There is a lot of pressure at the moment to crate (and curate!) screen free experiences for children. And yes, those experiences are important, but they are also causing endless anxiety in parents who feel that at the end of the “screen free experience” the child should have some new skill. That there should be Instagram worthy pictures and that each moment should be punctuated with constant laughter and joy. Times of anxiety simply don’t work that way. Instead we are always shifting between the need to just get another little bit of work done and feeling guilty about the things we do to keep the kids entertained (and therefore quiet).
Reflecting back on the last time I felt like the society around me was collapsing has given me some insight into this unique situation we are facing. When I was a kid, back in the 90s, ex Yugoslavia was in the middle of a civil war. As a child, your experience of such a mass sorrow is very different to that of an adult. We, as parents, should embrace that knowledge – the certainty that their point of view is different to ours- and adapt how we feel about our parenting through a pandemic. I call this period the fifth trimester.
My four (war tested!) tips for a calmer parenting journey during the fifth trimester and mass isolation are:
Build a Fort
- Sometimes, we should get out the blankets and the sheets and help the kids build a fort. We should sit in that fort with them, and realise that the feelings of wonderment and safety they are experiencing go both ways. They feed them, and in turn, feed us with calm and joy. There are ways to build a fort without going through the effort of actually building a fort, if you have woken up on a day where all you want to do is draw the blanket over your head and cry. If work is hard and money is tight and the line for JobSeeker is never ending then you need to know that building a fort does not always require physical effort (although it sure helps reinforce the idea). Instead, building a fort is about understanding that a sense of physical safety goes a long way to reducing the anxiety of children – and adults – that is caused by mass isolation and these constant shifting goal posts on how we should live our everyday lives. During the war, our Nana would help us build forts to create those safe spaces and moments of calm.
Dress Up
- Sometimes we all want to be someone else. During the war, before we moved into refugee and detention camps, we spent a lot of time creating characters by working out what clothes those people would own and wear. On the days where all you want to do is cry because your laundry pile is taller than your sanity, instead of folding the laundry, encourage the kids to start playing dress up instead. Get them to go through each pile and suggest the kind of adventures their dress up character would have. Get them to pack a suitcase for that dress up character – if they fold the clothes neatly, then all you have to do is put them back in the cupboard. If they leave a mess, well, there has been no change in your laundry dramas.
Plays
- Before the war started, there were many months of tension. As kids, we didn’t know what changed, except suddenly the radio and the TV were no go zones for our parents and caregivers. Instead, Nana would make us recite scenes from plays. And while it is easy to find plays online (or hunt down your copy of the Cursed Child) and get your kids to start acting, some days it feels too hard to get started. For those days, we know that watching a show, pausing the scene, and suggesting to the kids to show us what happens next, results in many effortless giggles. The chance to be silly is nice for them (and for you) and may get your creative juices flowing.
Cooking
- Food is essential and focusing on it during uncertainty can make people feel better. These days, there is a lot of pressure to cook things from scratch, and if you can push through that guilt you can find that there is something therapeutic about Pinteresting meals that you never plan on cooking. Don’t get me wrong, if you can cook with your kids and walk away unscathed, power to you. I do it sometimes when I feel like I have the mental capacity for mess. On days I don’t have that time (or the will), I reflect back on how we played with food even when it was scarce. In the camps when no more than half a slice of bread was guaranteed that day, the kids spent time designing our perfect meal. We made songs. We drew pictures.
- In Australia, we are mostly lucky enough not to have that kind of reverence for a meal you don’t get to eat. But the excitement about food is human and innate. I recommend you get your kids to play restaurant or café games. Encourage them to design menus, draw advertisements, make jingles, and if they are old enough to do so, get started on crafting the perfect hipster smashed avo.
Leila Chalk is the principal solicitor at
Forty Four Degrees and the author of the Isolation Journal