We started to prank our kids for April Fool’s last year, once they were old enough to understand what it was all about. I don’t like pranks that are mean; I prefer silly pranks. This year (all ideas from Pinterest) we had to use what we had in the house.
We put googly eyes on all the cereal containers.
We froze a couple of bowls of milk and cereal for ‘breakfast’.
The kids loved it.
Day 8 was a good day. I felt pretty normal, and my knee is improving again. We did home school in the morning.
The afternoon was spent zooming friends and family, and going for walks. I did some pruning in the garden.
Definitely nothing earth-shattering.
I have seen lots of memes about life in lockdown, and the ones that make me laugh the most are ones like this because it feels accurate:
All my friends and family without small kids in the house are busy decluttering and cleaning and working and taking up hobbies and having the time to be bored. Not so for us. While we’re not quite the chaos above, I can’t imagine how blimmin’ hard it must to be to be in lockdown with toddlers. I’m pretty sure I would have lost my damn mind by now!
But it’s not a competition to see who is doing it tough. I think of families who live in small houses or apartments, and I am grateful that we have a big house. Especially one with a separate studio that Rev G can work out of for now. We can at least, get away from each other. I think of people who don’t live anywhere near green space for walking. I think of people who haven’t gone into lockdown with good mental health and worry about how they are doing. I think of people in bad relationships and worry for them too. I think of those who live alone – for some, lockdown isn’t too bad, but for some it’s excruciatingly hard.
My brother is really angry when we meet online. His bedroom curtains have fallen down, and he is unable to put them back up due to his disability. While his reaction is out of proportion to the incident, his rage does signify the stress we’re all going through. No one is quite themselves right now. Is he going to have to go through lockdown without bedroom curtains? Is curtain rail installation an essential service? Who knows.
I end the day with doing my Lent study with some people from church. It’s great to see everyone. Some are doing just fine, some are incredibly busy with work, some are finding it mentally tough. One lady tells me the prayer technique I introduced her to last week has kept her sane (it’s the Daily Examen, a spiritual discipline from St Ignatius of Loyola). That one comment makes the blood, sweat and tears of putting the study together totally worth it to me.
Day 6 started off well. I got up for my prayer meeting, and I headed out for a walk with the children.
I wish I could personally thank the person who thought of the ‘bear hunt’ that is keeping children all over the world occupied. Like rock hunting, it turns a walk into an adventure.
Miss E counted 39 stuffed animals on this walk, which took us down little side streets we hadn’t walked down before. The people in my suburb have really embraced the bear hunt, as you can see.
I am thrilled to be able to get out of the house again. My knee isn’t 100% but is okay enough to go for a 20 minute walk. I’ve noticed it is going up (particularly stairs) that exacerbates it, so I can keep that to a minimum. I notice so many beautiful things on my walk, and feel refreshed.
However, by lunchtime both Rev G and I are feeling seedy. He goes off for a nap, and I am not far behind. I develop a bad headache, and realise later it’s a migraine. I usually get visual disturbances with migraines, but not this time. I have to spend the rest of the day in bed in my darkened bedroom.
I still feel yuck (headachey and nauseous) when I get up the next day, and I do my best to parent from the couch. A few weeks before lockdown, Rev G and I bought some activity books and crafts in case school closed. I bust one each of these out and that keeps them occupied for the morning.
In the afternoon, I send them out to the garden to do a nature scavenger hunt. They love it so much they spend the next four house playing outside! I gradually start feeling better, although I worry I am now running a temperature. Our ear thermometer is wildly inaccurate at the best of times, so I don’t really know if I am.
We worry it might be COVID-19, although given that I haven’t seen anyone but my family for two weeks, it seems unlikely. After dinner I stop feeling hot. Perhaps menopause is starting? Who knows?
I stay up until the wee hours of the morning to secure a grocery delivery slot for my parents. Slots fill up so fast that this is the only way to get one – when a new day rolls over. You cannot get a time slot for at least a week.
I watch Avengers Endgame with bleary eyes, and try not to cry when the supermarket website crashes just after midnight. I don’t give up. I watch a bit more of the movie, and after about half an hour the website is up and running again. Fortunately I am able to retrieve the order, and I discover they have added more time slots that are closer than a week away. I am able to get my parents a delivery for Saturday.
