How to Survive Life with a Husband and a Baby During a Pandemic

1.              Make friends with alcohol.

In the past, you disliked that feeling of being slightly out of control and fuzzy around the edges. And having one too many key-lime-pie martinis at that work happy hour was a tad embarrassing, especially when you started talking about wanting a boob job.

But, that’s all going out the window. Being stuck with an infant who won’t stop screaming even though you’ve checked his diaper, he’s just been fed, and there’s no way he’s coming down with something because he hasn’t been within six feet of anyone for months, is going to push you over the edge. 

Start drinking now. 

Oh wait, just kidding. You’re breastfeeding. 

2.              Stop breastfeeding. 

It sucks. (Literally.)

Everyone always touts the benefits of nursing, but no one ever tells you that your nipples will bleed and scab over. Or that you won’t be able to eat anything enjoyable, like milk products, beans, onions, or garlic, because they all give the baby gas. 

And since the baby drinks everything you do, you’re not allowed to have a glass of wine to take the edge off during quarantine—unlike your husband. 

You glare at him one evening as he takes a long sip. 

“Ahh,” he says, swallowing. “Delicious.” 

“Are you trying to rub it in?” you hiss, loudly enough for him to see that you are MAD, but quiet enough to not wake the baby. 

He laughs. He doesn’t care, he’s at his wits end, too. 

Your eyes narrow as he drains the rest of his glass. Yeah, you’re both struggling, but he doesn’t do half of what you do. I mean, does he realize everything you take care of around here? Does he? You’re working full time, you’re the mother of an infant, and you do all the cleaning. 

Yeah, you signed up for the first two, but being his maid? No thank you!

3.              Enjoy your new job as a maid.

It’s not that bad, you reason. You only have to pick up discarded clothes and dishes a couple times a day. And do almost everything else that keeps a house going. But it’s worth the effort just to feel you’re not living in a pigsty. 

You miss your old cleaner, but it’s too much of a risk. And at least your husband vacuums every week. Some guys don’t do anything. They just massage their beer bellies as they watch TV, and yell to their wives to come scratch their hairy backs. 

To be fair, your husband does work more hours than you—he has to rise at 4:30 am just to finish at all, since he watches the baby, too. 

And he’s not very good at cleaning, anyway. It’s like he goes blind as soon as a sponge is in his hand.

Yeah, it’s better like this. And you’re lucky, you guess. Especially since he’s really good-looking. The kind of the good-looking that makes other girls eye him across a restaurant, and you push back your hair with your left hand just so to let the diamonds catch the light. 

You can just stare at his face and admire its perfect symmetry, his strong nose, blue eyes, and sexy chin stubble. Ahhh. Thinking about that definitely helps when you’re scrubbing his week-old coffee cups. And then, you’re not as angry anymore. You can laugh about it, almost. He’s so handsome… and so messy. 

But then you find the baby’s bottles from yesterday filled with spoiled milk. Your heart speeds up. Haven’t you told him a thousand times?

You stalk over to give him a piece of your mind—but a small piece, because the baby is playing nearby.

“Why is washing the bottles my job, anyway?” he answers.

What makes them his job? 

Stay calm. The baby will pick up on your anger. You assume a clenched smile. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. My mistake. Let me just add cleaning the bottles to my very short list of responsibilities here.” You mime taking a notepad out of your pocket. 

“Let’s see, ‘Carry a baby in my uterus for nine months, without being able to drink or eat sushi or any of the smelly French cheeses,’ check, ‘Push a baby out of my vagina while my husband sits and watches,’ check, ‘Get up with the baby multiple times during the night to breastfeed while my husband sleeps,’ check, ‘Have something pulling at my nipples for ten months while my husband drinks wine next to me,’ check—”

“Okay, okay,” he says. “I’ll wash the bottles.”

“Thank you.” You spin on your heel and go back to the kitchen. He’s going to do it from now on, you think, as you eye the cultivating cottage cheese. He promised.

Ugh. Having a husband is like having another kid. 

4.              Consider ditching his sorry arse. 

Or at least making it sleep on the couch for a couple days.

It’s not something you contemplate all the time. Just occasionally, when things are getting really rough. Like when you’re complaining about how life is so much harder during COVID and your mask is giving you acne, and he says, “I actually prefer this. It’s like a vacation.”

Um, excuse him? 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I think all the Comet I’ve been using on the toilets must be affecting my hearing.” 

He likes not being able to hug our parents? He doesn’t miss being out in the world? He wants to take care of your son, 24/7, while both of you work full-time, with no help? 

Who is this person? Did you marry a sociopath? 

Hmm. If you Googled “divorce lawyer Bay Area,” would it show up in your shared iCloud?

He shrugs. “I like not having to travel. I was gone for a day or more every week before COVID, and it was hard. I’d rather be here with you two.”

Well, okay. 

