Hoochiemumma

Personal Blog

Category: Rona Files

I’m Free!!

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I’m Freeeeeeeeeeee. We had “the covid”, “the spicy throat”, “Rona”, “the lurgy of all lurgy’s”. Somehow my husband didn’t get it. I have no idea how he has avoided it. Maybe the rum has preserved his organs? I dunno what it is, but he thinks he’s superman right now.

I should be jumping for joy like most other people do when they reach the end of their isolation period…so why am I a little sad to have to go out and face the world again? 

I’ll tell you why. Cause I’m an introvert who does a lot of extroverted things. And by introvert, I don’t mean shy,  although I can be extremely shy in some social situations. I think I also inherited my mothers affliction of perhaps coming off as conceited when really we would just like to quietly die,  rather than make small talk to someone we don’t know. I literally run out of shit to say. My brain goes blank and I stand like a mute moron hoping like hell I’m not standing next to another weird introverted mute moron. It’s awkward. Just ask your introverted friends. They’ll know what I’m taking about. If you’re wondering who your introverted friends are, they’re the ones who don’t answer the phone if they don’t know who it is, or even sometimes when they DO know who it is. Ffs. Just text…we like that. 

So my isolation period has ended and here I am in a shopping centre. My most hated place on earth. If Hell exits, the sign on the door would say “Westfield”. I’m here biding my time while our 16 year old son finishes the course to get his L plates for his motorbike. Let’s not even go there…. That is a whole blog of its own. At least when he goes past my front window popping a mono, while his father says “oh geez, don’t look Hooch but that was a REALLY good one”, he will break his neck legally.

To sooth the pain of being in Westfield Hell, I’ve headed straight to the nail salon. I’m sitting here tapping away writing this while uncomfortable balls from the massage chair swirl their way up and down my back and give my ample arse a little jiggle. It’s meant to feel good. I feel a little violated. Meanwhile a tiny little lady scrapes the goop out of my toenails and attempts to debride the thick layer of crusty skin that resides on my heels. God bless these ladies who deal with the ugliness of old lady feet. Like most women though, I only shave my legs for the lady who does my toes. You’re welcome.

So it is back to business. Life carries on and I have to join it again, Goddammit. The calendar is filling up with the rescheduled appointments and all of the things that were put on hold for a couple of weeks.

At least I’ll have nice looking feet as I jump back into this thing we call life.

M

The Rona Files #3

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Learning from home, homeschooling, home learning….what ever you call it, that’s what’s been happening in the Hooch House this week.

We did a half arsed version of this late last term when the world turned to shit and we decided to pull the kids out and tuck them under our protective safety wing. Anxiety levels were high for a lot of people, especially those of us with family members who fall into the high risk bracket. My energy was taken up by simply processing our new world and trying to keep up with the daily changes we were seeing sprawled across the news. I filled my brain with an endless information stream and then wondered why I wasn’t sleeping so well…? Needless to say, the school work took a back seat and a hit and miss attitude it was.

By the time term 2 kicked in at the beginning of the week, so had all the amazing prep work done by the schools. They had us sorted. School packs and online learning were ready to roll! We were on. Here we go. Term 2 come at us. Mrs Mum was up for it.

Unfortunately it started off slightly rocky on Monday morning. It appears that some better “teacher” prep by Mrs Mum on Sunday night might have helped a little bit. We had schedules and papers all mixed up; apps downloading, login pass words flying, breakfast crumbs in library books; systems crashing and not enough coffee. We had tears before 10am, a teenager sneaking in some Netflix and a cat shit in a shower.

What. The. Actual. F*#k.

I’m not ashamed to say that on Monday night I was a bit knackered and if I had heard “muuuuum” one more time, I think I would have cracked. Also, why do they do it at the same time?

BUT….fast forward to Friday and the Hooch House was a well oiled machine of education gloriousness.

I have honestly been blown away by the way the kids have adapted to this situation. Not only have we been stuck together 24/7 for 7 weeks, they have also taken to a new way of learning with hardly a whinge. It’s been an interesting insight into the “school version” of each of them. Like a lot of parents, when I’d read their school reports, I think “who the hell are these kids? They don’t sound like mine AT ALL”….My messy and seemingly lazy 11 year old is anything but that when it comes to school; the big one actually does have a great work ethic and my funny little fella… well, actually, he doesn’t change his spots too much 😂. I understand his teachers frustrations and wonderment at the fact that it appears that his head is secured up his arse but somehow the information gets in…?

I’m so very proud of them and during this week, I’ve also learned a few things along the way. I’ve learned that explaining when and how to use quotation marks is harder than you’d think; that if allowed, ice cream for ‘recess’ would be the order of the day; I need to brush up on my times tables; the English language has way too many weird rules that make no logical sense; like me, my daughter likes to slam doors when she’s pissed off; I should have incorporated ‘laundry duty’ into the daily lesson plan; in the deep recesses of my brain is the ability to help explain how to calculate the volume of a triangular prism but the four years of French has left the building. Mostly I have been reminded of how fabulous our educators have been throughout this time and how lucky we are to have been serendipitously born in Australia whilst living through a pandemic.

To my fellow Mrs Mums…I wish you strength and good internet connection as we smash out another week of school work delivery, while questioning our IQ’s and clambering through the golden nuggets of knowledge we were once taught and now forgotten.

