Mother F

I’d initially thought that today’s blip would be a waffle on about the transformative power of music, but instead I’m going to waffle on about the transformative power of my children.

I’m fortunate enough to work for a global company (whose response in supporting their employees throughout this nonsense has been exemplary) and therefore, like many I was able to work from home and look after my youngest children whilst so doing (the eldest one already being safely barricaded in with her mother). This was especially beneficial when it appeared that the mother to the wee ones didn’t look like she would be able to assist. I’d geared myself up, was ready for a long few weeks ahead, but ultimately looking forward to a large portion of time with my lively offspring.

Fast forward a few days and their mum is now in a position where can now look after the children. I should feel relieved, like a weight has been lifted, like I can focus and crack on with the job in hand. Except I don’t.

I’m gutted. These two rascals are full-on, loud, cheeky, intelligent, loud, funny, infuriating, wonderful and loud. They are to productivity as the coronavirus is to the economy, but my goodness I am going to miss the time that we were going to have together.

Their musical education for one will have to be a little more fragmented than I’d planned, they’ve been enjoying Classic FM which has had a welcome calming influence over all of us and music school continued in earnest last night courtesy of Madness’ greatest hits with ’Baggy Trousers’ in particular proving popular - but this may have had something to do with my demonstration of the accompanying dance (tip: move like your legs are running away from the rest of you.)

The lump in my throat is alleviated by the knowledge that instead of a distracted dad, they will be with a mother who will keep them safe and healthy as well as providing them with the focus, love and attention they deserve at this confusing time. 

They’ll soon be back though and I’ll hear them before I see them, probably shouting BAGGY TROUSERS at the top of their voices….

Stay healthy.