Sigh. He’s so sweet. And sooo handsome.

And, not that messy. Right?

5.              Count your blessings.

Look, COVID life is not fun. 

But on a scale of one to cake, covering everything you touch with bleach and being cooped up with your loved ones ranks around a three. And what do you really have to complain about? Your fridge is packed and you’re hoarding toilet paper? 

I mean, take a look at history for a second. Terrible things have happened. There have been multiple genocides. War has demolished entire cities. People are starving to death. The Kardashians are still on television. 

This is nothing.  

Yes, you’re quite fortunate, you think, taking a deep breath as you scrape your husband’s toenail clippings out of the sink. You have a partner who loves you, a healthy baby, and a job.

The day’s menial tasks feel a little easier.

But later, after you finally get the teething baby to sleep and you’re so tired that you’d turn down a proposition from Ryan Gosling, you wonder, then why is it still so hard?

6.              Eat. Anything you want.

But preferably chocolate. 

Chocolate is a kind of magic—real magic, like the Harry Potter kind. Just a bite can rescue what’s left of a bad day. It’s like getting a massage, but a lot cheaper—and without someone spreading their germs all over you. 

All you need is a few seconds, even if the kid is screaming. And plus, chocolate is healthy. It’s got those antioxidants you’ve heard so much about. It’s basically like eating broccoli. Ask anyone. 

But not your jeans. They don’t agree … those fuckers.

 7.              Cry.

I know, you ate all the chocolate and gained ten pounds. It’s not great once you’re there, but it sure was fun getting there.

Now, life stinks even more than usual because you’re chubby, to boot. Although, no one’s going to see what you look like in person. But still, you know that your sweats have morphed into leggings.

Go on, let it all out. Feeling your feelings is cathartic, and makes them pass faster. 

And grab something to cuddle with. Crying is always better when there’s something fuzzy with no will of its own squashed between your arms, soaking up your tears. Something you’ve had for years that’s become a little battered over time—especially since the baby’s got ahold of it and started using it as a teething ring. Something that will always be there for you, because it has no choice.

Like your cat. 

8.              Get a pet. Or utilize the one you already have.

Thank God you already had one before COVID started. Who knew that one day, only goldfish would be left

Although being called a “cat lady” in the past was a little embarrassing, now, you’re laughing all the way to the pet supply store. 

When everyone in the world seems to want an animal to comfort them, you are already the proud owner of the world’s fluffiest cat. And she’s far superior to all other cats: she pees in the toilet; she lets the baby basically maul her every day without getting mad; and she sleeps all snuggled up against your tummy under the covers. Sure, sometimes she falls and pees on the ground, or swipes at the baby, but that’s totally negligible. She’s a constant, comforting, purring presence. 

And what’s another hour or two of sleep lost when you barely get any due to the baby anyway?

9.              Get used to operating on no sleep.

If you ran on a battery, a full status indication would actually mean Almost Empty, half-full Empty, and empty Unconscious.

Yes, you sleep-trained the baby. Of course, you did. That’s what parents who need their rest do. And your colleague’s endless stories of getting up in the middle of the night every day until her son was four years old scared the shit out of you.

For good reason. 

You are not a hamster. You’re not meant to be up in the middle of the night, idiotically spinning on your wheel. (That’s for the daytime, and it’s called a treadmill, okay?) You’re supposed to get a solid, uninterrupted, rejuvenating night’s sleep. 

Like you used to. Before you thought, “Hmm, our lives are too perfect right now, maybe we should introduce something that screams constantly, makes this place a living hell, and doesn’t even pay rent.” 

Although you’re not breastfeeding anymore, now, you’re getting up because he’s teething, or he’s too cold, or he just misses Mommy and wants to cuddle.

And it’s so cute when he’s crying and he reaches for you from his crib—there’s something incredibly fulfilling about being needed that desperately—and you bring him into your bed and he nuzzles against you and quiets. As he falls asleep holding your finger, you think, “I could stay like this forever.”

But you can’t. 

Because you’ve read all the horror stories on the internet. You know he could die sleeping with you, he’s too little, you could roll over on him or he could suffocate in your soft mattress, so instead you force yourself to stay awake for an hour until you’re sure he’s deeply asleep, and you drag yourself out of bed again to gently pick him up, carry him back to his crib, and place him inside, all the while careful not to wake him.

Whereupon he starts crying as if you decapitated his teddy bear, because he knows you deserted him and how could you, you terrible, heartless mother?

10.           Consider leaving it all behind.

Occasionally, when you just can’t take it anymore, you eye your car keys and contemplate for a second: 

What would it be like to just get in the car and drive away? To press pause on this total chaos masquerading as your life?

Wouldn’t it be nice to say, “See ya!” and finally get some sleep?

Oh, God. Sleep. 

And you wouldn’t have to leave forever. Maybe just for a few days, to a hotel. 

