This has been a slightly difficult week, since the novelty of life in lockdown has worn off. The kids are missing school, their friends and other family, my husband is missing the sound of silence, and I am missing my frontal lobe, since parts of it appear to be ebbing slowly away.
Still, we have at least had the wonder of video call technology to allow us to stay in touch with dearly missed loved ones. Isn’t it fantastic? Although it takes a while to set up.
First we have to tidy up, in order to reassure all the grandparents that we’re coping fine and haven’t allowed the house to descend into post-apocalyptic chaos.
And it has to be the entire house. This is because we have children, therefore it is written into law that they must take it in turns to grab the phone and run off into another room in order to perform their latest dance routine in private. Which is odd because they didn’t seem to mind about privacy when they tried to stand naked on the windowsill the day before and perform it for the neighbours.
Or they might want to proudly show Nana what was so big it wouldn’t flush down and Mummy said she might have to call an emergency plumber and/or stop feeding everyone for a while.
Or maybe they will take the phone into the kitchen to show them the cookies we made, where there’s a distinct chance someone might see the stash of empty wine bottles by the bin reflecting my consumption since at least that morning. The choices are endless.
Once the house is sorted, I then have to go and find the bra that hasn’t seen the light of day since day 3 of lockdown, and resentfully put it back on. One of the joys of being stuck at home with family is that they don’t care what you look like. They don’t judge.
Admittedly the kids were initially a little frightened by the fact that Mummy’s boobs were suddenly significantly closer to her knees, but once I had reassured them that no, this was not a symptom of Coronavirus, they were fine. It’s just that it would be unfair to inflict this sight on unsuspecting family members that haven’t already become desensitised to the shock.
Eventually, once body parts if not spirits have been lifted, we are free to make the call. The first 10 minutes are spent telling the hairs right at the very top of my mum in law’s head all about our day. We then move on to loudly interrupting each other whilst we try to explain how to move the camera down, and finally use up the final 10 minutes exchanging heartfelt declarations of love with her left big toe.
By which time I’m ready to finish the rest of the wine, and definitely ready to say Bring on Bedtime!