Ghostwritermummy

One of the worst things about being in lockdown is not being able to visit or socialise with friends and family. It is nice to video chat, but it’s not the same as being with them. It feels awful to speak to someone and see the sadness in their eyes without being able to reach out and hug them. 

But that does not mean that you can’t lift their spirits. If you feel comfortable doing so, sending them a small but thoughtful gift is an excellent way to let them know you are thinking of them. It does not have to be a big thing. Here are a few ideas to get you started.

Products you know your friend enjoys using

If your friend enjoys vaping you just have to click the link to be able to buy them some of the best e liquids on the market. The UK firm who makes them have been in business for a while, so they offer a really big range of products, making it easy for you to pick one that your friend is likely to enjoy.

On a similar theme, you could send them a bottle of their favourite beauty product. If your friend has a bath you can’t really go wrong with something they can use to have a nice soak and relax.

Buy them access to an online class

At the moment, many of the online learning platforms are running special offers. So, now is a particularly good time to buy someone the gift of a course. For example, if you both like to cook, Masterclass could be a good platform to look at. They offer several cooking classes as part of their all-access pass deal. So, if you both want to learn from the likes of Gordon Ramsay, Dominique Ansell, and Massimo Bottura, you can. If you act fast and use their special offer package you can get access for half-price.

Access to a streaming service

Being able to sit down and binge-watch a box set is a great way to take your mind off of the stresses and strains of life. So, if your friend has not already got access to a streaming service, why not consider buying them a pass for a month or two.  This article does a good job of comparing most of the best ones. It includes pricing details and an explanation of the various available features.

An activity pack style gift

Gifts that offer someone the chance to do something different are a good idea. There are all kinds of options available. Craft kits are one example. 

Toys adults can enjoy with their kids

Another option is to send them a toy, like the ones suggested here. They are all designed to provide fun for kids and adults alike. Some of the suggestions are crazy expensive, but there are also some decent ones at the lower end of the price scale.

We’re still in isolation. We haven’t been inside a car or turned left out of our driveway or touched another person outside of our household since Wednesday 18th March. We haven’t stepped inside a shop or checked a book out from the library or visited a museum. We haven’t dipped a toe into a swimming pool, tapped a tap shoe on a gleaming wooden floor or splashed a welly boot into the big puddle at the end of the lane near school. We haven’t huddled on the playground or dashed from class to class or lugged heavy shopping bags from trolley to car. We haven’t strayed from the rules even though they’re weighing us down daily, crushing slowly, smothering gently. We’re still in isolation and I think this might be the new normal for us all.

The children have been by my side since the day they were sent home from school with a cough that turned out to be nothing, turned out to be a few nights of watchful wakefulness incase symptoms developed and this ‘thing’ claimed us too. We’ve been together in isolation and hiding away from an invisible dragon breathing fire down our necks, into our bellies and through our dreams. We’re nearing the end of seven weeks like this. Seven weeks! And still, isolation stretches on like a promise sealed in gold. Other countries around the world are lifting their lockdowns and retreating back again, while we hesitate, unsure, unwilling to make a decision we cannot return from. This dragon is not going anywhere, for now.

So, for us, isolation is a picture of repetition. A new routine that sees us wake unenthusiastically kind-of-ready for the day but not really sure it’s worth it. But we stick to it- because without this routine I’ve become so fiercely protective of, we all fall apart. We drift. We feel we have no purpose or no there is no point to even the smallest of actions. We feel that isolation is breaking us.

Isolation, for us, is a safety blanket wrapped around our shoulders on the coldest day. The warmth of the sun as is peeps from behind the clouds. The feeling of new bed sheets when you’re so tired you can barely feel the pillows as you drift away. We’re holding on to isolation.

So despite the early morning starts to fit paid work in before home school, despite the constant obsessing over the best way to deliver a homestyle lesson on forces and magnets, despite the battle over who is going to put their lunch things in the dishwasher, give me the chance to use the bathroom in peace, put their shoes away, FINALLY learn how to turn lights out- despite the new normal, every day battles we’re all facing… despite all of that, isolation is working for us. We’re safe. We’re well. We’re slaying that dragon in our own small way.

