Choose motherhood in lockdown – the relentless repetition of dull domesticity

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Choose full lockdown where we are all in the same storm but different boats.

Choose semi lockdown where the storms are different, the boats are different but you get to envy some people gliding along a Venice canal while you are in a dingy on Lightwater Valley rapids.

Choose doing the dishwasher twice a day.

Choose meal planning, food shopping and making meals for 4 three times a day and wincing everytime they inevtiably complain about your unappreciated efforts.

Choose sacrificing your career aspirations and your business to homeschool unsuccessfully.

Choose working harder than you’ve worked in your life and no one giving a f*ck and expecting more.

Choose answering 5 million questions a day.

Choose Zooms to pretend you aren’t sinking.

Choose a 30 minute daily home workout to trick your body into thinking it’s not just sat on the couch the next 16 hours of every day.

Choose starting the day feeling ok but only to be blindsided by an impromptu ill-thought out Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson or Matt Spamcock announcement that blows your life to smithereens.

Choose muttering ffs under your breath as you smile and say ‘yes dear’.

Choose an existence where your value to people lies only in what you can do for them, not for who you are.

Choose everywhere that you look in your house being a mess and having zero energy or inclination to fix it despite it remaining your responsibility.

Choose trying not to feel guilty about your kids getting 9 hours of screen time a day so you can do your crappy job badly.

Choose not being able to remember when you last felt like you were good at something.

Choose to bite down the inequality and trying not to choke on the resentment.

Choose hashtag triggered.

Choose trying to plan something to look forward to amongst the emptiness but then worrying it might risk killing you or someone else.

Choose no gigs, no live music, no festivals, no random nights out with mates.

Choose a trip to Aldi in a face mask as ‘fun’.

Choose trash TV as self care.

Choose being trapped by love.

Choose the average age of your inner circle being 6.

Choose loneliness.

Choose to forget what it feels like to feel like yourself.

Choose feeling lost.

Choose crying on the kitchen floor as me time.

Choose pretending that a global pandemic isn’t affecting you, especially to yourself.

Choose putting your life on social media and therefore being fair game for people telling you that you are wrong everyday.

Choose the comments to this coming in and telling me I’ve no right to complain.

Choose being grateful for the quality family time. Theres so much of it after all.

Choose motherhood in lockdown – the relentless repetition of dull domesticity.

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