My daughter Astrid’s birthday cake this year was an over-the-top confection of glitter and buttercream, icing seashells and a sugar mermaid, decorated by my then almost-four-year-old with similar vision and enthusiasm she showed our Christmas Tree. The icing decorations that I’d pre-ordered from the baker were sitting on a hastily-bought supermarket sponge because of the ever-present gap between the parent I imagine I am and the one I find myself to be, but there was a lot of love in that cake. It was also a high-calorie manifestation of me trying to make up for the memory of a party cancelled the year before by the first lockdown. Astrid’s fourth birthday this year, with limited guests, felt like a chance to somehow - and it may sound illogical - make up for my children living through a time when play dates were banned and buying balloons a legal grey area involving curb side pickups.
And we’re all at it, trying to make up for experiences missed. My friend Sally, heavily pregnant with her second child, chose to go to IKEA with her son so he’d get to play, rather than ordering online. ‘It felt particularly crazy because I was really tired and sitting on display furniture, but Louis had a great time,’ she told me. Another friend has a 23ft, £2,000 trampoline (I know! As does she!) on order for her primary-aged children, ready for a summer of playdates. ‘I would never have dreamt of paying that previously, and I have far less money now,’ she says. Another friend texted suggesting an outing to Peppa Pig World, adding: ‘I figured they deserve a treat this year.’
It’s a natural instinct to want to make up for lost time, according to Şirin Atçeken, family therapist at WeCure. “When it comes to our children, we are also carrying the guilt of their wasted time,” she explains. “Time has become valuable over lockdown, and we may feel that we want to grab every opportunity and make the most of it.”
Dr Rachel Andrew, Director of Time Psychology and member of the BPS, emphasises this instinct comes from a positive place. “It comes from a place of parents wanting to make up for what they think is important for a childhood and a wish to be the best parent.” She’s also seeing families with young children sharing concerns about the long-term effect of their children missing out on socialising, and those with older children worried about the impact of missing both the social side of life and so much formal education and access to teachers.
But how helpful is it to try to make up for the pandemic in our parenting? I suspect that Astrid, now four, and Xavi, almost two, don’t frame the past year as having missed out. Atçeken suggests guarding against over-parenting. “Children of all ages have missed out on social interaction, education, play and development, and this has taken a mental toll,” she explains. “They need to rediscover their identities, work out their education plans and connect with their friendship groups, which are going to be just as important as parents. It’s important to step back and let them explore and develop as they should, and trust them to make the right decisions for them.”
As we start to regain our freedom, it’s important to remember that our children have changed. “Priorities may have changed for your children, no matter what age, and love, acceptance, trust and support are key in supporting them as they transition out of their lockdown lives. Listen wholeheartedly, and give children the space and love they need to grow and develop out of lockdown,” she suggests.
The pressure parents are putting on themselves can be counterproductive, Dr Andrew explains: “An increased sense of pressure adds to stress parents already feel that they’re not good enough. Instead, focus on the basics: what children remember is how they felt when they were very little, feeling safe and secure and having your attention.” She also suggests remembering the positives that children have learnt in lockdown, whether that’s more time with family members at home or appreciating simple pleasures like gardening or…baking.
Her advice is a relief. I realised the self-imposed cake pressure I was putting on myself too much when my son broke the mermaid’s icing tail. In a startling reversal of our usual roles, my daughter turned to me and calmly said: "It doesn’t matter, Mummy". Because my children don’t care about me making up for the year that’s gone before, they care that I keep my sense of humour so we enjoy today.