After that he disappeared outside and came back a while later holding a cup. ‘Mummy, there has been a terrible problem.’ (He is two.) He handed me the cup.

There were three dead bees in it.

‘Valentine, did you hurt the bees?’ I asked.

‘Or they would sting me,’ was all he said. I pushed him to add a few words to the beginning of that sentence, but no, ‘Or they would sting me’ was all I got.

I may never know what happened to those poor bees. Oh dear.

It was 8.30 by the time I eventually got them both into bed. It was what I think you call in parenting ‘a total shitshow’. But they are down. Anyway, Chris is doing a Zoom poker night, and I just did a ‘House Party’ with some mums from Art’s school class. I can be terrible at things like this. Zoom chats freak me out a bit, especially with people I don’t know very well. I’d said I couldn’t do it at first, then last minute I jumped on and I’m so glad I did. It’s good to connect with people who understand what you’re going through. I still can’t believe I am a mum of two with other mum friends. Life is so surreal. Luckily, I found cool ones.

Night-night or morning, depending on where you are!

Love Dawn x

26 March

Isolation Update – Don’t fuck with eggs

Quick question before we crack on: how many more memes do I have to pretend to find funny before this crisis ends? Also, a friend of mine just told me she is dating a ‘memer’. THAT is a person who makes memes for a living. People get paid to meme? WHAT IS HAPPENING?

I actually love chatting to my single friends about their bonkers dating lives. Dating a memer in isolation? Of course, I made lots of jokes about them communicating via the medium of meme and asked if he continually quoted his own memes during lovemaking. She found it funny, because she is my friend. And she knows if she says ridiculous things like ‘I am dating a memer’ to someone like me, there will be consequences.

I woke up at 7.30, just before everyone else. I came into the kitchen and boiled the kettle, excited for a moment’s peace. Then I wandered into the living room to find a pile of cat sick next to the sofa. Behind it, some shit. Seconds later, Valentine flew in lathered in snot. Right after that, Art called me because he’d wet the bed. Before the kettle was even boiled, I had dealt with multiple urine, shit, snot or vomit incidents. This is not what I signed up for when I married a movie star. I wonder how different it would have been if I’d married a memer instead.