It’s just a normal week of lockdown when Mary-Jane Duncan’s little one invites Nicola Sturgeon to tea…
Littlest kid has invited Nicola Sturgeon for tea and cake. Of course she has. It was during a virtual Q&A session by the Scottish Parliament’s Parent Club run to provide some reassurance to wee ones.
I’ll admit, when asked I thought it was a great idea. Just a quick video of her asking questions then send it over, easy peasy. Two tech-savvy teens on hand to help, what could go wrong? Never in a million years did I imagine she’d ask the first minister who was helping look after HER mental health and would she like to pop round for tea and cake when the pandemic is over?
Ahhhh wee soul, what a lovely offer. The media LOVED it. Cue heart bursting with pride. Everyone, including Nicola, lapped it up and it was reported all over. Imagine, even shores as far away as Northern Ireland! The Irish branch of the family nodding with delight at the media darling in our midst.
The newspapers missed out on herself running about the house greeting while her sisters taunt her about being turned into a meme. Me? I’m left thinking brilliant, just brilliant. I have to clean the skirting boards and as we’re 87,334 days into lockdown, I’m fairly certain the house resembles a Jumanji sequel rather than somewhere Nicola would want to set herself down. Even for a beloved Tunnock’s wafer.
Maybe she’d prefer to sit in the garden? It’s been cracking weather so we’ve ignored dusty skirtings and got stuck into that instead – 17 years of neglect. Abandoned since eldest blessed us with her presence not long after we moved in, it never stood a chance with the subsequent arrival of Two and Three.
These past 97 weeks of April and May have been beautiful so we’re digging, planting and nodding our heads to cement the pretence of knowing what we’re doing. I’m the love child of Charlie Dimmock and Alan Titchmarsh all because we’ve a solitary tomato plant in a plastic greenhouse…
Himself and I lug all the accumulated nonsense out of the “big shed” only to realise our hard working ”helpers” in charge of the “wee shed” have in fact turned it into a den. Complete with couch, table, TV and tins of fizzy pop. I hate to approve, and certainly don’t show it, but there’s a tiny voice in my head debating if I can squeeze in a mini bar.
Don’t judge. I adore my children. Wouldn’t be without them. We’re so blessed. They’re the apple of my eye. Is that enough platitudes? Because I really, really don’t want to cook them tea any more and if I’m ensconced in my Mumshed hopefully they’ll remember how much I love them even if I refuse to come out to make their dinner.
I’m here to ensure everything is all right
I’m the constant in their lives while himself continues with important, frontline, emergency service work. I’m here to reassure everything is all right. No, the world won’t end because you didn’t get to sit your Highers. Yes, lilac hair is OK. No, you can’t have the boyfriend over – not even for social distance dating. Middle kid is a tad less effort considering she was an expert at social distancing even before Covid-19. The oldest pair have morphed into pandas. Feeding for 12 hours a day, sport dark circles and are constantly hungry. Littlest kid is another matter. Up with the lark, instantly chatty and raring to go. I take slightly longer to resemble a decent human being. She’s worked out I’ve reached the “sure, fine, whatever you want” stage of pandemic parenting. She can smell resignation and knows she can get away with murder, as long as it’s before 9am.
As a mother I constantly worry about the safety of my children. Especially the teenager brave enough to roll her eyes and talk back to me. I’ll keep on keeping on with the help of my worn-out mantra and checklist. Here they are, just in case you need them.
Mantra: “They’re safe, they’re warm, they’re fed, they’re loved”. Repeat whilst rocking in a corner, gin in hand.
Checklist: Awake? Yes.
Clothed? OK, nothing structured but at least yes if with an elasticated waist….
Coffee? Hell yes.
Sanity? Patience? People, we have a runner…
