For someone like me, who works from home, an extended holiday break is inconvenient and annoying but doable. Hell, I survived five months and 25 days of “March Break.” I can grumble through seven measly days. My real problem? I’m terrified it won’t just be seven days.
My husband and I spent weeks anticipating drastic layoffs in our hard-hit industries, and we both went through temporary layoffs — all while keeping the kids from finding out. Our finances took a hit since my freelance income evaporated overnight. Homeschooling was ugly across the board, especially when trying to do my own work at the same time. Someone called the police on our children for playing in their own yard with our next-door neighbours “not a full six feet apart.” My anxiety was through the roof. It was a miserable season for all of us.
In my daughter’s entire eight-and-a-half years, I don’t think anything she’s ever said has shocked me as much as what she admitted last week.