11 April

Isolation Update – Get back in the kitchen, bitch

All I do is laundry. Mountains of it. I want to do less, but my kids are disgusting and everything is either covered in sauce or wee, so I have no choice. But I am SO bored of folding small clothes. SO bored of it. And WHOSE idea was it for socks to match? Seriously? That person HATED women.

This morning, after I had given the kids breakfast, Valentine couldn’t find me. ‘Mummy, Mummy, where are you?’ he yelled as he tore around the house. Chris was taking over, so I remained in my bathroom where I was putting on my pointless make-up for the day. After quite a few minutes, I couldn’t ignore it any more. I had to ask him what he wanted.

‘What, Valentine, what?’ I barked, only one eye done.

‘Why aren’t you in the kitchen?’ he said, quite cross.

‘Because I am in the bathroom.’

‘No, Mummy. You get back in the kitchen.’

‘No, I’m here now.’

‘You have to STAY IN THE KITCHEN.’

Right, so raising boys who don’t see women as domestic servants is going about as well as Covid-19.

I made a sensational chicken pie last night (just to prove that my place IS in fact in the kitchen). I made quite a big one, so dinner tonight would be sorted. We ate it all. Just Chris and me, all of it. Whoops. Sausages tonight! I always have a back-up plan.

Valentine woke up with a massive foot. My poor baby. He’d woken in the night, Chris went in and he was happy with just a cuddle. So Chris didn’t see the foot at first. My God. Guys, it was like a balloon. The skin was going to pop. It was around the bee sting he got a few days ago. It was absolutely some kind of reaction so I gave him some Benadryl and left a message for the doctor, just to be sure. She called, I did everything right, and Ole ‘Chubby Toes’ is doing fine. It’s still huge, but doesn’t seem to be bothering him. Which is good, because this morning I panicked and presumed he’d lose the foot. I have a tendency to do that.

Did someone say CORONAVIRUS?

I had to google what day it was because I couldn’t even hazard a guess. Was happy to hear it’s Friday: the kids watch loads more TV at the weekend and I get even more drunk and high. I wish it was the weekend every day. Oh no, wait …

The summer term starts here again on Monday. I have the fear.

I’ve quite enjoyed the chaos of the past few weeks. We have our schedule, but we can do what we want. It’s been OK, I could do this for a while. But I can tell Art needs more stimulation, so I get it, school is good. I just get scared because I found school terrorising the first time round, and I feel like this is going to be harder for me than Art.

GET OVER IT, DAWN, HE ONLY LEARNS ONE LETTER A WEEK.

OK, OK, I’m fine.

Valentine hasn’t wet himself for a few days. I do believe we’ve done it.

I made him a den in his old cot. The duvet fell down. He said, ‘THIS DEN IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH.’ He’s two. This is not right. Isn’t he supposed to be cuddling me all the time and being cute? Why does that bit pass so quickly?

I made them a cheese and salami quesadilla for lunch. Art ate it all, Valentine picked out the salami and dropped the rest on the floor. Should I just feed him spaghetti hoops until he is old enough to cook for himself?

I did a Peloton. The instructor was from London and she made me homesick. The good thing about being homesick at the moment is that it’s totally pointless because, even if I was at home, I couldn’t see anyone anyway. So there is that. But still, I miss the London streets and being in the same time zone as my people.

I made a leek and potato gratin, but I put sour cream in the milk and the damn thing curdled. I am DEVASTATED, I really worked at it. I might have to drain all of the liquid off. Weird. But I don’t want Chris to notice because it tastes amazing and he doesn’t need to know about the UNSIGHTLY curdling.

Is that me being a good wife, or a terrible wife? It’s hard to know sometimes, isn’t it?

Well, it’s just gone 4 p.m. Chris just handed me a tequila and I acted all, ‘I wouldn’t drink that now’ then took it gently from his hand and it’s almost gone. But hey, according to Google, it’s Friday.

Have a lovely weekend, you gorgeous humans. I hope you managed to get enough chocolate delivered. I got the boys a chocolate bunny each, and about an hour ago Art said, ‘I hope I don’t get a silly bunny for Easter.’

Oh, the joys!

Love to you all … and HAPPY EASTER!

Love Dawn x

14 April

Isolation Update – Who ate the Easter Bunny?

We got through Easter weekend because we drank. That’s how.

