2020年12月30日 星期三

Alone in a Fancy Hotel Bathroom

Parents’ solo-vacation fantasies, hopefully realized in 2021.

Alone in a Fancy Hotel Bathroom

Tiago Majuelos

When I’m having trouble falling asleep, I think about a paddle boat ride I took in 2010. My husband and I were on our honeymoon, staying at a hotel in Portugal that was right on the bay. I have a visceral memory of raising my face to the sun, lazily paddling around while the sea breeze gently flowed around me. I recall that moment when I’m tossing and turning in these pandemic times; I felt so relaxed and free then … because I didn’t have kids.

I had this reverie in mind (and also this viral tweet about the desire to open a bed-and-breakfast for burned-out women with an unprintable yet irresistible name) when I asked readers for their fantasy child-free solo trips. These are the kinds of vacations you would take if money and child care were no object, and the coronavirus miraculously disappeared tomorrow.

Here’s a sampling of the most hilarious and relatable responses. I hope that you all get to do these things in 2021, or at least find some time for yourself, even if it’s hiding in your bathroom.

Tiago Majuelos

The All-Inclusive Experience

“My fantasy solo vacation would be at an all-inclusive resort in Cancun, Mexico. I would revel in not having to cook, clean, do laundry or pay for anything on the spot. I would take naps on the beach beds while listening to the ocean and let my mind empty. I would have a frozen drink at a swim-up bar, that intoxicating sensory overload of the water, sun and diluted sugary frozen cocktail. I would read whole pages of books without interruption. I would be away long enough to miss my kids, which I am guessing would be about two full weeks.” — Valerie Sprout, Shawnee, Kan.

Tiago Majuelos

Please Just Leave Me Alone in This Bathroom

“I will travel across an ocean for a good bath soak. Specifically, I would go back to the Dunstane Houses in Edinburgh, Scotland, and soak in one of their gorgeous, metallic claw-foot tubs in the bay window of a hotel suite overlooking the city. The bubbly bath soak would last for an entire morning while I sip an espresso and munch on treats from their curated mini bar, all while reading. Then I would spend the day taking in the gorgeous architecture of Edinburgh and wandering in and out of the city’s best bookstores and museums, and of course grab high tea. I would then cap the day off with a room service dinner and another leisurely bath soak.” — Zahra Nawaz Curtin, Manhattan, N.Y.

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Tiago Majuelos

I Want to Do All the Things

“I would travel to a perfect combination of a place to visit and learn new things (like museums/ruins or just lovely towns to walk and explore), and a retreat spa where I could enjoy hot tubs and cold immersion pools, practice yoga and also drink a nice cup of coffee whilst catching up on the 2,347 books I desperately want to read! Athens in Greece, Nusa Dua in Bali, Oaxaca in Mexico … I am flexible with location!” — Mariana Delgado, Cambridge, England.

“I’d go to Europe and hit every art museum possible. Here’s the fantasy part: I’d stand in front of the pieces I found intriguing for as long as I wanted, without having to rush on to the next thing because I was ‘taking too long’ or because ‘this is SO boring.’ I would revel in just standing still and looking. For hours and hours.” — Krista Harmon, Portland, Ore.

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Tiago Majuelos

Accessible Dreams

“I would go to Barnes & Noble. Sitting in one of the Barnes & Noble chairs with a coffee from Starbucks and getting some me-and-books time was something I would promise myself to mark milestones: landing that very first gig, wrapping up an important project, seeking comfort from the low of missing loved ones back home and so on. My Barnes & Noble therapy worked each time, and I can see no other way to commemorate an event such as the end of a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic than by transporting myself to my once favorite comfort place.” — Shruta Satam, Sydney, Australia.

“My fantasy solo vacation is actually a week alone in my house without my kids and husband. I can eat when I want to, go to sleep as early as I want to and eat bagels with cream cheese for dinner. Alone. In silence.” — Jessica Hajee, Nairobi, Kenya

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“Is it terrible if my fantasy is just ‘anywhere my kids aren’t’?” — Sarah Maniscalco, Brampton, Ontario

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Tiny Victories

Parenting can be a grind. Let’s celebrate the tiny victories.

My 14-month-old is a wriggling escape artist during diaper changes, so now we ask Google Home to make different animal sounds, “Hey, Google, what does a dolphin say?” He’ll stop moving to listen, we get to finish the diaper change drama-free and sometimes even get a good chuckle from him on a particularly funny animal. — Tina Groff, San Francisco

If you want a chance to get your Tiny Victory published, find us on Instagram @NYTparenting and use the hashtag #tinyvictories; email us; or enter your Tiny Victory at the bottom of this page. Include your full name and location. Tiny Victories may be edited for clarity and style. Your name, location and comments may be published, but your contact information will not. By submitting to us, you agree that you have read, understand and accept the Reader Submission Terms in relation to all of the content and other information you send to us.

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2020年12月23日 星期三

Moms on the Covid Frontlines

Health care workers are still fighting to keep their homes and communities safe.

Moms on the Covid Frontlines

Cecilia Duran, 38, a New York City midwife, had Covid-19 when she was 10-weeks pregnant with the baby she is posing with here.Desiree Rios for The New York Times

When I spoke to Dr. Stephanie Whitener, 41, an anesthesia critical care physician and mother of two, the parent-teacher organization at her son’s elementary school was planning an in-person happy hour for teachers. “I spent yesterday trying to rally all the parents I knew in health care to stop it, because of the risk to them, and also to in-person learning,” said Dr. Whitener, who lives in Charleston, S.C.

