An early start for the day, getting up for the ANZAC dawn service. I have seldom missed it over the course of my life, even attending them when I lived in London.
A ‘Stand at your Letterbox at Dawn’ campaign was launched by the Returned Services Association, and many of our neigbours have decorated their front yards and fences with poppies.
At 6am the service begins. There are 6 people out on our street, not a great number as our street is quite long, but I see lights on in other houses and I suspect many people are listening on their radios inside.
The day is cool and windy, but fine. We head to a nearby reserve that I’ve read about but never visited before. Online I am told it has a family friendly circular track. It is a stunning walk.
The path leads up through bush, going up hill for about 30 minutes, and you are rewarded by expansive views of Wellington and the harbour.
We spend over an hour in the bush; it is just what I needed. The walk is too steep for my knee right now, but I pushed myself and am still very glad we went. I will wait a bit longer before attempting it again, I did spend several sections of the walk having to hobble around like I was 80.
Miss E and Master D are in their element, flitting about the bush like sprites. They find cicada casings, they claim a hollowed out section of bank as their ‘palace’, they climb trees and make up games.
I catch up with family online and they seem in good spirits today. Most of my parents’ street turned up for the Dawn Service after my mother made everyone a poppy invitation.
By the end of the day, the wheels fall off. I have just noticed that Master D has scratched something in the house quite badly – which is bad because we are renting, and bad because, well, we don’t use scissors to deface property ever.
He goes to bed in disgrace. Miss E gets upset because I am cross that she watched her brother do it and said nothing. She too goes off to bed.
Rev G’s sermon has vanished and he cannot find it on his computer anywhere, so he spends much of the day rewriting it. It is not for nought, he thinks the new version is better anyway.
I spend my time doing exciting things like online grocery shopping and cleaning and perusing Pinterest for craft ideas using the limited resources we have. I got rid of loads of craft stuff before we moved – now I wish I had things like scrap pieces of fabric and embroidery floss. I rarely get remorse about things I’ve cleaned out, but this year, boy, so many things would have made a difference to my lockdown experience if I’d hung onto them!
Are you feeling this way too? Perhaps sans hat and vintage case. Image via Pexels
It is hard to get going this morning.
Despite attending their morning school zoom call, and knowing their work assignments for the day, the kids don’t do any schoolwork. Today is maths day, and they are supposed to be solidifying their work on the water cycle by completing tasks on their daily walk.
Only a few feet down the road the children dissolve into squabbling, so they are turned around and taken back home. Master D continues to be beyond tired, with red eyes and dark circles under them. Instead of schoolwork, the children play for most of it, and they make crafts. Seriously, we will need another room for all of the damn crafts. We end the day watch curled up on the couch watching Trolls: World Tour (honestly, what a load of cr@p that is, don’t bother).
Rev G and I talk about how tired we are, and how everyone with kids is saying their kids are going nuts this week. Week Four has definitely been the hardest. We wonder why people aren’t talking about it. Are people afraid of being seen as weak? Afraid of being seen as disloyal?
Rev G posts on Facebook about the exhaustion he is feeling, and the post blows up with others chiming in to say they are feeling the same way. A friend even calls up, concerned for Rev G! A mutual friend, emboldened by Rev G’s post, does something similar on her own page, and a very quickly someone responds with how grateful he is to see anyone acknowledge that lockdown is hard.
I’d encourage you readers, to do the same. It’s okay to talk about it.
Feeling exhausted during the time of pandemic is totally normal.
There are many reasons for the exhaustion we are all feeling, even if not much has changed for you (you haven’t lost your job, or gotten sick or lost a loved one):
*routines aren’t quite the same and this can really throw people
*we’ve had to adapt to extraordinary circumstances
*many people have faced job or food insecurity for the first time in their lives
*we are dealing with a dangerous situation that changes on a daily basis
*we are bombarded daily with negative messages
*many of us aren’t getting outside like we would for daily commutes to work which means less sunlight
*we’re not getting the mental stimulation from the people we interact with at work or when out and about…the list goes on.
