The Cure For Limbo
"...normalcy is taken for granted until it's gone." - Maryanne O'Hara, Cascade.
In the first days, weeks and months of parenthood, taking my daughter to the pediatrician felt a bit like being called into the principal's office, even when it was just for a well visit. If you couldn't tell, I was the good kid in school, and the pediatrician visits were full of anxiety for me. Am I doing this right? Is she thriving? Is she happy? Am I going to raise a good person?
Sometimes I was not doing it right, at least according to my New York City pediatrician, who was a lovely blend of hippie aunt mixed with my favorite high school science teacher, sprinkled with a bit of stern New England grandma. From the beginning, though, she encouraged me to take my child outside. "Every day for at least an hour," she advised. A daunting task when my daughter was barely a month old, and the skies opened up with snow shower after snow shower.
I bundled us up, still trying to maneuver her, myself and the elderly dog (how I miss that gentle, patient pup) in the apartment elevator. But we did it, and as the months turned into the first year, and then the coronavirus pandemic hit, the advice remained the same: if ever there was a year to splurge on outdoor gear, this is it, she told me as I shared my dread over the winter of 2020-2021, dress properly, get outside. So we did, and so that's where we were, a second pandemic winter approaching; outside at a playground on a dreary, overcast December day when the flurry of texts began in rhythm with the news rolling out that Pfizer was pushing back its timeline for vaccinating kids under 5.
I'm just so exhausted, read one. Not surprised, another. What now?, a third.
Bad news always seems to come in threes, and it was the start of a bruising few days. Pfizer delaying the vaccines, the rapid spread of omicron sending holiday plans askew, ratcheting up anxiety, followed by West Virginia Senator Joe Manchin announcing he was a no on Build Back Better, essentially killing the bill.
"I don't think we can tackle the climate crisis at the scale that's necessary without passing this law," Leah Stokes, a professor of environmental policy at the University of California, Santa Barbara, told The New York Times.
In less than a week, the goalposts moved. Yet again. With them, the scales of hope and anxiety shifted back in favor of anxiety.
This past year, to be a parent has been to live in an alternate reality. One in which the population of those living in that reality with you slowly dwindles. As vaccines rolled out to adults, then teens over 16, then kids 12 up, and finally, kids aged 5-11, many people slowly regained a bit of normalcy. But, others of us were still playing the role of public health director of their household, a job we neither prepared for nor wanted. Weighing the risks of every decision, be it to see family or friends or when a schoolmate could come inside or if we could eat indoors. The spread of the omicron variant brought many people who escaped limbo right back into it with us parents of young kids.
Over the Christmas holiday, my daughter would occasionally come up and ask, "who's watching me," if I gave her an answer she knew wasn't correct "Betty" (the 1-year-old Goldendoodle), she'd respond, "OK, and who is taking care of me?" Who indeed is taking care of all of us?
Whether it's the climate crisis or the coronavirus pandemic, the response from our leaders has largely been the same: say something meant to be reassuring while putting the responsibility for solutions on individuals. It's the policy version of tossing coins into a wishing well, hoping for the best, preparing not at all for the worst. Both are collective action problems. They require us to put the long term over the short, to put us over me. But we need leadership to get us there.
On the playground, as the Pfizer news rolled out, two little girls climbed up the slide, ran around the tennis court, jumped and hopped and skipped, blissfully oblivious to the world's problems. Watching them, the problems didn't feel so insurmountable to me. Time spent in nature is essential to our well-being. A growing body of research shows that even a few minutes outside can improve our mental health, creativity, cognitive performance and more.
The beginning of a global pandemic is a strange time to meet your first friend, but it's also a pretty special time to meet a best friend. In the spring of 2020, on one of the many walks we took around town, we would occasionally pass by a guy working at one of the marinas. One day he stopped us and said, 'hey, this is going to come off as really weird, but my wife and I have a 2-year-old girl and well, she'd loved a friend.' And that was that. For 60 minutes once a week, almost every week for nearly two years, the girls have explored basically every open green space in town. They've laughed and run, skipped and jumped and had the occasional meltdown, but they've also learned about sharing and feelings and what it means to be and have a friend.
This is their normal. And most days, it's a pretty great one. My wish for you on this New Year's Eve Eve is that you find yours and that it involves at least a bit of time outdoors every day. The world looks brighter in the fresh air.
Until next time
Bridget
Published: Cookbook Author Jenny Rosentrach Shares Her Best Tips for Making Weeknight Dinner Work, for Martha Stewart
Reading: I have a massive stack of books on my nightstand right now, and I can't seem to focus on any of them. What are you reading?
Working: On an essay on radiators for Weathered. Tell me what you love and/or hate about them, what you need to know about pesticides for The Day Magazine and several pieces for Martha Stewart, including one on Common Ground Marketplace, which I adore.