You’re reading How I Cope, a series sharing self-care tips as we all adjust to the
Coronavirus pandemic.
It was a heart-stopping moment by the local
bomb crater that made me wonder if I had finally gone too far.
I watched –– with a mixture of pride and horror –– as my two-year-old, Max, flew down the steep rocky track on his little blue balance bike, clinging on for dear life. “Oh my god!” the five-year-old shouted. It hadn’t quite been part of the plan.
I realise you may have stumbled here in the hope of some tried and tested remedies for coping amid the pandemic. But given the look on some passerby’s faces, I’m not sure the pattern we’ve fallen into is for everyone.
Our quest to burn off steam outside each day had started off well enough. After scraping through the first gruelling hours of grappling work, home schooling, naps, nappies, food - so much food - and various, often hideous, squabbles, our release into the great outdoors every afternoon felt like the biggest sigh of relief. It was spring, we studied nature. We saw the blackthorn blossom gently unfolding over velvet green fields. We traipsed –– day in, day out –– as the petals billowed out, before eventually floating away in the afternoon sunshine like tiny soft drops of
SNOW.
We walked as the bluebells turned the woods into a magical carpet of purple and scent, we saw the first bright green leaves creeping out to cover the sky. One warm afternoon, alone in the woods, we turned to see a solitary deer standing in the middle of the path. We sat still amongst cowslips on a sun-drenched hill as butterflies looped around. I felt lucky –– we had escaped, we could find calm.
But lockdown is not a few weeks of sweet gentle walks. It has dragged. Children bore easily. Also, I needed to stretch my legs properly. And so our “daily” has become something else –– the quest to find the best “stunt ditch” –– and a rigorous test of my nerves. It wasn’t long before we found the crater. The boys had already mastered ‘stunt hedge’ –– a hole in a hawthorn bush on a slope, just big enough for them to fly through at speed, not always missing the gigantic patch of stinging nettles at the other side.
Once the initial shock at flying down the massive slope had worn off, a look of nervous delight came over Max’s face. Eventually, I made some videos of him whizzing down. “Did he do it more than once?” a friend wrote back in astonishment. “I think maybe that was after about 20 goes,” I said. I’ve taken their silence since as a clear sign of disapproval.
There is a saying, “if the children are happy, we’re happy”. And the thing that appears to make mine beam with delight is flying down steep hills horribly fast. “I like stunt ditch because it is stunty,” Louis, my five-year-old, wrote in his journal one night. They burn off steam, while I drip with the clammy sweat of fear. But we have found what makes us (mostly) happy.
There is real concern about how children will emerge from being in lockdown. It is something that I have spent a lot of time worrying over. But fingers crossed, bruised legs and scabby knees for the boys, sore feet and a few more grey hairs for me, will be our biggest scars in this for now. Related... How I Cope: Looking Out Of My Window Has Become My New Favourite Pastime How I Cope: Making Playlists Keeps Me Connected To People I Miss How I Cope: Counting Colours On My Daily Walk Keeps Anxiety At Bay