My main problem at the moment is overwhelm from dealing with ratty children all day, every day, while feeling bored out of my skull because many the things I love to do aren’t available right now. I’m choosing to deal with it through prayer, listening to my favourite Christian radio station (I love Radio Rhema, nothing but encouragement on there throughout this pandemic!), reading light entertainment, exercising daily, trying a new recipe or doing a crossword, spending as much time outside as possible, and watching murder mysteries (can you tell my mind likes puzzles?).
I hope to have some brain power to do some crafts as the weeks go on, but right now I just don’t. I think this is because crafts aren’t my usual way of relaxing and winding down. I’ve noticed my knitting friends are knitting up a storm as their way of coping because it’s what they do to pass the time anyway. So don’t feel bad if you haven’t taken up knitting, or Spanish, or macrame or boat building. It’s okay to focus only on getting sleep, good food and sunlight.
I have a good night’s rest, but decide to skip my prayer group and catch my more zzz’s.
The kids are up and dressed by the time I emerge at 7:30am, and both are in good spirits. But Miss E quietly says to me: “Can we have a day off school?”
This is not like her, I can count on one hand how many times she has not wanted to go to school or kindy. I had been thinking of giving them the day off as her brother clearly needs it, so I say yes.
We make houses from recycled cardboard tubes, Master D crafts himself a ‘pizza canon’ out of more tubes.
We colour in ANZAC poppies to stick in the windows for passing children to see. I colour in a more elaborate ANZAC scene; it is therapeutic. ANZAC day is on Saturday, and we want to mark the occasion.
An American friend reminds me of Pokemon Go, the app that was a craze a few years back. Like most kids I hear, mine are getting sick of daily walks, even though they very much need them. Genius, I think, and I download the app straight away. My children are super into Pokemon right now (don’t judge, I bet you watch plenty of rubbish shows as a kid, I know I did!), and they have a blast catching Pokemon around our garden, and when they are out for a walk.
In what must be divine timing, a parcel of craft supplies that I ordered before lockdown – when it was clear I couldn’t send Miss E to school with her cough – arrives with air dry clay, cardstock, glitter paint and more. I also had two dresses (I live in dresses) ordered weeks ago arrive, and it is like Christmas!
In the afternoon, we descend into Lord of the Flies very quickly. The children are utterly sick of each other, and fight over the littlest things. They both throw HUGE tantrums over who’s turn it is to set the table. It is Master D’s turn, but Miss E doesn’t want what he’s chosen, for some reason she wants to use a cutlery set she hasn’t used in forever…
Cue massive scene of the children screaming and shouting and crying and being sent to their rooms. Over cutlery.
This is the sort of stuff parents all over the world are dealing with 24/7. It grinds you down. Everyone I know with children under 12 is TIRED. So damn tired. It’s not that you don’t love your children, it’s just the fighting and squabbling assaults your ears, and then you spend ages playing referee. You have to help them manage their emotions, while you yourself are dealing with biggest event to happen in your lifetime. Ugh.
But it’s not like this everyday for us, thank God. Week Two and Three were actually pretty good. I’m not sure why Week Four has seen a step back to their Week One behaviour – I think the children are simply sick of each other, and sick of lockdown.
I have a dreadful night’s sleep. No particular reason. I drag myself to my prayer meeting. I hope I am not asked to pray out loud because I can barely string a sentence together. It takes me a very long time to wake up properly.
School is tricky today as Master D just refuses to do it. He’s over it. He is a sensation-seeker, and Zoom calls just don’t cut it. He gets into his art assignment which is based on an Eric Carle book, and he does some printing, but that’s it. He has lots of tantrums throughout the day. He is tired, and I don’t push him to do any of his schoolwork.
The kids go for a scooter, and then help me with weeding the garden. It is a gorgeous day, warm and still. I say a prayer of thanks for this unseasonable weather we are continuing to have. Once we are back in Level One, it can rain all it likes! I promise not to complain. These sunny days make parenting in lockdown so much easier.
