If I could go back to that carefree
woman of two weeks ago, who was perusing through clothes she didn’t need in
charity shops, laughing with colleagues at work and leisurely cruising the
aisles of a fully stocked supermarket...
I’d shake her and shout- SEE YOUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS, SQUEEZE THEM THAT BIT HARDER.
LOOK THEM IN THE EYE AND TELL THEM YOU LOVE THEM.
THEN GEN THE
FUCK UP ON EVERYTHING FROM LONG DIVISION TO PHOTOSYNTHESIS.
Because everything
is about to change. Everything. And you will need to know this shit.
Why?
Ooooh. You just wait.
The announcement comes. We should
stay in our homes. We often do of a weekend anyway, so what’s the big deal?
This will be like wet play at school, just going on for slightly longer. Right?
See, I thought home schooling would
be a bit of a stretch, but hey, I’m an intelligent woman. I have challenging
conversations with grown ups regularly at work. I’ve managed to balance writing
two novels with family life. How hard can this be?
Oh stupid, naïve woman of this time
last week. If only you knew.
Day one- my husband is looking
after the kids, while I attempt to work in the bedroom.
We’re not yet on full
lock down and the builders are still working upstairs on the never-ending loft
conversion, which seems to mainly involve drilling loudly and consistently.
My
husband is in the front room, wearing a hi-vis jacket on the five year olds insistence, because ‘that’s what my teachers do,’ apparently.
I’m sitting on the bed with the
laptop on my knees, trying to position it in such a way that I can have a zoom
call without any of my colleagues seeing the mountain of washing in the
background.
I hadn’t even heard of zoom a fortnight ago. Or Houseparty. Or how to do a WhatsApp three way call.
Day three and it’s my turn.
Now, to all
the teachers I was ever a dick to at school, I am so fucking sorry. You are
heroes. Every single one of you.
Trying to do anything with a five and an eight
year old is tricky at the best of times, but trying to teach them anything
at the same time is near on impossible. They both want to do different things, alternatively
their shared interest is getting on each other’s tits.
So I do what any sane thinking
person would do, and buy the last remaining trampoline in the whole of East
Sussex, to be delivered as quickly as humanly fucking possible.
By day four, we’re getting into a
bit of a rhythm, at least between 9am- 9.30, as we watch Joe Wickes with the
rest of the world wide population.
Lunch is a big deal and can take anything up
to an hour and a half.
The only thing the five year old really responds to is
the story time one of his wonderful teachers records daily and posts on line
for them to watch. She’s like a sorcerer. I can’t get him to sit still long
enough to finish a sentence. She starts to read and he’s chin resting in hands,
mesmerised for a full fifteen minutes.
By Friday, I give myself a hearty
pat on the back and a massive glass of wine. Done.
Until the reality dawns on
me. It’s the weekend, and it’s going to be exactly the same, except Joe Wickes isn’t
live streaming.
I attempt to reassure myself that in times of change, it’s
amazing how we adapt,.
I
remember when the smoking ban was first introduced when we were all semi-professional smokers, and we were all like, they
can’t do that. That’s an outrage. If we want to smoke inside, that’s our right.
Where as now, it’s incomprehensible
that we’d walk into Pizza Express and someone would be sitting inside with a
fag on.
'Socialising' has quickly taken on a
life of it's own.
Beers in the pub have been replaced with group chats on
Whatsapp. Playdates with Facetime meet ups. Classrooms with zoom meetings of children excitedly shouting over each other. Pictionary with school friends you haven't seen for forever who drop in via Houseparty is now a common occurance.
We're all learning how to connect again. Just differently.
But for now it also seems vitally important that we find a way to manage the noise we
let into our lives and into our brains, through all the countless sources of information, while we're working out what the fuck we're doing.
Be gentle on ourselves.
And on our families.
We’re all going to have melt downs.
Our kids are going to
miss their friends, their teachers and the structure they’re so used to in their
lives.
We're all trying to figure out how this shit works while all living within four walls.
Attempting to work, to parent, to teach, to cook,
to clean, to maintain relationships with our friend and families without all killing each other.
But we’ll all get through this.
And
when we do, how much are we going to enjoy that first sunshine pint in a beer garden?
A long
walk on the beach.
A trip to the cinema to see some awful Disney film that the
kids are desperate to see.
And a bear hug with all those we love and for now can
only tell them on a screen.
Now, that is going to be worth the wait.
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