I went into week three like a mum on a mission. Thanks to A's trip into his workplace, he'd printed off all the colourful resources (phonics, cursive handwriting, maths) so I got my Teacher hat on and smothered the kitchen walls with it, buggering up the paintwork with, post-it notes, blu-tak and sellotape. With thanks to Oti's Boogie Beebies, I pre-made the packed lunches, complete with drinks and snacks.
I also finally found my sense of humour, presumed lost in the back end of 2020. Probably all thanks to the new POTUS and VP: Biden/Harris, bringing hope and joy to the world. Funny fun mummy gave hilarious voices to uneaten breakfast brioche, made up rhyming songs about animal habitats (cats/bats/rat-i-tat-tats) and did some spectacular gurning in the name of phonics (ur/ow/oi/ear). By 10am, two out of three children were dressed and we'd ticked off some of the eldest's home-learning tasks. But I still wasn't satisfied.
The sun was shining; we needed to be outside.
After some free play, I managed to convince the last pyjama-loyalist to get dressed with the promise of a Duplo hunt in the garden: 6 year old to find hidden letters to make up words; 4 year old to find and order numbers and the 2 year old to find Duplo animals. Plus, we needed to go and chat with
Flower, who was looking lonely in the run, and collect her egg. I pulled on A's jacket and started to chuck Duplo around the garden. The Duplo hunt was the most successful fifteen minutes in all my six and a half years of parenthood so far: differentiated, educational and fun. I'd totally nailed it. Also, it turns out that our 4 year old seemingly loves maths and stayed out far longer than anyone else, making up all kinds of equations and number bonds.
Feeling smug as a thug with a pug, I handed out the pre-made lunchboxes and wallowed in my glory, thinking how best to write this up in my blog without sounding like an absolute arsehole.
Lost in self-congratulation, I finally went to take A's coat off and hung it casually on the kitchen door, the pocket banging against the glass. There was a barely perceptible thud, which I recognised straight away. I grimaced and gingerly poked my fingers inside the pocket. Flower's egg had cracked onto my phone. The yolk was still intact, but there were bits of shell and raw sticky whites loose in the pocket. Disgusted and annoyed, I set about the clean up and rescuing the remaining clean egg. By the time I'd finished and left the pocket turned inside out to dry, littlest one had emptied most of his drink into his lunchbox and there was a heated discussion brewing on the topic of post-it notes.
Exhausted, the TV went on and the CBeebies professionals took over.
The week went by in a game of ups and downs, navigating school tasks, some live teacher sessions and a solo chicken. Our eldest has been loving all the work on Rainforests and decided to create our very own rainforest, hiding loads of tropical animal models amongst the branches. Inspired by the anagrams and maths-in-the-garden revelation, we had three more Duplo hunts that week, even in the frost and rain. By midweek, I'd given up on insisting on being dressed and gave into pyjamas all day, even outside, if worn with an over-onesie or coat. This proclamation led to a list of rules announced back at me. including "No dancing to Oti" and "No post-it notes to be put on the wall".
By Thursday, we'd fallen into a rhythm of some work, some play, some telly. The older boys were happily drawing in the kitchen; I had my feet up, feeding our 2 year old to sleep for his afternoon nap. Bliss. The willow tree out the front of the neighbour's house has always been our view and I assumed it always would be. It had been heavily pruned earlier in the week, which was devastating enough, but then they'd decided to have it removed all together. Helpless, I remained seated opposite, as two men took their chainsaws to the trunk. Within forty minutes, the tree had been sawn into logs, right down to the base. I could see that the inside had started to rot, but even so, the sudden loss was too overwhelming and I realised that my tears had fallen on my now woken child. Our neighbours had texted to assure us that a new cherry tree would be planted in its place, but the chopped down willow was a sorry sight. You just assume a tree will be there for a long time. We attempted some footy in the back garden, but we were all a bit grumpy. Instead we hugged our tree and said not to worry, you're safe. (Luckily, our neighbours are really lovely, so we trust them and didn't feel too sad for too long).
On Friday morning, the boys went to water and check on the seeds and were delighted to see the first new shoots of the radish and cauliflowers appear. We worked hard to make the weekend a good one, with a classic Friday night disco, a half-successful game of footy in the garden and a new pet chicken to eventually introduce to Flower. A had built a little coop for her to have some space, while sharing the same run, but separate for now. We enjoyed some delicious dinners, including my crowd-pleasing Macaroni Cheese and A's newly perfected homemade pizzas (with thanks to Hannah & David for the online pizza workshop). Oh, A has been making our own kefir everyday, which is now really yummy and our grains are multiplying daily (if you're local, we've got grains to spare).
And then what felt like a blessing and a reward for getting through another week, Sunday brought the best snowfall we could ever have hoped for: deep soft beautiful snow, perfect for morning snowmen building and afternoon sledging along the quiet white roads. All that mattered was keeping everyone warm and fed. We said goodnight to the snow, expecting it to be gone by the morning. I fell asleep wondering if I could invent a new way of tidying up lego, where you simply throw a massive thick white blanket over it all.
Reflection: I love how snow releases control from us all. How it often shuts us down and invites us to stop and simply play. Lockdown snow had the double effect and I think I enjoyed it even more. As my children get older, I'm trying to step back and let go a bit more, albeit solving a puzzle, climbing a tree or just learning through making a mess. We obviously have no control over Covid or Lockdown and the consequences of this affect us all, including our children. I think some of the meltdowns, which seemed less intense this week, are maybe due to this lack of control: the sudden closing of schools, not seeing friends and the unknown of it all. But, we carry on, trying to empathise and comfort, digging deep to bring back fun mum for at least some of the week.
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