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Written by Jamie Taylor
Feb. 15, 2022
There’s no denying the pandemic is affecting our children. As I wait in the school pickup line, my thoughts start to whirl. It’s my first moment of solitude in the day—the baby is happily gazing out the window from her car seat while my toddler enjoys some screen time. For years, this was my peaceful afternoon pause before the evening rush. But these days, my mind is anything but still. I observe the stream of masked children and teachers leaving school, wave at a familiar mom through the window, and anxiety creeps in.
I worry about my baby’s separation anxiety. Conceived before I even realized the world would shut down and welcomed into a pandemic holiday season, she knows the mailman better than many family members. She’s never experienced a packed restaurant, an airport, or a museum. Her outings are limited to quick grocery trips or hiding in the corner of the gym during her brother’s basketball games, where she’s “far enough away” from others.
She has missed seeing most faces, deprived of those big, rare, genuine smiles that help babies feel secure. It feels like she’s this secret little person that only a handful of people outside our home really know, and it pains me to think she’s missing out on so much love and life.
I also worry about my four-year-old’s speech delay. Thanks to masks, teaching her how to articulate sounds feels like instructing someone to sign while wearing mittens. With limited speech modeling in public, her lessons come mainly from home—comprised of fragmented sentences, mumbled words, and inappropriate quotes from her eight-year-old brother’s YouTube shows. It’s probably a good thing the neighborhood girls can’t understand when she innocently asks if they are “hungry for some man meat.” Yet, I worry about her growing frustrations when I’m not around, wondering if things might be different if the world had remained unchanged.
My six-year-old’s reintegration into society also concerns me. Like someone I know (myself), he has grown too comfortable snuggled under a blanket on the couch, avoiding social interactions. It takes considerable effort (sometimes bribery) to get him to his basketball practice, where he huffs up and down the court as if he’s out of shape. The last two years have replaced trampoline parks with endless Minecraft sessions, leaving him struggling to transition between places and activities as the world constantly shifts around him.
Then there’s my eight-year-old’s socialization. I’ve declined countless invitations from my hyperactive third grader, leaving him feeling frustrated and confused. To help, we even bought him an iPod touch so he could connect with a few friends through messenger, which quickly turned into a video chat tour of our home while I was attempting to shave my mustache on a Saturday morning.
He craves peer connections and normal fun, yearning for independence from his younger siblings. So when he throws a tantrum and yells, “This sucks!” I have to remind myself he’s right; he needs more.
I worry that our children are being raised by parents who are running on empty. At this point, if you aren’t at least somewhat downcast, I wonder if you’re a sociopath. I find myself irritable, impatient, and burnt out. I struggle to provide myself with what I need, which means I know I’m not giving my kids everything they deserve. They must see the stress on my face and hear it in my tone. I worry about how they interpret all of this, and how growing up during a time of fear and uncertainty will impact their lives in the future.
So when I express my concerns about my kids, I hope you really listen. Kids may be resilient, but the mental health industry is thriving due to the traumas and disruptions many children are facing today.
Please stop telling me my kids will be fine. Instead, acknowledge that I’m doing my best. Validate my feelings and recognize that parenting during a pandemic is incredibly challenging. Offer to take one of my kids to the playground, or ask how you can lend a hand. While research indicates that my children will survive this pandemic, we don’t yet know if they will truly be okay, and that thought keeps me awake at night.
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Summary
The ongoing pandemic has profoundly affected children, leading to increased anxiety, speech delays, and socialization struggles. Parents are feeling overwhelmed and burnt out, which in turn impacts their children’s well-being. The article emphasizes the need for understanding and support as families navigate these unprecedented challenges.
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