Well my friends, that’s it. Gavin Williamson has said the return to school is irreversible so, from today, life begins to return to normal. (Because I have no reason to believe a government would ever go back on their word about anything.)
We did it. 9 weeks of homeschool (less half term but we spent much of that time trying to catch up with what we’d missed) and 11 weeks since they were last in school and I wrote a sentence uninterrupted.
50 weeks since all this began. It’s incredible to think we’ve been living like this on and off for a year, but finally it feels like we might be able to let ourselves believe things are starting to change for good.
I haven't posted for nearly 2 months, and you don't need me to explain why. You haven't missed much, I assure you. It was Bella's birthday. She and I twinned one day (something she's wanted to do for months). Henry learnt how to change a bike tyre - something I still can't do - and Xander just got a little bit cuter every day, embracing his love of shuffling round the kitchen in anyone else's shoes, watching baby sign language videos whenever he has the chance, and absolutely refusing the buggy in favour of the old ankle express, which means we now have to set off everywhere at least an hour early. Which is fine - time is something we have. Oh, and Andy's mum - our newly vaccinated bubbler - came to stay, for the first time since October, which was joyous!
I think I’m going to miss the kids for a few days. I won’t miss the teaching and the juggling, the bickering, the endless preparing of meals and the absolute unrelenting guilt, but it’s been nice having them around. All in all they’re good company. They make us laugh, they are pretty independent (driven by neglect, for the most part) and they have been super good about doing their school work, for which I am ridiculously grateful. And when they’re not at each other’s throats and I’m not stress-shouting at everyone we’re a merry little gang.
But it really is impossible to enjoy them when every spare minute is accounted for with school work, work work, housework and, on a good day, staying sane. So I’m excited to be able to break the back of my work between 9 and 3 so I can spend a bit more time enjoying them outside school hours.
I’ve felt euphoric the last couple of days. I’ve likened it to the end of my finals when I could finally stop pedalling and switch to autopilot. I can let go and find some space in my brain for something other than things that need to be done rather than behaving like a hunted animal, head twitching, eyes swivelling, constantly darting from desk to kitchen table to stove to desk on a never-ending loop.
The thing about homeschool is you suddenly inherit a load more deadlines. I already have a ton of my own piling up behind me, threatening to spill over and suffocate me if I take my eye off them for a second, but since January I’ve had to crack the whip at Henry and Bella too, frequently pleading with them to just get it done so I’m not carrying their to-do list in my head as well as my own.
People asked what I planned to do first when I returned from the school run this morning. I considered taking some time just to enjoy the peace, to remind myself what life is like then the printer isn’t churning out 45 pages of Twinkl worksheets or when there’s no one bellowing into or out of a video call, and instead to listen to the soothing swish of the dishwasher while gazing at the playroom which looks exactly the same as it did 15 minutes previously. But instead I came home, made a cup of tea, took it to my desk and just relished the silence, appreciating the free will to stay there and work until I feel like moving.
We still have a way to go in this lockdown - though I know all parents consider this the end of the most significant nightmare - but I wonder how I’ll look back on this year. I will never remember it as stressful or as unending as it was when I was living it but I know it will inspire an appreciation for normality that will live with me for a long time. However, I would like to remember some of the quirks - the day to day weirdness that became the norm. So here, for posterity, are a few observations of the past few months.
Observations of lockdown
It is entirely possible I’ve spent longer downloading and uploading the kids’ school work onto Google Bastard Classroom than they’ve actually spent completing it. Yesterday I deleted 302 photos from a folder on my desktop called Lockdown 3, which was all their work that I’d had to submit electronically. When we were asked to complete a daily exercise and reading log for Henry, on top of keeping a tally of any stars he was awarded for good work, I politely told his teacher to do one.
Xander is the only one of the kids who acknowledges my dad’s marvellous Captain Birds Eye lockdown beard. (Original Captain Birds Eye, not the new weird sexy one. Sorry Dad.) The other two can’t quite get used to the idea (Bella regularly draws pictures of Nonna and Papa and in them Papa never has a beard) but it’s all Xander really knows, as demonstrated when we passed a man with a similarly bushy beard on our walk last weekend and stopped dead, stuck out a chubby little finger, and shouted ‘Papa!’ very hopefully.
Our kids are going to be great at those pub quiz picture rounds where you have to guess the celebrity by just their eyes. Xander can recognise me at 50 paces with a mask and a hat on. I talk to, smile at and kiss him through it when we’re out - either I have massively expressive eyes or he is just very finely attuned to the slightest movement in the (growing) wrinkles around my eyes. I wonder how he’ll react if he ever sees me outside the house without one on. A sensory overload, no doubt.
If I’d had to put money on whether Andy could pull off a Beckham-style hairband, I’d have lost the bet by now. I mean, I can’t promise it would have worked for me if we’d just met, but there’s something about it that I don’t mind. (Those readers who have known Andy as long as I have will be quick to point out that, when we met, he was rocking frosted curtains, but in my defence it was 2004 and I was an impressionable 21-year-old crushing on this tall, mysterious 27-year-old with his own Peugeot 106.) Still, I’ll be glad when the barber reopens.
We don’t need much to be happy. If this year has taught us anything it’s to appreciate the small things, but on Bella’s wish list of what to do ‘when coronavirus is finished’ is sleepovers with all grandparents and cousins, trips to Jump In, Coral Reef and Rock Up, and a whole day at a soft play. (I haven't told her I'm never going to soft play again. If ever there was a Covid breeding ground....) Henry wants to have a party with a bouncy castle. And I want to sit in a restaurant with a group of friends eating food I haven’t cooked, laughing till I start panicking I won’t breathe again and leaving an obscene tip because I’m so bloody grateful to be out.
Well done to all the parents reading this who have survived the past few weeks - you made it. Even when you thought you couldn't do it any more, you got up and did it again. Here's to the six hours of silence every single day of the week. You know, until Easter....
Comments