Lisa’s lowdown

Lisa McLure goes into this lockdown armed with a white board for her kids and a roster for her friends.

“I used to get angry about lockdown and think I just want to get back to normal. But now lockdown is starting to feel normal. As nice as it was for regional Victoria to get out of lockdown briefly, it messed with my head to suddenly come out of it. If the parameters are clear it makes it easier.

I was working at the salon on the Saturday the lockdown was announced and because we had two hours’ notice we had time to cancel the next appointments and didn’t have anyone mid-colour. But it still wasn’t easy.

With home schooling, I’m now up to page 368 of the encyclopedia that I like to call “Every Trick in the Book”. The latest trick we’re trying came from a family meeting we held at the start of this lockdown.

Tim and I sat the kids down and said this is where we are at. We told them I’m not a teacher, I’m a helper for your teacher and I’d rather be at work and doing the things I like to do. We explained they weren’t the only ones dealing with all this. We drew up a white board with an agreement, which Evie and Angus both signed.

It’s not about dictating, but giving back some control to them instead of me ranting and yelling. The last two lockdowns with home schooling were horrendous and I don’t want to do that ever again. The first rule is not to be a butt hole to mum and to remember I’m not a teacher. Computer games are strictly 2pm-6pm and they need to exercise for an hour a day. One of the rules states if they sook or back-answer to me their laptop goes with dad to his work the next day. No exceptions.

The kids are required to help me with home tasks and we have a money jar for acts of kindness, but money will be removed if they are mean to mum. And they are required to feed Eric the cat all day, because he is a grazer and likes to spread out his 15 meals across the day. At the moment it’s working but who knows, after a few days it may all turn to sh*t.

The first night Evie left a note on my bed with a teddy saying “I know you want to go to work and I hope this makes you feel better, love Evie”. Angus was being a butt hole at that moment so I thought ‘I like Evie more today’. It’s a revolving door about who I like.

If I can’t cope I quietly call Tim at work.  The kids must think there are hidden cameras because they immediately get a phone call from dad who asks if they’re looking after me and following the rules.

This lockdown I’ve also gone off all social media. I posted a message saying for the duration of lockdown I’d be off-line because I wanted a mental holiday. It has been bloody amazing. People asked me if I was ok and I said I’m actually really good.

There is happy stuff on social media but even that can make you feel bad because you compare yourself to others: I’m not running every day and I’m barely getting the kids dressed let alone taking them down the beach. I didn’t want to turn this lockdown into a negative. The last few lockdowns I realise I start reading a social media thread and suddenly I’m down the rabbit hole and reading a heated argument about vaccinations.

When I posted the message I said I would be walking every morning at 6.30am and friends are welcome to join me, just in socially distanced pairs of course. So now I have a roster of people I’m walking with every day. I’m catching up with friends I don’t often have time to see.

Pushing myself out the door for exercise is different to having a date with someone to walk with.

I missed walking one day and the difference was huge – I had no drive and was lethargic. But after my walks I feel amazing, even the kids notice I’m not so grizzly and moany.

Two weeks ago Tim got his licence back. Hallelujah. So I opened my studio. But four days later I had to shut it again. It’s the new normal.

FOOTNOTE: As fate would have it, the week has in fact turned to sh*t. 
Late last week we were up at 3.30am with Angus sick as a dog with the flu and Evie at the hub with suspected appendicitis. My 6.30am walks were cancelled and we have a house full of sickies.
Sigh.”