Single and Adopting: Chaos in Quarantine (#quarantinechaos2020)

Day Who Even Cares? And also Who Even Knows? It's week 4 of our new normal and we have had further restrictions slapped upon us; now, there are men and women days. Days in which the people born with the XX chromosome can gleefully, maskfully, glovefully skip to the supermarket, bank or pharmacy, do those jobs that need done and get the hell home as quick as quick can be. Those days are Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. XY types go on Monday, Wednesday and Friday and hold up all the lines in the supermarkets as, in these parts, they've never been sent the 'big shop' before. Sundays are for quedo-ing en sus casas. Dinnae go oot at all, that is. Blessed be the fruit, under his eye, etc, etc. The parallels with dystopian Atwood settings are, frankly, stark. However, I am actually quite excited by the prospect of going to the supermarket tomorrow (women day) and only seeing women. Not suggesting for a second that I'd fancy this idea as a long term way of living, but as a wee novelty, it'll be interesting for sure. I am entirely unsure as to what non-binary people, or anyone whose gender may not be the one with which they were born, are supposed to do. Entirely unclear. May the odds be ever in your favour, friends.

Whilst these measures may seem Handsmaid's Tale-y, they are clearly necessary. People are still being totally ignorant, or naive, or rebellious, or whatever, and choosing to go out in groups or couples or herds or whatever. I mean. It's not fair to assume that everyone is getting the same message because CLEARLY the message in different countries is a different thing. And obviously not everyone has internet. Or TV. Or family. So sometimes the daily messages by our President may slip through or just aren't understood? I don't know. He's getting ripped for sounding like a primary school teacher at the moment but if you aren't going to follow a simple instruction like STAY IN YOUR HOUSE, then what do you expect?? It's a frightening place at the moment, this here world in which we do live, but it's more frightening how little attention so many people are paying to this thing that's ripping through the planet like a cull.

Emilio and I are rollercoastering through this, like everybody else. The weekend was absolutely hideous. Not least because I was awakened to find Picasso decorating the apartment. With paint. Without a paintbrush. I'm still cleaning up. He hasn't been 'up and destructive in the night' for a while so I'm inclined to believe that the caged animal/boredom/lack of understanding of just WTF is going on, is taking its toll. I have to laugh at stuff like this. So there's paint everywhere. So what? It's been suggested to me by countless people, (people I love and adore and am grateful for their advice), that I do This, That or the Other to stop him doing This, That or the Other. After 14 and a half months of living with my little Tempera Terrorist as one friend described him, I can honestly say that NOTHING will stop him. No baby gate. No things up high. No locked box. No change of location. No telling him (obviously). No hiding things. Nothing. This child has a determination and a curiosity for life that equals no other I know. Where I put things, he will get them. Where I try to stop him, he will find a way. Where I put barriers, he will bulldoze through them. And when I'm sad or stressed or overwhelmed or feeling like I can't do this, those feelings can almost paralyse me. They can make me feel like the biggest failure as a mum, as a person. They can make me feel like someone else would be a better mum for Emilio. They can rip my heart apart and smash my soul to pieces. But when I'm calm and rational and reflective, I am unbelievably grateful and proud that I am raising this incredible Tiny Human to believe that he can do ANYTHING. NOTHING will stand in his way, NOTHING will stop him. When I'm in that frame of mind, which is the majority of the time, I know that I'm doing the absolute best for my son and that he is doing his absolute best for me. My heart is fuller than Santa's belly at Christmas and my soul sings like a bird gloriously soaring through mountains. I have an exact picture in my head of Santa and of the guacamayos in Caracas right now. Heaven indeed.