138. Into the new year we go ...

Lockdown feels as if my kids are lion cubs locked in a cage and waiting - very impatiently - to be released back into the wild. Except that I am in the cage with them. Oh, and their dad is in the cage too. 

As responsible, experienced parents who have read all the handbooks about child-rearing and teen-guiding we are coping extremely well. Yet, to pass the time in a highly constructive manner we each devise a specific programme, complete with targets and strategies. My husband in his deserted office and me in my crowded cage; each of us without really consulting the other, just chatting about it all when walking the dog late in the evenings. But each of us was thinking the other one's project was just a passing fad. Soon the cubs would be back out into the wild and life would resume as we knew it. Except it didn't.

One day during the holidays, I overheard something which went like this.

'Guys! Scoop: Mum's got an Instagram account! ... And I want to know ... who helped her with that?'

Miss Organiser, a natural leader as the eldest of the pack, is demanding an answer on the spot.

'Come on! Own up! Which one of you helped her?'

Baby, as the youngest, replies candidly.

'Mum did it on her own.'

Which gets her both puzzled and annoyed looks from everyone; even my son slightly raises an eyebrow. His world is clearly shifting. Maths-Head just shrugs her shoulders and says:

'Well, Auntie Patty's got one!'

'Yes, exactly. And it's so boring. Just like watching paint dry. Expect it's watching cats sleep.'

'Agreed. We cannot have mum being that boring. See! It's an emergency.'

I have to put a stop to this. If only for all the respect due to Aunty Patty.

'Erm ... kids! Enough of this. Anyone is entitled to an online presence. And there's nothing wrong with pictures of kittens. Some of Aunty's pictures are lovely.'

They turn and look at me as if I have two heads. My brood is clearly way past the cute kitten pictures stage. I know it. I don't mind it. Really I don't. 

They all turn towards me. My husband too.

'You've got Instagram?' 

'Calm down everyone. You sound as if I was going to run for MP or something! '

'Are you?'

'Am I what?'

'Ready to run for president?'

'Got Instagram?'

'Getting into politics?'

'Writing a blog?'

Now I have an audience. I look at them all in silent expectation. Even the dog is looking up at me, he probably thinks there comes his chance to be a YouTube star.

'All right! Listen! No, I am not planning to become a public figure in our community. Being a teacher is close enough for me. Thank you. So you can relax about that. But ...'

'But?' They say in unison.

'But. We, parents, will be honest with you. We have a plan to live the nomad life. And I, personally, have a plan to become a digital nomad. Hence the Instagram account, the website and the blog.'

Initially, there are quiet. But not for very long. They never are.

'Digital nomad, what on earth is that about?'

'Come on, now! Are you kids going to tell me that you do not know what a digital nomad is! Honestly, you're stuck in the 80's or what?'

'Yep!' My husband pipes in. I thinks he sounds quite proud and pleased at the way I introduce our kids to the TGA. 

'Your mother and I are going to travel around the world.'

One of the kids places his finger on the side of his head and twirls it rapidly. I give him the mother-stare. 

'Are you turning new age or something?' Maths-Head has come back into the kitchen no doubt feeling she had to take an active part in this conversation.

'I knew it! It all started with lockdown, mum on screens all the time and then dad on the internet all the time.'

'Yeah! Definitely. The cooking sourdough bread too. That was weird, wasn't it?'

'Yeah! And disgusting! ... And remember the silent vow?'

'You wait! Next they'll be taking us on tree hugging trips!'

'Yeah. Kinda worrying if you ask me ...'

We've left the conversation. We are now both sitting at the desk in front of the family computer. I have found this wonderful website where you can plan your trip. We have forgotten about the children and are clicking on maps, adding stops, searching for gas stations, hotels with pools, ...

'Excuse us!' One of the children suddenly says. 'Can you parents just get off the screens so we can have dinner?'