So it’s important for me to tell you that I am extremely hungover. Chris and I decided to up the tempo after the kids went down last night. We got exceptionally high and sang karaoke in the living room until 1 a.m. We laughed so hard we cried. We needed it. The last few months have been intense in many ways, we needed a blowout. So, we did. We really, really did.

My friends Louis and Nancy got me the karaoke set for my birthday last year (I’ve never felt so seen), and Chris has hooked it up to the TV in the living room. The remote is now voice-controlled, so all I need to say is ‘Show me Dolly Parton “9 to 5” on YouTube Karaoke,’ and then I can get on with living my best life.

I must admit though, it’s really weird doing karaoke now. It’s always been my favourite thing. But it was also something that I did with Caroline. We sang all the time. So many people at her funeral talked about her love of it, and now, I cannot deny that it’s changed. I could feel the tears coming a few times but I just kept telling myself to turn it into joy. To imagine her there, singing her heart out, having the time of her life. Singing was her passion, she was so good at it. As I chose songs last night, I couldn’t believe how many reminded me of her. We have so many memories. One in particular was ‘Jolene’ by Dolly Parton. I celebrated my fortieth birthday in Margate last year and I sang with a band. Caroline couldn’t come because she was working, but managed to get out early in the end and got a cab all the way from London at about 9 p.m. to surprise me. I was so happy. She always showed up for me. Always. As I sang, she was right there at the front singing along with me, dancing her cute dances. The best audience member ever. After I did ‘Jolene’, she came over, hugged me and said, ‘That is your song.’

No baby, now it’s ‘our’ song.

Even Dolly Parton reminds me of her.

Art is asking if I would be willing to change his name to ‘Speedy’. I’ve asked him if we can find something cooler, like ‘Shot’ or ‘Cheetah’, but he is insisting on ‘Speedy’. I told him it sounds like a joke name for a tortoise, to which he said, ‘But that’s not funny, because tortoises aren’t fast.’

Do you ever feel like you’re just talking to the walls?

The upsetting thing is that I love the name Art. I got pregnant in New York, when Chris was doing Of Mice and Men on Broadway. Chris was about four stone heavier than he is now, with a huge, long beard and a shaved head (it was for the part). I still had sex with him though. And then, on a toilet in a weird apartment just below Park Slope, with Lilu and Potato sitting at my feet, and possibly one of the worst hangovers imaginable, I peed on a stick and found out that we were going to have our first baby.

I’d always loved the name Art. Chris did too. But it was very late one night back in 2014 that we knew for sure that would be his name.

I’d been to see my friend Neil Gaiman, who was doing a book reading at Carnegie Hall in New York. He invited us to the after-party, and Chris came to meet me there after the show. The party was in someone’s loft apartment in Soho. It was an old school, arty crowd. Native New Yorkers with the kinds of jobs you’d read about in sexy sixties novels. There was the picture editor of the New Yorker, artists, actors, poets and designers. I loved it. I felt like it was as close to being a part of the seventies New York Art scene as I could get. And then, as I was really starting to fit in, Neil said ‘Dawn, Chris, I have to introduce you to the coolest man in the world.’

That man was called Art Spiegelman. A renowned political cartoonist as charming as he is wonderful. Neil was right, he’s seriously cool. I was only a few months pregnant, so keeping it quiet, but we’d been talking about the name Art a lot, so got a sharp thrill when we met this amazing man. We knew there and then that, if the baby were a boy, Art would be his name. And so it came to pass. And no, every news outlet that ever mentions my kids, his name is not Arthur. We never said the name Arthur, but for some reason, you insist that it is. It isn’t, his name is just Art. Art O’Porter. The coolest guy that ever lived. (Sorry, Mr Spiegleman, you’ve been outdone.)

So you can see why it’s annoying that Art wants to change his name to the 100 per cent less cool ‘Speedy’. But in these testing times, I’ll call him whatever it takes to stop him tugging at my clothes and allow me to drink my tequila in peace.

I felt sad and homesick at the weekend. I’m not religious, but I would always have people over on Easter Sunday. I’d cook too much, drink too much. I also missed Caroline crazy amounts, because I thought of her eating a big Sunday roast and drinking lashings of red wine with her family in a pub. And it made me cross and sad that she wouldn’t be doing that. I kept expecting her to text. I often read back her texts, stalk her Instagram, listen to a podcast we did together, and she still feels so alive. How does someone like that just disappear? I still have no idea what happened, I know it will take years to understand. I also know that I might never. I love her so much.

