The Five Little Ducks Blog

Four years ago, our local GP delivered some shocking news…

He told me that my children had chicken pox.

Drink plenty of fluids. Take some Panadol. Stay home. Come back in a week.

I called my mother and I wept.

At the time, I was twenty-five with five kids under the age of five. I was struggling with caring for Miss A and Miss L, three of my kids were in nappies, Mr J was a young baby… and to lose all of my “life lines” (day-care, mothers group, play group, church, family gatherings) in one hit was crushing.

For a week I had to stay home with my five “sick” children; none of whom seemed very sick as they bounced and fought and played, and I cared for them and entertained them and ate chocolate and cried. Chicken pox lingered in the house for a couple of weeks as certain children scratched their sores and took longer to heal enough to receive their clearance letters from the GP.

Ever since Miss A and Miss L joined our family, I have been afraid of unstructured time alone with all my children. The days were too long. The needs too great. The fights too many. The stress simply too much.

I filled up the non-day-care days with groups. I was thrilled when Mr E and Miss A started kindergarten and I was gifted five days a week of respite and routine. Those six hours a day were precious to me.

We filled up our weekends with social commitments and church, gymnastics and soccer. Contact visits. Parties. Popping over to my mum’s when things got too hard at home, or when our house felt too small. During the school holidays we did more of the same, as well as taking trips down the coast too fill up the time. Time was something we wanted to kill. I organised play dates, we went on day trips, we made plans. Mr E dragged his feet. “Why can’t we stay home?!”

Miss A and Miss L need to stay busy, I always said.

When they weren’t busy, they fought, they whinged, they made messes, they got into trouble. Each morning they would ask “what are we doing today? Where are we going tomorrow? What about the next day?”

When we went out, the responsibility was shared with the people and places around us. Distractions were good.

We had to make sure there were interesting stories that they could take back to school for that obligatory “what I did during the holidays” writing task. I searched for photo opportunities like a detective hunting for evidence; I shared them on Facebook more for my own sake than for others. Look at what a happy family we are… Never mind the tears and heartache in the background.

A couple of months ago we knew about the likelihood of our family needing to go into self-isolation in order to “flatten the curve” and help prevent the spread of Corona virus. It would come as no surprise to you that I was not relishing the idea of being at home for weeks with my children. I was one of those mums sharing the meme: “I’m more terrified thinking about being stuck at home for 14 days with the kids, than the virus itself” (by the way, why did we think self isolation would only last for a fortnight?). During that final week before “lockdown”, everybody felt on edge. We could see a big wave coming in on the horizon, and we were bracing ourselves, bracing ourselves, waiting for this wave to hit. It was stressful. By the time the State Premier recommended keeping children home from school; it came as a relief. I spent a day tidying up our dining room knowing that it would need to be our classroom.

The children were sent home with homework packs that day, and the next day “home-schooling” (or “at home learning”, as my husband keeps correcting me) commenced. The novelty was fresh, the children were excited, and the day was equal parts exhausting and exhilarating. We baked, did schoolwork and craft, played board games, watched a movie, went outside… we packed a lot in. Not everyday was so full. We fell into a routine of doing English and Maths work in the mornings, generous food and play breaks, then long, lazy afternoons peppered with a spot of baking or something creative. Not every child always cooperated, and I had some big arguments with Miss A once the novelty of being home had worn off. She made it very clear to me that I was stupid, school was stupid, and I was the worst teacher ever.

Despite a few of these horrible road bumps, I was surprised to find myself feeling very peaceful and content amidst our circumstances. I enjoyed the flexible routine that this new lifestyle allowed us. Getting the children to do their work brought me great satisfaction and sense of purpose. With so many face-to-face hours in the day with my children, it was easier to grab moments with each of them to make sure they felt seen, heard and loved. “Yes” became a word that I was able to say to them. Yes, we can colour in together. Yes, we can play Uno. Yes, I can read that story to you. Phrases no longer in my vocabulary included “hurry up”, “you’ll need a late note” and “put your shoes on!” Kids went for days without putting shoes on. If they didn’t change out of their pyjamas, there was no harm.

The school term ended, and the holidays kicked off with Easter weekend. I missed seeing my family, but otherwise, embraced life at home. A gigantic pile of free woodchips was delivered to our front yard. It took about five days for my husband and I to tackle the mulch mountain and cover our garden beds. We could have done it in less time, but there was no real impetus to rush. I found the physical task enjoyable and was excited as overgrown weeds were torn up and replaced. Every day for two weeks my husband spent hours working and gardening in the back yard. We even hired a skip bin to get rid of the rubbish clogging up our driveway. Our backyard became a place I really enjoyed being in, and on sunny afternoons I took a book out to read as Baby M pottered around. Hanging out the washing made me happy.

