Onwards and downwards through the isolation levels the seven billion dwarves toddled, heading out of the mines and back to normality. That's where the fairytale analogy comes unstuck and I don't know the ending. We are not going back to normal so stop being so fucking cheerful.
It will never be the same but one day it will be ok. Thats what I tell people who I work with who have suffered big dramamtic changes in their lives. It's a mighty big pill to swallow at the moment and the giant size bottle has one gag-inducing dose for each of the little dwarfs on the planet. We don't usually think of ourselves as dwarfs, being the alpha's of the animal world but nature got one over us this time, all of us, all at once. We are dwarves who think ourselves giants with our massive frontal lobes and pocket computers and soy-chai-lattes in disposable cups.
In our home school today we have learned fractions by making jelly traffic lights, and cut up the house and garden magazines to make surrealist art. The teenagers mooch along independently and I am mostly leaving them to it, except for the odd check one hasn't developed bed sores from being permanently reclined and the other hasnt developed hearing loss from his earpods that are growing into his brain. They are happy as. So is the big guy, working, building and exercising, sending time with us all, thinking up a new future with the kind of relish. Why would you want to go back? is his attitude. This is great. He flicks a switch and has moved on.
But I'm still coming round. Does that make me slow learner? In the adult school learning I am stuck in a drawnout lesson in being kind to myself, being kind to others even if you have to spend weeks with only them, and being kind into the future. I find the first one the hardest, how about you? So many questions, this is what my brain pings off all the time. I have been learning from my school masters - Brene Brown who is doing an amazing pod cast navigating pandemic called Unlocking Us, Glennon Doyle who is my new lady brain crush, and of course revisiting the life lesson that is Kungfu panda for a booster shot of Master Oogway. I have been trying to use my happiness toolbox - walk, music, cook a nice meal, swim in the sea, do a jigsaw puzzle. The work days feel like the old normal but the other days, they are still pretty hard. Does anyone else feel like a mess? It would be nice to know I'm not alone. Brene tells me about the downfalls of comparative suffering. Oogway says a person often meets their destiny on the road she takes to avoid it. Glennon grammed a sentence I never realised I have waited a long life to hear - You are not a mess, you are a deeply feeling person in a messy world.
Wednesday, May 6, 2020
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
Slippers, time slippage and portals of thought that grow gnarly like the trees of the ancients
There isn't much of a differentiation between the nights and days in our bubble, perhaps only a gentle slip from night time slippers into day time slippers. I no longer need a watch, I just look at my feet to find out all the information I need to lead my life.
Time has been slipping all around me, here we are at a month? A month of what? A month of this. Who remembers anything except the first horror filled push over the top of day one as we stocked our toilet roll holders to maximum capacity and counted our blessings in grains of rice and kilograms of chocolate. I wish I'd bought a spa pool to slosh around in drinking gins, but there you have it. No regerts or reverse loops in this time slip allowed. Its against the game rules of this global tardus.
The big push has faded, and memories seem to blow themselves out into extended warps with all the cooking fading into one meal, all the walks have become one long puff uphill, all the days and slipper changes flick through my mind in an endless rollodex. Now, a month in and at least three weeks likely more, we walk in circles around no man's land. When I work I try and engage an upbeat enthusiasm, I mean who doesnt love passing the yawning jaws of time with a few lunge squats? Of course these are work appropriate bed foot wear on zoom! Anything goes from the waist down.
I also pass time as a part time teacher which I can now muster concentration to achieve for a good 7-8 minutes a day per child. After that they are on their own, or I'm at C.I.L.L. level. Today I made Room One stop listening to DnD podcasts and check into his google classroom to see if there is any work, tick for Mrs Mum, I suggested that Room 2 consult google for how to install scipad, or at last resort, ask his actual teacher a question through online chat, another tick. Biggest tick went to the hard working teacher of Classroom 3, yep that unflappable Mrs Mum, who assisted the resident filmmaker to learn how to reverse a video we'd made. Then I suggested some class stabbing (it's called needle felting in the art world) but then it looked so satifying I confiscated it for myself and downloaded then subscribed to a piano learning app which I did absolutely no research on. Go Mrs Mum. Two hours later she is still on the piano lessons and I am sharing my stabbing equipment with the students in Room 1 and 2.
When I'm not in the eternal moment, I can't really fathom how the time has passed but I suspect I've been sucked through a portal. (Dr Who is of course Whaea J-Cindy and the tardus is this lovely bubble I dare not pop for risk of Death of myself and those around me.) Oh, actually, I recall some gardening blobs. And a bit of telly time.
Did you know, class, that I love portals? Not counting the upstairs for thinkin holy trinity of self doubt, reliving stupid arguments with husband, or planning next food and drink consumption, I spend most of my upstairs thinking dreaming of portals. Tree portals are my current fav mode of transportal (as my sisters with blisters found out last tramping holiday and yes there are heaps of potential portals in Waikaremoana, the ancient beauty that she is). Books are my most used portal. The bath another. I did a few years in a time distorting cave, but you can read about that one day another publication I hope.
Anyhoo, I forgot where I was going with all that. See how useful portals are? They just take you somewhere like. surprise! If I could choose a portal right now I dont think I'd chose to fast forward three weeks. This is a tunnel with a pinprick of light. And I'm not sure if I want to know how bad the world will be hurting when we emerge into the land of shoes that you wear out of the property. In three weeks time we might have a concert pianist in the family or a lot of key shaped firewood. Meanwhile I'll bid you Congratulations for making it this far, players one to five million and Kia Kaha for the next three weeks. I will parole the perimeter and keep checking the tree trunks on the property. I might find what I'm hoping for - that portal into a bar that's open and serving beers and chips to all my friends and family while we hug and dance.
Time has been slipping all around me, here we are at a month? A month of what? A month of this. Who remembers anything except the first horror filled push over the top of day one as we stocked our toilet roll holders to maximum capacity and counted our blessings in grains of rice and kilograms of chocolate. I wish I'd bought a spa pool to slosh around in drinking gins, but there you have it. No regerts or reverse loops in this time slip allowed. Its against the game rules of this global tardus.
The big push has faded, and memories seem to blow themselves out into extended warps with all the cooking fading into one meal, all the walks have become one long puff uphill, all the days and slipper changes flick through my mind in an endless rollodex. Now, a month in and at least three weeks likely more, we walk in circles around no man's land. When I work I try and engage an upbeat enthusiasm, I mean who doesnt love passing the yawning jaws of time with a few lunge squats? Of course these are work appropriate bed foot wear on zoom! Anything goes from the waist down.