Lockdown began officially three weeks ago today, but as a family we’ve been in lockdown since the 20th March. Ordered home from school with a cough, the children have been with me here 24/7. They have been nowhere beyond the fields and nature reserve right by our house. I last ventured further on the 21st March. Since then I have not turned left from our house, not even for a walk around the block. We turn right because there is more to see, more new places to walk, less people and less chance of danger. Less fear. But mostly, w’ere indoors. We’re living a life, indoors.

How the world has changed in just one month. In just one month we’ve gone from roaming the country as freely as time and money allowed, to barely stepping from our doorsteps. I spent my last weekend in the outside world at The Baby & Toddler Show, chatting to expectant parents, working, being around lots and lots of people. Now I cross the street or I herd the children down dips in the country lane when I see other people approaching. I silently scold them for getting too close, or I hold my breath and just hope that we’re all far apart enough for it to make a difference. Now, the mere sight of other people sends a chill down my spine and around my bones.

How the world has changed in just one month. Now we are told that we cannot stop on a beautiful sunny day to have a picnic with loved ones. We cannot visit relatives on Easter Sunday, we cannot pop to the shop for an ice-cream or visit the sea to dip our toes in the icy cold sea. We cannot drive along the motorway without somewhere important to be. We cannot be outside for longer than one hour. Sixty minutes of the outside world is enough, and sometimes, some days, it’s far too much.

How the world has changed in just one month. Now I am the only adult still working. Now I am mum, teacher, worker, loner. Now I am rising early to scrape together some semblance of a day that might keep us all going. Now I am scrolling Facebook to discover how woefully I am failing, how incredibly dismally I am failing. Now I am reading the news, hoping for it to change, hoping for a new headline. Now I am dreaming of a life not indoors.

Life, indoors. We’re adapting. We’re doing well, all things considered, all Facebook updates considered. We’re ploughing through fractions and phonics and place value and ballet lessons. We’re forging ahead with guitar lessons, baking sessions, creative writing and addition sums. We’re advancing on reading lessons and acro lessons. One of us has mastered the cartwheel and another can now read a whole sheet of tricky words. We’re ticking the boxes, we’re staying at home and we’re filling the windows with rainbows.

Life, indoors isn’t so bad. We’re together, we’re well and we’re enjoying each other’s company (mostly). But it’s not life. It’s not running free with arms out-stretched and grass tickling your toes. It’s not packing a bag full with sandwiches and biscuits and watching the world fly past through the tiny window of a train. It’s not stepping over sticky floors with an elbow in your side and lager breath down your neck as you crane to see the band under the hot strobing stage lights. It’s not all of the tiny things that make up life.

Endless trips to and from extra-curricular events. Tiresome school runs. Ironing on a Sunday night. Putting the bins out on a Tuesday. Trawling round Asda on a Saturday afternoon. Signing reading records. Putting bobbles in hair. Finding matching socks. Parent’s evenings. Parties. Trips to the library. Standing on a cold, wet playground, willing the classroom doors to swing open so you can get back in the car to dry off. Nipping to Nana’s for a proper ham sandwich and a Wagon Wheel. Longer journeys to Nanny’s to measure yourself against the sunflowers in the garden. Chatting to neighbours over the low fence, laughing about the cats having a second home, second bowl of tuna, second set of parents. Play dates, sleepovers. Cub camps, Brownie camps. School trips. Sports Day. Class assemblies. Just standing, still, amongst a crowd and allowing all the busyness, all the people, to simply mill around you and be. Peace in a busy world.

How the world has changed. Life indoors is quiet but there is no peace. There is a constant nagging doubt that we’re doing it all wrong, we did it all too late. A constant fear they’ll send us back to the outside world too soon, too late, too broken.

Life, indoors. It has up days and down days. But it goes on. We go on. Different versions of ourselves, in a different version of the world. But we go on.