Master D’s day is made when he receives some mail from his friend Z. They both love Thunderbirds are Go! Z’s dad has made a poster with Z and Master D’s faces photoshopped onto two of the Thunderbirds – so funny.
Miss E has a good day. She does all her work, and then some – making art where ever she goes. She is keen to get back to school; she had settled in well to her new school and has made several friends.
I catch up with my MiL. She would like to increase her ‘bubble’ in Level Three, but all of her besties have other people in their bubbles. The irony that we moved back to the North Island to be closer to our parents is not lost one me. They are so close, yet so far away.
We get woken up by Master D at 6:20am. Rev G and I are trying to ensure we practice good self care, so Rev G goes for a walk up the very steep hill/reverse at the end of our street. I shower and am fully dressed and ready for my prayer meeting at 7am – usually we attend in our PJs. Master D does his morning jobs.
Schooling is frustrating today. The app/website the school uses has different notifications for the app versus the website. I try to avoid downloading apps onto my phone if I don’t absolutely need them, but it means I don’t get the message about the day’s schoolwork.
Fortunately we have some worksheets left over from our ‘holiday’ work, that I found on Pinterest. This sheet has the children rolling a dice to create monsters. They love it, and produce some crazy creations.
There are online petitions from teachers begging the government to keep children at home during stage 3. I don’t blame them. I think the government will be damned if they do move us to stage 3 and damned if they don’t.
I do Tai Chi; it is my daily replacement for not being able to go out for walks, as my knee is still not up for a walk. I was gratified to read recently a Harvard study on the benefits of Tai Chi, as the movements engage your core.
I spend an hour on the phone catching up with a friend. She is in a similar ‘boat’ to me – at home with three boys. They had colds in March, and they have all been at home as long as Miss E and I. We laugh about all the ‘odd’ things we are letting our children do: play on devices, watch lots of TV, eat 50 million snacks. My friend wonders how long it will take to undo this. She is normally very strict about device time, sugar, too much TV etc but as she says, we are in strange times indeed, and anything goes if it makes for a ‘happy bubble’.
My children have a Zoom catch up with one of the teenagers from church. She is one of the nicest young people I have ever met, and I’m so grateful for the love and patience and time she gives to my kids, who she has only known for a few months. C is a dancer, like at a very serious level, and she and the kids spend time dancing together but apart.
Dancing with C
We listen to the government announcement. It is as we expect, we will move to level three in a week’s time. Many people are angry, but from my armchair expert’s opinion (meaning I know nothing), I think it is a good decision as the infection rate is now extremely low and there has only been a handful of community-spread cases in NZ throughout this whole time. Some of New Zealand’s (and indeed, the world’s) best minds have been crunching the numbers. I trust them. Unfortunately the government must now handle the perception of risk, and that is a tricky beast.
We are fortunate that we are able to keep on homeschooling during level three. I’m looking forward to going to the beach – there is one not far away, but too far for us to venture out to during level four as we need the car to get there. My brother will join my parent’s bubble, and my MiL will join bubbles with a friend. She lives alone and is desperate for a hug.
I’m grateful that New Zealand moved swiftly and early to respond to the virus. We will be able to get to normality faster than countries that were slow to lock down. I feel for my friends in America, the end is not in sight there yet.
The children started off with a class Zoom call, which is equivalent to herding cats, but the teacher managed it. The children were set work. Because it’s Montessori, and is a mixed age class (5-8 year olds), they are given the same core tasks, but depending on ability, the tasks get harder.
Master D was given the task of creating a picture of what he’d been up to during the school holidays, so naturally he drew a picture of himself and Pikachu rescuing a mummy and baby crocodile.
Miss E also had to do the same assignment, but also had to write about it. She did that in five seconds, and then got on with what she really wanted to do: composing a poem about Easter. Here it is.
EASTER
Easter is near
so do a dance
because the Easter bunny
is near.
And finally Easter is here
You walk past a bush
and you realise
an Easter Egg is there!
Brilliant stuff.