The Easter bunny came on Saturday night, and deposited forty-eight plastic eggs stuffed with candy all around the house and garden. I left a chocolate bunny and a little card with a balloon on it on the dining table too. When the kids woke up, they were so happy, and my cockles warmed right up. They ate chocolate for breakfast, then did their Easter Egg hunt and loved every second. Then we all had eggs and bacon, and at 5 p.m. we had the most amazing lamb chops with all the classic roast sides. As usual, the novelty of us eating with them sent them into a frenzy, and Valentine lay on the floor rubbing the lamb chop on his face, Potato looking on, wondering when I would turn away so he could lick it off.

Speaking of Valentine, he is officially potty trained. What a mission that was, but it’s done. No accidents in three days. My house will always have a lingering smell of piss, but no more shitty trousers. Thank GOD. Thanks for being here for me during that dark time.

I’m really enjoying Becoming by Michelle Obama. The way she talks about Barack when they got together is dreamy. HE SMOKED!!! I can’t get my head around that. She also described him as a ‘unicorn’ and ‘other worldly’. Isn’t that glorious? She said he never had any real interest in owning anything, that he genuinely cared about society and he was so well read that he’d stay up every night, into the early hours, just reading and reading. Books about American history, fiction, all of it. Just a charming, kind, clever, educated, classy as fuck guy. Compare that to the orange twat we’re dealing with now and have a nice big cry on behalf of America.

WHAT IS HAPPENING.

I’m very happy with my new ‘kitchen book’ scheme. I have one audiobook that I only listen to in the kitchen. As I seem to be in the kitchen twenty-two hours a day right now (it’s my choice, just to be clear; I insist on it because, as much as I moan, it’s my happy place), I’m getting through them at a hefty speed. I find reading hard because I am always so tired by the time I get to bed, but my goodness, I love a good audiobook.

Art’s school started today, so we had to check in with his class on Zoom. Just what I needed after my first big night in months. It’s SO hard, he finds it so boring. I’m gutted for him because he loves his mates and loves school. And weirdly, he’s perfectly happy in isolation, until he is reminded of what he’s missing out on.

Also, it makes me sad that he’s on a screen. He’s never even had an iPad. I was excited to hold off the digital side of things for as long as possible, because he’ll spend a lifetime on a computer and phone when he starts. And it made me sad this morning, to see him sitting there like it was his job and he was at work.

But I know this is what it is, and that he does need to stay connected to his class and teachers. Still, it’s so far from ideal for a very active five-year-old. I’m sure any of you who are parents feel the same way.

Going to bed was funny. Chris had to kick the bathroom door in again, so I could get out, and he saw the handful of pills I was taking. For a moment I think he was worried. ‘What the hell are you taking?’ he asked, like I had a hand full of uppers and downers. My answer was literally the most un-rock-and-roll ever: ‘Ten milligrams of melatonin, some skincare supplements and an Advil.’ Oooooooo, hardcore.

This made us laugh. Laughing feels good.

So that was that. A nice Easter with the kids, and a fun party night with my husband. It led to the kind of hangover that nearly broke us both, but it was totes worth it to feel like grown-ups.

OK, it’s 6.30 p. m. I need to bath these monsters and then bath myself. Make today stop, it was hard.

Love Dawn x

15 April

Isolation Update – I’ll spatchCOCK your chicken in a minute!

Just a quick one tonight, the sofa is screaming my name. I need to dunk some spatchCOCKed (am I twelve?) chicken into some panko crumbs, fry them, pour wine, and then we’re going to watch Jaws 2. Big night!

Oh man, today was a better day. All I remember from yesterday is wandering around my house on all fours, begging for the day to end. After a lot of begging, it ended. I slept. All was well, and today was good. In fact, and I know this is weird, I quite enjoyed it. Even though NOTHING happened.

This afternoon, Valentine walked into the kitchen with an entire loo roll wrapped around him. I don’t know how he did it, but I ran at him in super slow-mo ‘DOOONNN’’TTTT YOOOUUU KKKNNNOOOOWWW HOOOOWWW PREEECCCCSIOUUUS TTTHHHAAAT ISSSSS?’

