

Instead, on my niece's birthday we all gathered in our own homes on a Facebook messenger video group chat to sing happy birthday, as my sister brought her a cake for a short but sweet virtual birthday party.

The pandemic wasn't as serious four days ago as it is now, but we all elected to stay in our own homes because it was the safest bet. Now it would just be what we are mandated to do.

The virtual birthday party was bitter sweet. It was maybe ten or fifteen minutes of us looking at one another on our screens and talking over each other awkwardly. I'm so grateful for the technology to be able to share in moments like this from far away, but I've never missed my nieces birthday. I felt profoundly sad not to be there for this one.

This situation is surreal. Fear and isolation are both still so new, yet already feel deeply ingrained.

Yesterday I woke up, hopeful that I could get all three kids to play some super loose variation of "school" with me. I joked about starting the day with O' Canada and making them call me Miss Cook. I thought I could at least keep up with the suggested assignments from their teachers, and ideas from educators and other parents online. Or, in the very least I thought I could keep a cohesive morning routine around the dining room table.

It all fell apart pretty fast. While I made the two older kids write in a diary and the little one draw in a notebook, I didn't even delve into the jump math or book reports. All of our attention spans couldn't compute this new reality. I'm not a teacher, and after this hard slap into reality, I realize that teachers should all get a billion dollar raise.

Less than an hour later my in home class was dismissed and I felt like a giant failure.

It's not a contest. I have to keep reminding myself that life is not a contest.

I had a good cry after watching everyone's homeschooling pandemic stories. I sat there, in my room with big fat tears rolling down my cheeks watching everyone's crafts, homeschooling, yoga, walks in the snow. The glossy instagram side of this self isolation hit deep. Instagram makes everything, including pandemics look like a goddamn snow day.

It was my first day home from work and I couldn't help but compare myself to all the other moms in my situation-- A big no no for all social media, I know this, but I'm more sensitive than pre-isolated me. Right now things that wouldn't normally bother me are really getting to me and I haven't quite navigated this entire situation yet.

Until that point my youngest kid had been wearing the same pyjamas for days. Chris and I had been tense and short with one another, and all three kids had been watching waaaaay too much TV. When self-isolation became the new normal, we stopped adhering to the bedtime schedule, and I started letting them do things like playing on my laptop that I said none of the kids would ever be allowed to touch, and playing on the newly charged travel iPad (that I only let them use during trips.)

We probably should be better at keeping our routines, but we are in uncharted territory. We may as well try to make things more enjoyable for everyone right now.

I keep wavering in my belief that it won't last too long, to my belief that this is the new normal for the foreseeable future. I hate being in this weird limbo spot.

I may try to enroll my kids in my weird dining room table class again on Monday. If anything, I'll make sure they keep writing in their journals. This is something I think they'll want to look back at one day...

It will get better.

Pandemic

I guess now is as good a time as any to start writing again.

The entire world is in the midst of a pandemic, and I am not sure how to deal with or react to the uncertainty of it all. I've lived through pandemics before, but my privilege and proximity (perhaps?) always shielded me from the affects. I have never experienced one like COVID-19 where isolation and fear are so rampant and toilet paper is so scarce.

Pandemic in the age of social media means the bombardment of information is a lot to digest. It is constant, and it ranges from hilarious to apocalyptic. Right now it seems like we're all just waiting for  a big ball to drop. At least that's how I feel.

What a strange and fascinating time to be alive.

Businesses and schools are closing down and people are being told to be mindful of social distance and self isolate themselves to flatten the curve and slow the spread. The devastation that has happened in places like China, Iran and Italy seem like out of a movie. It doesn't seem real. Social media gives voice to regular people, like me, to share their experience, their fears, and their warnings.

Some of these accounts have been utterly terrifying.

Then, there are other voices. People who aren't afraid or haven't gotten sick. People who have gotten sick and who got better. People who are defying what the experts are saying and who are going on about their lives as though nothing is happening and a sickness isn't seeping in.

I'm not sure about everyone else, but I am really struggling to figure out my feelings about it all. I keep wondering if I am overreacting or under-reacting. I can't make up my mind about it.

Am I scared? Yes, but I'm not so much afraid of getting sick. I'm afraid of this cloud of uncertainty looming over all of us, apart from this sickness. I don't remember living through anything like this before, where everything came to a halt and we have been advised as a society to keep to ourselves. I'm apprehensive of life after COVID, namely the economic impact it will have.

It seems surreal, and I keep playing it in my head like a movie or TV show.

Narrator: The pandemic was coming. Seeping in on the cold March night, in Winnipeg Manitoba. The centre of Canada. But she didn't listen. Nobody did. Life went on until it came to a crashing halt. Until the sickness grabbed hold of her and ahold of everyone around her. Was the the apocalypse? Was this really how it was going to end?

*Dramatic music and b-roll*

People have bought up insane amounts of toilet paper and sanitizer, preparing for quarantine, or perhaps the end of humanity. Costco and Superstore are the hottest spots in the city, with people spent the weekend lining up all the way around the respective buildings and filling their carts with hoards and hoards of food.

Lord help me, please let me get through this time with enough toilet paper and patience for my children who are on a super-duper extended weekend. I have always grocery shopped like we were moving into a bunker, so I have lots of pantry food. That said, I am not sure that one can ever have enough chips for an isolation period.

It's hard not to become consumed in it. It's hard to not panic and think of worst case scenarios, and then share them with your loved ones or on social media. It's hard to manage your reactions. Uncertainty is scary, especially when it involves so many people.

I think we will be ok. I think we need to take this seriously, and listen to the experts, and ride out this wave knowing that we're all in this together and that it'll be ok.

Wash your hands!