MAY 28 • 2020 | 5
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Mom Guilt, Quarantine Edition
C
an I take a moment to
talk about Mom Guilt?
On a good day, moms
have Mom Guilt. If we’
re cook-
ing, we feel bad we’
re not play-
ing with the kids. If we’
re play-
ing with the kids,
we feel bad we’
re
not doing laundry.
If we’
re cleaning,
we wonder if the
kids are going to
become respon-
sible human
beings if we keep
cleaning up after them, even
though most of the time it’
s just
so much quicker and easier to
clean ourselves.
Enter COVID-19, and this
Mom Guilt has crept up to a
crazy new level.
With kids home full time and
getting a watered-
down version
of their education in pajamas
with the use of technology,
there’
s always the worry: Am
I doing enough? Will my kid
be on par with their classmates
next year? And when did they
change teaching long division
the way I was taught in school?
I can’
t help them now!
Then, when these moms
want to get anything done —
say, some work or even just a
bathroom break — they might
turn to technology for some
electronic babysitting. And
there’
s that Mom Guilt again.
What are those official recom-
mended screen time guidelines
for kids? Since this pandemic
began, my kids might have been
getting what feels like 20 hours
of screen time daily. Am I dam-
aging them forever?
Some moms have truly risen
to the occasion. They spend
happy hours creating original
crafts and baking special treats
with their cherubic children
by their side. When they share
their masterpieces, claiming,
“It’
s so easy!” the moms I’
m
talking about picture the floury
mess, the fingers superglued
together, kids painting the walls
when their back is turned, the
glitter that will be ground into
the carpet for the next decade
and the fact that everyone
will be asking her, “What’
s for
dinner?” even while she’
s doing
hands-on projects with the kids!
The guilt rises again … She
wonders: Am I the only one
unwilling to do this? When kids
later compare stories of life in
quarantine, will my kids have
anything positive to say? Am I
missing a golden opportunity?
And, if so, how come it doesn’
t
feel so golden right now?
These moms love their kids,
but their favorite part of the
day is unquestionably bedtime.
Finally, the kids are asleep and
there’
s quiet. She hadn’
t man-
aged to accomplish anything
with her kids underfoot all
day and, finally, now she can
Rochel
Burstyn
W
hen I was 2½ years
old, I was diagnosed
with autism. I was
nonverbal and self-abusive. My
parents were told that I’
d have to
be put in a support
home for the rest
of my
life.
Two years
ago, I graduated
from Oakland
University with a
bachelor of arts
in history and a minor in Judaic
studies, cum laude.
I’
ve always felt that just
because someone is given a
diagnosis, it does not mean they
can’
t go to college. I enrolled at
Macomb Community College
planning to earn a psychology
degree. Instead, I decided to earn
a history degree.
When I was in pre-secondary
school, my m
om was my advo-
cate. Now I had to be my own
advocate for the first time,
requesting special services such
as sitting at the front of the class,
recording lectures and taking
tests in a quiet room. To receive
services, I had to request
letters from the disability office
and hand the letters to my pro-
fessors. I would wait until the
end of class to hand in the letters
because I was really nervous
approaching my professors.
Navigating both campuses was
a big challenge for me. In high
school, all my classes were in
one building. In college, I would
have to go to multiple buildings
for each class. MCC was big
enough, but OU was like a small
town. I would go to the campus-
es a week before classes started to
figure out where each class was.
Once I knew where all the
buildings were, I didn’
t do it as
often (unless I had to go to a new
building).
Since I don’
t drive, getting to
and from college was difficult.
There were times when the ADA
bus service made me want to
scream, especially when I started
Oakland. Whenever the bus
was late, I would have a melt-
down, but it was something I had
to deal with. I preferred when
I got to school early, so that I
could get some work done at the
library and decompress from the
bus ride.
The whole time I was in col-
lege, no one bullied me. When I
essay
‘Not Giving Up’
William Dash