I also pass time as a part time teacher which I can now muster concentration to achieve for a good 7-8 minutes a day per child. After that they are on their own, or I'm at C.I.L.L. level. Today I made Room One stop listening to DnD podcasts and check into his google classroom to see if there is any work, tick for Mrs Mum, I suggested that Room 2 consult google for how to install scipad, or at last resort, ask his actual teacher a question through online chat, another tick. Biggest tick went to the hard working teacher of Classroom 3, yep that unflappable Mrs Mum, who assisted the resident filmmaker to learn how to reverse a video we'd made. Then I suggested some class stabbing (it's called needle felting in the art world) but then it looked so satifying I confiscated it for myself and downloaded then subscribed to a piano learning app which I did absolutely no research on. Go Mrs Mum. Two hours later she is still on the piano lessons and I am sharing my stabbing equipment with the students in Room 1 and 2.
When I'm not in the eternal moment, I can't really fathom how the time has passed but I suspect I've been sucked through a portal. (Dr Who is of course Whaea J-Cindy and the tardus is this lovely bubble I dare not pop for risk of Death of myself and those around me.) Oh, actually, I recall some gardening blobs. And a bit of telly time.
Did you know, class, that I love portals? Not counting the upstairs for thinkin holy trinity of self doubt, reliving stupid arguments with husband, or planning next food and drink consumption, I spend most of my upstairs thinking dreaming of portals. Tree portals are my current fav mode of transportal (as my sisters with blisters found out last tramping holiday and yes there are heaps of potential portals in Waikaremoana, the ancient beauty that she is). Books are my most used portal. The bath another. I did a few years in a time distorting cave, but you can read about that one day another publication I hope.
Anyhoo, I forgot where I was going with all that. See how useful portals are? They just take you somewhere like. surprise! If I could choose a portal right now I dont think I'd chose to fast forward three weeks. This is a tunnel with a pinprick of light. And I'm not sure if I want to know how bad the world will be hurting when we emerge into the land of shoes that you wear out of the property. In three weeks time we might have a concert pianist in the family or a lot of key shaped firewood. Meanwhile I'll bid you Congratulations for making it this far, players one to five million and Kia Kaha for the next three weeks. I will parole the perimeter and keep checking the tree trunks on the property. I might find what I'm hoping for - that portal into a bar that's open and serving beers and chips to all my friends and family while we hug and dance.
Friday, April 17, 2020
Tampering with my life essence in a bubble where everyone is a Bumface, as diagnosed by the King Teen
He swings like a long-limbed prepubescent hairless monkey through the high leafy canopies and low muddy marsh grublands of the emotional jungle that is our bubble. He is rapidly becoming King of the Teens in a house where late development is the modus operandi, he's the emerging horse you'd back to win by a length.
Yesterday he was his usual articulate self when I woke him to remind him of impending doom disguised as home school, I was informed: ' Mum, you're tampering with my life essence'.
Today all I got was ' You're a bum face'.
After a small pile of porridge buried under a mountain of sugar he was able to elaborate. When I said he probably wouldn't be going back to school anytime soon, he told me 'That's ok, I'm content.'
Meaning there are enough people here to abuse and moan at daily as well as well exerything I need in the form of warm pjamas and a happy array of technology and books to keep my teen mojo doing that thing that yeast does - oh yeah, fermenting.
The older teen specialises in original insults, the top of the circulating pile to be used when asked to empty the dishwasher or other life joy sucking activities that interfere with his PS4 time, is currently 'Mum, you're a Corona virus.' Or the ultimate reply to being asked to cook dinner : 'You're a Corona virus graph sheet.'
The youngest grows an inch every 12 hour stint she sleeps. She is thrilled to get her weekly school task sheet and negotiates the day across multiple digital platforms accompanied by the incessant ping of the tiktok peeps chat.
We set travel abroad once more this time transported to the muli-faceted delights of rural Tuscany via our latest puzzle.
I spend half an hour cajoling, bribing and dragging them out the door for a daily walk round the bush track only to get to the end of the driveway whereby they have taken off without me. In a house of five people I find I am sometimes incredibly lonely. I am a crowd vampire, after all.
But then I find I also love the solitude of the steep steps and the familiarity of the curving green sheltered path that bursts into magnificent views like a hundred thousand piece puzzle. Aren't we a contrary lot of bumfaces, we humans.
Yesterday he was his usual articulate self when I woke him to remind him of impending doom disguised as home school, I was informed: ' Mum, you're tampering with my life essence'.
Today all I got was ' You're a bum face'.
After a small pile of porridge buried under a mountain of sugar he was able to elaborate. When I said he probably wouldn't be going back to school anytime soon, he told me 'That's ok, I'm content.'
Meaning there are enough people here to abuse and moan at daily as well as well exerything I need in the form of warm pjamas and a happy array of technology and books to keep my teen mojo doing that thing that yeast does - oh yeah, fermenting.
The older teen specialises in original insults, the top of the circulating pile to be used when asked to empty the dishwasher or other life joy sucking activities that interfere with his PS4 time, is currently 'Mum, you're a Corona virus.' Or the ultimate reply to being asked to cook dinner : 'You're a Corona virus graph sheet.'
The youngest grows an inch every 12 hour stint she sleeps. She is thrilled to get her weekly school task sheet and negotiates the day across multiple digital platforms accompanied by the incessant ping of the tiktok peeps chat.
We set travel abroad once more this time transported to the muli-faceted delights of rural Tuscany via our latest puzzle.
I spend half an hour cajoling, bribing and dragging them out the door for a daily walk round the bush track only to get to the end of the driveway whereby they have taken off without me. In a house of five people I find I am sometimes incredibly lonely. I am a crowd vampire, after all.
But then I find I also love the solitude of the steep steps and the familiarity of the curving green sheltered path that bursts into magnificent views like a hundred thousand piece puzzle. Aren't we a contrary lot of bumfaces, we humans.
Saturday, April 11, 2020
Evie flutters by and reminds me at best and at worst, all we need to do is just breathe
As Evie says, Just breathe. Just breathe.
A year ago this weekend we were drinking bubbles in the epic sunset on the glorious shores of Lake Taupo. Reveling in the utter joys of simply being together. A year ago. I am still so grateful for your friendship everyday, and cut short as it was by the big bowel CA, I hear your voice in my head everyday, telling me to just breathe. Whatever the question, that's the answer.
'Who's oxygen mask are you going to put on first today?' You would ask me. I am getting closer, I promise, I'm trying. Just breathe.
I remember a conversation we had when you told me about your prognosis. 'You have to promise me,' you said ' If I tell you, that you will not worry about me. Because I cannot waste energy worrying about you worrying about me.'
We tried to make every conversation a quirky joy, after that. A chance to laugh and notice and sometimes hug and make bad puns great again.
These days every butterfly says hello to me, from you. And I am just breathing.
A year ago this weekend we were drinking bubbles in the epic sunset on the glorious shores of Lake Taupo. Reveling in the utter joys of simply being together. A year ago. I am still so grateful for your friendship everyday, and cut short as it was by the big bowel CA, I hear your voice in my head everyday, telling me to just breathe. Whatever the question, that's the answer.
