A Plethora of Crap

And again with the coronacoaster. Man, this thing just won't stop, will it?? It's just like every time I think I've found my groove and I'm able to, like, maybe actually PLAN something and get some regular exercise going and NOT feel like I'm on the brink of a breakdown EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF EVERY SINGLE DAY...the nanny goes off sick again. I mean, what in the actual anything?! She was off for another 2.5 weeks. That was fun. For exactly no one. Of course my normal human side is compassionate and empathetic and completely sorry for her (nephew is sick with COVID) but my 'Corona'ed On My Own for 12 Weeks and Then Two More Weeks and I JUST CAN'T F'CKING DO THIS ALONE ANYMORE' side thinks a tad differently. What I've realised is that I am not going from functioning at 100% and then working slowly downwards, as I have more and more responsibilities and less and less people to rely on (i.e. no people) and so coping skills or humaning skills gradually diminish. No, no. I'm going from the 'Survival for 12 Weeks' took a massive toll, then the next 2 weeks where I was wrapping up End of Term Stuff (if you know, you know), whilst trying to ensure my child did not die (parenting is out the window in these times; may the odds be ever in your favour) hit even harder. The toll it took is that I don't have 100% anymore. I have a range of 'Almost Human' to 'Hysterically Crying' to 'JUST LEAVE IT WITH ME, I'LL GET IT DONE' to 'The Pits of Despair' to 'I WILL ALSO HELP YOU WITH THAT THING IN MY NO FREE TIME'. Hysteria, in short. There is no way to ever get on top of everything because no one and nothing can be relied upon. 

The Plethora of Crap. 

This is what my friend and one of Emilio's SHS were discussing just yesterday. She, too, finds herself at the bottom of rockbottom, trying to sink through that bottom, purely with the goal of  not having to deal with trying to climb back up...AGAIN. There is no doubt that everyone is having a hard time through this pandemia and I'm not about to start comparative suffering on us because Brené has taught us how wrong that is. The injustices of the world are reigning supreme right now. Make no mistake and know how many of my thoughts and actions are put into tackling THAT.  

But FUCK, doing this with children CONSTANTLY in the background making noise, climbing on your back (sorry, kids, Emilio wants to join in just now...WHAT WAS THAT YOU SAID, I COULDN'T HEAR YOU?????), throwing shit around, asking to go to the toilet and needing their bum wiped while you're in the middle of teaching division, with a child on screen crying because they don't understand said division...I don't think I've ever found anything this hard. I KNOW I can do hard things, Glennon Doyle, I really do but there's no stop button right now. There's no divide between Mum, Teacher and Marianne. None. I am reaching the point where I genuinely don't know how much longer I can do this number of hard things. 

This week has also brought about the delight of finding out we are for sure online till Christmas. An entire academic year taught through a tiny little camera. Hands up if that was your dream when you went into education?? My poor Tiny Humans at the other side of that camera are also losing it; every single lesson is now about trying to entertain as much as is humanly possible when you're running on close to zero, it's about trying to get them to feel how much you care when you can't be there. It's exhausting for all of us. Most people are relieved that the announcement has come. But for this crazy old head? Not so much. How can I possibly continue like this till Christmas? 

The main thing that sent me spiralling down a very steep spirally thing was the 'what now?' ness of it all. Emilio was supposed to have mainstream nursery for a whole year so we would be in a better position to know what kind of support he'd need at school. Then we were moving to Scotland where he'd have 6 more months at nursery and all that time to find out if it's special school or mainstream. Now? Now I have absolutely no idea. I don't know where we are going to move to, I don't know what kind of school he can go to. Moving to Scotland was absolutely the plan and now I'm absolutely against that. But what and where? International schools are notoriously shit at providing SEND support. There are a handful with a great reputation, a few of which are in Asia and I just don't want to be that far from home anymore. Anyway. Rabbit. Hole. So many huge decisions to make and no time to get my head in the game because it feels very much like running on a hamster wheel at the moment. 