Of course he bloody doesn’t. He’s two, and only started using the stuff last week.

I got a funky face mask that I wore to the shop, but it really scratched my nose. How did I come out of the supermarket with a nose injury, when I did everything right? URGH. Also, when I was paying, my dress got stuck between my bum cheeks, but I was holding something so I couldn’t get it out. I turned around to see if anyone saw, but they all had face masks on so I couldn’t tell if they were laughing or not. GUYS, how will we know if people are judging us if they are all wearing face masks?

As if life wasn’t hard enough.

OK, I have so much more to say but I must bread the chicken for dinner, so more tomorrow. I am SO hungry and need wine.

Love you,

Dawn x

16 April

Isolation Update – My kids are pink

We woke up this morning to hear the kids playing, which was delightful. Then they asked Alexa to do a ‘Farty Party’ so we had to wake to ten minutes’ worth of constant fart sounds. Always a lovely start to the day. But it was my morning off, so I lay in bed like a lush drinking coffee, then got up and did full make-up just in case Instagram inspiration should strike. It didn’t today. Sometimes I can’t stop, other days I have nothing.

I feel like things are getting more positive, don’t you? I realise we are not out of the woods and there are still thousands of cases and many more deaths that we will endure, but the tone here has changed. When I got back from London a month ago, people were buying guns and talking about the army commanding the streets outside our homes. It felt like we were heading to war. But it doesn’t feel like that any more, or at least, it certainly doesn’t feel like things will get worse.

We’ll be isolated for a long time though, that’s for sure. Normal life is a while away, and who knows what our new normal will be. Ten people at a time in a restaurant? Having our temperatures taken before we get in an Uber? Dating with face masks on? Kinky. Maybe.

It was hot today, and finally the pool was warm enough to go in, so the boys splashed around all day. It was nice, I felt like we were on holiday and feel very grateful that we have it. Art has got really good at swimming, and Val just hangs on the steps with his floaties on. But he loves washing all his sea creatures and then throwing them in my shoes (the sod). I swam up and down for ages, and now I can’t move my arms. Also, I forgot about sunscreen and both the kids are quite badly burnt. I’m not looking forward to the inevitable lack of sleep they will endure as a consequence of my negligence. MUM FAIL.

We had hot dogs for lunch. I had one too. SO GOOD. A pretentious, organic beef hotdog in a brioche bun. Drenched in mustard and ketchup with a side of crisps and a random mango, because it was going off. Perfect.

I decided to get in the bath with the kids tonight, trying to scrub off all the aloe vera I had to slather on them to mitigate the burn. It was fun, they loved it. At one point, Art’s foot accidentally touched my vagina and he thought it was hilarious. I do my best to be very open with my body in front of them, no shame, nothing to hide, nothing to make fun of or be uncomfortable around. But when your five-year-old accidentally shoves his foot up your fanny you have to scream, ‘DON’T TOUCH THAT!’ Don’t you? I mean, it was a bit of a knee-jerk reaction, to be honest, because I thought he’d done it on purpose, and as a feminist mother rule number one is: make sure your son knows that sticking his foot up a woman’s vagina without her approval is not OK. I’m sure my reaction has put him off forever. Imagine that? What was supposed to be a nice family bath, now the catalyst for a lifetime fear of vaginas. Damn it.

Tonight, I am making a sticky pork stir-fry from Jamie Oliver’s Five Ingredients book. Which is the perfect cookbook for a lockdown. And of course, we will watch Jaws 3. I bet I can guess what happens.

Sending you all the love in the world.

Love Dawn x

17 April

Isolation Update – Can I licky your dicky? (You ’eard.)

I wore my watermelon skirt today. I love it because it has an elasticated waist and none of my clothes fit me because a) all I do is eat, and b) all I do is drink, and c) I always have the munchies. But Valentine KEPT pulling it down, revealing my terrible and massive Marks and Spencer’s knickers that are so awful I don’t even want my kids to see them.

Being a feminist mother of boys is hard. I screamed ‘YOU DO NOT PULL DOWN A WOMAN’S SKIRT … UNLESS SHE ASKS YOU TO.’ I added the last bit because, as much as I want to raise my kids to respect women, I also want them to know that some women are totally up for it and find the element of surprise thrilling. It is SO hard to get it right.

