Yesterday, finally, we resumed ‘normal’ life. Insofar as it is the school holidays so technically we can kid ourselves that nothing is now out of the ordinary. Except, bar two nights camping, we have no concrete plans and certainly will not be bothering the Italian countryside nor any unlucky airline passengers with our presence.
The last couple of weeks have been a Groundhog Day of a slightly different kind - this time real school/work, sleep, repeat - but there’s been a few noteworthy moments.
1. We popped our camping cherry
In anticipation of our First Ever Camping Trip we decided it would be pertinent to do a trial camp in a friend’s garden before we schlepped to the coast only to find we’d overlooked some crucial piece of equipment or home comfort. So after school last Friday, together with three other families, we set up camp - quite literally - not two miles down the road in a socially distanced tent arrangement. And boy am I glad we did.
The first thing I discovered is that you really need to get the tent up before the youngest needs to go to bed, so you’re not trying to do it with an horrendously overtired child crying and trying to cuddle you.
Next, in the 16 years since I slept in a sleeping bag I’ve clearly become a sleep diva and can no longer do so without claustrophobic panic attacks and the feeling I’m being buried alive.
Thirdly, I found that not only is going for an al fresco wee at 3am considered a novelty to a 4 year old but when they are wearing a onesie with a hood, there is a whole load more fabric to get out of the way while negotiating the logistics of said wee. Needless to say we also discovered she was perfectly warm enough sleeping without the onesie.
So as we prepare for next week’s trip to the seaside, we will not be kicking back with a beer till the tent is well and truly up and ready to be slept in, we will be packing a double duvet, and there will be a reward scheme in place for anyone that doesn’t bother me between the hours of 9pm and 6am.
2. Andy runs a century
Regular readers may remember that a few months ago I challenged Andy to complete 100 runs in 100 days. It was a throwaway comment I hadn’t really thought through, because if I had I would have realised that was a ridiculous thing to suggest to a 43-year-old with three kids and a job to occupy him in lockdown. But I also hadn’t reckoned on my husband’s stubbornness (when will I learn…?) and so have had to spend the last couple of weeks watching him half kill himself completing the challenge.
And because early on there were some missed days, he spent the final week going for 3 runs a day, each no less than 2 miles. I feel like I only had myself to blame that the house was littered with damp t-shirts and every single time I went into the bathroom the first aid box was sitting by the sink, plaster debris everywhere.
However, I do admire his tenacity, am glad he didn’t come a cropper (especially since he turned 44 mid-way through the challenge) and respect his right to eat bacon sandwiches for breakfast every day from now on in. A right he is exercising with abandon.
3. Thanks to lockdown I appear to be emotionally empty
Oddly enough I am struggling to get emotional about the end of term this year. I’m usually a blubbering wreck, bemoaning the passing of time, urging the children to stay little, wondering where the time has gone, yada yada yada.
But this year, as we collected Henry from Year 2 and Bella from nursery for the last time, I felt oddly detached. I did well up slightly as I thanked Henry’s lovely teacher for working her magic on his behaviour early on in the year, but then quickly sobered up when she mentioned she’d been reading this blog. (My mind was then working at 100mph to recall any inappropriate content but I think I got away with it.)
Maybe it’s the effects of having a baby - a new addition since the last big end of term. I know I still have another nine years of that school ahead of me so am starting to pace myself.
4. I need to work on my work strategy
A few people have asked me how my new work strategy has gone. In the last post I committed to trialling a ‘two hours on two hours off’ programme of work. Well it was lovely in theory but the unpredictability of my job combined with the predictability of my personality - in as much as I cannot focus for two hours straight when there are small people in the house to herd/chivvy/kiss/feed - made for a pretty hopeless couple of weeks.
I did a couple of 11pm finishes and a 6am start once or twice, and spent the time in between being horrible to Andy, snapping at the children and bitching about my career choice, then hating myself and doing something rash like hiring a cleaner to help ease the load. Only six weeks left. Only six weeks left.
5. Did somebody say Yeti?
I won’t bore you with the detail but I had a hair cut - my first since January - and I went for a wax. I feel like a new woman. Or at least a less hairy one.
6. We had two special guests to stay
In a true sign that things are getting back to normal my very lucky sister Raymond booked herself and her husband, Aunty Q, into a luxury hotel for his birthday which meant one glorious thing: we got temporary custody of Bunny and Mr Scraps.
The inimitable duo are two of my children’s favourite creatures - Harry and Betty (as they are known by their biggest cousin) adore Bunny and, much to his consternation, Mr Scraps has discovered he is a firm favourite of Xander.
I only found one suspiciously large clump of fur after they'd gone, which I suspect Xander wrenched from its owner at some point. Sorry Scraps.
7. We checked in with the Big Man
Last Sunday saw a wonderful return to our normal weekend routine when we were allowed back in church. We started taking the kids regularly about 18 months and quickly got sucked in to the whole thing. The music, the tradition, the sense of community and the genuinely lovely folk who we’ve met there.
It wasn’t quite normal - alternate aisles were shut off, a hand sanitising monitor met us at the door, and we had to hum the hymns (which, typically, were two favourites, including one of our wedding hymns, so that was an unusual torture. We’ve requested bad hymns until we’re allowed to sing properly again) but some normality prevailed - Bella was caught out shouting something at me as the organ stopped playing, and Henry had his nose buried in a book throughout. But it was so lovely to be back.
Everyone has a calm place where they go to recalibrate and that’s mine. Everything felt sort of better and more manageable for the rest of the day.
So that’s what’s been going on with us over the last fortnight. We’re now hurtling headlong into the school holidays with an action packed few days seeing friends and family (socially distanced and outside, of course) and then the camping trip. I’m struggling to get excited about it all but the kids are ridiculously giddy which is whipping me up into something resembling optimistic enthusiasm.
Pray for good weather, strong bladders and good sleep. Or any one of those three.
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