It’s been a full year since COVID-19 made its way to the U.S., and in my household, we’ve come to refer to it as “The New Flu.” I think the nickname stuck after I mentioned it during a conversation in April 2020. My daughters were in Pre-K and preschool when everything changed. The last day of in-person classes for them was March 13, and they’ve been home ever since.
While I don’t regret keeping them out of school in Fall 2020—especially since my youngest has health issues—I do mourn the social experiences they missed out on. We all share this regret, particularly those of us without a close-knit group during these isolating times. I had just moved to Pennsylvania in September, enjoying a brief five months of normal life before everything shifted. By Halloween 2020, I was officially divorced and ready to embrace my new single life every other weekend while their dad enjoyed the bachelor life in Philly. Yet, life rarely unfolds as planned.
Fast forward to now, and I regret not forming deeper connections with others in my community. We have a few casual friends, but many seem indifferent to safety protocols—traveling freely, dining out, and attending events. It’s disheartening to think that I relocated my kids to an area where following health guidelines feels optional. We’ve had one family with whom we’ve consistently had masked outdoor playdates, enduring hot summer days with masks and foggy glasses. It wasn’t ideal, but we persevered for the sake of friendship. Meanwhile, I’ve witnessed acquaintances and neighbors lax in their adherence to safety measures. Everyone has their reasons, but my priority is keeping my family safe. We won’t be joining any barbecues or trick-or-treating this year.
As a single mother, I can’t afford any slip-ups. My youngest child and my aging parents are my main concern. I had to manage my frustration over ongoing neighborhood gatherings—especially through Winter 2020-2021—accepting that our bubble couldn’t merge with others. What does it mean to be “safe”? For me, it means vaccination. As a healthy 34-year-old, I realistically expected to receive my first dose by late May 2021, but my primary concern is my daughters. I want them to start First Grade and Kindergarten in public school this August. Will that happen? I hope so.
I wish I could say quarantine helped me find myself, but instead, it forced me to confront my biggest challenges and strengths at once. It’s overwhelming, and there’s no one cheering me on. I have ADHD, and after years of managing it without medication, I realized this was the year to seek help. I went through an extensive evaluation process and began a long trial-and-error phase with various stimulants, only to discover that I don’t tolerate them well.
My search for effective solutions continues, but I remain optimistic for myself and my children, especially with my mother—a retired teacher of over 40 years—supporting us through virtual kindergarten. I’m grateful for the time I have at home with my kids, hoping to guide them through this pandemic and into public school come fall.
Yet, the daily struggles are real. If I see one more post about “light at the end of the tunnel,” I might scream. The truth is, widespread vaccination is our only real hope. We have to depend on the compliance of others to keep us safe, and until I receive my shot, I’ll balance my skepticism with teaching my daughters to maintain hope and positivity, all while keeping worst-case scenarios in mind.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the challenges faced by a single mother during the COVID-19 pandemic, including feelings of isolation, the struggle to maintain safety for her children, and the impact of social distancing on family dynamics. Despite the difficulties, there’s a sense of hope for the future as she navigates parenting and personal growth.