It’s officially day 24 of lockdown, and my four-year-old just stood next to me and asked me to watch as she peed extravagantly on the floor. She grinned like a Cheshire cat the whole time. She wasn’t wearing panties – we’ve run out of clean ones – and this was, I’m guessing, her way of getting my attention because I won’t let her watch TV. (That’s punishment, by the way, for all the other times she’s either peed or pooed her pants this weekend. How do I know it’s the weekend? Because I don’t fight with her as much over my laptop.)
She has also destroyed a roll of kitchen towel in order to get the cardboard tube in the middle and scrunched up one of the illustrations I painted for a book I’m working on for her. She has thrown multiple tantrums, as well as things at me. She has used permanent market on the floor (luckily Handy Andy works well, because I saw my life flash before my eyes). And she still keeps asking to watch Numberjacks on my laptop “to say sorry”. I told her that’s not how it works, but she doesn’t believe me. She is gleefully awful and I am gatvol. I love her very, very much and I would die for her without a moment’s hesitation, but right now I also hate her.
Of course, lockdown with kids has been longer than 24 days, because schools closed more than a week before, and we’ve been cooped up with the little shits ever since. Because my daughter was hospitalised with very bad gastro at the beginning of March, it’s been even longer. She was last in school nearly two months ago, so it’s been a marathon – closer to 42 days than 24. She’s supposed to be starting online school tomorrow morning, or would have been had a decided not to pull her out and home school her instead. And even if she were still in school, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to balance my need to, you know, earn a living by using my laptop, versus preschool classes.
I’ve never spent so long with her, not since I was on maternity leave, and it’s hard. So, so hard. I do not have the patience for small children. I am annoyed by her miniscule attention span and constant whining for screen time. I try to come up with Fun, Wholesome, Educational activities every day, and every day she makes a mockery of my plans. Writing? Please. Spelling? Forget it. Music? Boring. Numbers? Really? (Yes, I realise that this applies to fourteen-year-olds as much as four-year-olds.)
If I want to work, or write, or – heaven forbid, read a book – I have to plonk her in front of a screen. It’s the only way she’ll leave me alone and stop nagging me for time on my laptop. Last week I screamed at her because she wouldn’t stop interrupting me while I was under pressure on an urgent deadline. It is literally impossible to have a life or earn a living and not have a child who isn’t a screen zombie, because these are mutually exclusive things when you’re a hopelessly awful mother like me.
Every time I give in and let her watch TV because it’s the only way I can get anything done, I feel like a massive failure, mainly because that’s what I am. If I were a Good Mother, I’d be putting her first every single time. But I’m not. I have other things I need to think about, and even if I didn’t, I want time to myself. It’s selfish, but it’s the truth.
Before lockdown, before the monumental clusterfuck that is COVID-19, I could rely on a combination of school and my mother to do a lot of the heavy lifting when it came to childcare. My mother is endlessly patient with children – she had four of us after all – and she was more than happy to spend the time with her bonus granddaughter. Now the only way they can see one another is via Facetime and it’s not the same.
Two more weeks to go, give or take, and I am over it. I want this sodding lockdown to end – at least the official, government-enforced-at-gunpoint variety. I want to have the luxury of not being cooped up with my child, and my guilt about my child, 24/7. Because I have asthma, and my mother is very high risk, (over 70, hypertension, history of respiratory problems including asthma), I have taken a decision to pull my daughter out of school so she can be with her grandmother during the day, while I get some time for work. If need be, I will push back on in-person meetings so that I can make this happen. Right now, that’s what’s keeping me going. Two more weeks and I’m gritting my teeth.
I can’t take much more of this.
discomombulated 