FridaK
VIP Member
I’ve got a spare 20 minutes. Time for a rewrite 
“182 days of being at home. Not just our home, your sisters, your aunties, your dads, Katie Daly’s, Mummy Marshall’s, my Mums, Astrids, and Bailey’s. Ok a 182 days off school and now you’ve returned.
I remember when news of the lockdown hit. We had already blagged a week off after spending a weekend dragging ourselves all over London without giving the virus a second thought. Josh saw the opportunity to work from home and took it, much to my pleasure. So whilst everyone else was preparing, whilst they ran around like lunatics trying to work, school and stock up. I plonked my arse on the sofa and began to enjoy myself.
I flicked onto the news every now and then. Inbetween scrolling through Instagram, making up drama and sobbing horrifically at the thought of six kids needing me to do something with them for a few months. I began to panic about what to post as I had a few inconsiderate ADs to get out. Nevertheless I persisted, I ignored the death rates, and plugged the shit out of everything anyway because I CAN.
I spared a thought for grandparents. I managed to get Josh’s mum baking and coming out to do drop offs on our doorstep. I told her Seb was very ill. It worked so well. I began to notice people in the community doing things for each other. Deliveries and caring etc. I told Josh not to bother as I could just say we’d been doing it anyway should the need arise. That’s how I deal with everything. He did say we definitely had to clap on Thursday though. So to pay him back, I recorded it and made him look like a twat every week.
Remember when I told you all not to home school as I wasn’t going to bother. You fell for that didn’t you. I did home school, about 4 weeks to late when I got told that I wasn’t special and rules are rules. I hated it, spending one on one time trying to actually do more than just give birth to my kids. I much preferred mindless internet shopping and sharing all the gifted shit I received from businesses that were worried about bankruptcy. I single handily kept them afloat by encouraging you to overspend your reduced furlough wages and you did didn’t you? Thanks for that, I managed to earn enough to pay off my Klarna and Barclaycard, in order to start spending on them.
Now the house is silent. Josh has been forcibly removed from my grasp and all I’ve got for content is putting Wilby in debatable situations where he may hurt himself. Remember when I gave him a fire lighter and got to record a video in Covid A&E? That was a great idea I had. Yes now you’ve all gone back to school and I can’t share any of your inner feelings or secrets. I can’t shove the camera in your face at alarming moments. I can’t creep up on you when you are sleeping with my flash on. I can’t get Josh to clean the house as much. I’m going to have to interact with the baby and not my phone for 6 whole hours and I have to download UberEats for McDonalds or even drive through for tea.
We didn’t choose to be stuck together for months on end but I’m glad we were. Although I haven’t got the first clue about the a Covid situation currently as I stopped watching the news back in March after 10 mins and yes it seems lots of people died, I’m glad I’ve had this time with you. Only without it, my ADs would have been even lower quality and my account may have died of boredom. So thank you my little helpers in making this pandemic bearable, if nothing else, financially
(PS - My Mums on the Shit list still this week.)
“182 days of being at home. Not just our home, your sisters, your aunties, your dads, Katie Daly’s, Mummy Marshall’s, my Mums, Astrids, and Bailey’s. Ok a 182 days off school and now you’ve returned.
I remember when news of the lockdown hit. We had already blagged a week off after spending a weekend dragging ourselves all over London without giving the virus a second thought. Josh saw the opportunity to work from home and took it, much to my pleasure. So whilst everyone else was preparing, whilst they ran around like lunatics trying to work, school and stock up. I plonked my arse on the sofa and began to enjoy myself.
I flicked onto the news every now and then. Inbetween scrolling through Instagram, making up drama and sobbing horrifically at the thought of six kids needing me to do something with them for a few months. I began to panic about what to post as I had a few inconsiderate ADs to get out. Nevertheless I persisted, I ignored the death rates, and plugged the shit out of everything anyway because I CAN.
I spared a thought for grandparents. I managed to get Josh’s mum baking and coming out to do drop offs on our doorstep. I told her Seb was very ill. It worked so well. I began to notice people in the community doing things for each other. Deliveries and caring etc. I told Josh not to bother as I could just say we’d been doing it anyway should the need arise. That’s how I deal with everything. He did say we definitely had to clap on Thursday though. So to pay him back, I recorded it and made him look like a twat every week.
Remember when I told you all not to home school as I wasn’t going to bother. You fell for that didn’t you. I did home school, about 4 weeks to late when I got told that I wasn’t special and rules are rules. I hated it, spending one on one time trying to actually do more than just give birth to my kids. I much preferred mindless internet shopping and sharing all the gifted shit I received from businesses that were worried about bankruptcy. I single handily kept them afloat by encouraging you to overspend your reduced furlough wages and you did didn’t you? Thanks for that, I managed to earn enough to pay off my Klarna and Barclaycard, in order to start spending on them.
Now the house is silent. Josh has been forcibly removed from my grasp and all I’ve got for content is putting Wilby in debatable situations where he may hurt himself. Remember when I gave him a fire lighter and got to record a video in Covid A&E? That was a great idea I had. Yes now you’ve all gone back to school and I can’t share any of your inner feelings or secrets. I can’t shove the camera in your face at alarming moments. I can’t creep up on you when you are sleeping with my flash on. I can’t get Josh to clean the house as much. I’m going to have to interact with the baby and not my phone for 6 whole hours and I have to download UberEats for McDonalds or even drive through for tea.
We didn’t choose to be stuck together for months on end but I’m glad we were. Although I haven’t got the first clue about the a Covid situation currently as I stopped watching the news back in March after 10 mins and yes it seems lots of people died, I’m glad I’ve had this time with you. Only without it, my ADs would have been even lower quality and my account may have died of boredom. So thank you my little helpers in making this pandemic bearable, if nothing else, financially
(PS - My Mums on the Shit list still this week.)
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hey! 
. Oh and it also predicted that Betsy won’t achieve her life goal of being a stripper. (Never known a child to say at an early age they want to strip 
. I mean there isn’t many 10/11 year olds that list that on the old ‘what do you want to be when you grow up’ task in primary. I think perhaps Betsy came up with recently didn’t she Rach, it’s not her ‘life goal’ is it? More like teenage wacky idea 
.) Never the less she giggled laughed and seemed to forget the sob/ tear wipe big news trauma from 95 seconds before.
