"Now this is a story all about how,
My life got flipped turned upside down.
So I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there,
I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air."
- The Fresh Prince 90's TV Show
Um, yeah, no I won't, but the lyrics seem appropriate for our Covid-19 isolation 'time out pause crazy wtf is that a new law or a suggestion' pandemic, don't they?
Have you seen 'Dead to Me' on Netflix? Cristina Applegate's character, she is me, or who I aspire to be, body and all. I mean, if you know me you know I take off the coat of sugar for those that I feel safe around and f-bomb dot com the shit out of some fucking things. Don't I. I do.
Also not relevant to this story, but, really when you think about it, the level of crazy that's going on, I'd say it kind of is, isn't it.... deep. Like the ocean...
Moving on! What I really wanted to tell you about is to capture what COVID-19 has been like for me. A mother, of three tiny boys under six years old, a husband working from home, a wife (that's me) made redundant from her job and suddenly trying to domesticate herself to a satisfactory level for all parties involved. She also had the notion she could be a Pinterest (how the fuck do you even spell Pintrest, is it that or Pinterest??) worthy mom, doing Pinteresting things with her pinterperfect children, this would be a moment crystallized in their little minds as a heavenly time full of family and fun. And they'd live happily ever after...
Whatever. You know me by now, that didn't fucking happen. But I really need to document this so I, one, don't feel so alone, and two, remember that I get an A for fucking EFFORT! And an F for fucking functionality, but whatever that's not important.
Look, never mind the fact that my cute little made up 'curriculum' for the kids went out the window by day 3; mornings still stayed sort of academic, and afternoons were still kind of creative. But I was going to make MAGIC for my children, so that's what I set out to do.
One day, I decided we would make the most giant epic, photo worthy bubbles imaginable in the garden. They would be as big as my children and float in the sky, and everyone would stare at them in awe and whisper, "Epic!" I enlisted my crafty creative brain, I got a baking tray, dish soap, water, and some dry cleaning metal hangers (for the bubble blower part, duh) and marched outside with a baby on my hip. I shouted to the kids, "Boys! Boys! Come outside we are going to do something fun!" and they rushed out and started guessing as to what it could be.
I ceremoniously crafted a hanger into a 'O' ish shape, and dipped it in the bubble tray. I inhaled deeply and exhaled gently, and with that....
Nothing fucking happened.
Like, not even a burp of a bubble. Nothing.
So I tried a different hanger, a bit more water, and with the wave of my magical metal wand...
Nothing fucking happened again. Fuck fuck fuck.
Okay. Third time is a charm. The boys were so perplexed and confused, they kept asking question after question, trying to guess what I was doing, all while I was second guessing my method.
"CAN YOU ALL JUST BE QUIET PLEASE I'M TRYING TO MAKE A MAGICAL MOMENT HERE AND YOU'RE DISTRACTING ME, GEEEEEZ!" I declared.
And yes, your honour, I absolutely recognised the fault in my ways just as soon as I spit all that out. I decided to scratch the project and do my research to find the best formula and THEN I would make them a Pinterest unicorn bubblicious day.
Research suggested I use corn starch, glycerin, and stand on one leg. I text the husband 'buy glycerin.' His reply was something like 'WTF and where TF and why.' Ugh, nevermind, it can't be that important of an ingredient.
I'll cut to the chase here when I say, potion number two was another epic fucking fail. Glycerin was clearly critical, but where to buy.... Obviously I decided the recipe was at fault, and a new one also suggested glycerin, but helpfully suggested that one might use 'personal lubricant' as a glycerin substitute, because it's full of the shit. Huh. Right... yeah... no, we're not doing that, thanks bye. Moving on.
Fast forward a few weeks, and I'm in Woolworths enjoying my excursion to the real world, all by myself, holding my breath as I walked past people, because obviously that's a valid way not to inhale any germs... not a joke. And because Australia had a 'only 2 per item limit' I had to scour EVERY aisle to ensure I wasn't missing any opportunity to stock up on my 2 this time. Which is why I found myself in the sex section of Woolies (people have since questioned where that is... it's the condom, lube section, why would we not say it's the sex area exactly.) My eyes were drawn to the KY Jelly, its $10 price tag, and the possibilities that lay before me.... to have amazing, wild, over the top...... bubbles, of course.
