It was 7am. I got the school text while half awake: ‘There is a confirmed Covid case in your child’s class. All children must self-isolate until the 26th July. More details to follow.’
Oh. My. Goodness. But…. aargh… noooo…. we had plans! My son is meant to be at a football tournament on Saturday not at home as a result of contact with a confirmed Covid case. We had friends coming round! And I’ve got to juggle my work and somehow entertain him and deal with the constant whining and whingeing and him asking me to come and play. It’s not that I don’t want to kick the football around with him, obviously, it’s that I’m working from home and got my mind on various tasks and can’t keep dropping it all. I need to concentrate.
Gah! Homeschooling! We’ve got to do homeschooling! I thought that was over! So now I’ve got to somehow juggle that AND my homeworking AND the whingeing. My head is going to explode. I can’t believe we are back here again. I thought that was over forever! Trying to apply my brain to both my work while also helping a grumpy child work out tricky equations is going to lead to tears and tantrums (from both of us).
I’ve got to…
- print off reams of sheets from the school.
- mark everything.
- make sure he is concentrating.
- explain things that he doesn’t understand and maybe I don’t either (fraction conversions, anyone?)
- …do all this while I’m in the middle of my own work.
Now I’ve just realised that it also means he can’t leave the house for 10 days. Ten days! He will be climbing the walls! Even with a football goal set up in the spare room for him to use and an expanse of grass in our garden (where all the heads get knocked off my flowers) he can’t get all of his energy out. I need a trampoline but I’ve not enough room for it. Oh to be rich and have a swimming pool out back…
Plus I’ve got to deal with the day to day tasks- the bills, making food, ordering the shopping, hoovering, tidying up, dealing with him trying to get out of having a shower (soap dodger alert!) and brushing his teeth, which you would honestly think was the worst thing to ever happen to him. And he will grump. And groan. A lot. And I will feel horribly guilty that I’ve got all these tasks to do and not enough time to apply properly to any of them.
Maybe I could do a Zoom call with the camera off while I load the dishwasher? Maybe I could get him to put the dry washing away with a bribe of sweets at the end of it?
Maybe I could get him to sit quietly and do all his schoolwork alone in silence while I do all of the above and more in peaceful solitude?
Fat chance. Pray for me, reader. And send a vat of wine and chocolate to get me through it.