I Worry




I worry that my almost 4-month-old daughter only knows three people, and they all live with her. 

I worry that my 5-year-old son is losing his passion for things he used to love to do because we’re not allowed to do them anymore. 

I worry that my daughter only knows her Gaga as a face on a screen.  

I worry that my son looks at screens too much. 

I worry that my daughter is so used to having me there for every hour of her day that she will not be able to handle my absence when I am allowed to return to work. 

I worry that my son will have forgotten how to share with his classmates. 

I worry that my daughter will be immunocompromised because she has been so sheltered from the outside world.

I worry that my husband and I won’t get a proper date night until 2021. 

I worry that I will never lose the baby weight because #quarantinesnacks. 

I worry that we won’t be able to do the jobs we love until there is a vaccine. 

I worry that I see more and more people on the street and fewer and fewer of them wearing masks. 

I worry that I will never get through my Netflix queue because it seems to have only gotten longer in quarantine and not shorter.

I worry that, after finally getting the hang of being a Remote Kindergarten Teacher, my husband and I will have to learn to become Remote First Grade Teachers. 

I worry that my friends will not get to hold my daughter for the first time until her first birthday. 

I worry that my son will not get to hug his friends until they are all three inches taller. 

I worry that my son will forget how much he loves to hug people. 

I worry that I’ve forgotten how much I love to be hugged. 

I worry for us.


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