Surviving lockdown with two young kids (wine, coffee and Nutella essential)

Please note: no lockdown rules were broken during the writing of this blog post, the children mentioned are adored beyond belief, and wine consumption has increased ten-fold in this house, as have the food bills.

‘Get off me’, my other half says crossly, in the voice he usually uses for the kids when they’re acting up. ‘No’, I cry, switching to puppy dog eye mode. ‘Don’t leave me alone with them,’ I beg. I’m aware I sound desperate and have not a shred of dignity left. He makes a move towards the front door and I tighten my grasp around his ankles, forcing him to drag my whole body weight, as well as his own, across the hall way.

‘Get off’ he repeats, somewhat impatiently now, ‘I need to get my phone out of the car’. Reluctantly I loosen my grip slightly and he moves with Ninja-like speed, jumping out of my reach, wrenching open the front door and slamming it shut behind him so fast I can’t follow him out. I can feel the force of his eye roll and silent victory punch through the crack in the letterbox. And I realise with a sinking heart that he’s fibbed to escape!

Since we’ve been locked down, this has become a familiar scene in our house when one of us leaves, even to make a quick errand. Deep down we both know that once you’ve escaped under the guise of purchasing essentials (such as wine, beer, crisps, lottery tickets and the obligatory bottle of milk so you don’t look bad) you, and only you, have the power of knowing when you will deign to return.

I breathe a heavy sigh and eventually manage to peel my tired body off the floor, briefly wondering whether he will actually come back. I’ve been there. I know how tempting it is to stay outside these four walls on your own. Then I remember he can’t go anywhere else so he will have to come back at some point. There’s nothing to do and nowhere else to go so eventually he will get hungry and return. I hope. And I hope he brings wine back and then I will be good enough to forgive him. Until the next time.

I suddenly realise that the house is very quiet. This is not a good thing. I check the TV – the 7 year old is glued to it. But she’s not the one I’m worried about, it’s the destructive toddler I can’t find and that is disconcerting to say the least. I’m reassured that he must be somewhere inside the house (we are locked down after all).

I grab a bag of mini cookies and shake them to gain his attention (it works for the cat). I hear rustling and he emerges from under a ginormous pile of books that he’s enthusiastically pulled off the shelves. (The cat has magically appeared from nowhere too, no doubt in response to the biscuit shaking, and I briefly wonder whether he was involved in the incident too.)

The pile is so big I can only see his head (not the cat's) poking through. He looks very pleased with himself. I stifle a screech of utter frustration. I think he senses my angst and has the sense to look less sure of himself, recalling that five minutes prior to my attempt to impede his father’s escape, I’d just finished putting all the books back on the shelves after he’d removed them earlier.

Despite sensing the possibility of a ticking off, he locks eyes with the biscuit bag and my first instinct is to rip it open and pour its entire contents into my mouth right in front of him. But that would be childish. I snap out of it and remind myself which of us is a toddler, and I know I must be the better (wo)man. I advise him politely, yet firmly, that he must not remove all the books at once, rather select one he likes, read it then put it back before selecting another. He gazes up at me from his spot on the floor and points to the bag I’m clutching. ‘Biskit’? he enquires, one eyebrow raised and hand outstretched.

‘Yep, good talk. Thanks. Have the biscuits.’ I huff, dropping them in his lap and walking away with as much dignity as I can muster, tripping over the blasted books as I go.

To make myself feel better I decide to order additional loo rolls as my current, some may say larger than average, stash is being eaten into. Literally someone must be eating or stealing them judging by the rate we are getting through them. I’ve always panic bought loo rolls even pre Covid, so I refuse to be labelled a ‘Covid stockpiler’. But I’ll admit purchasing a little extra loo roll, along with several bottles of wine, Fattes (AKA fake Latte sachets), and colouring pens for the kids, had been the extent of my preparation for what we initially thought would be a couple of weeks of lockdown.

I make myself a Fatte (Far-tay) to help ease the searing mental and physical pain of being unable to actually visit a coffee shop, and find myself reminiscing about the early days of lockdown. Initially, I’d naively thought a short spell at home might possibly be a good thing. That actually I could do with a few days at home; a break from the school runs, nursery runs, work runs, and the general frenetic and fast-pace of life in general.

The stark reality of it all had hit me pretty quickly. What turned into an ongoing (never with an end in sight) spell at home with the kids was not at all like you read in the magazines! Aside from living with the constant fear that everyone would get struck down by the invisible monster that is Covid; watching daily death toll announcements like a hawk; and seeing hordes of stockpilers pinching all the good stuff (apart from loo roll and wine – I had it all!), coming to terms with the fact that you’d become a stay-at-home mum overnight was a shock to the system to say the least.

I can do this, I’d thought naively. If I have wine. And coffee. It’s just like an interminable school holiday, but with schoolwork and a toddler to contend with. How hard could it be? I’m realistic, I know it will have its challenges, but it’ll be lovely to spend some quality time with my kids...or so I thought!