Some amazing things though. Emilio connects to his nursery Zoom every day for around 30 minutes and talks to his teachers and participates in his own way. Mind. Blown. He can now kiss me on the lips, complete with 'mwah' sound. He's learned loads of new words in Spanish and English and he can do a 'thumbs up'! Winnie the Pooh is the current favourite TV show on Disney Plus, 'Up' made him cry and we had to switch it off, jumping up and down tantrums when he doesn't get what he wants is an almost daily occurance, he's made friends on the beach and now goes up to everyone shouting 'hola' and getting in their grill...awesome during the time of the coronavirus. He has smashed all of his goals on his individual support plan for school. I couldn't be more proud or more in awe of this incredible boy. 

We will get there. We will get through this because we CAN do hard things. But man alive, could we do with some help getting there right now. 

And so to the beach (#quarantinechaos2020part3)

So often I read about how healthy it is to journal or create or whatever to keep your mind healthy. So, so often. I've made the terrible mistake of following all these hippy dippy, soul searching, heart filling, human bettering type people on insta. They make me think, 'Yes! Yes, once Emilio is asleep, I will start to write a book. I will do that thing.' But then, you know, Emilio is still awake at 10pm and I want to stick my head in the oven because I know he'll be up at 3am and I have a full day teaching ahead (at home) and loads of planning to do, Seesawing to check, resources to make, etc. So, blogging has been on my mind but has been outwith my physical and mental capabilities for the most part. As has journalling. Do people actually still journal?? Is this what this is? Who knows. 

We are on day 101 of one of the strictest lockdowns in the world. The way our lexicon has evolved baffles me from time to time. Lockdowns. What the actual? I used to laugh at myself when I said things like, 'Why are you licking your shoe?' and now I'm just bamboozled that my kids are regularly saying, 'J, you're on mute. You need to unmute. Your camera is off.', you know, during a phonics lesson. What is this world? I think it needs to mute. Mute coronavirus. Just mute it. 

Although lockdown was very much still under military control and one was likely to be arrested for breaking it in some small way, I decided to move to the beach. Literally within about a week, I'd made the decision, found a place and started the process. Now, those who know me well would not be entirely surprised; spontaneity is one of my more prominent characteristics... But, I think, during a global pandemic, with the number of beings and belongings and logistics and barriers in my way, one would caution a bit of consideration here. Nope. I'm doing it. End of. And so I did. Life in Lima was hideous. Solely survival. Although we were very fortunate to have a large apartment and a garden, the surrounding neighbourhood was terrifying for me when I was allowed to let Emilio walk outside. He doesn't respond to his name, he doesn't understand danger and he is prone to just tanking off. And. He. Is. Fast. Going for a walk with 3 dogs (including bloody liability puppy) and him was just so, so stressful. So the thought of an empty beach (it's winter), a house right on the beach front where I can hear and see the sea morning to night was just too appealing. And here we are. Through bloody mindedness, a fantastic moving company and sheer will, we are living at the beach. 

Growing up beside the sea has made me a water girl forever. She speaks to my soul. Like Moana! When I lived in Edinburgh, I always, always said I missed the sea. When I lived in Caracas, although I had my mountain, I missed the sea. When I moved from Miraflores to Surco...you get the picture. So throw in a global pandemic, trying to teach via Zoom, etc, whilst parenting my child alone, looking after a home, pets, cooking, cleaning, etc. MY GOD, I NEEDED THE SEA. I feel so unbelievably fortunate to have been able to pull this off. 

We also got our Santa Maria Poppins back part time. For a number of reasons, but really because I was feeling so much pressure to do better and be better at work, I had to. It's wonderful and it's awful. Emilio is delighted and I am in pain. Someone else is now looking after my child, instead of me. If you know, you absolutely bloody well know. It has also brought on loads of behaviours, like I knew it would, and it's so hard for him to understand when she leaves and when she's coming back - even with our visuals. It is just hard. But we are gradually getting used to this new way of being, I guess, sort of. Santa Maria is staying two nights a week so that's a thing to get used to for all of us, never having been in this situation before. It's weird and I hate it. But it's necessary so we have to find a way to make it work. We were on our own for 12 weeks and I did not realise just how much stress I was under. I said this to a friend this week; I knew I was talking about how awful it was, how I was always terrified Emilio was going to do something to injure himself while I was working, etc, but I did not realise just how unbelievably crippled I was with stress. Only after moving here and my nanny coming back did I recognise that the level of cortisol pumping around my body for the previous 12 weeks was dangerously high. DANGEROUSLY. 