'Who's oxygen mask are you going to put on first today?' You would ask me. I am getting closer, I promise, I'm trying. Just breathe.
I remember a conversation we had when you told me about your prognosis. 'You have to promise me,' you said ' If I tell you, that you will not worry about me. Because I cannot waste energy worrying about you worrying about me.'
We tried to make every conversation a quirky joy, after that. A chance to laugh and notice and sometimes hug and make bad puns great again.
These days every butterfly says hello to me, from you. And I am just breathing.
Wednesday, April 8, 2020
Gratitude is a giant zit, or perhaps a pina colada cake that makes birthday videos and posts them on tiktok
Two weeks in, but I don't want to jinx it by saying halfway!?
I'll leave Jacinda and Dr Ash BF (aka NZ's newest BF) to make such heady proclamations.
We celebrated by making a 21st video tiktok syle contribution (lockdown skill #1), because nothing says I love you birthday boy like a family adorned with the contents of the dress up box busting some tunes these days. Makes the days of yardies and even parties seem so - what was it called, ah yes, february.
We also played Bertie-Botts-Every-disgusting-flavour-left-bean Roulette. After eating the edible ones months ago we now mark the milestones by making everyone pick a dud out of the remnants. Tonight we celebrated lock down week 2 with a combo of earwax grass and vomit.
I sat on the deck and looked at the sky. Which makes a change from lying on the deck and looking at the clouds.
We had Hopkirk zoom time, a extended family catch up and discussed the movie hits of the week. My father bemoaned the amount of dog poo and pee being deposited on the hallowed turfs of Francis Douglas Memorial College during this lockdown. They live next door, but it seems every man or just his dog is making use of these heightened dog walking times. Our dog is so exhausted he refuses to leave the garden most days.
I developed a blind zit the size of Zanzibar. Lock down choc down, no doubt the culprit.
There was some working and some baking. No one liked my pina colada cake despite the inch of cream cheese icing. To be fair it is as stodgy as a small windowless bastard, but, cream cheese icing, people?!
Eating it will probably reward me with a Mauritius to complement my Zanzibar.
We knocked the old bastard Notre Dame 1000 piece puzzle off. Or 999 pieces in the end, my theory is that the dog probably ate one mistaking it for a gift fromt he dining table gods. I made the same mistake myself once with a block of red lego.
It hasn't got so bad as to anyone actually cleaning the bathrooms.
I haven't had a shower in days so I'm remaining grateful Zoom doesn't have an olfactory mode.
What is happening out there? The death toll rises worldwide. God, what a time to be gratefully alive.
I'll leave Jacinda and Dr Ash BF (aka NZ's newest BF) to make such heady proclamations.
We celebrated by making a 21st video tiktok syle contribution (lockdown skill #1), because nothing says I love you birthday boy like a family adorned with the contents of the dress up box busting some tunes these days. Makes the days of yardies and even parties seem so - what was it called, ah yes, february.
We also played Bertie-Botts-Every-disgusting-flavour-left-bean Roulette. After eating the edible ones months ago we now mark the milestones by making everyone pick a dud out of the remnants. Tonight we celebrated lock down week 2 with a combo of earwax grass and vomit.
I sat on the deck and looked at the sky. Which makes a change from lying on the deck and looking at the clouds.
We had Hopkirk zoom time, a extended family catch up and discussed the movie hits of the week. My father bemoaned the amount of dog poo and pee being deposited on the hallowed turfs of Francis Douglas Memorial College during this lockdown. They live next door, but it seems every man or just his dog is making use of these heightened dog walking times. Our dog is so exhausted he refuses to leave the garden most days.
I developed a blind zit the size of Zanzibar. Lock down choc down, no doubt the culprit.
There was some working and some baking. No one liked my pina colada cake despite the inch of cream cheese icing. To be fair it is as stodgy as a small windowless bastard, but, cream cheese icing, people?!
Eating it will probably reward me with a Mauritius to complement my Zanzibar.
We knocked the old bastard Notre Dame 1000 piece puzzle off. Or 999 pieces in the end, my theory is that the dog probably ate one mistaking it for a gift fromt he dining table gods. I made the same mistake myself once with a block of red lego.
It hasn't got so bad as to anyone actually cleaning the bathrooms.
I haven't had a shower in days so I'm remaining grateful Zoom doesn't have an olfactory mode.
What is happening out there? The death toll rises worldwide. God, what a time to be gratefully alive.
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
Doing not much continues to take all day
Day something-or-other. Getting to know myself turned out to be a blurry walk in the woods with a bar of chocolate and a box of leaf tea. I had a doona day and watched a series about two middle aged women gardeners who solve murders in beautiful English stately homes. While replanting the medieval pottager. Perfect for calming my raging sympathetic nervous system. Next day I chopped all the heads off my lemon balm. Hah. I continued to drink a lot of wine. And possibly toxic level tannic quantities of Dilmah. I gave up doing anything I felt I should do. I cried for people lost.
I don't think its just a reaction to the virus in the global room. We're all a bit jazzed up, wouldn't you say? Busy has become the new black, the crutch, the way of life. Busy is the life. Until COVID puts the brakes on and we all have to literally stay home for our lives.
I've regained the driving seat of my emotions, I hope, for now. I'm starting to think about what the next bit looks like. Lock down and beyond. Trying to reconcile the reality when everything is comfortable and familiar and a privilege I am well aware of in our home, but outside looms a new and different reality. For medicine and financial systems, employment and the way we interact.
Meanwhile the middle child continues perfectly happy, requiring nor seeking out the face to face world for interactions, reading, watching, playing. What did you do this afternoon, I asked him at dinner, having not seen him outside the bubble of his top bunk.
'Well, Mum, I cured cancer' he drawls.
If only. I wonder what will come from this period of enforced pause.
I don't think its just a reaction to the virus in the global room. We're all a bit jazzed up, wouldn't you say? Busy has become the new black, the crutch, the way of life. Busy is the life. Until COVID puts the brakes on and we all have to literally stay home for our lives.
I've regained the driving seat of my emotions, I hope, for now. I'm starting to think about what the next bit looks like. Lock down and beyond. Trying to reconcile the reality when everything is comfortable and familiar and a privilege I am well aware of in our home, but outside looms a new and different reality. For medicine and financial systems, employment and the way we interact.
Meanwhile the middle child continues perfectly happy, requiring nor seeking out the face to face world for interactions, reading, watching, playing. What did you do this afternoon, I asked him at dinner, having not seen him outside the bubble of his top bunk.
'Well, Mum, I cured cancer' he drawls.
If only. I wonder what will come from this period of enforced pause.
Thursday, April 2, 2020
I haven't learned a new language or done a live dance class or baked bread. I have just managed. Just.
