The situation is improving, which is great. We’re all still stuck at home though.
Schoolwork is being done, I’m told; but I’m sensing a general shift towards the less productive end of the scale. The kids all look a bit pasty through lack of exercise. And there are definite glassy eyes through too much screen time – “it's for school, mum – FOR SCHOOL”. I’m on shaky ground here, so I keep my observations to myself.
My plan is to keep playing until absolutely everyone has broken a sweat. This may be a bit of a problem for the 12-year-old, who doesn’t believe girls should EVER sweat. Urgh.
TUESDAY
Satchmo has given up asking for walks. He’s had a cursory trudge around the block once a day while the weather’s been wet, and he’s clearly grumpy about the whole thing. It’s heartbreaking to see him sulking. He’s usually the jam in our sandwich.
Wracked with guilt, I decide everyone can cope without me for an hour. I abandon what little work I still have, and Satchmo and I head down to the park with a selection of balls and treats. We return after two and a half hours, with his tail wagging frantically. Job done.
WEDNESDAY
Several shops have opened this week. Not that anyone has any cash to spend, but it’s good to know they’re there. Ironically, we seem to have spent more money than usual during lockdown, and our supermarket shopping bills have gone through the roof. I think a generous proportion of this might be wine.
Lockdown has brought out the best in a lot of people. Despite the grumblings of the usual naysayers, many people have witnessed a real spirit of camaraderie within their communities. Of course, some insist on banging the drum of doom, but a few bright lights have succeeded in cheering our spirits along the way.
Maybe – just maybe – there’s light at the end of the tunnel.
THURSDAY
There’s been a lot of talk about racism in recent weeks, following the brutal murder of George Floyd in the US three weeks ago. Both schools have incorporated the issue into their curriculum at an age-appropriate levels, encouraging the children to ask questions through their online work. They’ve found it upsetting and can’t understand why this kind of heinous thing still goes on. This time I’ve got no answers.
The eight-year-old is starting to get excited, because he's found out he might be going back to school before the summer, at least part-time. It feels like we’ve turned a corner. The older ones are wildly jealous, which is a scenario I really could never have predicted.
The truth is, we could all do with a bit less groundhog and a bit more normal now.
FRIDAY
I’ve suggested socially-distanced meetings for the 12-year-old and eight-year-old, who are both beside themselves with excitement. The 15-year-old is already arranging her own – I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that she’s not an idiot and she is social-distancing, thanks very much. That’s me told.
This afternoon, the eight-year-old’s friend Harvey comes over with his mum. I’m thankful she decides to stay for coffee, because there’s no way I feel equipped to deal with two over-excited eight-year-olds who haven’t seen each other in three months. It’s hard enough controlling them at the best of times.
The boys are thrilled to be back together again, and before long they’re digging up worms and shoving them up their nostrils, just like the old days. I feel quite emotional.
