It hit me when the parents of a friend of our daughter’s recently invited us to dinner. They passed on some data. My husband searched the holes in his diary; I the one in mine. We came out on Saturday 27 August as the first possibility: just under three months later.
What do you have on your agenda then, I asked my husband. A short summary: a bicycle catch-up weekend with his brothers, dinner with an aunt he hasn’t seen for too long, a book launch by a friend, a ‘success party’ at his work, a farewell drink from a colleague, drinks with friends from his previous job. “And I also want to drink beer with Emile, go canoeing with Hans and Olga, spend a day doing odd jobs in Adriaan’s new house, mowing the lawn at my mother’s.”
I laughed at him, but then also had to expose my buttocks. Just returned from a short week in Spain with the business for ‘team building and strategy’. I also have a dinner appointment, a postponed sauna date, a barbecue at the Media Park planned. And a gala, which has also been stressing me for a week because of the missing dress. And soon another week abroad for business. Furthermore: school drink, hockey drink, neighborhood drink, who doesn’t give a drink? Our daughter hopes that we will go through all those childish get-togethers.
“Remember last year during corona, when we were free every evening and weekend and we took long walks.”
“And I read a book every week.”
“I thought that eating at home every night was actually really nice.”
We concluded that we talked more to each other and our daughter at the time, and had so much less stress. “It started with having to go on vacation this spring because we couldn’t go for so long,” I said to my husband. Including the Schiphol misery we ended up in.
Our daughter has recently started complaining at the end of each week that she is dead tired. “I’ll never have time for myself again, Mom, because I have to go to something stupid every day after school.” Because we can’t always take care of her in the afternoons, she is indeed back in all kinds of clubs this season, through her school, mainly intended as surrogate childcare. My daughter opted for skateboarding lessons on Monday, the craft cooking club on Tuesday, and Thursday from school to theater class. We argue about the latter every week, because she thinks theater is the stupidest thing that ever happened to her. And on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday her hockey will be running at full speed again. On Sundays there is one children’s catch-up party after another. The daughter: “Last year I just came home from school every afternoon. You had a lot of fun working there.”
Yesterday morning at breakfast, the three of us put the situation together. Stress, poor sleep, too little time for each other, the feeling that life mainly consists of (social) obligations. No more sprawling on the couch watching a bad movie. Rarely do the things we choose all by ourselves.
“You know, I really long for corona more and more,” said my husband. I reacted somewhat indignantly: “Be glad that you can do everything again.” And it wasn’t always that nice, especially when the schools were closed. But still I get it.
What is different now than in 2019, we wondered aloud. We didn’t experience the situation so negatively then, did we? Our first statement: all overtaking moments. Catch-up parties, catch-up holidays. If so, then it should go back to normal after the summer.
We analyzed further. Isn’t our work busier than in 2019? There is a serious shortage of workers in every field. All those unfilled vacancies automatically mean more work for those who do work. Their schedules are overflowing. We concluded that therein lies part of the explanation.
But maybe it’s also psychological. We have become accustomed to the peace and especially not having to. In 2019 we didn’t know any better. And every major switch is difficult. When corona started. And also when corona disappeared again this spring. Just bite through, and we should be used to it again.
In the meantime, reports are trickling in the news that corona is making a rapid advance again, and may be back again soon. “Then we can write our booked flight holiday on our stomachs,” said my husband. “But canoeing with Hans and Olga,” he dreamed. “In September, it’s nice to be behind the keyboard at nine o’clock, in my soup dress.”
Aylin Bilic is a head hunter and publicist.
A version of this article also appeared in the newspaper of June 23, 2022