I was going to start writing my blog or my Isolation King Lear last night and then I watched the Vicar of Dibley instead. I laughed. I was going to get up and do some exercise but then I watched forty five minutes of Corona virus news updates on my phone instead. I numbed. I was going to be a nice chilled anything goes mother but then I yelled at everyone and kicked them off their devices instead. CILL time 17 minutes. I was going to bake bread but I can just fucking buy it. Or get some out of the freezer. Its not like I ever wanted to bake bread before this shit storm (evidence - have never done it), Yes, I'd like to be the kind of person who bakes bread and I admire those that do, and I certainly will if I have to to eat, but do I really want to? DO I? NO.
Everyday I think about how I am going to 'get into it today', 'get better', get fitter', 'get baking', 'kondo the condo', 'get more done'. Start crossing off the to-dos on my list and engage with brain, heart, lungs, children, husband, dog, garden, friends, vulnerable people. Everything has changed and yet nothing has changed in my head, I'm still whipping myself with my to do list and then rubbing hand sanitiser into the whip marks when I fail to tick them off.
Feeling unbelievably unhappy. Should I have adapted by now? Where's that huge social media stick I am measuring myself by? Oh yes, its the same device I'm using to keep connected and apparently sane.
Yesterday I did some paid work and other wise, I just managed. I managed some laundry and cooking and puzzle and dishes and a long walk. A lovely long walk.
Because the world has changed and will not ever be the same. There will be a world and we will get back out there. And it will be a world less populated and a lot sadder for the people we will mourn and harder to find and keep a job. We will as a species adapt and survive, and we may even get better at being humans on the planet.
But I will not be okay if I continue to measure myself with the social media stick, or do what I think I should, rather than what I need to do. What helps me through the day varies. I manage. I can't do what may work for other people.
While the front line health care workers slog their hearts out looking after the desperately sick and dying, and the government workers slog their hearts out trying to keep it all going and informed and PPE'd and the supermarket heroes stack for us, I am sitting at home healthy and with the luxury of all this time to engage in my latest free online course of Getting to know Gina 101. You poor suckers. Feel free to stop reading right now. Turns out I was the zombie all along in this apocalypse.
Everyday I think about how I am going to 'get into it today', 'get better', get fitter', 'get baking', 'kondo the condo', 'get more done'. Start crossing off the to-dos on my list and engage with brain, heart, lungs, children, husband, dog, garden, friends, vulnerable people. Everything has changed and yet nothing has changed in my head, I'm still whipping myself with my to do list and then rubbing hand sanitiser into the whip marks when I fail to tick them off.
Feeling unbelievably unhappy. Should I have adapted by now? Where's that huge social media stick I am measuring myself by? Oh yes, its the same device I'm using to keep connected and apparently sane.
Yesterday I did some paid work and other wise, I just managed. I managed some laundry and cooking and puzzle and dishes and a long walk. A lovely long walk.
Because the world has changed and will not ever be the same. There will be a world and we will get back out there. And it will be a world less populated and a lot sadder for the people we will mourn and harder to find and keep a job. We will as a species adapt and survive, and we may even get better at being humans on the planet.
But I will not be okay if I continue to measure myself with the social media stick, or do what I think I should, rather than what I need to do. What helps me through the day varies. I manage. I can't do what may work for other people.
While the front line health care workers slog their hearts out looking after the desperately sick and dying, and the government workers slog their hearts out trying to keep it all going and informed and PPE'd and the supermarket heroes stack for us, I am sitting at home healthy and with the luxury of all this time to engage in my latest free online course of Getting to know Gina 101. You poor suckers. Feel free to stop reading right now. Turns out I was the zombie all along in this apocalypse.
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Loopy de loop loo
And on it goes. Another day to orbit the same wee sphere, around the wee house, around the garden, around the tele-health, around the meals, the snacks and the wine bottles, the games and around the bush track we go. Loop de loop de loop, all going slowly loopy.
I huff at a vehicle that races around the corner towards us. Who said the dirty fossil fuel burner could use my perfectly appointed two meter requisite physical distancing tarmac walking strip? Complete with a line down the middle to keep us all apart, designed for purpose?! How dare they drive down it at such reckless 30 or 40 km/hour abandon? Anyone would think it was a road or something. Not this month, sonny, not on my watch. Loop de loopy.
Physical distancing on the bush track is less tarmac defined, some peeps launch themselves in the bushes at my invisible stealth viral cloud approach, some recklessly pat our recklessly unleashed dog, some turn and face away while covering their faces without touching their faces, not even an acknowledgement of my cheery hello. My suggestion of a round of spontaneous hide and seek doesn't receive a very enthusiastic audience. Boo! Sounds too much like Achoo? Loopy loop de loo.
Be careful what you wish for I remind myself of a week ago when I longed for a few quiet days at home. Or another self, a month ago when I decided I should give up shopping for clothes for a year and wear what I've got in my bulging recycled ugly beautiful collection of cloth. Hindsight is the gift of the prophetic.
There are moments of joy though, throughout the feedback feedforward loop, like a spontaneous chat on the deck with a passing friend. A joke with a child. Another child who says he's totally perfectly happy and cannot ever fathom going back to school. The teenager who stays up late at night doing sit ups while listening to his podcasts. I have an hour long conversation about leveling up my bard DnD character with something, I don't know what he actually said as I just sat and marvelled at his knowledge and passion about something I don't get at all. I put together the tree to the right of Notre dame and my daughter spends about 3 hours piecing together a shades of green river. No one asks to go to Kmart or Jumparama and I am, eternally in the moment, grateful for the loop. Loop de loopy
I huff at a vehicle that races around the corner towards us. Who said the dirty fossil fuel burner could use my perfectly appointed two meter requisite physical distancing tarmac walking strip? Complete with a line down the middle to keep us all apart, designed for purpose?! How dare they drive down it at such reckless 30 or 40 km/hour abandon? Anyone would think it was a road or something. Not this month, sonny, not on my watch. Loop de loopy.
Physical distancing on the bush track is less tarmac defined, some peeps launch themselves in the bushes at my invisible stealth viral cloud approach, some recklessly pat our recklessly unleashed dog, some turn and face away while covering their faces without touching their faces, not even an acknowledgement of my cheery hello. My suggestion of a round of spontaneous hide and seek doesn't receive a very enthusiastic audience. Boo! Sounds too much like Achoo? Loopy loop de loo.
Be careful what you wish for I remind myself of a week ago when I longed for a few quiet days at home. Or another self, a month ago when I decided I should give up shopping for clothes for a year and wear what I've got in my bulging recycled ugly beautiful collection of cloth. Hindsight is the gift of the prophetic.
