Recently, I heard a delightful exchange on a farm adjacent to a bike trail in Pennsylvania.
Big Brother: “C’mon cows. We need to get some milk from you.”
Little Brother chuckles.
Big Brother (whispering): “Shh. If you laugh, they’ll know we’re not really farmers.”
Big Brother (louder to the cows): “Come on, cows. We’re farmers!”
Little Brother: “Yeah, we’re farmers!”
Cow: “MOOOOOOOO.”
The two boys erupted in laughter and dashed back to their bikes.
This is just one of countless moments I hope to cherish forever—well beyond the time we receive the vaccine, long after my boys return to daycare and school, and once every day stops resembling bring-your-child-to-work day for my partner and me. For nearly a year now, the four of us have been together for the majority of our waking hours.
If someone had predicted back in mid-March 2020 that my children would be home not just for two weeks but for an entire year, I likely would have considered resigning. There’s simply no way, I would have thought.
And perhaps I should have. It’s been challenging—some days nearly unbearable. Two parents working full-time from home while trying to care for a three-year-old and a five-year-old isn’t something I’d recommend. The math doesn’t work; the hours don’t add up without numerous sacrifices.
This has placed stress on our marriage, impacted my work productivity, and significantly increased the boys’ screen time (while simultaneously easing my anxiety about arbitrary limits). It has tested my patience and drained my energy in ways I could have anticipated but never fully comprehended until experiencing it firsthand. My health has taken a hit, sleep has dwindled, haircuts are a rarity, and my adult acne has made a comeback that rivals its duration during my second pregnancy.
BUT…
Recently, I’ve begun to see a silver lining. I’ve watched my boys transform from just big brother and little brother into true best friends, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything—not even a few peaceful, child-free hours at the salon.
They’ve shifted from seeing each other briefly at daycare to being each other’s everything—playmates, classmates, teammates, and meal companions. Together, they’ve assumed roles as superheroes, scientists, builders, artists, bakers, bike riders, hide-and-seek champions, farmers (ha!), and even Rocky and his trainer Mickey for Halloween.
They run, jump, and wrestle with glee. When I call out for them to lower the volume, my oldest often replies, “But we’re having so much FUN.” And they genuinely are. I can’t help but smile and respond, “Just a little quieter, okay?”
They’ve learned from one another. Our five-year-old’s competitive spirit drives his desire to share knowledge, making him an excellent teacher. When his little brother struggles with something, Big Brother’s initial impatience diminishes as soon as he sees an opportunity to educate. He has assisted with everything from potty training—“The next step is…”—to coloring—“I hold it like this and try to stay in the lines”—to cutting down the Christmas tree—“You kneel on the mat and use the saw to cut it down; you were here last year, but you probably don’t remember because you were a baby.”
Our youngest is more easygoing, friendly, and certainly the better sharer of the two. His constant smile, warm hugs, and gentle nudges to “share is caring” sometimes remind his big brother to be less rigid—just don’t expect him to forgive you for unpausing the iPad when he’s in the other room.
Of course, they don’t always see eye to eye. They squabble over what to watch, who touched a toy first, and whose turn it is to help make breakfast. They argue, sometimes shove, and occasionally even hit. (I might have left out—our little one is laid back until he’s not.)
Yet, it rarely takes more than five minutes for them to return to being best friends, and I believe that their ability to argue and reconcile will serve them well throughout their lives.
Assuming all goes according to plan, our eldest will start kindergarten in the fall, while our little guy will return to daycare. That day will be bittersweet, and I already feel a lump in my throat just thinking about it. While we’ll regain some freedom, that freedom will come at a cost after such a long time spent together.
I hope this period leaves a lasting impression on my boys in the most positive way. I wish for it to be the foundation of an incredible friendship—one that becomes even stronger than it might have been without this unusual quarantine experience. My hope is that the closeness they share now is etched in their hearts forever, just as I will carry the memories of witnessing their bond grow during these challenging yet beautiful days.
For more insightful tips and experiences related to home insemination, you can check out this informative post.