As I write, a 20-month-old is having a meltdown on my sofa.
He’s undergoing Paw Patrol detox and is about to get whisked off into the sunny garden any minute now.
Meanwhile, the four-year-old has this week learned how to score a literal goal with his new football and goals set, and a metaphorical goal by figuring out how to open a packet of Chocolate Digestives all by himself.
We didn’t panic buy toilet roll two weeks ago when we decided to isolate as a family, but I did buy four large boxes of tea bags, half of which have disappeared into a vortex of psychotic kettle boiling.
Why do we drink so much tea?
You can write all sorts of aspirational plans for your children on a white board in multi-coloured Sharpies, you may even chance an actual schedule, but is anyone else finding it harder to stick to than a diet on Christmas Day?
I hear about folks giving out about boredom during this time too and I want to shake them by their shoulders.
I haven’t been bored since 2015.
I remember it well, stroking my full-term belly and wondering if there was any part of the empty laundry basket that I hadn’t cleaned with my cotton tips.
This time at home is also testing on relationships.
The question of who gets up with the baby can always be settled by rock-paper-scissors, or even a morning roster.
However, after both finishing Netflix the night before it’s more likely to be a less-reasonable game of parent poor-mouthing with theatrical improvisations.
These include closing your eyes and pretending you’re asleep, rolling over and sighing, or even putting the pillow over your head and whimpering “Not meeeeeeeeee!”.
Not quite the pillow talk you were hoping for on a Sunday morning.
Baby boom
And it’s true what they say – a baby boom at Christmas will comprise of firstborns, as anyone working from home with children now are too tired to even shower.
The four-year-old pushed me into the bathroom this morning declaring, “Mommy stinks! She needs a bath!”
Sure, there have been incredible surges of productivity.
But there are times when a quick glance into the laptop just after lunch becomes some kind of quantum leap into “Oh no! I don’t even have the spuds on!”.
On detaching from my screen, I notice that red crayon has been scrawled on the walls, yoghurt is smeared on the fridge door and both suspects are missing from the scene.
Note to work-from-home’ers (WFHers); be sure to untangle your legs from laptop cables before jumping up from the table to chase your missing offspring.
Phone calls for work have become more human too. It’s now completely normal to carry out a conversation to the sound of “Mom! Mom……Mom! Mom!……MOM!”.
Just weeks ago – I joked to my sister that my messy, working-mom home was full of immune-building microbes.
Now, my house is clean. It smells of Dettol. Is this even my house?
It’s best to avoid social media too. It’s full of productive and chirpy mothers, doing squats and making banana muffins with their darlings.
I munch on a cold chicken nugget and try to muster the energy to do some gardening, perhaps.
But I have a condition known as Black Thumb – the opposite of Green Fingers.
I once grew some mildew on a windowsill which I was quite proud of.
Thank heavens for daffodils – those resilient and proud faces, smiling into the sun in spite of everything.
I grab my cuppa, take a seat in the garden and do the same.
Christine Tobin is a journalist with KCLR and producer of KCLR Live, the popular chat show presented by Eimear Ní Bhraonáin which airs from 10am to 12pm each weekday.
