A few days ago, Arthur hugged his grandma after nearly three months without physical contact. He poked her first, just to make sure it was OK.

That poke marked the end of an era — a really long, rather painful, super strange era.

That night, this blog post spilled out. I was sad and angry at what felt like three lost months. I needed to change my thinking.

The reality is COVID parenting is freaking hard. Caring for two small children is difficult in normal times. Take away all supports and it’s sheer insanity. Still, there are so many reasons for gratitude in these socially distanced times. Here are my top 10.

1. Time slowed down.

Every morning we walk through the same forest. We pass the same trees, rocks, and stumps. Over three months, Arthur watched that forest transform as the snow melted, buds formed, and leaves busted open. I’ve also been able to observe slow changes in my children. With each week, Arthur gets a little better at pulling on his own underwear and riding his bike. Flo has carefully built up the strength to stand on her own two feet. It’s all rather magnificent when you take a moment to think about it.

2. We’ve learned how to exist as a family of five.

I know what you’re thinking. Hadn’t we already figured this out? The truth is no, we had not established how to just be two parents, two kids, and a dog. We had sorted out how to be a family of about 50 – with our parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, friends, kennel, and daycare providers. Since mid-March JF and I have been managing non-stop feeding, teaching, soothing, cleaning, and corralling. It’s a grind. But we have become so much better at it. There is a rhythm to our days that wasn’t there before. And now I know we can manage (and some days even enjoy!) an insular life.

3. The little things matter more.

The most exciting moments in our coronavirus lives were once mundane: trucks loading yard waste, mail hitting the front stoop, unpacking groceries, popsicles on the porch, and filling the kiddie pool. Those things feel special now. Which is probably how humdrum life should feel. Because how lucky are we to live a safe, stable, middle-class life?

4. We started a vegetable garden.

I’ve been talking about growing my own vegetables for years. It was in my original vision for country living. Well, the pandemic made it possible. JF built a modest cedar box. We filled it with dirt. Arthur helped me plant and water seeds until they turned into little green things. And finally, we put them in the soil. Who knows whether I’ll be able to keep them alive long enough to produce food, but the whole exercise has made my heart sing. Next year, we’ll grow even more.

5. We’re saving money. Kinda.

Without Arthur in full-time daycare, we’re managing to save a few pennies. Plus I never realized just how social I am — and how often I went out for lunch. My credit card adores this staying home thing. Our only growing expense is groceries. I never thought I’d spend $400 at Loblaws, but between kid snacks and chocolate chips, I’ve done it twice.

6. I’ve learned to appreciate my neighbourhood.

Until COVID, our sleepy village was just a quiet place to be between trips to work, friends and family. But I can probably count on two hands the number of times I’ve left Wyevale since mid-March. Being here all the time has shown me just how strong a community we have. Our neighbours have brought us food. They’ve posted hearts in their windows for children to find. They’ve wrapped their trees in blue cloth to celebrate healthcare workers. There are more smiles and waves than ever before. I feel so lucky to be in just this spot, at just this time.

7. Our yard has never looked better.

Our best pandemic days are spent in our yard. When the sun is shining, we play in the dirt. It’s that simple. As Florence and Arthur dig around independently — as they are learning to do — Jean-François and I can tackle some long-neglected projects. My flower gardens have never had so few weeds. Our fence is straighter. I’ve re-organized the garage. These are small victories, but they feel good.

8. We appreciate our support network so much more.

I’ve always been grateful for my “love army,” as I call them. But I don’t think I truly grasped how lucky I am until I couldn’t rely on them for help. When we left the kids with JF’s mom a few nights back, the relief was immense. The whole Big Yellow Taxi thing is true. You really don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone.

9. We’ve made time for hobbies.

To the average person, birds aren’t a big deal. But because JF is an avid birder, they’re a bit of a theme at our house. We have bird art, bird books, and bird stuffies. Our Christmas tree has about 20 bird ornaments. This year, JF set up some stellar new feeders in our yard with an effective squirrel baffle. Holy jumpin! We see a lot of action back there. In fact, we often sit in our screened-in porch to admire grosbeaks, house finches, towhees, and thrashers. Even Arthur can name a dozen or so species.

10. We’ve worked on our partnership.

JF and I have officially been together for 15 years. Sure some of my grandma’s pants are older than that, but to me, that’s a lot of time. This pandemic has challenged us to find new levels of solidarity in the way we parent and divide work. There is less time for us as a couple, so we have to work harder to find moments together. Love is still a project, but lately, it’s going rather well.

So yes, pandemics suck. They really do. The world will lose more than half a million people by the time a vaccine becomes widely available. That is an unfathomable tragedy that I don’t want to minimize. For so many, this disease has meant job loss, prolonged exposure to violence, and serious mental health challenges.

But I have been fortunate to do some growing (waistline included) in these difficult times. I’m aware of my privilege. I am grateful for my little house, my clever husband, my stable job, and my beautiful children. So even though some days were cry-into-soup-bowl-sized-mugs-of-coffee difficult, I believe I’ll look back on this family time with fondness — or at least gratitude.

The end.