Please click on the title of the blog and scroll to the end to comment, like, share or subscribe. Thank you!
Lockdown is no laughing matter.
As the initial shock of this pandemic and the strange novelty of lockdown is now wearing off, I find myself slipping out of my white bed sheets in the morning with a rather colourless lack of any sense of humour. My anticipation for the day is reduced to a glimmer. Instead of tackling a noteworthy venture with enthusiasm, I resolve myself and go downstairs to our teal-blue kitchen to face a mountain of dishes, a mountain of laundry and a mountain of wishy-washy, half-baked aspirations.
Yes, I’ll be the first to admit that I have nothing to complain about. I am not a single mom working two jobs, with tiny toddlers, under tremendous pressure to pay the bills, bravely rising above emotional exhaustion to just keep things together. No, I can’t lay claim to being that kind of heroine. Maybe, in some weird way , therein precisely lies the mystery of why I teeter on the edge of frustration. Here I am - still in my pj’s, sweating over the kitchen sink, looking anything other than a heroine. Frustrated; because sparkling, spotless dishes and crisp, clean clothes are not going to change the world.
My husband walks in from the patio, smiling and drenched in perspiration after his morning training on the stationary bike. He is not whinging that he couldn’t be out riding on the mountain, nor is he bemoaning the mountain of pressure that faces him as he fights to help contain covid19 from an online frontline. Instead, he cheerfully pours me a cup of coffee from the red coffee machine he bought to add a splash of colour to our monotone blue kitchen.
I am so very grateful, I really am, but to my surprise the words that spill out of my mouth don’t show it. I respond with a stream of complaints: “Look at all these dishes!” “Could no one have bothered to pack the dishwasher last night?” “How can there be so many clothes in the wash basket?” and “Look at these filthy floors!” He calmly packs the clean plates on the shelf and his wise words knock around in my head …“humour diffuses tension”. I push the phrase out of my mind and stoically continue scrubbing the pots - as if I am making a very important point. Blissfully unaware of my annoyance, our three kids burst through the kitchen with a friendly, “Morning Mom!” enroute to their home-made volleyball court.
As I listen to my husband singing in the shower and the kids giggling in the garden, I think endearingly of our beloved President Ramaphosa. He clumsily fumbled with his face mask during his televised speech last week, which sent memes flying and hashtags trending, lighting up social media and lightening the country’s mood, as we enter our fifth week of strict nationwide lockdown. I am so impressed at how he has taken the ‘mask mishap’ in his stride and pokes fun at his own faux pas; choosing to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
And so, with an inspired determination, I put down the soapy sponge. I fold the drying cloth, kick off my teal slipslops and move outside toward the laughter and the positivity. I join the kids playing their game. I’m not a comedienne by any means, but as a truly useless volleyball player, my digs and sets go everywhere except over the net. I have us all in stitches! I can see how Humour can become a very good friend to me. In a moment, she puts a bright smile on my face, helps me choose to let go of my frustrations, stop taking myself so seriously, connect with the kids and just simply laugh.
After the game, the kids settle into their online schooling and yes, I still have to finish the dishes. I fold the laundry and mop the floors, but now, the tension is diffused. Afterall, a cheerful heart is strong medicine and a good sense of humour is an escape valve for the pressures of life. Laughter is an incredible gift from God! It has lifted me to a higher place where I can now view the world from a more sprightly perspective - even if that place is from behind the kitchen sink.