The highs and lows of lockdown parenting

In the second week of the lockdown I began to write an article for this very website. I never finished it. In-fact, since then I have written for Reaction four times and never retuned to finish the piece. Why?

I began writing it in the second week of the lockdown. I had felt inspired by one of my experiences taking the children for their daily exercise when the lockdown was first imposed. House arrest. Exercising in front of our television screens. Daily state approved outdoor exercise. It was all very dystopian wasn’t it? Nonetheless, I was determined to stay positive and make the best of things.

I took my two boys, George is 7 and Charlie is 2, to a small green in the middle of our housing estate. On this small green there are three small wooded areas. All we had was a patch of grass, some bushes and a few trees. There we played for nearly two hours. Hide and seek. The big bad wolf. Making dens. Looking for insects. Play fighting.

George took to calling it ‘the wilderness’ as if it were some faraway place beyond civilisation. Our little estate became the boundaries of my world. At least after the initial pandemic panic shop. The “wilderness” was, for weeks, the furthest we ventured from the safety of our home. I felt a sense of peace on those first few walks, enjoying the little things.

I pledged to myself to cherish all those little moments. To enjoy the company of my children and take a leaf from their book by appreciating simple pleasures. That’s when I started writing the article that I never finished.

I never finished it because the reality of the lockdown soon set in. Of course, it was never going to be that easy. It was a brief, comforting fantasy.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had some great times as a family.  I have appreciated the little things, we’ve had to, otherwise we’d have gone mad. I’m sure in the years to come I’ll look back on this time and see the silver lining. Months of my life being locked down but time with my children that I never expected and will never have again.

I’ve enjoyed the games, playing in the garden, playing in the paddling pool, going for nice walks, watching films. Both children have had more personal attention from their parents than they’ve ever had before. Charlie has come on leaps and bounds in his development, especially his speech. But the lockdown has not been a breeze.

Two young children with quite a big age gap between them. I’ve been working full time from home throughout. My wife is a teacher and has had work to do. The lockdown confined us to our homes and limited our freedom of movement. All the things we would normally do with the kids for fun were closed. These are less than ideal conditions for parenting.

Then days turned into week, turned into months…

Never mind ‘appreciating the little things’, months of quarantine conditions and no childcare whatsoever tested me as a father, to the limit.

As a father at my best I’m very good, but I’ve not always been at my best. As a flawed human being and a man child I’m having to constantly combat my own selfishness and laziness. Neither of which make for good parenting.

So as much as I might have felt like I was reconnecting to something profound that day in the “wilderness”, as I hid in bushes pretending we were in a house made of bricks, after a few weeks I wasn’t feeling quite so zen. “No, we’re not going to the bloody wilderness again!”

What started as a determination to enjoy the company of my children and to really listen to them was soon overridden by my internal screams of: “God, do you ever stop talking!?’

I love my son George with all my heart and soul, but he talks at you in an endless stream of consciousness. It’s because he’s full of childlike wonder. He’s excitable, curious and extremely well spoken. But he will just talk at you for hours and hours.

By the end of the day I sometimes feel like weeping, sitting there, feeling battered by the constant barrage of his words and questions and thoughts he just has to vocalise.

As for my youngest, Charlie. He is beautiful and funny and bright, but he’s two. He needs constant attention. Constant attention, constantly, for four unbroken months. I didn’t sign up for this!

He needs watching like a hawk, which is a challenge for parents who are still working and have jobs to do. He will climb anything no matter how obviously dangerous. And at times has seem determined to give us a heart attack or worse a sit-down discussion with social services.

Four months and two near death experiences for this independent minded, brave little boy.

We took our eye off him for minute and hadn’t realised the back gate was open. He decided to go out on his scooter and we didn’t notice until we saw him across the road. Palpitations.

Another time his mummy was putting clothes away upstairs, I was working in my downstairs office and he was playing in his room. Then he shouts out, ‘mummy mummy I’m stuck! I’m stuck!’ He didn’t sound panicked, he sounded much like he always does when he’s playing. Usually we’d go in and find him hiding or pretending to be stuck.

One of his usual silly games my wife thinks. She finished what she was doing before going into his room to find that he’d found a bag with a cord in the back of his wardrobe. He had managed to hitch the cord to the window handle. He had then wrapped the cord around his neck and was leaning forward.  “I’m stuck, I’m stuck..’ he said playfully as he NEARLY DIED.

He’s like a suicidal cartoon character, except he’s not a cartoon and I’m responsible for keeping him alive. It’s kind of the central mission of parenting.

This is the stress that comes to two parents, stuck in lockdown, isolated, no support, trying to stay strong and positive for the children, despite the fact we’re barely holding our own shit together half the time. I know there are many more like us out there.

So, the idealism went out the window. Our lockdown parenting hasn’t been perfect, but we’ve done okay. I used to worry about how much my children watch TV, but lockdown has led to a very relaxed approach. Television has become another guardian.

A black-haired bunny called “Bing” has taught my youngest more phrases than I have. I started watching Marvel movies with George and realised I’ve spent more time trying to explain Avengers mythology and what the “infinity stones” are than any actual real-world science.

As the lockdown restrictions were eased, tensions were released, we all relaxed a little and have gone full circle. We’ve gone to the beach in Bridlington to throw rocks in the sea and get fish and chips, we explored caves in Flamborough, we’ve seen friends and family. We’re appreciating the small things.

I’m enjoying being with my children again. I’ve been reflecting and appreciating all the time I’ve had to bond with them. I’ve been thinking ‘we’ll never have time like this again’ and ‘what time are they going to bed? Shall I take em now?’ And… ‘when can they go their nannie and grandads house for a night?’ Please God, just one night.