Upon returning to worth three months post-stroke I had a plethora of emotions. The first being that it was too soon and it was, but I also knew deep down that if I didn’t go back there and then that I would never work again so I bit the bullet and headed to the office. Whilst I wanted my colleagues to treat me as though nothing had happened and ignore my crooked face and barely-there memory, I also wanted them to wrap me up on cotton wool, preferably sit right next to me and check my blood pressure all day and tell me it was going to be ok. 

Neither happened, I was met with stroke jokes, called Picasso (it was genuinely the reaction I needed) and I was treated as though I was capable of everything and I sort of was but my crippling health anxiety was holding me back, big time. At this point, I was terrified of the embarrassment of it happening again, in front of people who I didn’t know that well. You see, being wheeled off in an ambulance in front of my mum wasn’t that bad (for me, she found it harrowing) but the thought of it happening in front of other people terrified me and the fear of having a stroke and dying at my desk was all I could think about for months.

This didn’t pass, but I soon found confidence in my colleagues and was able to express my concerns and let them know when I was having a wobble or a funny turn and was comforted and reassured to a point where I could cope again. The misconception thanks to the glamorisation of anxiety is that we sit and hyperventilate but my panic attacks are silent; to an onlooker, I’m sitting at my desk calmly typing away but I can feel my heart palpitating, my left arm going numb and my vision blurring and all I am thinking is that it's happening again. Cruelly, the symptoms of panic are similar to those of a stroke or heart attack both of which I am at risk of. 

For over a year I took regular trips to the office toilet to breathe myself out of panic, I googled heart attack symptoms, ran outside for fresh air, and got my blood pressure checked on my lunch. All these things seem somewhat dramatic but they were my coping mechanisms. I became comforted in the fact that should the worst happen there were people around me who would act instantly, they’d comfort me and get me the help I needed, whilst the office became a trigger for my panic it also became a place of safety. 

And then we were sent home. 

Working from home was a novelty back in March 2020, I didn’t have to get dressed, do the nursery run or have to do the “how was your weekend” chat every Monday morning over and over. I could work in bed, on the sofa, and even in the garden on the warmer days. My Mum was living with us and Fred wasn’t at nursery so the house became a little hub of activity and I look back at the first lockdown with fondness at the memories we created and the fun we managed to have. But the reality soon kicked in that this working from home lark was anything but, it was the new normal, we were given new devices, headsets and the days of wandering around the house with my Macbook were long gone, we have designated, risk assessed work stations, Teams meetings, instant messaging and the “how was your weekend” in-office chats are a thing of the past. 

Along with the acceptance of change and an enthusiasm to crack on and make it work came the anxiety that I’d thought I’d left behind but this time it had mutated into ‘you’re all alone at home for eight hours a day, If anything happened no one would know’ and so the palpitations, cold sweats, numb arm, and blurred vision ensued and with that came the challenge of finding new ways to cope. Weirdly, housework became my coping mechanism - not in an obsessive-compulsive way, if I felt my chest tightening and my heart racing I'd quickly go and wash the dishes or give downstairs a quick hoover or start sorting - because you can't run around and clean your house and have a stroke or heart attack, it's just not a thing, at some point, your body would make you stop and mine never did. My house has never been as clean and tidy and I'm yet to have another stroke. 

Working from home, not seeing anyone in-person during the day, having meetings via Teams, and pretty much living in isolation soon became the norm but so did the cold sweats, palps, and pains, it amalgamated into my daily routine and I forgot what it was to feel 'normal' but I soon understood that my brain was tricking me; the anxiety would only rear it's head once I was home alone and never when Fred was around. It would always come around mid-morning ad just after lunch so I began to anticipate it and in doing so, it soon backed off to live in the very back of my head where it's sort of allowed to be. There was a shift after Christmas, the time off allowed me to relax, properly relax and my only concern was whether we were going to run out of cheese or batteries for the many, many battery-operated toys Fred had been given for Christmas and when I returned to work I felt restored and refreshed. It's now been 2 and a half months since I last felt chest pains and I've realised that I need a break, I can't burn the candle at both ends and do the Mum stuff and the work stuff continuously and forever. 