There are moments of joy though, throughout the feedback feedforward loop, like a spontaneous chat on the deck with a passing friend. A joke with a child. Another child who says he's totally perfectly happy and cannot ever fathom going back to school. The teenager who stays up late at night doing sit ups while listening to his podcasts. I have an hour long conversation about leveling up my bard DnD character with something, I don't know what he actually said as I just sat and marvelled at his knowledge and passion about something I don't get at all. I put together the tree to the right of Notre dame and my daughter spends about 3 hours piecing together a shades of green river. No one asks to go to Kmart or Jumparama and I am, eternally in the moment, grateful for the loop. Loop de loopy
Monday, March 30, 2020
Things what I learned over the weekend and a new measure - Time to C.I.L.L. (with a hard C)
I learned that the barrel went lower. There subterranean bunker system filled with barrels previously only suspected but available for further bottom scraping. Oh boy, I've heard of Pandora's box, this is isolation barrel opening down and down we go. The sludge of a lifetime awaits.
I learned that my war time response seems to be the oh, no the worlds turning to shit, oh no, everything is shit, oh no, I'm shit. Three easy steps to self despair. I've known for a while my bucket was pretty empty which is why I've made a few pre-virus changes in an attempt to stabilize my mental health. Can I be? - NO. Can I be kind? - No. Can I be kind to everyone else? Pheeew, barely. Can I be kind to m-/NO. It's called pinning your entire self esteem on the quality of your interactions with other people. Less interactions, less you know what.
At least the weather outside mirrored my learning as the rain pelted the windows and the temperature held its own pity party.
Saturday I learned that sleeping in, doing some puzzle, making corn fritters and napping helped.
Sunday I employed the old binge yourself happier lesson learned on a previous barrel scraping. We were going to watch Frozen 2 but ended up doing Stranger Things with my ten year old daughter. Am sure they are very similar. The rain eased for a while to allow us to escape up the bush track and a few minutes at Notre Dame after dinner gave me a glimpse of the river side path and the still waters beside. Not looking forward to piecing together those leafy trees and blue skies.
Monday morning. Normal non-routine. No school to worry about. Great.
By 9.37am, I've come up with a new measure of my day, something quantifiable, a goal I can really work on, graph progress and achieve in a specific measurable achievable realistic time- based way. It the number of minutes taken to go from waking up reasonable happy to C.I.L.L. - Covid Isolation Livid Level. Monday 30/3/20 - 97 mins.
I learned that my war time response seems to be the oh, no the worlds turning to shit, oh no, everything is shit, oh no, I'm shit. Three easy steps to self despair. I've known for a while my bucket was pretty empty which is why I've made a few pre-virus changes in an attempt to stabilize my mental health. Can I be? - NO. Can I be kind? - No. Can I be kind to everyone else? Pheeew, barely. Can I be kind to m-/NO. It's called pinning your entire self esteem on the quality of your interactions with other people. Less interactions, less you know what.
At least the weather outside mirrored my learning as the rain pelted the windows and the temperature held its own pity party.
Saturday I learned that sleeping in, doing some puzzle, making corn fritters and napping helped.
Sunday I employed the old binge yourself happier lesson learned on a previous barrel scraping. We were going to watch Frozen 2 but ended up doing Stranger Things with my ten year old daughter. Am sure they are very similar. The rain eased for a while to allow us to escape up the bush track and a few minutes at Notre Dame after dinner gave me a glimpse of the river side path and the still waters beside. Not looking forward to piecing together those leafy trees and blue skies.
Monday morning. Normal non-routine. No school to worry about. Great.
By 9.37am, I've come up with a new measure of my day, something quantifiable, a goal I can really work on, graph progress and achieve in a specific measurable achievable realistic time- based way. It the number of minutes taken to go from waking up reasonable happy to C.I.L.L. - Covid Isolation Livid Level. Monday 30/3/20 - 97 mins.
Friday, March 27, 2020
Finding a new regime while scraping the bottom of the barrel for the elixir of life
Scraping the bottom of the barrel this morning, I hope, or the bottom so far, was when I wept all over Notre Dame's usually small and fiddly shaped fragments. Piecing together the exquisitely carved stone facades helped. It just let my mind find some calm in the face of panic, in the fear of what? why? well, I feel stymied at the thought of the loss. So many of someone's loved ones - real lives with hearts and minds and families that love and hate them - human and imperfect and annoying as they probably are, genius and quirky and unique. That is a heavy sea anchor. This is the jelly I swim in . I know we have to stay home and I'm actually fine with that. Its a way of helping that leaves me feeling helpless. I stayed in the jelly with the pieces until I could stand up without crying again. Success uses a lot of precious bog roll sometimes.
I also scrapped yesterdays regime and replaced it with another. Do what you like, whenever you like. I am no teacher, no time tabler, no crowd manager, no people whisperer. I deal with the broken one at a time, hands on, heart on, so don't ask me to manage your schooling. I'm there for sustenance and encouragement. I love you to bits but can't teach you mathematics. Child.
After an hour of two of spires and twirley window panes of the french style and some serious edging wins, I made lunch, and - new regime of meeting them at their interests - kept my teen and preteen bubble mates at the table long enough for a card game of shi'thead in the sunshine. Next we all marched off for a family plus dog walk up into the bush. I managed a tictoc video with our daughter.
We went to virtual assembly and put out our bears for anyone going to catch a big one and are not scared. I managed some work sitting on the trampoline, a novel experience and one that my pelvic floor tolerated (I did say sitting, not leaping), did some more work and a whanau yoga session on the interweb. Dinner included a 123 beer bread which is wonderful but involves a sacrificial lager. (Best early on in the lock down in case beer becomes as precious as bog roll.)
Then we officially opened the Fungeon with an inaugural family dungeons and dragons session. Had a bag of chips. Amazing friday night larikins. I am a dragon born bard, and claim a toll of 2 giant spiders which have died at my hands. I gained an elixir of life that claims to cure all illnesses, so watch this space (can you guess what I'm thinking there?)
Mostly, I am trying to find new normal. I see its no use trying to find it in other people's suggestions, as much as knowing is empowering and comforting in a shared challenge way. Just do whatever the fuck you like.
I also scrapped yesterdays regime and replaced it with another. Do what you like, whenever you like. I am no teacher, no time tabler, no crowd manager, no people whisperer. I deal with the broken one at a time, hands on, heart on, so don't ask me to manage your schooling. I'm there for sustenance and encouragement. I love you to bits but can't teach you mathematics. Child.
After an hour of two of spires and twirley window panes of the french style and some serious edging wins, I made lunch, and - new regime of meeting them at their interests - kept my teen and preteen bubble mates at the table long enough for a card game of shi'thead in the sunshine. Next we all marched off for a family plus dog walk up into the bush. I managed a tictoc video with our daughter.
We went to virtual assembly and put out our bears for anyone going to catch a big one and are not scared. I managed some work sitting on the trampoline, a novel experience and one that my pelvic floor tolerated (I did say sitting, not leaping), did some more work and a whanau yoga session on the interweb. Dinner included a 123 beer bread which is wonderful but involves a sacrificial lager. (Best early on in the lock down in case beer becomes as precious as bog roll.)
