A mental health journal: day 9

There are days when I find parenting deeply tiresome.

There, I said it. I'm a terrible person. I love my daughter to the moon and back, and we have a lot of fun together. But I can only spend so many hours wearing a cat-shaped hand puppet, or trudging around the park while she does 150 laps of the slide. After four and a half years, does it really still need to be all about her? When do I get my life back? What is 'my life' anyway?

The pandemic has knocked every aspect of life out of alignment. Lockdown wasn't easy for anyone, but balancing work, childcare and homeschooling amid deepening health and economic worries made it a particularly rough time for parents of young children. Because I was furloughed and then unemployed, it was easier for us than some. But months of non-stop Daddying does seem to have turned me into a self-centred arse who views playtime with his daughter as a chore, rather than the simple joy it should be.

The real culprit here is the numbing sameness of our existence, for which my feverish mind is partly to blame (though I am a self-centred arse). Our world contracted to the four walls of our house like everyone else's during lockdown - and hasn't expanded much since it ended. Our daughter returned to nursery in July and is now at school, but we're still working - and mostly playing - at home. 

Aside from the weekly supermarket run, I haven't been in a shop since February. I have been inside one pub and one café, both in the height of summer - and that's it. Aside from a visit to the dentist I haven't seen the centre of Winchester for nearly eight months. We did manage a family escape to the Lake District in August, which is probably the only reason we are still sane(ish). Self catering and sticking to outdoor activities kept me from freaking out, back in the heady days of summer when case rates were low.

I envy people who go in shops and bars and restaurants, who go to swimming pools and museums, who get on planes. Retail, leisure and hospitality businesses have adapted brilliantly to our new world, under hugely challenging conditions. I wish I could do more to support them, but our household is in survival mode and my brain will not allow me a moment's respite.

So that's a bundle of fun. If there was a party, I'd be the heart and soul of it.

My dread ball is quite large today. A day or two away from the news will help. If my offspring would stop leaking snot by the pint, that'd be dandy too. I'm thinking of adding 'unbroken night's sleep for the whole family' to my bucket list.

But it's not all doom and gloom. Bake Off has resulted in a heightened level of chocolate cake. Half term will bring a welcome change to the grind, which in turn will probably force me to MTFU and leave the house.

And there's the new book. That, I think, has potential if I can write words good. Back to it...