Out of Ice Cream

Photo from the day before my son was born last year.

We ran out of ice cream on Saturday. I'd finished the last of our Oat Milk ice cream supply and there were no leftover Frostees from Wendy's or my husband's Carl's Jr. shakes, or a single pint of Cookies n Cream--both our favorites. Despite being lactose intolerant, ice cream is my comfort food. I begin the day with coffee (another important comfort), and instead of ending the day with wine as some do, I conclude with a few bites of something sweet to satisfy a craving or keep me sane when I've eaten mostly healthy the rest of the day. Plus calcium is good for bones and for Baby, and there's more protein and nutrients in ice cream than in, say, a donut.

Lack of ice cream is a minor inconvenience and a luxury I was lucky to have as long as I did. But these are times we need our comfort foods, comfort hobbies, comfort objects, comfort pets, and comfort people the most.

For those who are sick and the families of those who are sick, this current life is devastating, and there are few comforts that can improve that right now. But since I'm speaking from my current experience, this post is about those who are isolated, but healthy, and the mental toll fear and isolation can take. We all know the major disruptions in routine, the challenges of working from home while kids are home from school, and having to find projects to do to keep busy and keep sane that don't involve leaving the house. But there are other stressors at play.

For me, missing my usual coffee and ice cream comforts is not really the issue so much as the fact that I miss having the ability to just go out for Italian ice with my husband or pick up a Dutch Bros coffee on my way to work. I haven't hit the same level of cabin fever that some have yet because I enjoy staying home--Baby keeps me from getting bored and my introvert mind has a long self to-do list--but that doesn't mean there's no mental impact. In addition to the stress and anxiety of a lot of work plus a lot of fear during these times, the hardest thing about staying home is the lack of independence. I lived a wonderful, yet sheltered childhood, so it was an exciting adventure for me to be able to do things as an adult like travel for my job, join book clubs on the other side of town, go out shopping to decorate my very own house, still visit my parents often because we're very close and I chose to, or pick up coffee before work because I could. When I became a mom, much of my free time got cut again, naturally, so I had to drop some independent activities like work travel and after-work book clubs, but at least I could visit my parents and stop for coffee.

Now the ability to make my own choices is all but gone.

I haven't left my house in three weeks, one choice I can make to help protect my family. So the most exciting places I've traveled to have been while asleep. I dreamed I was chatting with my mom sitting next to her on the stairs. I dreamed I traveled to the other side of town for lunch and wondered why there was a carnival there during social distancing. But there are other dreams I didn't anticipate.

Two nights in a row I dreamed my baby stopped breathing.

He was okay. His mouth opened right before I woke up. His color returned. And nothing like this has ever happened in real life. But I've also never had nightmares before, even when I was pregnant with vivid dreams of purse snatchers, or when I was a new mom to a newborn, wondering if I would be able to do everything right. I never dreamed about something going so wrong.

This certainly speaks to the subconscious effect of these times.

On a lighter note, dreams aren't reality, and our reality so far is going pretty well. I opened my first pack of toilet paper since this all started, and I still have one large pack left. Siri on my iPhone has decided to be "helpful" and automatically remind me to check the weather each weekday morning so I know the driving conditions for work. It's a little annoying since I have nowhere to go, but I find the humor in it. "Thanks Siri. Good to know it's 64 degrees and might rain tomorrow as I travel the long commute across the living room."

We need to find the humor. We need to cut ourselves some slack.

It's okay to need to spend all day watching Netflix if that's what you need to function right now. It's okay if you're not cleaning your whole house or remodeling your backyard patio. It's okay if you have an extra helping of dessert and come out of this situation a couple pounds heavier than when you started. It's not like we can all go to the gym.

It's okay to be sad because you miss your family, friends, or even your ice cream. I was searching for nearby restaurant recommendations to give to a new staff member at work for when we're all back on campus and I caught myself staring longingly at Yelp photos of Instagram-worthy brunches with Belgian waffles, avocado toast, and multi-colored macarons. Then I caught myself looking up my parents' house on Google maps. It was nice to see it again.

But whether I'm out of ice cream or not, I'm so extremely grateful for the unexpected comforts I do have during this isolation. I have the opportunity to stay home with my son that I never thought I'd get during his babyhood. For at least a couple of months, I'm with him full-time. I get to watch him grow. I get to cuddle with him and my husband every night and focus on the decisions we can still make: What movie or TV series we'll watch on the weekend. Whether to get a drive-thru/take-out treat. How we want to arrange the furniture downstairs. What groceries we want to try to get delivered.

Our delivery service had a tub of Cookies n Cream and Neapolitan on our doorstep on Sunday, so I wasn't out of ice cream for long. Last Friday we watched Pixar's Onward, and this week we're watching The Music of Coco, to see if Baby will dance to "Remember Me," his favorite song since even before he was born. His spirits are always up through these days, and he loves to dance.

I hope to get more independence and choices again soon. But this is enough for now.