The children are surprisingly good about doing schoolwork, and only Master D complains. “I don’t want to do schoolwork!”, he whines, before settling down to actually do his schoolwork for 40 minutes with little input from me.
They had to do some printing, and we had a good look at the ‘virtual shelves’ created by their teacher, for ideas of what to explore next.
The Government has created a home school TV network, with some seriously great content and fantastic presenters. Suzy Cato, Karen O’Leary, Nathan Wallis. So cool. Despite saying it is on demand, it isn’t, only the live stream. Rev G works out a way to record it as most of the shows (covering a range of topics, like literacy, history, Te Reo Maori, art, P.E. etc) aimed at younger children are on during the time we do school work.
TVNZ, if you had shows of this calibre on during ‘normal times’, we might actually watch it!
After lunch the children have free play time, watch a bit of TV and run around on the trampoline like lunatics playing a new game with Rev G.
Rev G and I heave a sigh of relief that schooling went well.
In the evening I am dismayed to re-hurt my knee by the simple act of standing up from sitting on a chair. I guess the tendons are not as healed as I thought. I will have to take it easy again, which is so frustrating.
I get up for my prayer group. Everyone is anxious about how they will juggle schooling demands with their paid work. Even though I am not currently working, I’m anxious about it too.
The parents all have a Zoom meeting with the teacher, who explains what the day will look like. It’s pretty wonderful, low-key stuff with absolutely no pressure for those who are not able to keep up with it.
I applaud the teacher for all the hard work she has put in to making the online resources. Montessori is structured quite differently to regular school. Tray of ‘work’ are put on shelves for the children to take as they are interested. The teacher has set up virtual shelves, with different areas of the curriculum.
Each task has bullet points that get harder, depending on the level of the child e.g. a maths task is to identify numbers on letterboxes on your daily walk. Older children can try adding the numbers together.
I spend much of the day turning our ‘sun room’ into a school room for the kids, making sure all our craft and paper materials are in one place. I am grateful for this space. The kids could work off our dining room table, but it’s a pain to keep moving things on and off it for meals. I also hope it might make a difference psychologically to have a ‘school room’.
On our afternoon walk I have a hideous encounter with an elderly lady who swears at me because I didn’t give her enough space when I passed her. She was chatting to a friend (not at the recommended distance, I must add), in the middle of a narrow footpath. On one side is the busy road with cars, the other is a cliff face, so there is nowhere else to go. She didn’t hear us saying ‘excuse me’ as we tried to pass her, and got a fright – but I don’t think that warrants yelling at me and calling me a bitch in front of my kids.
I am badly shaken, and am now anxious about running into her again on our walks. But she won’t stop me. It is becoming increasingly obvious that people – like her – are starting to crack under the strain of lockdown. An elderly friend of mine is tearful that she might be expected to stay home for months when we move out of lockdown. She feels this is inhumane, and would rather risk getting the virus than stay home for months and months. I can’t say I blame her.
It started off well. We had a special birthday prayer meeting for the son of one of the members. It was beautiful, and he looked like he was having a great time. We managed to get a present to him (something my children thought of, unasked. I love their empathy). He unwraps it and his smile makes my day.
I went off to have a shower, and when I got out I heard bloodcurdling screams from both children, fighting about something stupid. I try to break it up and get nothing but attitude and defiance from the kids. I’m so tired. I lose my shit.
Rev G walks in after I’ve been dealing with tantrums, including my own, for about 40 minutes. He is also exhausted and decides to take the day off. He doesn’t work Fridays, so he decides to swap it for today. He helps the kids tidy their rooms and peace is temporarily restored.
We make hats for tomorrow’s crazy hat challenge – I am ridiculously pleased with mine, because it’s quite funny. The kids come up with some cool creations.
We make a video to go along with the kids song for Sunday’s service. Then we have our daily Zoom catch up with family. The kids are crazy and rude and not listening. I give up and leave them and Rev G to it. I angry cry for a minute outside, and then go for a walk to clear my head. The walk helps.
