Pride and (snow) falls

 Parenting.  It's a roller coaster.

One minute you're blow away by your teens' maturity and grace in the times of Covid.  You thank your lucky stars that they have adapted reasonably well to the ridiculous times we find ourselves living through, and even congratulate yourself - a little - on the fact that you must be doing something right.

The next minute, you're standing in your garden late at night waiting for the dog to deliver, and you notice that one of your children has walked the outline of a huge penis onto your snowy lawn - and that it's in a location clearly visible to all your neighbours.

Clothes shopping for teens in Lockdown

Boy #1 has grown - they do that, I'm told.  This is a problem; he's grown so much that none of last year's shorts fit.  Well, I say 'none'; what I actually mean is that only one pair fits - and they are of the quick-dry sports-related variety.  He loves them, obviously.  I detest them, but have been putting up with them because there's no alternative until the two pairs of replacements ordered online reach us.

The new ones arrive, and he tries them on.

Boy #1: 'Oh.'

Me:  'Quite.'  

We watch them slide off his hips and onto the floor.

Me:  'So when you said you wanted that size, what were you basing it on?'

Boy #1: 'The trousers I have upstairs.  You know, the only trousers that are long enough.'

Me:  'The ones with the elastic adjuster in the waistline?'

He nods.

We send them back.

Three pairs of new shorts in a smaller size arrive 5 days later.  I have grown heartily sick of his wash & wear shorts in the meantime, in the main because he refuses to hand them over for the wash part.  Even though the weather has now changed and he could be wearing trousers instead, still the shorts make a daily appearance.

At my insistence Boy #1 tries the new shorts on soon after they arrive (if it was left to him they would stay in the bag for the next week).  Much to both our relief, they more or less fit (although he's still able to slide them down off his hips without undoing them, I note.  Obviously, for a teen-aged boy that's a bonus, but I make a mental note to suggest he wears a belt.  I am a mum, after all).  

Me: 'Why don't you change into one of the new pairs now, and put your old ones in the wash?'

Boy #1:  'No.'

I'm taken aback.  'No?  Why on earth not?  They're disgusting!'

'Because I want to go for a run later, and if I put a new pair on now then two pairs of shorts will need to be washed, when I only really need to sort one. '

I'm speechless (and not because the incidences of him doing his own washing are less regular than I might like).  He has managed to come up with just about the ONLY reason I would let him get away with continuing to wear his quite frankly filthy shorts.

He knows it, too:  'Yeah, Mum.  Boom. Mic drop.'

We leave it there.  I know when I'm beaten.

For more Lockdown-related posts, click here

Having it all in Lockdown

There are a lot of mixed messages regarding Lockdown floating around in the UK right now.  Lockdown is over, but it's not.  You're allowed to see people, but only one at a time.  If you want to see both your parents you can, but only outside and one at a time; if you want to see both you should leave a ten minute gap in between.  We should wear masks - but only in confined spaces, not necessarily in all inside spaces, and they may not help much anyway - but they might, so you should.

Most people seem to be navigating their way through this host of confusion quite sensibly.  But if you look online - and take it seriously - there's a whole other mess of Lockdown advice, most of which seems expressly designed to make us feel bad about ourselves.

Lockdown, it seems, is a chance for us not to power-down and get through it, but rather the opposite.  Leave aside working from home and holding onto a job, we're supposed to be getting more sleep, more exercise, eating better, learning new skills (masterclasses, anyone?), and generally re-organising our lives for the better.  Our homes are supposed to be cleaner than they've ever been, the shelves tidier, the freezers organised, the annoying little rats' nests of change, clutter, keys and receipts tidied up, once and for all.  Our wardrobes are supposed to rationalised, though quite where we're supposed to take those clothes that have been outgrown etc, I'm not sure.  Oh - wait - they can be repurposed into NEW clothes, that you make on the sewing machine you've unearthed at the back of one of those cupboards you just organised.  Oh, and sourdough!  (Fabulous; sourdough starter - something else to kill.  I can't even keep a house plant alive...)

Well.  Bollocks to that lot, frankly.

If I can stay on top of my children's home learning schedules (their school is still running to time-table.  So that's fun), put a wash on and remember to take it out again, go through the surreal experience that is visiting the supermarket once a week or so, and occasionally remember to run a hoover around the place to avoid our needing to wade through drifts of spring-time moult from the dog, and still be talking to my family in complete sentences by bedtime, then the rest can go to hell.

That's my version of Lockdown having it all, anyway...

For more posts on Lockdown living, click here

Lockdown; too many hats and fattening the curves

Yesterday, Husband asked me to do a very simple financial task.  No problem, I thought.  Should take me 15 minutes, tops.

When I sat down to do it however, it seemed overwhelming.  The information I needed wasn't where it should have been, and the prospect of going through lists of emails was enough to push me to the brink of tears.  Why, I wondered, was this easy job so bloody difficult?  It shouldn't be; I should have breezed through it - but I couldn't face it.

I shut my laptop in disgust and went outside to try and gather my thoughts.  As I did so my phone rang; a friend was calling in to check on me, and she couldn't have done so at a better time.  She asked if I was OK and for a change I gave the real answer: not really.

As I explained why I suddenly realised that it wasn't about the poxy task.  What had pushed me to the brink were some of the same issues many parents are facing in Lockdown, starting with - but not limited to - home-schooling recalcitrant teens.  Sounds quite straight-forward, doesn't it?  But that requires a host of skills over and above those we would normally need if our children were in full-time education: teacher (I knew that was a difficult job but my god...), internet provider, tech expert, interpreter, police officer, authoritative parent, design & technology expert, 10.00am pt instructor.

Then there are the other, non-school based tasks that have become important during isolation...

Mediator.  Between my sons.  Between my sons and their father.  Between my sons and their teachers.  Between the dog and the cats next door.

Cheerleader.  Cheerer-upper, putter-on of a brave face.

Chief cook, bottle-washer, organiser of shopping lists, stock checker & rotator.

Laundry supervisor.  Domestic engineer & household tasks time-tabler.

And, finally, let's not forget, nutrition expert - though not for right now; it's more of a planning role at present.  I mean, diet in Lockdown?  Take a hike - this is hard enough already.  So whilst some are getting through this situation fuelled by wine, gin, beer, vodka and so on, I personally have chosen chocolate.  Consequently once this is all over, if I don't want to have to go out and buy and entire new set of clothes, I will also be trying to flatten the curves I have been working so hard on fattening over the Lockdown period.

It could take a while.


For more Lockdown musings, check here