Then we officially opened the Fungeon with an inaugural family dungeons and dragons session. Had a bag of chips. Amazing friday night larikins. I am a dragon born bard, and claim a toll of 2 giant spiders which have died at my hands. I gained an elixir of life that claims to cure all illnesses, so watch this space (can you guess what I'm thinking there?)
Mostly, I am trying to find new normal. I see its no use trying to find it in other people's suggestions, as much as knowing is empowering and comforting in a shared challenge way. Just do whatever the fuck you like.
Thursday, March 26, 2020
Rollercoaster peaked then hit that fast moving free fall. How many days to go?
Riding the roller coaster of hom-e-motions today with all the highs of a lycra junkie at a wanderlust convention and all the lows of a junkie. Denied her fix. And what is my fix? My fix is people apparently. Big hairy scary leery weary fairy... aloe Vera-y. People. Deary. I even like the beer-y ones when I am one.
Day one lock down and day three home school. I've been making a list of the things I wont need in lock down. Hung up my handbag behind the bedroom door. Wont need that sucker for a while except for my big weekly outing to a supermarket. Can someone please remind me next wednesday where I put it, ta. Also don't need a courier ticket that's be lolling around my desk for a few years. Or any ticket to any thing, any place any airplane, any time soon. All re-purposed for tooth flossing. I don't need a razor to shave my legs. I could use one but I'd have to give a shit.
I made an executive and highly personal decision that 52 hours was long enough to wear a set of clothes. Straight. Not given any decrees or guidelines, just saying.
I tried to work. Not much luck when they don't answer the phone. Next person I see outside my bubble after the bubble pops and we all go back to physical contact is GOING TO FEEL MY LOVE.
Strangely not feeling like hugging the people inside my bubble much. I have an overwhelming feeling I am a failure as a mother late evening as I seem to have neglected to teach them how to wipe a bench, empty the compost, how to clean different types of dishes, stacking the dishwasher etc. Felt like a failure cause I cant teach math's either, or it seems keep all of them happy for any length of time - someone is always cross with me - and right now the only way I can keep them safe is by not letting them out the gate. I mean, the bar is low and I'm bent over backwards limbo-ing all around the house and still not hitting my KPIs for the day in any way.
The washing is still not folded so no changes there, I suddenly haven't had hours to precision fold my clothes like the pinterest ideas for lockdown page suggested. In fact, time is a vortex aimed to mess with my head with all its accelerating and decelerating warp warp .
But then a success. I finally got them off devices now conveniently called 'school work' and out the door at 1145 am only and hour and a quarter after I started yelling we are going to go. We had a burst of cardio up the bush track and I felt lucky we have such a precious place to breathe.
Then failure then success. A neighbourly 2m by 2m swim out to the buoy in the bay was a good way to burn off the angst from our first lockdown adult v adult argument. Lets just say I was right. I hugged the buoy and rampantly infected it with my virus loving. If I had it. ( No symptoms, just don't anyone else touch it, that buoy with no togs on is mine).
Then a midday bath to check the news and eat lunch and bring my body temperature back up. Why am I holding onto old expectations of achievement when I so freely make and adopt other new rules? ie bathing as an anytime activity but other rules of married engagement stay the same.
The afternoon dragged on after that, another burst of work, and we made a video singing on the deck for homework. Tick for mum. the universe gives me a broken ukelele string one the first day of a national lockdown. Ironic. But not world stopping.
I haven't had a nap after three whole days straight at home ( wtf, time vortex?) and now I'm plain wingeing. Not a fungeon insight today.
Notre dame was mocking me from the puzzle blitz so I shoved one piece into place down her majestic impeccable gob, as I drank my third glass of wine and secretly ate the jet planes while they played smash bros. I haven't watched any TV, learnt any languages, origami-ed any paper or jeans,
or achieved anything much at all.
One day in and I'm already nuts. Or just more obviously nuts to the people who have to bubble with me. I'm a fish in jelly. I'm a bear shitting in the woods with no-one watching. I'm, frankly, a pain in the arse. What if they, the people I love, come to this realisation too? After all these years of hiding it in the busy lifeness ? What if? Love you too.
Day one lock down and day three home school. I've been making a list of the things I wont need in lock down. Hung up my handbag behind the bedroom door. Wont need that sucker for a while except for my big weekly outing to a supermarket. Can someone please remind me next wednesday where I put it, ta. Also don't need a courier ticket that's be lolling around my desk for a few years. Or any ticket to any thing, any place any airplane, any time soon. All re-purposed for tooth flossing. I don't need a razor to shave my legs. I could use one but I'd have to give a shit.
I made an executive and highly personal decision that 52 hours was long enough to wear a set of clothes. Straight. Not given any decrees or guidelines, just saying.
I tried to work. Not much luck when they don't answer the phone. Next person I see outside my bubble after the bubble pops and we all go back to physical contact is GOING TO FEEL MY LOVE.
Strangely not feeling like hugging the people inside my bubble much. I have an overwhelming feeling I am a failure as a mother late evening as I seem to have neglected to teach them how to wipe a bench, empty the compost, how to clean different types of dishes, stacking the dishwasher etc. Felt like a failure cause I cant teach math's either, or it seems keep all of them happy for any length of time - someone is always cross with me - and right now the only way I can keep them safe is by not letting them out the gate. I mean, the bar is low and I'm bent over backwards limbo-ing all around the house and still not hitting my KPIs for the day in any way.
The washing is still not folded so no changes there, I suddenly haven't had hours to precision fold my clothes like the pinterest ideas for lockdown page suggested. In fact, time is a vortex aimed to mess with my head with all its accelerating and decelerating warp warp .
But then a success. I finally got them off devices now conveniently called 'school work' and out the door at 1145 am only and hour and a quarter after I started yelling we are going to go. We had a burst of cardio up the bush track and I felt lucky we have such a precious place to breathe.
Then failure then success. A neighbourly 2m by 2m swim out to the buoy in the bay was a good way to burn off the angst from our first lockdown adult v adult argument. Lets just say I was right. I hugged the buoy and rampantly infected it with my virus loving. If I had it. ( No symptoms, just don't anyone else touch it, that buoy with no togs on is mine).
Then a midday bath to check the news and eat lunch and bring my body temperature back up. Why am I holding onto old expectations of achievement when I so freely make and adopt other new rules? ie bathing as an anytime activity but other rules of married engagement stay the same.
The afternoon dragged on after that, another burst of work, and we made a video singing on the deck for homework. Tick for mum. the universe gives me a broken ukelele string one the first day of a national lockdown. Ironic. But not world stopping.
I haven't had a nap after three whole days straight at home ( wtf, time vortex?) and now I'm plain wingeing. Not a fungeon insight today.