When we get up we discover that our kindness mail is going well. Today’s mission is to do something kind for Daddy. The children set the table for breakfast and get Rev G his breakfast cereal. They have collaborated and given US a kindness mission – we have to sing a song to their Oma. Rev G and I decide to sing ‘You’ll never walk alone”.
I sleep in a bit. My knee has stopped improving, and is usually aching and hard to walk on by the end of the day. Rev G and I decide that resting up must be my focus so that I can eventually go out for walks. My own mental health is starting to suffer a bit – I haven’t left the house since well before the lockdown. I get teary when I think about not being able to go for walks. The tears are simply what lack of sleep does to me, so I also prioritise some early nights.
My knee injury is exacerbated by slopes and stairs. We have about 50 steps just to get into our house from the street, and then about 15 stairs to get to the second storey of the house. So, you can see my problem.
I do my daily Christian devotional and tai chi outside in the sunshine. The weather is not as nice, and rain is forecast for several days. I get outside as much as I can, but it’s not easy because of all the steps on our property.
My lunch view, sitting at my front door. The road is all the way down at the gap in the trees. You can’t see all the steps in this photo, but there are a lot. This is typical for homes in hilly Wellington.
Rev G theoretically has today off, which is why I am able to rest my knee so much. Even so, he has several phone calls with parishioners, providing tech support so they will be able to be part of an online service this weekend. I give thanks that prior to this job, he worked in IT. Helping people participate in shared online worship may be the most important ministry he does throughout lockdown.
The children are pretty good for the morning, and my daughter makes me a fruit salad, unprompted. In the afternoon my son gets really tired and scratchy, but is distracted by making under-the-sea dioramas with his dad.
Fruit salad, courtesy of Miss E
Craft time. I am grateful for our new house which has a conservatory. We use it as a kids craft room, to hang washing, and to grow seedlings. Anyway, I am grateful for this space!
I get really annoyed at all the Facebook vigilantes on my local FB page. “OMG, a jogger just ran past me too closely!!!!”, “I just saw two ladies walking together!”, “There are people shopping at the supermarket! Stay home!”, “Why is no one wearing masks outside?”.
I wish I was exaggerating, but I guess this is just an example of how panic stops our rational brain from working.
You are not going to catch COVID-19 from a jogger whizzing past you, although that jogger should have tried to give you more room. Those two ladies probably live together; not everyone has traditional family units. People are allowed to get groceries. There is no reason to wear a mask unless you have symptoms – and if you do you should be staying at home.
Today all four of us are tired and cranky. We watch another silly movie after dinner. Once the kids are in bed Rev G and I start coming up with plans for fun things to do with the kids (we are going all out for April Fool’s Day, for example) and projects that need to be done (like gardening, rearranging the garage etc).
We come up with a plan for the next day which includes chores, crafts, baking and exercise. I think these daily and weekly plans will help us get through. We don’t have to follow them to the letter, but having ideas at the ready takes the pressure off our mental load.
I sleep badly again, falling asleep way after midnight.
I do, however, manage to get up for home group prayers. It’s lovely. There are several children clad in PJ’s, and they bring light to my day. It feels good to gather with other believers. Some of them are essential workers, some are married to essential workers. Some are juggling working from home with kids.
I feel better when someone says they aren’t sleeping either. Another reminder that I am not alone in this.
I spend more time in prayer, listening to Pray as You Go while exercising outside. I listen to Christian radio station, Rhema daily anyway, but find it even more comforting in these times. Unlike other stations with wall-to-wall doom and gloom, Rhema are talking about COVID-19 but not revelling in the drama of it. Instead they are repeatedly reminding their listeners of God’s promises.
They play Lauren Daigle’s song ‘Look Up Child”, and it has new meaning today:
Where are You now When darkness seems to win Where are You now When the world is crumbling
Oh, I, I I hear You say I hear You say
Look up child Look up child
Where are You now (Where are You?) When all I feel is doubt Where are You now When I can’t figure it out
Oh, I, I I hear You say I hear You say
Look up child Look up child Look up child Look up child Look up…
You’re not threatened by the war You’re not shaken by the storm I know You’re in control Even in our suffering Even when it can’t be seen I know You’re in control
Oh, I, I I hear You say I hear You say
Look up child Look up child Look up child I hear You say, You say, You say Look up child I hear You say, You say, You say (Look up, look up, look up, look up) Look up child I hear You say, You say, You say Look up child I hear You say, You say, You say (Look up, look up, look up, look up) Look up child I hear You say, You say, You say I hear You, I hear You calling my name, oh Look up child I hear You say, You say, You say (Look up, look up) Look up child Look up child Look up
I spend more time going to the Lord in prayer.