I know I am really tired due to daylight savings ending. Today I’m just sick of my kids. I’ve had at least one of them home without a break for three weeks now, and I’m over it. I’m sure there are screeds of parents feeling the same way. Tomorrow is another day, and I hope I wake up in a better frame of mind.
My brain is just full. I feel in need of a week at a Fijian spa, or a few hours in a sensory deprivation tank.
One friend is taking a break from social media as the negativity is all too much. Not one, but three overseas friends of mine are annoyed at how their country’s response to the virus is being perceived, almost as if it is a personal attack on their life choices to live where they are. I notice people taking things the wrong way on social media, taking offence where none is meant – well, more than is usual. No one is themselves right now, and nor should they expect to be. These are extraordinary times, and the lockdown measures, while necessary, do not come without a measure of trauma.
The kids manage to stop squabbling for a bit. I notice they have lots of questions about scary things today. This is very common when under stress; anxiety about something particular becomes generalised to other things. For example, my son is concerned about burglars, Lady Gaga (he’s terrified of her), spiders, the dark, curtains being open. So many things. I know this is behind today’s bad behaviour. It doesn’t make it any less exhausting to deal with. I resolve to message Lady Gaga for help, she seems like a lovely lady to me.
The news from the government is promising, the number of new cases is dropping. For the first time I am hopeful that we might get out of lockdown in two weeks – well, to level three in some parts of the country anyway.
I am too tired to attend our church’s Maundy Thursday online service. As I said, my brain is closed for the time being. My Dad calls up to check on me, after I walked out on the meeting. Bless him. I watch mindless fluff on TV and zone out.
I sleep so badly – I don’t fall asleep until well after 2am – so I sleep in and miss my prayer meeting. I don’t know why I cant’t sleep, the past few nights have been fine. I’m honestly not feeling stressed about lockdown anymore; living this way is almost normal. But perhaps there is still lingering stress in my body and this is how it manifests, who knows?
I fumble to get showered and dressed, and attend a Mainly Music Zoom catch up with my breakfast toast and tea in hand. It is lovely to catch up with a few families and to hear how they are coping. (For my overseas readers, Mainly Music is a faith-based music and movement playgroup that many churches run for under 6 year olds.)
After that we colour in eggs for the NZ Easter Egg Hunt, that is following in the bear hunt’s footsteps. Someone gives me a link to some Christian-based eggs so we do those too – a reminder that Easter has much more significance that chocolate eggs to millions of Christians all over the world. We display these with our bear for all the hunters in our neighbourhood to find.
Both my children have been very run down, and I decide to return to our previous ‘smorgasbord’ meals, where I put lots of options on the table, and the kids choose what and how much of it they eat. I don’t know why we got out of this habit, because it works well. Anyway, because the children are run down (which I think is due to the stress of moving/change/different bugs here in Wellington), I am more vigilant about what they are eating than normal, and I want to ply them with as much fruit and veg as possible.
Sure enough, both children choose way more fruit and veg at their meals today than they would if it was plated up for them. Rev G and I are plying them with vitamins, iron tonic and cough medicine (for Miss E) too, but nothing beats real food. I hope we see some more spark in them soon.
Miss E is uncharacteristically belligerent and difficult in the afternoon; another sign she’s not well and probably over this whole lockdown thing. Master D is chipper, and entertains me with a magic show. He has a top hat and a cape, and his favourite trick is to ‘vanish’ by swiftly running out of the room. I of course, am impressed by his magical capabilities. I notice that this is the most chilled out and funny he’s been for days, and I’m grateful to see this side of him again.
I venture out to the supermarket for the first time in weeks. Rev G is our designated shopper but he’s not able to do it today, and we need something urgently for Miss E. I queue for 30 minutes. No one talks or acknowledges anyone else in the queue. I don’t mind. I listen to ‘Focus on the Family’ and Geoff Vines on Rhema. Their calm, sensible, life-giving teaching adds so much to my day.
I am drawn to this Bible verse – although so much from the Bible is leaping from the pages with relevancy at this time:
2 Corinthians 4:16-18 (The Message Translation)
Therefore we do not lose heart. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever.