Notre dame was mocking me from the puzzle blitz so I shoved one piece into place down her majestic impeccable gob, as I drank my third glass of wine and secretly ate the jet planes while they played smash bros. I haven't watched any TV, learnt any languages, origami-ed any paper or jeans,
or achieved anything much at all.
One day in and I'm already nuts. Or just more obviously nuts to the people who have to bubble with me. I'm a fish in jelly. I'm a bear shitting in the woods with no-one watching. I'm, frankly, a pain in the arse. What if they, the people I love, come to this realisation too? After all these years of hiding it in the busy lifeness ? What if? Love you too.
Wednesday, March 25, 2020
Sour party mix dresses for dinner and buys garlic
Last day of preparation, day three at home involved....a trip out.
To school to pick up art supplies left behind, to Bin Inn for preserving sugar and randoms, more art supplies, then cueing one by one in the sunshine for forty five minutes to get Grandad's butcher order. The butcher in the village is closing which was a surprise so we had one day to calmly stock. Two cottage pies and a kilo of sausages should keep him going for weeks. Four square for, not a panic shop as much as a comfort one. Ice cream, chocolate (including chili flavor to put off the kids), lollies labelled sour party mix, more lollies - jet planes this time - because I'sa feeling nostalgic, garlic (still checking vampire horizon) and fresh pasta. Weird. Gingernuts. Back to school to pick up tennis gear left behind. All the usual Grrrrr noises. All the kids went out to play tennis with their Dad and I thought wow this is what an empty house feels like.
Tried to work.
Cold water therapy sea swim after trying to work.
Gave the buoy a big hug and felt a millions times better. FYI I bags all the buoy hugs this month.
Cooked nice dinner.
Dressed for dinner and Texas hold 'em poker.
Zoom called the siblings and parents.
Five minutes staring at fucking Notre dame in pieces. Put one piece back together.
I feel like Humpty Dumpty put back together with all the wrong pieces pointing the wrong way. My nose is in my armpit. I don't know what to say or what to expect.The sour party mix was supposed to be ironic funny and the dressing for poker night meant to convey an air of siege mentality throw your last breeding dodo into the fire pit, chaps. we are all having so much jolly fun. Here we go, doing it for all the right reasons. But then I blew it by yelling at my bubble mates because they are well, really annoying and I am really annoyed. (Clarification :They are annoying only some times and I am annoyed all the time). Party on, friends. For the health of others, I know.
Jacinda says I cant invite you to my sour party (mix) but my fear is would you even want to come?
To school to pick up art supplies left behind, to Bin Inn for preserving sugar and randoms, more art supplies, then cueing one by one in the sunshine for forty five minutes to get Grandad's butcher order. The butcher in the village is closing which was a surprise so we had one day to calmly stock. Two cottage pies and a kilo of sausages should keep him going for weeks. Four square for, not a panic shop as much as a comfort one. Ice cream, chocolate (including chili flavor to put off the kids), lollies labelled sour party mix, more lollies - jet planes this time - because I'sa feeling nostalgic, garlic (still checking vampire horizon) and fresh pasta. Weird. Gingernuts. Back to school to pick up tennis gear left behind. All the usual Grrrrr noises. All the kids went out to play tennis with their Dad and I thought wow this is what an empty house feels like.
Tried to work.
Cold water therapy sea swim after trying to work.
Gave the buoy a big hug and felt a millions times better. FYI I bags all the buoy hugs this month.
Cooked nice dinner.
Dressed for dinner and Texas hold 'em poker.
Zoom called the siblings and parents.
Five minutes staring at fucking Notre dame in pieces. Put one piece back together.
I feel like Humpty Dumpty put back together with all the wrong pieces pointing the wrong way. My nose is in my armpit. I don't know what to say or what to expect.The sour party mix was supposed to be ironic funny and the dressing for poker night meant to convey an air of siege mentality throw your last breeding dodo into the fire pit, chaps. we are all having so much jolly fun. Here we go, doing it for all the right reasons. But then I blew it by yelling at my bubble mates because they are well, really annoying and I am really annoyed. (Clarification :They are annoying only some times and I am annoyed all the time). Party on, friends. For the health of others, I know.
Jacinda says I cant invite you to my sour party (mix) but my fear is would you even want to come?
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
Home school lesson - achieved with various grades
Day two.
I have had a big day sorting out my now working from home regime as a person who actually has to put their hands on and touch everyone, all the time, and get paid for it. Telehealth feels quite viscerally lacking. But, am grateful for the work and I can embrace the new virtual. Home school lesson . Resilience - Achieved with pass.
I notice the boys are asking me 'Are you OK, Mum?' more today than any other day I remember. Maybe its the vacant stare while standing in the middle of the lounge with a mobile phone in one hand and a vacuum cleaner hose under my arm and 3 pack of baked beans in my pocket and the days global death toll spinning around my head. Home school lesson - Be nice to mum because she's a horses tail hair width from spazzing totally out - Achieved with excellence.
I bought a 1000 piece puzzle yesterday that Missy started this am before 8am. This wee thing gave me my truly peaceful moments in the day (am referring to puzzle, not child). A thousand pieces of the waterway in front of Notre Dame Cathedral, noticing the precise shade of green under the cathedral compared to the still dank green of still waters and the fractured carnage of the full sun beside the river barge. A world smashed into a myriad of reflections of light, subtle nuances of days gone by and days to come, what will and may and may never happen. I was going to tell the kids - 'This is Notre dame, chaps, fat chance you'll ever see it.', but my husband thought that was going a bit grim. Home school lesson - Keep it cool and relentlessly positive - Not achieved.
I am influenced heavily by the amount of apocalyptic reading I've done. Not sure if that's helping right now. I keep looking out for the zombie vampire hoards. I feel an over whelming sense of doom, and I hit tearful alert level 2 tonight. But this is a short term quite lengthy paralysis. I can't remember my work colleagues names when trying to email them, and I saw them yesterday. I know this is cognitive overload, my brain cannot manage to hold onto certain bits of information due to over riding hyper sympathetic over drive. My fight response is fueling all the actions and thoughts. Except for the blue sky edges of the puzzle above Notre dame. They are perfectly shaped bliss balls.
I realized today the true benefit of school besides education. Tires the little fuckers out. Especially the teenagers. All day long they have lounged on various pieces of furniture and technology. They managed an olympic effort late morning in folding and delivering the papers hitting at least 200m from home. Fueled by 1.5kgs of cereal and half a months worth of milk. Essential work. Apart from that they await the google classroom call to duty with a PS4 controller in one hand and a cereal ladle in the other. Until 930 pm, when they spark up with a days worth of energy and start hanging all the soft toys with shoe laces, throwing sneakers at heads and singing their usually buried emotions into hysterics. The world becomes a bad opera at 2130. Here are the energy vampires, out to attack. Must remember to recommend they put more stairs in those new school buildings, God Bless Teachers. Home school lesson, appreciation for teachers and school - Achieved with excellence.