Though they did end up canceling the happy hour, “it feels like I live in two different realities,” she said, one where people take the virus seriously, and another where they don’t. That dichotomy can make the emotional and psychological toll of treating Covid-19 patients even harder to bear.

As this strange and difficult year draws to a close, I wanted to highlight the experiences of parents who are medical workers — and thank them for their service. Like so many other essential workers, they have put their physical and mental well-being on the line in 2020 to do their jobs. These frontline workers are at greater risk for burnout and PTSD than the general population. Some have been separated from their children for weeks at a time, communicating only on Zoom.

Like all parents, they’re worried about their own kids, socially, academically and emotionally — while also fretting about the children who are falling behind in school because of the barriers to remote learning, and who may be grieving over family members lost to the virus. And even after more than 300,000 deaths in the United States alone, some health care workers are still trying to convince their communities that the virus is a real threat.

“Some of the first deaths I experienced were people only 5 to 10 years older than me, not 70-year-olds,” said Brianna Tremblay, a 36-year-old I.C.U. nurse practitioner in northern New Jersey. She is also the mom of a 3-year-old and pregnant with a baby due in January. Her distress was especially overwhelming in March and April, when the first surge of the virus was hitting the New York City region. “I came home from work every single night and cried with my husband,” Tremblay said.

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“When a patient would crash, we would spend hours in the room trying to save them, and then have to call the family,” to give them the bad news, Tremblay said. Her I.C.U. had a mortality rate of 80 to 90 percent in March and April for Covid-19 patients. “It truly was a war zone.”

Brianna Tremblay’s son, Logan, 3, listens to his mom’s heartbeat. She is an I.C.U. nurse practitioner in New Jersey.Desiree Rios for The New York Times

Several of the workers I spoke with caught the virus themselves. Cecilia Duran, a 38-year-old midwife in New York City, fell ill in March, when she was 10 weeks pregnant. In addition to fairly intense symptoms — “worse than the flu,” she said — she was also dealing with the nausea and fatigue of early pregnancy. “I was quarantining with my toddler, who was also sick, and my husband was trying to figure out his working from home situation in a small New York apartment,” she said. “It was complete insanity.”

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Dr. Mary Thomas, a pediatrician in New Jersey, said that she’s much more worried about many of her young patients than she is about her own three children (her whole family already had the virus and recovered). “I’m seeing so much anxiety and depression, and a lot of it has to do with this terrible year,” Dr. Thomas said. “Parents are unemployed or losing money or stressed on top of it, and kids are on screens for hours a day.”

But it’s not all bleak. Many parents who are medical workers described the outpouring of help they received from their community. In the middle of the pandemic, when Brianna Tremblay’s babysitter’s father got Covid-19, she could not come to work. Neither Tremblay nor her husband, who also works in health care, could take time off, so a couple of neighborhood moms stepped in and watched her child.

“They really came together and supported me, and brought me food and put signs on my lawn,” Tremblay said. “I saw both the worst things in the world, and the absolutely most incredible outpouring of support in my entire life.”

Tremblay, who is now 34 weeks pregnant, said she is scheduled to get her first dose of the coronavirus vaccine this week. Dr. Whitener got her first dose last week, but that does not mean their service is ending any time soon, nor the dissonance they experience in communities where people don’t respect the full impact of the virus. Carla Blue, 43, a critical care nurse and mom of two school-age boys in Cincinnati, said that when people don’t wear masks or socially distance, “That makes it feel like all the work you’re doing is in vain.”

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She leaves work physically and emotionally drained, and then she sees people talking close together, and not wearing masks. “It makes me want to pull them aside and show them a picture of what we do,” she said. “People are more selfish than I ever imagined.”

P.S. Follow us on Instagram @NYTParenting. If this was forwarded to you, sign up for the NYT Parenting newsletter here.

Want More on Moms and Dads in Health Care?

  • In April, Grace Farris, who was then the chief of hospital medicine at Mt. Sinai West in New York City, wrote about sending her kids to live with her in-laws for weeks so that she could care for patients.
  • Sandra Lindsay, a nurse at a hospital in Queens, N.Y., was the first American to receive the coronavirus vaccine. “For Ms. Lindsay, the first months of the pandemic were grueling not only because of her nursing work, but also because her first grandson, Avery, was born prematurely in March,” Sharon Otterman wrote. Her grandson is doing well now.
  • In April, the Washington Post wrote about the children of health care workers who were afraid for their parents’ lives.

Tiny Victories

Parenting can be a grind. Let’s celebrate the tiny victories.

My 4-year-old has started resisting her daily quiet time, so today I asked her if I should set the timer for 30 minutes or “just one hour.” She chose the hour. — Kristen Hawley, San Francisco

If you want a chance to get your Tiny Victory published, find us on Instagram @NYTparenting and use the hashtag #tinyvictories; email us; or enter your Tiny Victory at the bottom of this page. Include your full name and location. Tiny Victories may be edited for clarity and style. Your name, location and comments may be published, but your contact information will not. By submitting to us, you agree that you have read, understand and accept the Reader Submission Terms in relation to all of the content and other information you send to us.

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