Self-isolation has brought us closer to our kids and that isn’t necessarily a good thing
Don’t get me wrong. I love my kids, two self-confident twenty-something women who recently left the nest to build meaningful lives for themselves. Naturally, as parents, we’re concerned about their welfare, moreso in these trying times.
My wife and I are television writers. We still have jobs. TV and movie production has stalled but the show must go on and Mom and Dad are writing content for the day shooting resumes and we’re back to normal. Our older daughter is also working, self-isolating in her apartment and telecommuting with her boss in Melbourne after heeding the call and returning to home base. She’s working from home. Our youngest works in the service industry and has been laid off. She too is staying in her apartment and only venturing out for walks and groceries.
Sure, our kids are a mere twenty minute drive away but as dutiful citizens we’re social distancing and keeping in touch with them electronically. Thanks to a relaxed work schedule — you know, napping, working, procrastinating, working, procrastinating, working, not to mention grabbing snacks from the kitchen — we have a lot of time on our hands. We FaceTime with our progeny. A lot. Take Hannah, our oldest. She’s confined to her digs for another week because she just got off the plane . Do you need groceries? Can we get you anything from the pharmacy? Legitimate questions if you ask me. The trouble is, the time difference between Australia and North America messes up our FaceTime schedule. Whenever we want to chat, Hannah has to excuse herself to answer an incoming trans-Pacific call or can’t talk to us because she has to meet an upcoming deadline due tomorrow. Which, because of the time difference, means today. She says she enjoys our daily check-ups but I suspect it bugs her as well.
Her sister Claire has a different problem. Recently unemployed, she’s eligible for an emergency bailout, a stipend from the government to tide her over for another four months. She has to sign up in a few days on-line. Ever mindful of government bureaucracy, I recently FaceTimed her to tell her of the latest directives.
“They’re taking applications based upon your birth date,” I said. “You were born in August so you have to register in another three days.”
“Thanks Dad, but I’ve got the same information you have,” she replied dismissively, admonishing me for not trusting her to work things out for herself. And that’s the danger of on-line parenting. If these were normal times we’d leave our children alone for awhile. We wouldn’t be as intrusive or as condescending. Deprived of personal contact and anxious over what happens next, we’ve become uber parents. I get it. I’ll lay off for awhile and let our kids forge ahead under their own steam. Still…