I have had a big day sorting out my now working from home regime as a person who actually has to put their hands on and touch everyone, all the time, and get paid for it. Telehealth feels quite viscerally lacking. But, am grateful for the work and I can embrace the new virtual. Home school lesson . Resilience - Achieved with pass.
I notice the boys are asking me 'Are you OK, Mum?' more today than any other day I remember. Maybe its the vacant stare while standing in the middle of the lounge with a mobile phone in one hand and a vacuum cleaner hose under my arm and 3 pack of baked beans in my pocket and the days global death toll spinning around my head. Home school lesson - Be nice to mum because she's a horses tail hair width from spazzing totally out - Achieved with excellence.
I bought a 1000 piece puzzle yesterday that Missy started this am before 8am. This wee thing gave me my truly peaceful moments in the day (am referring to puzzle, not child). A thousand pieces of the waterway in front of Notre Dame Cathedral, noticing the precise shade of green under the cathedral compared to the still dank green of still waters and the fractured carnage of the full sun beside the river barge. A world smashed into a myriad of reflections of light, subtle nuances of days gone by and days to come, what will and may and may never happen. I was going to tell the kids - 'This is Notre dame, chaps, fat chance you'll ever see it.', but my husband thought that was going a bit grim. Home school lesson - Keep it cool and relentlessly positive - Not achieved.
I am influenced heavily by the amount of apocalyptic reading I've done. Not sure if that's helping right now. I keep looking out for the zombie vampire hoards. I feel an over whelming sense of doom, and I hit tearful alert level 2 tonight. But this is a short term quite lengthy paralysis. I can't remember my work colleagues names when trying to email them, and I saw them yesterday. I know this is cognitive overload, my brain cannot manage to hold onto certain bits of information due to over riding hyper sympathetic over drive. My fight response is fueling all the actions and thoughts. Except for the blue sky edges of the puzzle above Notre dame. They are perfectly shaped bliss balls.
I realized today the true benefit of school besides education. Tires the little fuckers out. Especially the teenagers. All day long they have lounged on various pieces of furniture and technology. They managed an olympic effort late morning in folding and delivering the papers hitting at least 200m from home. Fueled by 1.5kgs of cereal and half a months worth of milk. Essential work. Apart from that they await the google classroom call to duty with a PS4 controller in one hand and a cereal ladle in the other. Until 930 pm, when they spark up with a days worth of energy and start hanging all the soft toys with shoe laces, throwing sneakers at heads and singing their usually buried emotions into hysterics. The world becomes a bad opera at 2130. Here are the energy vampires, out to attack. Must remember to recommend they put more stairs in those new school buildings, God Bless Teachers. Home school lesson, appreciation for teachers and school - Achieved with excellence.
Monday, March 23, 2020
You can take my freedom but you cant take away my C'ronut Virus. Live from the FungeonNZ
And just like that, I'm the motheronboard. And the teacheronboard. While workingonboard. Paying back the mortgageonboard. While preserving the plums and feeding the sourdough starter. And keeping an eye on the latest global death statistics learning to crochet being a community minded carer and rocking it across all my social media feeds. Did I mention the chickens? Got to squeeze those suckers daily. Already drank most of my red wine. Bringing my virus baggage with me. Chapped hands is the new black.
Fuck. Sorry. Shouldn't swear but probably will.
Day one. Lets begin this thing called LockDownFreakyShitNz or otherwise known as 'the Fungeon'.
Home schooling (8 hours in) has started with the boys teaching me (anyone surprised?) about the fudge dungeon which is a torture house made of fudge that is supposed to be fun. (Thanks Wreck it Ralph)
I'm not sure who is going to learn the most in this fungeon.
I was driving over the Remutakas (GO YOU LITTLE TAKAS!) when the country escalated to Level 3, slippery sliding with extra bubbles rapidly into Level 4 in 48 hours, to a Lockdownnz. What were you doing?
Usually putting NZ on the end of the word makes it cool and happening and funky. All in it together. Not in this Fungeon. FungeonNZ. Meh. That's a bit better with capitals.
Post announcement I popped into Kiwi bank to get a pin number on my new credit card, Hallelujah, and gave $40 bucks to two old looking homeless dudes wrapped up together in a sleeping bag under an old shop front awning. 'Find somewhere to stay and keep warm and safe' I advised them. 'Find somewhere thats warm and safe on Wednesday at 130pm'. I said. They nodded and rubbed the two twenties together. What a cheap arse I am, I thought later, vigorously rubbing my hand sanitiser into the cracks.
My fungeon isnt even going to be that fun, I expect. I'll try and at least give an honest ratio of spazz to 'gram moments.
I am so lucky. An grateful. And even though I cant answer my daughter's math's question she wants to start at 9pm (I don't know! Go to sleep ! Its a home school night!), I did answer the whats going to happen tomorrow question. Tomorrow darling, its going to be OK. Whatever happens in the fungeonNZ tomorrow, it will never be the same, but it will be OK.
Fuck. Sorry. Shouldn't swear but probably will.
Day one. Lets begin this thing called LockDownFreakyShitNz or otherwise known as 'the Fungeon'.
Home schooling (8 hours in) has started with the boys teaching me (anyone surprised?) about the fudge dungeon which is a torture house made of fudge that is supposed to be fun. (Thanks Wreck it Ralph)
I'm not sure who is going to learn the most in this fungeon.
I was driving over the Remutakas (GO YOU LITTLE TAKAS!) when the country escalated to Level 3, slippery sliding with extra bubbles rapidly into Level 4 in 48 hours, to a Lockdownnz. What were you doing?
Usually putting NZ on the end of the word makes it cool and happening and funky. All in it together. Not in this Fungeon. FungeonNZ. Meh. That's a bit better with capitals.
Post announcement I popped into Kiwi bank to get a pin number on my new credit card, Hallelujah, and gave $40 bucks to two old looking homeless dudes wrapped up together in a sleeping bag under an old shop front awning. 'Find somewhere to stay and keep warm and safe' I advised them. 'Find somewhere thats warm and safe on Wednesday at 130pm'. I said. They nodded and rubbed the two twenties together. What a cheap arse I am, I thought later, vigorously rubbing my hand sanitiser into the cracks.
My fungeon isnt even going to be that fun, I expect. I'll try and at least give an honest ratio of spazz to 'gram moments.
I am so lucky. An grateful. And even though I cant answer my daughter's math's question she wants to start at 9pm (I don't know! Go to sleep ! Its a home school night!), I did answer the whats going to happen tomorrow question. Tomorrow darling, its going to be OK. Whatever happens in the fungeonNZ tomorrow, it will never be the same, but it will be OK.
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