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There's nothing more than I'd rather be doing right now than seeing all the people I love. After what seems like an eternity—in actuality, just 108 days—of isolation, I'm so ready to look into someone else's eyes other than my partner or kids.

But not just yet.

You see, we took this whole global pandemic very seriously back in March because I had just given birth to twins. My defenses were super low after losing a ton of blood and my maternal animal instinct at an all-time high in terms of protecting my babies. So we locked down and saw no one.

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We said goodbye to our support network.

Our nanny was asked to stay home despite our toddler asking where she was.

Our postpartum doula couldn't stop by to help me recover.

Our night doula sadly could not help us with a night of full sleep anymore.

Our friends didn't get to meet our babies.

Our family barely got to see them.

For the last 108 days, it's been just the five of us. Day-in and day-out. Through the good and the bad. And yes, I'm craving human interaction with other adults besides my very patient husband, but the thought of us leaving our bubble terrifies me.


So I'm put in this awkward position where I have to tell very good-meaning friends and family that yes, we want you to visit too… but not just yet.

The uncertainty of the virus scares me too much. Does it affect children? Does it not? Do we know the long term effects of it? If we get sick, who will take care of our three children under the age of three?

We've made it this far and I'm not going to take a risk. Not now that cases are rising exponentially across the country. Not now that we are not merely surviving in isolation, but actually thriving. We've found a rhythm that works for us and we are not panicking at the endless hours a day.

At the same time, I want my toddler to see his cousins and go on adventures around our neighborhood.

I want my babies to be held by someone else than me because what if they never get used to strangers?

I want my parents to come to see their grandchildren and maybe give us some relief so my husband and I can have a date night—something we haven't done since Valentine's Day.

But not just yet.

Not like this.

I don't want to regret it in a couple of weeks. I don't want to trigger my anxiety all over again and search every little symptom throughout the day. I don't want to put anyone I love at risk.

And it's so hard because not everyone is on the same page as we are. So I see Instagram stories of friends playing at parks, getting a haircut, enjoying play dates or hanging out with their grandparents and I'm jealous. It's hard because so many have reached out wanting to come visit, celebrate the birth of our (now) 4-month-old babies.

But not just yet.

Quarantined we'll stay until the world feels safe again.

It's not there yet, but hopefully soon.

There has been a growing buzz lately about what some are calling "lazy parenting." It's being touted as the antidote to helicopter parenting, and, while its name may suggest otherwise, it's actually anything but lazy.

So what's the deal with lazy parenting? How do I do it and what will it do for my kids?

When I first heard of lazy parenting, I thought someone had been spying on my house on Fridays from 5:30pm until bedtime.

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