I usually have lunch with Joyce Meyer (via her radio show), and a line from her stands out, “Focus on what you CAN do, not what you can’t do”.
The children and I have fun making obstacle courses for the local children going out on bear hunts. We see several neighbours. We chat briefly at a distance (across the street) from each other. We are all eager for a smile and a wave.
In the afternoon I am tired and let the kids watch too much TV, although Master D does spend a lot of it doing puzzles.
We have to venture out in the car – Rev G and I have flu jabs that were scheduled before the lockdown. The appointments were made together. We have to all go, we can’t leave the children at home! We get stares from people on the street who are walking or going to the supermarket. I’d like a sign that says “We are following orders, honestly!”
It was nice to get outside, even if just for a few minutes at the medical centre. There are lot of people out – all of whom are following physical distance orders. Oh the internet, there’s outrage at people flauting the rules. Obviously I haven’t been everywhere, but I suspect it’s like the panic-buying reporting. If you see story after story, then it must be everywhere, right? Don’t believe it folks.
I miss my home group prayers again, due to poor sleep. But it’s a beautiful day outside again, a blessing. For the first time in several days, I feel peaceful. Knowing the panic-buying is calming down has calmed me down. We have everything we need to get through.
I listen to my favourite Christian meditation app, Pray As You Go, while I do Tai Chi in the garden. Feeling the sun on my skin, I wonder why I haven’t done this before, but being outside has never felt so precious. I pray.
I make the most of being in the garden, and we spend quite a bit of the morning outside. Rev G is pounced upon when he emerges for a break – a Daddy’s work is never done.
Master D decides to make cards for his buddies in Pleasant Point, which unleashes a creative frenzy in both children.
I hit upon a fun idea to give the children something to look forward to and to help them focus on others: kindness mail. We have this garish, musical mailbox.
It is the sort of toy I despise, so mine didn’t have this as toddlers. But we have several babies and toddlers in our social circle in Wellington – which we didn’t have in Pleasant Point. I decided to get a few toddler-friendly toys to stash away from young visitors, as my children will suddenly find that the toy someone else is clutching is their ‘favourite’. Toys they don’t own are the answer! (Yes, I let them play with it.)
Anyway, each morning my children will get kindness mail, with a new mission of doing something kind. I slip the first note inside, and they are very excited by the idea when they find it.
After lunch I text my MiL about how well the children are playing together.
Famous last words.
Master D has several meltdowns. To make matters worse, his sister gets something cool in the mail, and he doesn’t. It is all too much, and all the feelings come out.
Like many children, when my son is stressed, his fuse becomes shorter than usual, and it comes out in all manner of bad behaviour – mostly tantrums. I give him lots of cuddles. I throw out screen-free plans and let the children blob in front of the telly, until Rev G finishes work and can take them out for a walk.
We let them talk about how they are feeling, over dinner. Miss E breaks my heart. “It’s terrifying, I’m so scared”.
I imagine how scared and bewildered I would have been if this had happened to me when I was seven. I too, would have been terrified that my parents and grandparents might die.
We put on a silly kid’s movie, eat chips and snuggle on the couch. The movie is hilarious and is just what I needed.
I have visions of burglars coming to steal our supplies. I have watched far too many apocalyptic movies…
The strange noises I hear turn out to be a rainstorm lashing the house.
How very apt, I think. Even the weather is in sympathy with the mood of our nation.
I lie awake trying not to think about how long it will take before people stop buying up like madmen. What if I can’t feed my babies? I tell myself off for being so ridiculous, but cannot shake the feeling of panic. Again, why do I love dystopian fiction so much? Why am I cursed with a vivid imagination?
At 5am I wake my slumbering husband and demand his reassuring cuddles before I eventually drift off to sleep.
I sleep in so long I miss an online prayer meeting with my home group and an online trivia game with a friend.
