"What about parenting in these our modern times?," you ask.
"What about your diatribes on feminisms and leaning in?," you query.
"What," you interpose, "about Mom Jeans?"
Those are good questions. (For answers to the first two, please see my prior years' posts. My positions have not changed. For the Mom Jeans, check out the high waisted, curvy, straight leg or barely boot jeans at Talbots. Yes, you may have to size down a size, which will make you feel super skinny. Also good are their "skinny" jeans, but you'll need to buy those true to size.)
But back to work upheaval posts:
In years past, you've watched me write my way through various government shutdowns . . . or near shutdowns. And we've had a good time with that, right? I mean, maybe?
But this is something different: Something, entirely, completely, and profoundly different.
This time, my dear reader, you are here with me. This time, you also are experiencing a major office upheaval. We all are.
More and more offices are closing their physical doors and opening wide their virtual doors. Each day, more and more of us who can are working from home.
Our kids are home too. So soon, in addition to our working from home, we will also be educating at home. We may not have written the curriculum and the lessons, but we will be the people responsible for making sure that the kid does his school work and doesn't, for instance, binge-watch Ninjago or play Super Smash Bros on his Nintendo Switch all afternoon.
Working parenting is always hard. We clock off one job and, clock into the second one, the one we like better (usually -- even when our co-worker is petulant and yells at us when their shower water is a nano-degree too hot), but it's still work after the work-a-day job is done.
Now, though, we will work both jobs at the same time. We will parent; we will educate; we will continue to do the work we are paid to do. All at once. All jumbled and piled on top of each other.
Tomorrow morning, I have a telephonic hearing at 9:30 a.m. I have already told my sweet little co-worker that the house needs to be very quiet tomorrow morning while mommy is on the phone with the court. I've actually already handled several calls with him playing nearby with no disturbances or trouble, but a hearing is different. It's formal. You can't have extraneous noises. Noises can turn into fines and sanctions when you're participating in a telephonic hearing. So I'm a bit concerned about that, but I expect he'll be the good boy he has been being the last two days. Today, he said, when I was answering my phone, "I'm going to go into the other room for Mommy." He's a sweetie-man.
I should mention that my office is not officially 100% telework yet. It will be by the end of the day tomorrow. I have, however, been teleworking since Monday because my son's school was closed starting March 16th. My co-workers (the law office ones, not the little one at my house) join me in the perpetual virtual office bright and early Thursday morning.
Non sequitur: I had to practice Skype this afternoon with my immediate supervisor and one of the other attorneys. I shared my home screen with the other two. I don't like Skype. I look weird. (Maybe I just look weird?)
The tension with this not-shut-down, this shift to the completely virtual office is different. Actually, I don't feel particularly tense at all about working from home . . . except for background noise in telephonic hearings and that godforsaken Skype. I think that my son will be the good kid that he is and I think that we will be able to balance lawyer work and school work fairly easily.
I do feel tension about this disease, COVID-19. I don't want to get it. I don't want my husband to get it. I don't want my mother in law or my parents to get it. I don't want my son to get it (even though he's just a kid and would likely fare the best of all of us). I don't want my brother's family or any of my in-laws or other extended family to get it. I don't want my friends or their families to get it.
And yet, I expect to hear about someone I know . . . or one of their relatives . . . contracting this disease. I fear that it's already in the community. I worry that we don't know the extent of the "community spread." I honestly don't want to be around anyone, now.
When I walk the dog, I cross the street constantly to avoid coming within six feet of another person. And I think that this is how I will walk the dog for weeks. Months?
I keep wondering whether we will be more like Italy or more like South Korea. I think we will know which way we are headed by this time next week.
So, with this somewhat lack-luster first post of the COVID-Telework Diary . . . and with that somewhat despondent note . . . I leave you with a hopefully lighter-in-spirit injunction:
Be gentle, friends, with yourself, with your family, and with others.
We are in for a long ride.
Try to make it easy.