 

Patience be with you.

M

 

 

The Rona Files #2

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It’s turning savage in the hooch house.

We’re slowly regressing into an abyss that I can’t deal with right now.

As I write this the middle one and the young one are fighting over a mattress on the lounge room floor.

There are declarations to “stop… get off” and “oh my god she just blocked my mouth and nose AT THE SAME TIME”.

Followed by ….”Mmm acting strong there are you tough boy”.

And the old classic….”I was on here first”.

Then came the rebuttal….”But you left to go to the toilet”.

Seriously, is there a bigger argument ever in the whole universe about how much time you can leave your spot and what activity you can leave your spot for before your spot becomes a free for all? It’s an argument that will live on forevermore. I’m not even sure I can nail that one down. Snooze ya lose in this house. Especially when the whole seating situation is currently in a state of disarray. I’ll explain in a sec. We have lounge room issues.

So the argument ended with an arm twist (or something… I wasn’t looking) and a declaration of “I hate you and I wish you never existed”. (Harsh, but understandable). There was even a well placed F-bomb. And that came from the one who doesn’t swear! 4 weeks iso with potty-mouthed mother has clearly changed that.

I didn’t utter a word.

Not one.

I just couldn’t be bothered with it.

Kill each other for all I care. I’ll have a couple less to feed, which would be nice because holy shit balls I’m sick of feeding these people 15 times a day.

So.. the mattress…why do we have a mattress on the floor you may ask? (Or more than likely you didn’t… but I’m gonna tell you anyway).

Well… besides being savages, we ordered a new lounge which feels like about 5 years ago and it isn’t here yet. “It’ll be here soon” apparently. Anyway…We had the house re-floored because we had stupid bloody carpet moths eating our stupid bloody carpet so we moved all the stupid furniture out like a stupid game of musical chairs which included more than chairs, unfortunately. It wasn’t real fun. It was in fact, stupid.

So why go to the effort to put the crappy lounge back in the loungeroom when the new one will be here any year now? Let’s just put the armchairs back in, chuck a bean bag in there plus the mattress off the trundle. It’s not like we’re having visitors any time soon. That way we can listen to the kids argue over where they will sit every day. They can risk breaking limbs and getting blood noses all for the prime position of “mattress in front of TV spot”. Listening to that will be SUPER fun. Yep let’s do that. Good idea.

In completely unrelated news, I went into town today wearing a top with holes in it, faded old tracksuit pants, suitably styled with Havianas. I didn’t have makeup on and the white regrowth sprouting from my mane is something to be equally admired. I saw people I knew and I didn’t even mind. It was quite refreshing. I at least usually wear clothes into town that I haven’t slept in.

Did I mention we were savages now?

Week five iso has started off to be quite the kicker!

Send hair colour and boxing gloves please.

M

The Rona Files

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I suggested to the kids that we should all keep a journal. I banged on how we were living through a time which will be marked in history for ever more. We have no idea how this will play out, and to write down our experiences would be fascinating to look back on. Well, I certainly hope we can look back on this. I’m doing my dandiest to make sure that’s the case.

I pointed out that when this nightmare is over, one day they will be telling their grandkids about their time in history. How fabulous would it be to have all their thoughts, feelings and first hand experiences written down and documented? Also, there is something special about the insight of a child living through tough times.

I think I heard their eyeballs roll when Scarlett piped up with… “well… I might not even have kids, so I’ll have no one to tell”.

Ok… point clearly missed.

I was drawing on visions I had of Anne Frank, tucked up in the attic during one of the most horrid times in history, writing her diary, clearing her head, not realising what an impact her words and story would have on the world. Sure, my kids diary’s wouldn’t have the level of Anne’s insight and word poetry. Also, I’m not comparing this to WW2, (although this feels like a version of WW3) but the concept of leaving words behind, sharing an experience and an insight into real time during a world changing event, made me think of her. The idea of the kids keeping a journal was also a way for me to provoke the expression of thoughts and feelings so we can all process what’s going on for us personally when the world around us seems so unstable.

The words I envisage from my lot would probably be more akin to “so, like, Elliot farted on my blanket today and he’s so gross. He hits me all the time and he doesn’t get told off enough. Mum makes us wash our hands for EVERYTHING but MAFS is so cool. That Stacey is such a bitch.”

Or… “I think my eyebrows are darker. I’m a lot like dad. I have the same hands as him and I have his brain too. Dad is cool. I can stand on my head for ages”.

Or… “grunt, grumble, grumble”

I’ll let you figure out who is who.

So in light of my futile attempts to encourage my crew to write their story while I earn some homeschooling points from the homeschooling over achievers, I thought I’d keep my own journal.
I’m not sure if I’ll share it or not, but I encourage everyone to keep their own Rona Files. It could be photography or videos; drawings, music, poems or writing; a blog, vlog or pod; a collection of recipes or stories or letters. The list is endless, but I can pretty much guarantee that whatever we do, whatever we keep and leave behind, will be treasured by our future generations. They will gain a personal insight into a time when the world was gripped by an invisible enemy and maybe, just maybe…hopefully… with fingers crossed….a time when the world changed and came out the other side a little bit better.

M