The storm has passed, it is a beautiful, sunny autumnal day.
My children are super excited for ‘home school’, and I have an outline for the day. I think I will stick to it because my children like routine. By routine, I mean we will do P.E. first, then read, then go for a walk etc, not a 9:00-9:10 am: Multiplication and fractions sort of schedule.
I plan to do nothing more than read with the kids, and have them write cards to their friends and relatives. We will make crafts, movies, bake etc. We will garden, and dance to Koo Koo Kangaroo. Simple stuff. I really couldn’t give a toss about actual schoolwork. My children are small and schoolwork is not important right now. I am gratified to hear some of my favourite NZ psych/parenting gurus say the same. Focus on being calm, focus on making them feel safe, focus on doing things together. Be patient as they process their emotions in this scary time.
On cue, my son has a huge meltdown after breakfast. I’m expecting lots of this behaviour. But actually, he ends up being fine for the rest of the day. Doing P.E. is a highlight for him.
Doing P.E. with Joe Wicks (who is basically Russell Brand’s well-fit younger brother)
We spend most of the morning outside. I can’t garden right now except for the odd bit of pruning, so I hobble through the garden, noticing all the flowers that are blooming. I am grateful that a previous owner of our house loved flowers so much.
The kids make ‘training’ videos, obviously inspired by Joe Wicks, although I suspect Joe doesn’t do ‘the butt dance’ in his videos.
Miss E is especially kind and helpful today. She helps me hang out the washing, and tidies up a mess left by her brother after he did an impromptu craft.
Rev G goes into church to get all the things he will need to put online services together. I’m resentful that his mind is mostly on work, and not on his family and make him watch a great clip on Seven Sharp where a psychologist talks about the importance of parents sharing the mental load. I feel like I am the only parent who cares about how our kids are coping with the most stressful event of their short lives.
But Rev G has been madly running around getting things we need before the lockdown too. He does care. He goes past a supermarket and finds it not busy. He calls me to say it is ‘almost normal’, so he is able to get our usual groceries after all. The huge weight in my chest lifts. My primal brain relaxes again – my babies will not starve (not that they were ever in any danger of that!).
Master D amazes me by writing himself a ‘worksheet’. They don’t do those at his Montessori school, so I’ve no idea where he came up with that, but I notice his writing has come on so much. I also notice him colouring quietly when he’s not doing stuff with me or his sister. Master D of a year ago was incapable of doing anything quietly for more than a few minutes. Incredible the difference a year makes.
I notice that I am noticing things more – if that makes sense! I am grateful for so many things: the sun in my face, the Scholastic books that arrived on the last day of school, Zoom catch-ups with friends. I almost never watch terrestrial TV anymore, but I watch the news again, and keep on watching. Jeremy Wells is hysterically funny on Seven Sharp, and then cute puppies being trained as rescue/police/guide dogs etc comes on. I am grateful for the laughs and distraction.
I started blogging years ago mostly as a way of keeping in touch with my friends and family who – thanks to my somewhat nomadic life – are scattered all over the globe.
I suck at keeping in touch with people. I’m not great at email, I despise talking on the telephone, and I have a select group of people that I do video calls with. And I’m an extrovert!
For the next few weeks, this will be a ‘lock down diary’ – so feel free to ignore my posts until normal transmission resumes some day in the future – after all, most of you will be living your own lock down lives too.
I want to record this event for myself, and particularly for my children. My son is only 5.5 years, and I doubt he will remember any of it when he grows up. What is happening around the world, and to us in New Zealand is of a magnitude I’ve never experience in my life time – and I pray I never do again.
On Friday I hugged my cousin S and my friend J, as they left our wee dinner party, for we didn’t know when we might see each other again. It was a surreal moment.
After a moving church service on Sunday, attended by 13 of us, the consensus was that we would continue to meet until directed otherwise by the government or the church. I was quite surprised by this choice, but every single person there was frazzled. Our brains were overloaded with all things COVID-19, and the situation that was unfolding daily. Many of the people at my church work for the government, several of them heavily involved in the crisis response. One person’s job was to run the numbers on the amount of deaths in her field. Can you imagine?