Working from home gives the illusion that we're not working as hard as we would in our usual setting but if anything most of us are working harder than ever, the pressure of doing enough work to make sure our bosses don't think we're skiving and the inability to escape our homes all mounts up and not to mention the complete loneliness and lack of in-person human contact is enough to send anyone's brain a bit squiffy but the one blessing that working from home has provided is that I've been able to prove to my employer that when I really have to, I can work from home and take care of Fred which has allowed me to have enough annual leave leftover at the end of the year to take a couple of days off for myself and rest and actually relax. This time last year I was burning out, my leave had been taken up by time off to take care of Fred and there was none left for me or both of us to have fun with and my only option was to keep going until I physically couldn't which in turn affected my sickness record and caused more anxiety. 

My message to anyone who is struggling with lockdown and health-related anxiety is to allocate your time wisely; you cannot do and be everything, it's just not possible. Where you can, take time to rest do things for yourself, and find a way to distract your body from tricking you - I know it's easier said than done, Jesus it's taken me long enough to get here but it is possible. No matter how ridiculous you think your coping mechanism might be, just go with it if it works and remember that despite feeling alone there are loads of other people sitting at their make-shift home desks, feeling clammy, faint, and breathless. 

 I love Christmas, in an unhealthy way and to the point where I still believe in Father Christmas so when I came to the point in my life where I realised that I am Father Christmas I suddenly, very much understood the importance of preparation and planning. Fred’s first Christmas with just me ran smoothly, he had everything he ‘wanted’ (he was too young to want things so it was what I’d decided he’d like) and I wasn’t completely bankrupt by the end of it. This year I’ve started early, I’ve been buying stocking fillers since August and popping the festive treats in my weekly shop since they were released and I’ve decided to jot down some tips on how to make Christmas less stressful and more affordable whilst you’ve actually got some decent time left to crack on rather than after the fact. 

Don’t do a big Christmas Shop 

As I mentioned above, I’ve started popping a tin of chocolates or a bottle of sherry into my weekly food shops now rather than having to do a big shop in December and spend loads of money that I don’t really have on dinner bits and goodies. At the moment tins of chocolates of £4 each all over the place and in Asda they’re 2 for £7. To avoid temptation I’ve been shoving all the Christmas stuff on top of my wardrobe and forgetting about and I’m hoping that when it comes to doing the unavoidable Christmas food shop, it’ll just be for food and essentials because everything else will be sorted. 

Start Early 

My cousin probably starts shopping for Christmas in the December of the previous year, but she has an actual problem. Whereas I really love it and get butterflies and cry at decorations, she is on a whole other level however, I have always been envious of her ability to start early and be done by December so this year, I stepped up and started casually picking up bits that could be used for Birthdays or Christmas in February and then really going at it with the Crimbo stuff in July and if I stick to the projected trajectory and I should have everyone sorted by the end of November and that my friends, gets me going. 

Prioritise people and set a budget 

When I say prioritise people I don’t mean pick your fave Auntie and sack off the rest I mean to think of all the people you’ll be buying gifts for (including your own kid/s) and set and a budget per person and stick to it. I categorise my family into kids, Adults and finally Fred. I’ve been picking bits up for the kids in the family throughout the year and just need to add a few extras and they can be ticked off, I’ve decided on most of the adults present’s and will buy them toward the last couple of pay days before Christmas and maybe knock some off beforehand where I can. I’ve started really getting through Fred’s stocking fillers (god this sounds like I get him loads, I don’t I promise) However, Fred is obviously my priority when it comes to getting gifts and if I can ensure I’ve got some presents stashed away should something awful happen…I dunno financially or physically then it keeps me happy. 

Use Wishlists 

Back in July I created a couple of (private) Amazon Wish lists to start saving gift ideas for Fred and a family. Doing this has allowed me to keep a record of what I’m spending on people and enjoy working through knocking the items off the list. It also meant that I had a clear visual idea of what I’d got for Fred’s stocking – I never want to go overboard with stocking fillers, Fred gets easily overwhelmed with Christmas and opening gifts; last year he didn’t open his gift from me until the 27th December because he was neither interested nor ready. I want him to be able to enjoy he gifts that he has rather than chuck as much crap as possible at him to make me feel better so I’ve been really meticulous in choosing things that I know for sure he’ll make use out of and enjoy. 