Mmm… you can just picture it: soaking in a leisurely bath and waking up past 7 am in crisp sheets that someone else ironed. No skid marks in the toilet from your husband, and no overflowing diaper pail from your other child.

But, you wouldn’t be able to touch anything without dousing it with disinfectant first. And you’d have to have all your meals in your room and keep a safe distance from everyone else.

So, kind of like vacationing in a prison. 

And you’d still have to work. Can’t just skip out on your job when you’ve got an extremely hungry cat to feed. 

You shake your head. You can’t leave your sweet little baby boy, even if he does keep you up to your elbows in poop every day. 

And, to be honest, it’s doubtful that your husband would be able to keep the baby and the cat alive without you.

But remember, even though you might feel stuck, you do have a choice. You are choosing this life with your crazy, vacuum-obsessed baby and your hot mess of a husband.

11.           Exercise.

Yeah, you’ve got a natural aversion to sweating, but who doesn’t? It’s not like people go, “Oh, I can’t wait until my fat cries rivers of sweat and my armpits stink and my hair gets all frizzy.”

You exercise for the feeling afterward. As Elle Woods says in Legally Blonde: “Exercise creates endorphins. Endorphins make you happy.” 

Supposedly, anyway.

Well, you used to get up early to exercise before the baby. Surely you can do it now. Even though you’re carrying about thirty extra pregnancy pounds. And the gym in your building where you usually run is now closed. And, running outside comes with avoiding other people by a margin of about ten feet. 

So, your “relaxing” run has turned into a bit of an obstacle course. But you have to take the first step. (Literally.)

You manage to run a few times, then you get tendonitis in the tops of your feet and after that heals, you break your foot. 

Yay.

The only plus side of your near-constant injuries is that your husband is forced to help out more. Since you can only crawl or stand unsteadily on one foot, he has to be the one to get the baby out of the crib and take him for walks. And he does, without complaining once, because he’s the best husband in the world. 

After a few days of him handling all the diapers, he even moves the changing table and supplies down to the floor so you can reach them yourself.

How thoughtful. 

Then, after your foot heals, the California fires start and you can’t go outside.

Finally, the treadmill you bought arrives. You run as often as you have the energy and manage to maintain an exercise routine for five months. Your endorphins are raging. Your muscles are sore in a good way. You look like you’re only a little pregnant now compared to being due in the near future.

You realize that you haven’t fantasized about escaping your life for a while now. Phew.

Then you develop chronic hip bursitis, and are out of commission again for months.

12.           Complain often. And loudly.

Whoever said complaining doesn’t help must have been doing it wrong. 

“How does one person hurt themselves so many times?” you moan. “Finally, I succeed at making myself work out, and then I can’t?”

“How was I supposed to know that you’re supposed to stretch your hips after running? No one’s ever heard about hip muscles before!”

Listing all the reasons why you have it harder than anyone else at this moment—even though you know you’re lucky, blah blah blah—makes you feel a twinge better. 

You are the victim here, and everybody else needs to know that. 

13.           Laugh. At anything you can.

There’s a saying that laughter is the best medicine, and though only an idiot would trade antibiotics for laughs, it is pretty helpful. Luckily, your husband is funny as well as handsome.

When the dishwasher breaks or you start raving about needing more space, like a real house with a yard, he steps in. Pulling open the sliding door of your small condo that seemed a lot bigger when you were allowed to leave, he yells down to the town far below, “THIS PLACE IS A PRISON!” 

You can’t help but giggle. 

He was able to make you step outside yourself for a second and it snapped you back into reality. Whatever was demoralizing you before wasn’t that bad … because your home is a whole lot better than a prison. 

Pretty sure, anyway. Never seen one firsthand.

Maybe that’s why your marriage is still intact. Because you can laugh together, even when things are tough. And now you have another voice joining in the fun.

Your baby’s laugh is the best sound in the world. It’s pure joy exploding out of a very tiny volcano. Whenever your son laughs, your mood lifts immediately. And it’s easy—you just tickle his tootsies, blow a raspberry on his belly, or throw him up in the air and catch him, and his giggles are off like a bubble machine.

These moments are little slices of heaven in a hellish time.

14.           Lastly, accept that life during COVID is just going to stink sometimes. 

There’s nothing you can do about it, really. 

I mean, even life without COVID was rough sometimes. Now it’s just amplified. But hey, at least everyone’s in the same boat as you. (It’s called the Titanic.)

So, sigh, and roll your eyes at the bedlam around you. Or scream and pound a pillow, whatever strikes your fancy. Then, after the baby is asleep, grab a gallon of mint chip and pop in Love, Actually—for there’s nothing that Hugh Grant, Liam Neeson, and Colin Firth together can’t fix.

And just keep going.

-Brett Harrison

Brett Harrison is an exhausted mother, teacher, writer, and personal maid service in the San Francisco Bay Area.