Monday morning is my usual grocery-shop day. Only I am on week two of mandatory rest to help heal damaged tendons in my knee, so I can’t go. Rev G decides he’ll do the shopping on Tuesday. I think this is fine, because I don’t think we’ll go into Level 3 in New Zealand until later in the week.
We manage to get a phone consult for Miss E with a doctor, as Miss E still has a cough which has gone on for over seven days. We are sure it isn’t the ‘rona, but are concerned she may need medicine to shift the cough. She’s already had a week off school. I’d like to send her if I could, as she is totally fine except for the odd bit of coughing. She’s been totally fine for about five days at this point. The only reason I want to send her is because she is new at the school, and just starting to settle and make friends.
The doctor diagnoses a virus – that is not COVID-19 – and says, “Normally I’d tell you to send her to school, but there’s other people’s anxiety to consider at the moment.”
The Doctor is of course, totally correct. Miss E stays home.
As Miss E is quite perky, I sit her down and tell her I don’t think she’ll be able to return to school before lock down begins. She flips through our craft books and marks which crafts she wants to do.
Deciding to save Rev G yet another trip out, I order over the internet the craft supplies we need, plus some Easter Eggs, that we can stash away. I am predicting a sombre Easter.
I go online to check what fresh horrors await me today, to discover I have just caught the tail end of the government deciding to move us from Level Two to Three, and then Level Four at 11:59 on Wednesday.
I immediately call Rev G because I know he won’t have heard the news, and tell him to quickly check how crazy the supermarket is. We have plenty of emergency food, but not a lot of fresh fruit and vegetables since today was our normal stock-up day. I’m concerned it may take days for panic-buying to calm down, and curse my knee.
The shopocalypse is taking place as he drives by, and we decide we can wait!
I thank God for what we do have.
I talk to my children about what’s happening. Miss E (7) watched the news with me on Saturday, so she understands that Level Four means no school. In the last few days I have needed to watch the news, something I have rarely done for over a decade; it’s always far too depressing.
I think I have explained the ‘stay at home’ situation to them. Five minutes later my son asks Rev G to buy him something from the shops. Yeah, he doesn’t get it.
We watch the news together as a family for the first time ever; I’m hoping that it will help the children understand what it all means. That we can’t pop to the shops. We can’t go to the playground. We can’t see their friends. A snippet on the panic buying helps my son to understand why we don’t want to go to the supermarket right now. Even though they have iceblocks.
I immediately start conserving food despite the fact that I know the supermarkets will be open throughout. Our portions are slightly smaller, and we explain to the children that waste just won’t be tolerated. They take it pretty well, and eat dinner with little complaint for a change. My husband and I think COVID-19 may be a game changer for their picky palettes.
Even though we are normally pretty good at using up our food, I suddenly notice outrageous waste. I quickly throw the dregs of a 2-day old cooked chicken and some starting-to-get-manky veg into a pot to make soup. If getting veggies in the shopocalypse turns out to be difficult, this will provide good nutrients. This is my way of panicking.
I have invited my parents and my brother to a Zoom meeting, although we use most of the time getting it set up properly for my mother. I thank God I have a tech-savvy husband who can do that. We have a lot of fun singing songs and generally being silly, and end with a prayer.
Rev G had the hymn Jerusalem stuck in his head as he prepared his sermon. The line, “I shall not cease from mental fight” stands out to me.
I haven’t yet met anyone who is blase about having to stay put for a month. It’s a huge ask to give up our normal lives, but it is absolutely the right decisions. I tell my kids that they are lifesavers.
I am mostly worried about the mental side of being cooped up this long. I am a sensation-seeking extrovert – a person who loves new, novel things. Where ever I live, I can tell you all the things to do in my area, because you can bet I’ve done most of them. Even though I’m a stay-at-home parent, I’m rarely home for a couple of days at a time, unless I’m unwell. I’m not wired that way.
My children are not wired that way either. My son is like me – he needs to get out. He is very, very social, and quickly gets irritated and naughty towards his sister if cooped up with just her for company. Rev G and I have just come off the back of having the kids for over seven weeks when we were between homes, and it was exhausting. We had friends and places to go then too!
I’m chomping at the bit to go for a walk, to exercise, like all the experts are cautioning us to do. Only I can’t right now because of my injury. Hopefully my knee will continue to improve so I can at least get out into the walking track near my house.
