Remember when there was something called “work/life balance”? I’m no longer sure what that means. Over the past nine months, my house has been transformed into a co-working space and part-time school, without an office or a classroom, a sort of domestic Lord of the Flies situation.
Yes, the pandemic has changed our daily routine in profound ways. These days, my live-in co-workers are far less considerate than my actual colleagues. One hosts marathon Zoom meetings sans headphones, buries phone chargers and notepads beneath piles of unfolded laundry, and leaves water glasses everywhere. The other is 4 years old, adorable—and borderline feral. We suspect that she inspired that scene in Jurassic Park:
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“They’re lethal at eight months, and I do mean lethal…”
“Do they show intelligence?”
“They show extreme intelligence, even problem-solving intelligence… She had them all attacking the fences when the feeders came.”
“But the fences are electrified, though, right?”
“That’s right, but they never attack the same place twice. They were testing the fences for weaknesses, systematically. They remember.”
From the moment she stumbles into the living room each morning, bleary-eyed and disheveled, my search for solitude begins. I’ll work in my garage, the laundry room, that one corner of the backyard—wherever I can escape for 15 minutes before she discovers my whereabouts. Along the way, I’ll toss Uncrustables or Goldfish in her direction, whatever holds her over for a short time. But she always returns, demanding milk and merriment, like some pint-size version of the droogs in A Clockwork Orange.
And here’s the thing: We’re the lucky ones. Seriously. Countless talented hardworking friends and neighbors have been laid off during the pandemic. Many don’t have the option of working remotely and still serve on the front lines months after the recognition of their efforts faded and the fatigue set in. My sister, who’s a teacher, returned to school last September. She wears an N95 mask and is surrounded by hundreds of children every day. Without the option to quarantine for at least two weeks, she likely won’t see my family for months. A longtime friend who’s a nurse recently tested positive for coronavirus, after her father was hospitalized with the virus. Fortunately, he recovered, though some beloved family friends and neighbors have not.
So yes, my wife and I have been incredibly fortunate to work remotely during the pandemic, while our daughter, Lucy, takes virtual classes (offered by the zoo, no less, a prospect that makes even her parents envious). We keep this in mind during particularly trying days, when our internet connection keeps dropping, our fridge runs empty, and Lucy’s had one too many leftover Halloween treats. So as we approach the home stretch of the pandemic (fingers crossed), this month’s cover story (p. 51)—on how to live it up at home, stay active, and parent in a pinch—is particularly relevant.
And with our all-purpose family life raft recently welcoming another cute but cantankerous member, one who will no doubt be testing the fences (OK, his crib) for weaknesses, we’ll likely be revisiting this issue soon.
