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It Took a Legally Enforced Lockdown to Get Me to Slow Down and Appreciate My Family

Photo credit: NurPhoto - Getty Images
Photo credit: NurPhoto - Getty Images

From Good Housekeeping

By now, it's a story that has played out in many cities across the world: On Monday, life was normal. On Tuesday, we were told all educational facilities in Spain, where I currently live, would close for 15 days. On Wednesday, my husband’s company was going to test out working from home, and on Thursday, he was working from home for the foreseeable future. That weekend, the government called a state of alarm and the country went on lockdown in an effort to flatten the exponential curve of the new strain of coronavirus.

My husband, two children, and I have been in confinement since March 11. I’ve been to the supermarket twice, and taken out the trash once. Other than that, I’ve been in our 860-square-foot flat in Madrid’s city center, moving from one small room to another, my baby and toddler in tow, while my husband does his best to hold work calls. I’m currently on full-time daycare duty with our baby (and also continuing my work as a freelance writer), so having the whole family home like this is weird.

Yet it’s also quite wonderful. I have to admit I’m enjoying it very much. Like you, I’m scared for everyone I know, especially my baby and 74-year-old father. I share the world's anxieties about COVID-19. I’m worried about what the future holds for humanity and what it holds for my husband, children, and me. Like everyone, I have lots of unanswered questions. When will childcare reopen? When will everyone go back to work? What will this mean for me, as a freelance writer?

But I do have one comfort: At a time when I don't have control over anything and the situation is scary, unclear, and uncertain, I am at home with my partner and babies. I’m lucky enough to be where I need to be, with the people I need to be with. We’re indoors, staying healthy, and doing our bit not to propagate the virus, and that’s the best we can do right now.

This surreal situation has been an invitation — albeit legally enforced — to do what I’ve needed to do for a long time: slow down. With literally nowhere to go — no social events, no work obligations, no storytelling sessions or playdates — I’ve had no choice but to stop and reflect. The situation has turned into a lesson on being in the present. Over the last few days, I've sat and watched my 3-year-old and 9-month-old play. Not while I did household chores like making the dinner or hanging out the washing. I just sat and observed them. It was beautiful and a little emotional.

Then there's FOMO (Fear of Missing Out), and recent lack of it. I'm a perpetual sufferer of FOMO, always wondering if there's something I'm missing out on. Now that I know everyone else is at home, I'm suddenly more aware of this strange sense of inner peace, which only serves to show I need to work harder on things like mindfulness, being in the present, and being content with what I have.

And what about control, which we've all relinquished? I’m left with one option: hold onto my loved ones. I make the most of this opportunity to spend more time than ever with my family, and value it. We’re making a good go of it so far. We’ve painted a rainbow that we stuck on the window, baked a chocolate cake that we ate over the days after, ground peanuts until they turned to peanut butter. We dance, sing, listen to music. We water our two plants, do The Body Coach's daily PE class on YouTube, and hold home concerts that we record and share with friends and family.

Photo credit: Courtesy of Miriam Foley
Photo credit: Courtesy of Miriam Foley

Our small flat and Spanish life lends itself to being outside most of the day, in the abundant bars, cafés, terraces, playgrounds. So we’ve brought the playground home by making exercise circuits with yoga mats for tunnels and foot stools for roundabouts that we take turns in doing at top speed, and we’ve brought the bar home by opening a beer and making nachos in the evening. At 8 p.m. we open the windows and clap with the rest of the country for the healthcare professionals working so hard to keep people alive, as well as the frontline workers — trash collectors, street cleaners, postal workers — who are keeping society turning.

And when we’ve done everything we can think of, we chill out. Sit on the sofa and read a book, either with the children or in the evening when they've gone to bed (because we’re avoiding TV). My other half is around more, including mealtimes, when he'd usually be commuting. It's given us a glimpse of how life could look with some work flexibility.

Slowing down has made me more creative and given me the chance to spend energy on things I've been meaning to do for months, even years, that I never have the time for: the family album with photos of my children from birth, those baby ink footprints. Channeling Marie Kondo to toss and donate old clothes and toys. I’ve started reading again, and dabbled in painting and sketching, too, talents long forgotten since college.

What’s surprising is that the days go by faster than you can imagine. Which is just as well, because in my country, 15 days of confinement just turned into 30. And that's okay. Because as long as this biological war grips the world and heroic people struggle to fight it, I'll hold onto my family and enjoy them with fresh eyes.

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