Lockdown has often made me wonder what the day-to-day nonsense would be like with daughters. But then I think back to the way my sister and I used to fight. I’d take dinosaur facts on a loop over that any day, I reckon. I love being a mum to boys – and I have to admit, mine are really good ones.

In other news, I butchered some cupcakes today. WHY am I so bad at baking? I also made some sausage rolls which were pretty good. And I ate loads of crisps and started drinking at 4 p.m. All in all, a pretty successful day.

We had a very exciting morning. Potato ran outside and started barking, which is unusual because he doesn’t say much. He does shout at squirrels, but this was full-on. I went out, and OH MY GOD, guys … it was the most amazing thing. Alongside the pool, past the fence and sort of trapped, there was an opossum (or is that an O’possum, when it’s at our house?). She was HUGE, like the size of a big cat. I’d have leapt a thousand feet into the air if I didn’t already know that these guys are really sweet. A tiny one (probably the same one) had been on our porch about a year ago, and Lilu had it cornered. I freaked, but then researched them to discover they are not aggressive AND they eat cockroaches. This was excellent information, as we had an infestation at that time and I was losing my mind. I went out, picked Lilu up and told the O’possum (let’s run with it) she could stay if she ate all the critters. She said she would and ran off.

A week later, and by total chance, one of Art’s friends had her birthday party at the zoo and one of the zookeepers came over holding an O’possum for us all to stroke. It was awesome, because we could ask loads of questions and get prepared for seeing our new housemate again, but we never did. I do, however, hear things running around in the roof sometimes. It’s usually either racoons or these guys; now I’m pretty sure that little one we saw is now the big one we saw today, and that SHE has been here the whole time.

What happened next was magical.

I called Chris and the boys. Art and Valentine are obsessed with wild animals, so you can imagine how excited they were. Then Chris went all gooey and said, ‘Oh my God, look at her back.’ I’m quite blind and it looked to me like she had a really messed-up coat, but then we realised she had SIX BABIES on her back. Guys … oh guys … Oh God it was so beautiful. O’possums are marsupials (‘THAT IS NOT A KANGAROO,’ said Art). They carry babies in pouches. These babies were all hanging on to her back in the most perfect orderly way. I almost cried. We told her she was so welcome and called her ‘Opsie’.

Remember the worms that Chris ordered a few weeks ago? Well, we put them on the side of the pool where we saw her. That is a much more natural demise for them than at the hand of my monster baby, Valentine.

Then I worried. I had to have this place covered in gel poison because of the cockroaches. They take it back to the nest and it kills them all. After years of using spray and them returning over and over again, this finally worked. When I saw the O’possum I thought, what if she finds the nest and eats the roaches, and gets poisoned?? But wanna know something amazing about O’possums? They are immune to poison. Isn’t that fantastic??

So it’s all worked out really well. She can stay. She can kill all the bugs. And I can raise her babies as my own, as if we are sister-wives. What a dreamy plan.

I gave the kids chicken on sticks for lunch. I buy them in the supermarket. Just chicken, on sticks. Pretty simple, but they love them. I will make them myself when I’m not too busy ruining cakes. Anyway, as I was serving them, I started singing a song ‘Chicken on sticks, sticks, sticks. Sticky sticky chicky chicky.’ But then it progressed to ‘Licky licky chicky. Chicky dicky, licky licky dicky licky.’ I was basically dancing around the dining table singing about licking dicks.

I stopped, of course, then Art yelled ‘LET ME LICKY YOUR DICKY’ across the room.

I put the news on loudly and pretended I couldn’t hear him. Then had to hide in the pantry to laugh.

OK, tonight is homemade sausage rolls with salad. I hope you’re all OK.

Love Dawn x

PS My sausage rolls are SO easy if you want to make them. I think it’s an old Jamie Oliver recipe. Here’s how it goes:

1lb sausage meat (pork mince)

1 finely chopped shallot

Some chopped-up sage … I use about 7 leaves

Salt and pepper

One sheet of pre-rolled puff pastry

In a bowl mix the meat, shallot, sage, salt and pepper.

Roll out the pastry, cut into two long oblongs. Place a long sausage (OO-ER) shaped wedge of the meat mix down the centre of each one, then fold the pastry over the top, helping it stick with egg. Paint all the pastry with egg. Stick in oven. Get them out when cooked. Give them to your lover and enjoy getting some action.

NIGHT, KIDS,

Love Dawn x