What a year. Almost twelve months ago I found out I was pregnant, having made the leap as a fulltime freelancer, work was going well enough for me to venture into self-sufficienthood. And now, a year down the line, we’re in the midst of a global pandemic. I find myself about to be locked away with not one, but two kids, eight years apart, whilst I try to maintain a solid creative mindset of my own.
At the end of ‘19 I told myself I’d earned some good, wholesome time off, to concentrate on motherhood. Second time around, it feels like a second chance to nourish a period in your life which has such a limited timespan. I’d succeeded in a working pregnancy and battled a personal demon or two along the way. Having gone through quite a traumatic birth, two weeks premature, on Christmas Eve (of all shocks to the system). 2020 owed me a break.
I’ve spent the past ten years or so building a personal vision as a filmmaker, I’m resourceful by nature and like the challenge of achieving Plan B status. Motivation comes and goes, like it does to any, but when the fire’s lit, I feel fairly unstoppable, and positivity is my encore. Over the years, my work has taught me, above all to juggle, to dip in and out of mediums, genres, and approach. Kids just add to the stew, and I find I have to just organise my time wisely. That’s not to say I don’t feel a world of stress on my shoulders when I’m trying to finalise an edit; one-handed, whilst breastfeeding, or restraining a screaming newborn…
Most of all, I’ve just learnt to stop. To manage time, and soothe the baby’s confusion one walk, one feed, or one bounce on the knee at a time.
Three months into the year and things were starting to settle. Until the world decides to premiere it’s action-movie title - COVID-19. Coronavirus has hit, bigtime. Having time off as a renewed mum, has meant I’ve seen the whole thing unfold, (on the contrary to 2019, when I lived inside whatever bubble I was employed in at the time). The morning feed has seen me gage the early warning signs of Wuhan, Italy, Spain, France, and us over here on our topsy turvy island, post-Brexit. What the hell is going on?
In the space of a couple of weeks, I’ve seen our society crumble. Boris J bumbling at the podium, Facebook heroes self-diagnosing, do-gooding and generally spreading fear. I’ve watched with one-eye open whilst I try to keep grasp of my family in our soon-to-be outgrown terraced house in Norwich city. Day by day, people are chanting WHAT ABOUT THE KIDS? The ongoing threat of home-schooling; two weeks to four months they say. Being a 24HR carer to an entirely dependent soul brings a bungee-chord of emotions at the best of times, let alone a time of such unbalance.
The country stands still, day-by-day we await instructions from those above. I look into my kid’s eyes and wonder if I’m doing the right thing in sending them to school each day. It is an anxiety-inducing worry, and the lack of guidance has meant that hysteria has set in - you can see it in people’s eyes, or on the empty shelves of bustling supermarkets. The modern-day man cannot handle a shutdown of a single day over the Christmas period, let alone a fortnight (or more) as warned. It’s been a ticking time bomb to say the least, and I thought I’d feel some sense of relief once the school closures were announced, but it’s only brought more uncertainty.
I’m sitting here an hour before the last school pick-up, feeling slightly melancholy at the fact this could be the end of something. I’ve always liked the idea of home schooling Sonny, but from a young age, it’s been apparent that his social need beats anything I can offer being his Mum. I made the effort to thank Sonn’s teacher today (there’s mutterings that this could be the last day of their school year). In an instant, her eyes welled up, revealing the heavy load she’s been baring amongst all this. The teachers have carried on against all odds this week, serving stability in the form of school-dinners.
In the space of a week, our fairly comfy streets have been hit with worldwide panic. During this timeframe i’ve found myself troubled, it wasn’t until my parental instincts kicked in (the keep calm and carry on) that I realised what an opportunity I have in front of me. Perhaps this newly forced regime, although daunting, could propose a positive change, in society as we know it. I’m beginning to brainstorm some activities we can approach during these restricted times. I’m drawing my attention back to nature, indoor excercise, and instinctual essentials.
But for now, TGIF. The time is ticking, until our own domestic walls extend to the classroom.
You may call me Miss Mum.
