This week, a mother tries to juggle child care, work, and social distancing while sneaking in alone time with her husband: 46, married, Red Hook.
DAY ONE
6:00 a.m. I have no idea what day it is. I’m a working mom with three kids and an unemployed husband who used to work at a restaurant, so life is really a blur right now. When I wake up, I realize that no, this is not a nightmare.
9:00 a.m. It is almost impossible to get all my kids (7, 5, and 3) settled down, but I did it, thanks to Netflix, and now I have about an hour (maybe) to do some work. I’m a caterer and work has not died down for me. It has just shifted. All my large events have been canceled indefinitely, but a lot of local families are asking me to prepare food for them. They’re wealthy so I don’t feel bad taking their money even in these crazy times. Before I get into their emails, I have an urge to masturbate. I crawl under my sheets and close my eyes and get off in about two minutes. I imagine a threesome — getting fucked by a man while a woman sits on my face. Nothing like that has ever happened in my real life, and I’m okay with that. I have a great sex life with my husband.
9:00 p.m. We survived the day. I am so tired that I can’t move. I ask my husband if he wants to take a bath with me. I’m horny. He crawls into the bath, behind me, and I take his hand and put it all over my body. I put his hand between my legs and he gets me off.
9:30 p.m. I go straight from the bathtub to my bed. I crawl in naked.
DAY TWO
6:00 a.m. The morning grind is so awful, I don’t even want to talk about it.
9:00 a.m. My husband has the kids all day so I can drive to my commissary kitchen and work.
6:00 p.m. I cook all day and do drop off deliveries at night. I haven’t had any human interaction all day. It’s kind of amazing that I can do my job and not see a soul.
9:00 p.m. I’m in bed and the house is quiet. It’s absolutely trashed, but quiet. My husband comes into bed to say good night. I want to pull him into bed with me but I’m just too tired.
DAY THREE
8:00 a.m. We really need help. Taking care of the kids inside all day (aside from the half-hour or so we allow ourselves to go to the park) is not humanly possible. Everyone is on the brink. I don’t know what to do. Normally my big kids are in school and my little one is in daycare. With my work and my husband’s stress over his work, we feel like we might have nervous breakdowns if something doesn’t give. I post on a Facebook group that we are looking to hire a babysitter or nanny.
1:00 p.m. I get slammed on the Facebook group. People are saying that I’m being socially irresponsible for asking someone to get a subway and come help us. I delete my post.
2:00 p.m. I go to my commissary kitchen to prepare a few meals for some families. I turn on Fleetwood Mac as I cook and try to feel better.
6:00 p.m. It’s insane how messy our apartment is. I feel like we will get rats if we don’t clean up tonight. I have no energy so I make some margaritas for us.
9:00 p.m. Clean-up is done. I hug my husband for being there to hold me up through all this, and suddenly he’s hard and he’s fucking me up against our kitchen counter. I don’t come but he sure does. Finally, my first smile of the day.
DAY FOUR
9:00 a.m. We’ve piled all the kids into our car for a ride to the North Fork. My brother lives out there and he invited us to come and play with his kids and run around in the backyard. It’s a risky proposal but we are desperate for something to do. My brother and sister-in-law own a restaurant out there so they’re really scared and stressed about work — I figure being there for him is more important than isolating.
5:00 p.m. We’re driving home. It was heavenly feeling “normal” again. That said, I’m more scared than ever. People we know are dying already.
9:30 p.m. I can’t sleep. I’m so anxious. I’m up all night with fears and worries, also some regret for leaving the house for work and deliveries. I just don’t know what to do.
DAY FIVE
10:00 a.m. In the middle of the hell that is my morning, I get a text from a “friend” who tries to school me on “staying the fuck home.” She saw my post asking for a nanny or babysitter, and she knows I’ve been working and making deliveries, and she basically treats me like a 5-year-old and explains how germs work. I delete her email without writing back.
3:00 p.m. We do a big scavenger hunt in the park. It’s actually fun. I’m just annoyed at the joggers who run by, practically touching me and my kids. I try to manage my anger. Deep breaths!
9:00 p.m. My husband has been so helpful. I get into bed and when he comes to say goodnight, I blow him while he stands next to the bed. I tell him to cum on my face. He won’t do it, but I think he likes hearing me say it.
DAY SIX
6:00 a.m. I wake up with dread. There’s just nothing to look forward to anymore.
8:30 a.m. We have almost no groceries, so I venture out to Whole Foods with my toddler. It’s pretty empty right now so I don’t feel too guilty. But I still feel scared. I haven’t even mentioned how scared all my kids are. They love being home with us and they’re great kids, but they’re anxious too. That breaks my heart.
10:00 a.m. It’s the weekend so I allow a ton of movies and screen time. Basically, all day. My husband and I need it.
11:30 p.m. We escape to our bedroom to lay down together. I think about getting on top of him and fucking him, but we can’t risk one of the kids coming in. Ugh! I would do anything just to fuck my husband and fall asleep in his arms.
9:00 p.m. I get a call from a local family who wants a week’s worth of food from me. It’s a good paycheck but a lot of work, and will require me going back to various markets. It’s a hard decision, but I say yes. Work keeps me somewhat sane and I need to make money. Who knows when my husband will ever work again.
10:00 p.m. Again, I can’t sleep. So much anxiety.
DAY SEVEN
9:00 a.m. I’m out shopping for ingredients. Some places have better social distancing than others. I feel sick about being out. I’m literally queasy. I have to run to the bathroom in one of the markets because my stomach is so upset. Using a random toilet makes me feel even sicker.
11:00 a.m. In my kitchen, I try to shake it off. I play good music and get into the zone.
11:00 p.m. I’m still cooking. Seriously. My husband was alone with the kids all day.
9:00 p.m. I get home, take a piping hot shower and drag my body into bed. I feel physically and emotionally dead. My husband sleepily puts his arms around me, and I try to get some rest.
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