By Charmaine Toh //
Today was a good day. I maintained my most controlled IG-perfect mommy stance when my freshly-minted four-year-old, C, threw her daily tantrum. Typically, this is a colourful display of short chubby legs scissoring furiously in the air, arms flailing, and her little pre-schooler voice whining, “mooommyyyy but whhhyyyy?”.
I’d firmly said no to her wanting to watch videos and refused to be emotionally blackmailed – this time. C wanted to watch Peppa Pig videos, what I’ve been resorting to in my desperate and increasingly less desperate moments during this period. I actually think the Peppa Pig series is really quite brilliant and irreverent, with the Queen jumping in muddy puddles and all. But naturally, I worried about the effects of excessive screen time, and was convinced that after so many months of this, her brain would be irreparably affected.
I’ve been working from home pretty much since the end of January, when news of the novel coronavirus broke. Four months that managed to swiftly zoom (pun intended) by; each relentless hour, each endless day. Prior to the circuit breaker on 7 April, schools were still open, so C was at pre-school from nine to five and I could work in relative peace from the room I’ve commandeered as my home office. It was even interesting to work alongside my husband and observe with bemusement his overt aggressiveness during conference calls.
I have lots of support compared to others, and I am thankful. My parents live with me, and we even have live-in help, so even though my husband has been away in China since end-March, there is in theory, “lots of help” around the house. And I really cannot blame C for wanting mommy, even when she’s surrounded by toys, books and other people in the house who are a lot more indulgent than I am in showering her with attention.
“Mommy, I haven’t seen you in a long time, I missed you!”, she would declare dramatically as she flings open the door and runs joyfully into the room.
And of course, I respond by throwing my arms around her and kissing her warm pillow cheeks, deeply inhaling the still-baby smell of her neck, intoxicating even through matted hair soaked in perspiration.
“My best girl! Mommy missed you too!”
Children are beyond crafty though. Very early on, C caught on that if she chose just the right moment to come into the room and mommy happened to be in a serious meeting via Zoom, and yes, with the video full on, I would invariably offer up Peppa on a device.
So sometimes, more often than I would admit, when she has had just way too much screen time for the day, and yet keeps whining for Peppa and nothing else is vaguely good enough – not colouring, her latest toy, her thousands of books, I would raise my voice at her. I’ve banged the table and occasionally I’ve hurled things across the room.
Each time I yell, afterwards, I always feel terrible and guilt-filled. After all, I am the adult here, I have to be the one to model a good example. Yet, I cannot just have C staring at the screen all day. What sort of mother would that make me, right?
So each night, as I breathe a sigh of relief around half-past seven when she has fallen deep asleep, I resolve to myself that tomorrow, I would stand my ground in a calm, mature, non-voice raising way.
On such a day, the family might somewhat succeed collectively, only to quickly backslide the next day when other responsibilities cry out and/or our emotional reserves have been once again drawn down.
And the cycle repeats.
But, hallelujah! Just a few more days to go before her school is due to open again! Her patient teachers would find helpful screen-free ways to teach and engage her. And I would have a full eight or nine hours of uninterrupted work. But I know that when that day comes, I would miss her silliness and her near constant presence in the same house. Those firm pink cheeks and little arms around my neck. I would even miss the whiny tantrums and the pleas for lollipops and gummy bears.
So perhaps, another hour, or two, of her staring glassy-eyed at Peppa Pig in the same room as I am may not be so terrible after all.
Charmaine Toh is in the global communications team of a financial services firm. She stumbled into doing her Masters in Creative Writing and secretly dreams of publishing a fabulous rom-com novel about love, life and motherhood one day. She is married to her true love and has two beautiful children.
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon from Pexels
Charmaine’s story on parenting is part of our #CopingCovid19 series, click here to read more stories about people coping wth COVID-19 and their mental health.