So I bought the lube, I paid the money, I made the magical solution, I hid the KY in the pantry (only after answering the door with it in my hand for a delivery, eek, not to worry I hid it down my pants before he noticed.) And let me tell you about these bubblesssssss!!!!!
They were..........!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAA++++
Another total fucking fail. Fucking lube. Fucking $10. Fucking lying crafty artsty mothers and their fucking false bullshit blog. What the fuck ever. No bubbles. NO FUCKING BUBBLES!! Dead to me.
It should be noted that all the while, I do actually own pre-made bubble mix, and Nik did repeatedly ask why I didn't just use that instead, and I did repeatedly decided it wouldn't make epic bubbles and therefore never tried. But it should be mentioned, there is one sane person in this marriage. (Me.)
So bubbles were a bust, so what?? I'm fun mom!! F for F-U n! Let's make shaving foam cream something or other!! Oooh!! Marbled paper with food colouring!! Yeah!
Don't fucking do it. Even containing it in my laundry room was a fail. The boys were bored, they mixed their shaving foam to a bleached brown colour and called it quits. I mitigated the food dye damage by putting it all in the washing machine, go me! Turns out I ended up dying our entire load of whites a light purple; especially Nik's shirts. But he thanked me for giving them a new colour, and I absolutely did not detect any sarcasm. You are welcome hun!
Okay, so I was punching above my (ever increasing thanks corona, this is the cocoon chubby phase of my butterfly metamorphosis) weight with those ideas, we went back to the basics. Play dough. Boom! Salt, oil, flour, or something like that. And guess what bitches, I decided to do it in the Kitchen Aid mixer! Double boom!! Easy!
Except for the slight oversight about needing to 'dissolve' the salt into warm water... yeah... didn't do that.... didn't really yield play dough, more like mud sludge. DID dump 3 bags of floor in to fix it though, and did end up with a LOT of... dough like substance? Yes. We used it for a monster truck arena... and then I threw it away. Obviously, I'm improving.
The last endeavor was a beauty. It was a raft that we would create and sail out in the calm ocean waters of the bay. My son and I (me) gathered sticks, we (me) tied them meticulously with string, nice and tight. We (me) made a sail, we (me) asked Nik to take our son to the beach before dinner so he could "float his boat" I said, as I had a little chuckle. Off they went, literally into the sunset, SUCH a success, such a sweet moment, at last.
I mean, when they got back, Nik explained that the raft actually just sank straight to the bottom, and that the sticks probably weren't close enough together, but.... huh.
"Well GOOD!" I replied, "Because he didn't do shit to help me make it so it's just as well that it sank! He can help next time and maybe it won't sink!!! Ha!!" So mature, I'm aware.
So a few days later we (me) added more sticks, we (me) tied them nice and tight and close together and we (me) have not touched it or dared take it near any water because DEAR GOD I CANNOT HANDLE ANOTHER ARTS AND FARTS FUCKING FAIL!!!
And on that note I swear if my eldest's school Principal addresses the parents in his emails as 'Dear new PRINCIPALS AND TEACHERS,' I just might set the school on fire (no one's there, it's fine, relax.) I DIDN'T SIGN UP TO BE ONE, DON'T REMIND ME THAT I AM!!! And if the preschool my middle son attends tried to schedule ANOTHER CLASS ZOOM CALL. FOR A THREE YEAR OLD. And then call me and follow up and QUESTION ME as to why I (ME, I, ME) wasn't putting him on his Zoom class callllllll whaaaa???? Geezus. Thankfully they rectified their ways and started accepted students back to school early, for double the regular hours, so I guess I wasn't alone...
Anywho, that is all. I just needed to document this pivotal time in our family, and also refresh your memory on the "My Sharona" song. Because really, could we not just change the "Sh" for a "C" and have the ANTHEM for this pandemic??? Oh. I think so. I think so.
You're welcome. And good night.
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