Quarantine and the Family Bubble
I love my alone time.
Most people assume I’m an extrovert. Now, that could be because I spend my work days talking— mostly loudly— communicating, teaching, interviewing… you get the idea.
But in reality, that’s work Jess! And when I’m off the clock, I’m a true introverted extrovert.
In real life, when it’s time to go to a party, I have to spend all evening convincing myself to leave the house.
The idea of ordering takeout and hunkering down at home in my Christmas Pj’s is way more appealing than putting on real pants and motivating to go be with people.
Now, once I’m dressed up in my party pants and I’ve thrown on some eyeshadow, I have a great time! And I always leave a gathering so thankful that I didn’t miss out.
The truth is, I love connecting, but it isn’t energizing to me.
I refuel by being alone, and I come up with way better ideas in silence and solitude than I do surrounded by other voices.
That’s why, in some ways, quarantine has been such an unexpected blessing for our family.
Here’s why.
I’m pretty protective of how we spend our time as a family.
That has a lot to do with losing my sister and valuing time above anything else, but it also has to do with knowing that I can’t pour out of an empty cup, and if I need solitude and quiet to refuel, I need to make space for that.
So we made a rule at the beginning of the year: all five of us would sit around the table and share our dinner every night of the week, except one.
We had one night on any given week where we could eat separately.
With a seven-year-old and two five-year-olds, that’s not easy!
And even though we went into the school year with that intention, it wasn’t long before our weeks started to feel full.
On Mondays, we’d get home from music lessons just before five. Still in time for dinner, but barely.
On Tuesdays, Stella had dance from 6:00 to 7:30, so no family dinner on Tuesdays.
On Thursdays, the boys had Ninja night, which is basically gymnastics for energetic, rough-housing boys. They’d be home by dinner, but again, with not much time to spare.
Even though we’d chosen to invest our time in activities the kids loved and ones I could see them benefiting for years to come, our days started to feel very scheduled.
Enter Covid-19.
And overnight, we went from busy weeknights to zero activities.
At first, I treated quarantine like Christmas break. That didn’t last long.
As our unexpectedly cleared schedule became a long-term reality, I realized how much I loved the forced family bubble quarantine created.
In a society where you feel like a negligent parent if your kids aren’t on soccer teams and dance squads, if you don’t have a different outfit for each day of spirit week, and you spend your weekends putting in face time at a slew of birthday parties, it’s a relief to have a reason why we’ll be spending time together instead of racing to different activities.
Isn’t that wild? Isn’t that a little backward?
But it’s true!
We feel like we have to explain ourselves when we say “no” to more activities so that we can say “yes” to more time together.
But we don’t.
And guess what? Our kids will be fine if they skip out on what “everyone else” is doing.
My kids aren’t struggling socially after seven weeks of no team sports or time with classmates.
They haven’t forgotten those flips and kicks they’ve learned in Ninja class.
We’re not bored or lonely.
We’re still creating and making and drawing and biking and playing. And we’re doing it together.
There’s no doubt that this virus is devastating, and not everyone is as lucky as we are to be together through it. But I can’t deny that I’ve been loving this excuse for exclusivity.
And I hope that when things return to normal, I don’t soon forget that everything my kids need to be healthy and happy is right here at home.
Will there be a day where they return to Ninja lessons, classroom fun, and playdates? Yes.
But I’m going to keep giving myself permission to unapologetically make room for family first.
And, if you need it, I’m giving you permission to do the same.