So it’s definitely been over two weeks into the ‘not’ lockdown that isn’t a lockdown, but technically is. With Boris in bed and Nigel Farage losing his shit in his pyjamas over being under ‘house arrest’, everything is completely up in the air right now.
I thought I had things down. For a few days, things didn’t seem so bad. I was enthusiastic about being at home for a while and I had a bucket load of resources for us to start with. Soon, I realised I’d been lulled into a HUGE sense of false security. Explosive tantrums and disrupted bed times routine turned everything completely upside down- as if it wasn’t already, and by Wednesday I was crying in a ditch with a toddler in a muddy field.
I thought implementing a new routine would be the thing to do. So I found an EYFS template and took it to my living room. I mounted our itinerary on a thick piece of card and proudly stuck it to the fridge. My optimism was met with bitter disappointment when it did not go in anyway to plan. Trying to split the day into 30 minute segments was the worst thing since VAT. I felt like I was completely ‘on the go’, except without caffeine and with a toddler who said no to everything..
I gave up and tried to loosen things up a bit and in all fairness, breakfast and singing went well. But everything else fell apart and before I knew it, everything after lunch time was just one big Mish mash of prolonged TV, muddled toys and jumping off the sofa.
I wanted to cry- I did cry. The explosive tantrums were not getting any less frequent, and I felt like I had absolutely no control over the situation, or my defiant toddler (or my hormones). Nothing seemed to work and it only highlighted the fact that she was not happy about being under house arrest. I felt so guilty. I was in the prime of my pregnancy, and this was the time where I wanted to be getting out and about together before the baby came.
It’s now week three and we’ve reached a comfortable solution (for now). I splashed the miniscule cash I have left on one of those ‘tuff’ tables for crafts. We do one proper (to two) activities a day on that table… And guess what? Sometimes it’s a complete waste of time and she couldn’t give a monkeys, but so what? We do some singing, some playing and sometimes absolutely F all. Who cares in reality. No one is bossing it right now, that’s for sure.
I’ve given up trying to blame myself for Arielle being stuck in. I did not create this virus. Plus unlike us, she wakes up ready to start the day without any prejudice or pessimism. She sees her dad more, and we work more than hard enough to just get the food on the table in a time where the only thing left on the supermarket shelves are second rate crisps that someone has probably put back. The one thing we all need right now is some TLC, not to start a dictatorship in your living room.