You live, you learn. 

We are still trying to figure this out. I make mistakes daily. I'm still in fight or flight, but it's easing off. Emilio is up and down but mainly happy. What more could a person want? He knows he is loved. He is happy. He has a beach to play on and a mum who would do anything for him and a nanny who plays with him all day long. The conflicting feelings this last part brings on is my own stuff to deal with. But for now, we are surviving and maybe now, laughing a little bit more often. 

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. 

Be safe, friends xxxx

No toilet roll, you say? I fear I've heard this one before.

Russell Brand basically has all of the answers and I will default to him on a whim at every single crossroads or question mark. Oh, the sense he speaks. We are heads under water in 'something simultaneously so small and so huge'. We really are. We really, REALLY are. It's Day 3 of quarantine in Peru and your man at the top is getting mighty pissed off that people aren't taking this virus seriously enough. I saw someone out jogging today. What? What a bizzare, unpredictable, life altering world we do live in. 2 weeks ago, my biggest fear was that my baby boy was not going to adapt to nursery life in a big school. 2 weeks ago, I spent sleepless nights wondering if we were going to be talked about, if he would ever be able to make a friend, if we would survive this year. And 2 weeks later, my biggest fear is that this virus is going to make someone I love a million miles away seriously sick and that I can't get home. 

Our reality now is that we can't fly out of Peru. The next reality is that even if these restrictions are lifted, I can't fly with my child because we don't have his citizenship yet. We are stuck in our, thankfully spacious, apartment for 2 weeks but probably more. We are FINE. I still have a job. I will still get paid. The BRUTAL reality of the huge majority of Peru is that they don't and they won't. Our amazing Santa Maria Poppins was on the what's app trying to find a way to get to us so she could take care of Emilio so I could work. The terrified 'I need to get paid' written between the lines was glaringly obvious and it felt so terribly sad that, after a year of working together, I had to actually say the words, 'I will still pay you, of course. None of this is our fault!' 

I wrote that bit on Day 3. It's now Day 10. 

How swiftly this whole thing changes and morphs and causes friction and chaos and love and kindness. The fear and anxiety is palpable. But the love and support is almost tangible. Almost, because social distancing and quarantine. :) Once upon a time, I lived in a city called Caracas in the most beautiful country called Venezuela. It had beaches made from wishes and mountains grown tall by the Gods. How I adored and still adore that place that was home for a while. But it also came with mayhem and madness, guns and guarimbas, shortages and shoot outs. The difference between then and now is that this is a global endurance test; this thing that is putting us in our houses and taking us away from our loved ones and our normal lives is doing the same to the whole wide world. Whilst it is devastating, and just ask my family how utterly devastated and scared I have been, as I'm sure millions of people are, it is truly humbling and heartwarming to find the community who are building themselves back up. This blog has been about becoming a mum to the most exceptional Tiny Human I could ever have wished for - we have been through some fairly challenging times. The fight to get him seemed endless. My village were by my side the whole entire way but somehow it seemed to get lonelier and lonelier as time passed. 

But this? This here virus that's taking the world down? This is bringing us ALL together. The support showered upon me from my team at school is just exceptional - I couldn't ask for better. The Zooms (who knew that would be a thing) with friends, the taking the time to message those we haven't for a while, the cracking up and listening, the freaking out and consoling...it does NOT make this worth it. I am still PETRIFIED. I can't even write the things that I'm petrified of. But, I wanted to just write this and say how unbelievably grateful I am for those people who are going out of their way to make this easier for my beautiful, incredible, creative, destructive, exploradora, whirlwind, curious, hilarious, loveable, exceptional little Tasmanian Devil and I. We love you and we are grateful for you.