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| When the toddler borrows my notebook |
I was in a meeting recently, when someone mentioned creating marketing content for potential customers because they're so bored right now.
Bored, I thought, who are these people with time to be bored?
Despite being sent home to work remotely, my tasks haven't changed. I was already a remote worker before the lockdown began, so the prospect of staying home and working in isolation didn't seem so hard, until the Kita (that's the German daycare) closed.
Every day of this lockdown might seem like the same, but it's far from boring. The challenges of career and childcare smash into each other constantly. My wife and I must teleconference for work with a toddler climbing up and screaming "HEEEEYYY!" at our screens.
Focus time for writing or conceptual thinking only comes in blocks of an hour or so, when the toddler goes down for a nap. How about composing emails or reviewing word docs? We now do those things with the background noise of a toddler banging a wooden spoon against a toy pot.
I think I speak for many parents balancing a remote job and being their own daycare when I say I am not bored. But you know who is bored? That screaming, laughing, crying, wooden-spoon-wielding maniac.
Every day he wakes up and we groggily wake up. It's a new day and he's ready to drink his warm milk, watch his cartoons, and ransack his toy shelves (which were carefully tidied the night before). He's so bored that he rarely plays with his toys, he just spreads them out on the floor, appraises them like a indifferent king, and then raids the kitchen cupboards for frying pans, plastic containers, and cheese graters (we take those away from him).
Pre-lockdown, he went to the Kita every day to sing songs, play with other kids, and climb the indoor jungle gym. His current playmates are two tired, sore giants, who won't do anything until they drink their hot black coffee juice, and they spend way too much time looking at their screens for work. I feel for the little guy.
In these strange times with another "Once in a Lifetime" recession looming, it's good to have a job and feel useful, especially when so many others have already been furloughed.
But there are times when I'm banging out copy on the laptop and the bored toddler pulls on my leg with a ball in his hand. He speaks in cute gibberish, but doesn't understand my "I have to work" gibberish. It's moments like that where I wish I was just a little more bored.
All that whole work-life balance handwringing was once an abstraction, something you mentally trained yourself to deal with, like not looking at your work email on the weekend or not talking about work at the dinner table. But the lockdown has made it a real, visceral thing. We have to choose between focusing on the toddler or the job, all day, every work day.
Like the saying goes: If you trying doing two things at the same time, you won't do either one very well. If I play ball with him while writing the copy, I might hit my son in the face with the ball, which will make him cry, which will make my wife scowl at me.
It often feels like I'm grinding every day out. Prepare a meal or two, change diapers, be a good colleague, be a good father, be a good husband, take the toddler for a walk, make sure the toddler doesn't find a way to maim or kill himself, shop for groceries, try not to get the covid while shopping for groceries, avoid drinking too much, write the occasional, self-indulgent blog post, get the toddler to sleep, and collapse. And I'm only the father, the mother is doing far more without the whiny blogging.
As Henry Rollins put it on his Cool Quarantine radio show: "These times aren't bad, they're just tough." I'm working from home, while spending a lot of time with my family. I'm watching my son go through an amazing time in his development. Sure, it's tough, but it definitely ain't bad.