 

Meanwhile, the children have become experts in making their own fun. They bounce on the trampoline, spin around on the swing, build with Lego, colour and draw, dress up and role-play… Every day there is a different theme to their play. One day I am invited on a zoo tour and the next to a mud kitchen. The dining table is transformed several times a day from a breakfast spot, to the setting of a four-hour long game of Dungeons and Dragons, to a fashion design studio, to a dance club. The lounge room is constantly taken over by pillow forts and blanket cubbies. The children are watching less television. When we do watch a show or a movie, it’s usually as a family; snuggled up on the lounges as I pass around slices of apple or squares of chocolate. My husband has also introduced Minecraft to the kids, which they really enjoy. It makes a good bribe.

In previous school holidays, when they would ask “what are we doing today?” and we were staying home, I felt guilty. Miss L was the only one who asked during these holidays, so when I said, “we are staying home”, she wasn’t surprised and didn’t seem to mind. One day when Miss L was having a video chat with someone, the woman asked her about what she had been doing while stuck at home and she remarked to Miss L that “home is pretty boring, isn’t it?” Miss L grinned and nodded. This frustrated me to no end. At that point we had been home for almost a month, and I had not once observed bored kids moping about the house. It annoyed me that an adult planted the idea in Miss L’s head that home is boring.

During this experience I have come to realise how happy our home can be when all the pressure is stripped away. I have witnessed a reduction in anxious behaviours and an increase in harmonious, spontaneous play. I see children truly getting to enjoy their childhood, despite the chaos of being in a big, busy family in a small house. We laugh more. I have found myself able to relax more easily and connect more deeply with the kids, and felt confidence grow in my own parenting ability and capacity. For a person who consistently downplays her mothering I think that this is a fairly big statement to make! For years I thought that “busyness” was inevitable; the only way to survive our difficult family dynamic. The opposite is true. A pared back, simple life creates space for our family to thrive.

I love the feeling of timelessness on days where we don’t have to be anywhere. My day doesn’t feel “over” at 2.30pm when normally the afternoon snowballs into the flurry of rushing to school pick up, extra-curricular activities, forcing kids to do homework, washing lunch boxes, packing lunch boxes, making dinner, cleaning up the kitchen and dining room and then the bedtime routine… Instead, the day feels free and open at 2.30pm. It becomes my time to potter about, go for a walk, hang out with kids or read a book before getting stuck into preparing for dinner. An obligation free life is liberating. It turns out that I am not as much of an extrovert as I thought I was. I am content in my own company, but in saying that, my own company is rare to come by! I am aware that self-isolation would be so much harder for people who are truly alone or stuck in a bad situation.

The journey back to normality has commenced with the children transitioning back to school. There are things that I am looking forward to about the real world: kids learning at school instead of in front of a screen, a delicious meal with my parents and siblings, attending a class at the gym and going on a holiday, to name a few. However, the thought of completely going back to “normal” does not thrill me. A couple of months ago my family was in a really bad place. I don’t want to jeopardise the progress that we have made.

Going forward, I plan to respect my family’s need for unstructured time at home. No more overscheduling, even if that means that sometimes we disappoint people. I am open to the idea of having mental health days where the children have a day off from school; just to allow them to unwind and give us a chance to reconnect. Perhaps we can have “Covid weekends” where we force ourselves to self-isolate. During school holidays, we don’t have to plan something for every single day.

In the modern world we wear “busyness” as badge of honour. It is an assumed state of being. We run about frantically like rats in a maze, laughing sarcastically about how busy we are, not noticing how quickly the important things are passing us by. There isn’t even a satisfying antonym in the English language for the word “busy”. The examples that I found were “idle”, “sluggish”, “inactive” and “unoccupied”. All imply a judgement on not doing. The opposite of busyness is not laziness, it is self-care and caring for your family. It is true mindfulness. It is being present in the moment and finding contentment in your circumstances. Being un-busy is, for me, addictive.

Leunig’s recent poem “Solitude” spoke to me:

“Solitude, a simple den,

A piece of paper and a pen,

A cup of tea, a piece of toast.

A window and the holy ghost.

Some calm, a table and a chair;

The mind is free, the soul is bare.

There’s love to make and life to hold.

The ancient tiny thread of gold

That runs through all the joy and gloom

Is found inside this little room.”

I have found joy during this strange season. I am not naïve enough to declare that my family will live “happily ever after” from this point on, but I am appreciating the slower paced life. I am relishing this time with my family, and that comes as a surprise to me. I have fallen in love with Home. In the words of Trent Dalton: “Home is always the first and final poem.”