I was so, so, so, so very wrong! I could not do it. My kids are not monsters, as such. They are lovely. But they need things, and me. All the time! Like every two minutes, even when I’m on the loo they cannot wait. A question or a need pops into their little heads and they are like small, relentless, shouty little parrots repeating everything over and over until your ear drums start to bleed and you throw biscuits or crisps in their general direction knowing it will keep them quiet for two minutes while you have a poo.

During the first week of lockdown I like to think I was the model parent. From the outside I appeared to be happily and confidently juggling schooling, playing, crafting, the obligatory one hour walk a day, the provision of non-stop healthy snacks and meals, and a somewhat tidy house. As the extent of the pandemic started to become apparent, I began to get anxious.

Behind the scenes (usually hidden in the utility room hurriedly licking tablespoons of Nutella right from the jar) I was reading all the scary shit about the virus and wondering if life would ever be normal again. And how many people might die and, very selfishly, how on earth I would cope staying locked down for weeks on end with two young children on my own. I found no answers at the bottom of the Nutella jar. So once I’d finished it I started a fresh one and hoped for the best.

Lockdown entertainment options I came up with included:

• Play in garden. Push small items including snails, sticks, sand, stones, water and a broom through hole in neighbour’s fence

• Go for another walk. Spend 98% of time stopping toddler from running into road, tripping over, biting, refusing to walk, screaming, shouting, crying, touching everything in sight, eating things off ground. Spend 2% of time crying and trying to get everyone home

• Do some crafts. Allow ten minutes to get everything ready, five minutes for doing crafts, and fifteen minutes for washing down walls, floors and people. Come up with ideas about where to store giant painted cardboard boxes and loo rolls, and DO NOT under any circumstance let slip you have a pot of glitter available

• Screen time (controversial subject for some). I’ll be honest, our TV made frequent suggestions that it should be turned off by itself, which I duly ignored

• Disco light and dancing in a dark room. Challenging when it’s broad daylight but apparently no less hysterically funny, judging by the squeals of laughter

• Cooking. Frequently requested as activity of choice by 7 year old after watching Bake Off (educational purposes). Avoid recipes using flour or icing sugar unless you can allocate time to wash ceilings, floors and small people, and you need a strong stomach as you will be required to eat the end results

After weeks of lockdown endlessly repeating all the options above, I reluctantly came to the following conclusions:

• I felt sick from overeating Nutella

• I was drinking too much wine, even by my standards

• Toddlers do not social distance nor do they have an appreciation for hygiene, therefore you are unable to take them anywhere there are other people or things they shouldn’t lick. They will touch and lick everything, even people. The best place to take them is to the middle of a field or forest miles from anywhere

• I would never again dread the thought of going to soft play or a play ground

• I would not be retraining to become a teacher

• I have the patience of a Saint (joking)

• There is such a thing as too much quality time

• The simple pleasures used to be just that. Now they are not because we are bored to tears with walks, den building, bug finding etc.

• Kids are like Labradors. They will eat continuously all day if you let them. From the floor if need be

• I have a whole new appreciation of a child’s ability to beat one into submission by asking for something so relentlessly that you have no choice but to give in. (However will attempt to use this method on other half in relation to jewellery requirements)

I’ve not been the best, most patient, healthiest, thinnest or tidiest version of myself during these past months. I have been angry, sad, confused, anxious, frustrated, unfocused, bored, lonely, and ultimately felt totally trapped within my four walls, sometimes even in my own skin. I have felt the overwhelming responsibility of being a parent 24 hours a day, day in, day out, without a break. Responsible for being their educator, carer, feeder (every 30 minutes), fun giver (rubbish at that) and keeping them safe, without the support, guidance and variety they experience in an educational setting, and by mixing with their family and friends.

But we’ve experienced millions of amazing moments that I’ll treasure forever. Ones that I would never have witnessed had they been at school or nursery, and I had been at work. Little things about their personalities that I hadn’t yet spotted shining through. Small acts of kindness towards each other and me, and the seemingly small things they can find hysterically funny never cease to surprise me.

While they haven't been schooled properly per say, we have learned lots of new things together. For instance both the toddler and 7 year old have become very intuitive at knowing when it's time to retrieve the wine from the fridge, and they know that if they come willingly with me to the coffee shop (under the pretence of going for a walk) that they will be rewarded with biscuits. They also learned that turning the bathroom light off while I am in the shower is unacceptable and comes with consequences.

I know I am not alone in having a million and one different emotions while we have been locked down on this great Island we call home, during this ‘unprecedented’ time (had to slip it in, sorry). That we are all in the same boat, floating around in this shit storm together, each and every one of us dealing with different worries and circumstances.

But, I do know that when things are eventually a bit more normal, when each of us once again has something outside these four walls and these four people, be it work, school, or nursery, I will choose to be a better version of myself. A better version of my pre-lockdown self even, because I now have an appreciation and understanding of two extreme ways of life in my own little world. From being locked down with no one to see, no focus and nothing to do with two small kids, back to juggling a family with full time work, life in general and all that comes with it.

Armed with what I know now, I like to think I’ll aim for some place in between; a slightly slower pace of life; more focused quality time with my family and friends; an appreciation of all things local and our environment, and generally try to stop rushing through life without taking time to stop, breathe and take in all the small, simple, but ever-so-special things in life.

Watch this space for the new and improved version...(maybe!)