Despite the circumstances I find myself in, stuck in my bubble; I believe this experience is a powerful teacher, and I believe that God is renewing me day by day. None of us will be quite the same people we were before lockdown, and I fervently hope that many things in our society are changed because of this shared experience.
After these deep thoughts, I get into the supermarket. The shelves are well stocked and I find all the items I need. I thank the lovely young man at the checkout; he and I have chatted before all this coronavirus stuff. He gives me a grin. “I’m just doing my job”, he says. I tell him about my cousin who works for the same supermarket down south, and how knackered the staff are. “Yep, it’s bloody mad,” he says.
On the main street I am surprised by the number of cars on the road. It’s not quite pre-lockdown numbers but it’s not ‘The Quiet Earth” either. I wonder to myself if it’s people getting sick of lockdown, but other than lots of cars, I don’t see anyone opening flouting the rules.
The government announces the release of education resources so all school children have something to do when school ‘starts back’ next week. This includes two TV channels being created for this purpose.
If you wanted a sign that school will not be back after lockdown is set to (theoretically) finish, this it it. School was shut at stage three, and is seems unlikely to me that we will roll back to stage two (where schools are allowed to open) for several more weeks. Regional roll-outs are on the cards. Wellington has COVID cases, but not as many as in other regions. I am trying not to dwell on when we will get out of lockdown, and I hold that four-week time frame lightly.
For some reason I want to listen to Tracy Chapman, so I shut myself off in the sun room from the children who are playing a noisy game, and listen to her self-titled debut album. It is moving and angry and sad and important, and is just as relevant today as it was when it was released. I remember the songs coming out in the late 80’s, but I was too young to really appreciate them, or Chapman’s artistry and advocacy (I was busy listening to New Kids on the Block, that’s how sophisticated my musical taste was at the time). I got into her music in my late teens, and ‘Fast Car’ still has the power to immediately transport me to my university days. One of her songs quite literally changed my life – but that’s a post for another day.
We end the day doing something fun I’ve seen many of my friends doing on Facebook – taking virtual roller coaster rides. Both kids get into a washing basket each, and Rev G and I move the basket in sync with the coaster. The kids LOVE it; Miss E declares that “this is the best day of my life”.
The day dawns, bringing grey clouds and strong winds. I make it to my morning prayer group. I’ve never met any of these people in real life, but they are becoming friends, and I look forward to this time each morning.
Miss E is tired and seems to have picked up yet another cold. She still has a rattling cough (cold induced, not the ‘rona); it’s been over three weeks now. She has been checked over by doctors who say her lungs are clear and she will be fine, but I still worry.
The kids make cheese scones. Because I am gluten free, we make two separate batches, and it means they can do each step all by themselves. They love it, scone making is so tactile; and there are no arguments over whose turn it is to stir.
Scone-y goodness
The weather is too cold to risk taking Miss E out, so the kids do Cosmic Yoga instead. I make a quiche for dinner, and a pear cobbler to use up some of the huge bag of pears we were given just before lockdown. I am Master Chef today.
All four of us are so tired, which I put down to a combo of Miss E’s bug and daylight savings ending. I always find that one hour time change mucks me around for at least a week.
I attend a cuppa catch-up with folks from church. They are in good spirits, although some are working in government jobs, responding to the COVID-19 crisis, and they are frazzled.
I write out a wee plan for the week, doing one or two special things a day. Tomorrow we will colour Easter eggs for the ‘egg hunt’ our Prime Minister, the amazing Jacinda Ardern has decreed. I will do anything she commands. We will also make tortillas – not a command from our Dear Leader. Thursday is making crazy hat for Friday’s family challenge. On Good Friday we have a special stations of the cross prayer walk to do around the neighbour. I am so grateful for creative resources such as this.
By mid-afternoon all four of us have had it. We pop on a kid’s movie (A Scooby Doo one, which happens to be my favourite show from childhood), and veg out. The kids have done zero schoolwork today and I don’t care one bit.