The Main Present 

Urgh, dreading this one as he gets older because it’s only going to get more expensive. I don’t really have much advice to be honest huns, Fred’s still at the age where he doesn’t fully get the Crimbo life so doesn’t ask for anything which means that I decide for him. This year we’re going for the Happy Land Village thing and we’ve roped Nain in to help and will bribe her with sherry, Christmas dinner and lots of festive cheer. (Gog bless the grand ones). 

Don’t Compete with FC 

I absolutely refuse to compete with that festive f*cker when it comes to gifts, mostly because it’s not his bank balance that gets murdered in his name and also because Christmas is largely about him when it comes to little ones and I don’t want to ruin the magic by getting something of the same size from me. I also want to save money and not fork out twice because have you seen the price of Happy Land stuff? Lol What? I leave my gift for Fred until almost the very last minute because it takes me ages to decide what to get him although this year I might for  a Woody toy because he’s dead into to Toy Story (I am aware that this also means he needs a Buzz). 

You don’t. The end.

When lockdown was first announced and us office folk were banished to the corners of our dining rooms and spare rooms (if we’re lucky to have them) I had to laugh or else I would’ve cried. Trying to live a normal productive life with a toddler is, in itself a challenge; throw a 7.5 hour working day (always on a screen and sometimes taking calls) into the mix and you’re having an absolute laugh (at my expense) However, humans are versatile and Fred and I soon adapted to this new and very weird way of life. I honestly can’t really give you advice on how to care for a toddler and work from  home and the title of this post is probably clickbait but I can give you a brutally honest account of how it went for us. 

You see, working from home with a toddler is about maintaining the balance of neglecting your child,  not getting done for poor performance and choosing which one can be sacrificed, as much as parents don’t want to admit it, we all know that Mr Tumble brought your child up through lockdown and he’ll always have a place in your heart, as will Peter Rabbit, that one with the fringe on Cbeebies who over-sings and bloody Waffle. When Fred gets older and wants to draw his family tree I won’t be surprised if it includes a dog, a fringe, and a man with a spotty bag but I think there’ll be a lot of kids needing some kind post-lockdown therapy by then so we’re fine. 

Prolonging breakfast by about an hour gave me enough time to reply to emails and generally feel like I was working – I had to be calculated in my approach to feeding the toddler-monster by not over-feeding him in the first instance and throwing as many pre-packaged breakfast-type items of food at him throughout the hour (going for the ones labeled as organic help ease the guilt and going for chewy ones makes their consumption last longer). In addition to using food as a brilliant distraction from the click-clacking of a keyboard, the slightly longer and more fulfilling breakfast pleased the Nap Gods and ensured that the Toddler-monster could catch a good couple of hours of winks so I could do some proper work without being asked for a snack every 3 seconds and wresting sticky tiny fingers from the mouse. 

Speaking of wrestling teeny tiny hands, one key point always needs to be remembered when mixing with toddlers is that toddlers always want to be big and don’t actually acknowledge that they’re small so, treat them as though they’re your teeny, illiterate, incontinent colleagues with anger issues and put them to work (if my boss is reading this I can confirm that I did not let my son do any of my work) allow them to pretend that they’re working. Give them an old laptop to tap away on or a tablet and set them up at the table with you – you will get a good 20 second before they ask for a snack or decide that they want swap seats, imagine that...a whole 20 seconds.  

When you finally realise that working from home with a toddler isn't actually possible your only option is to move someone in. I tried shouting over the chimney pots for our Mazza Poppins but she must be busy with that bloody needy Banks family or maybe she was isolating with Dick - either way she didn't step up when I needed her, f*ck you Disney. At this point in lockdown I'd resigned myself to the fact that we were never leaving the house again and went mental with my Boohoo Premier delivery, this allowed me to get on first name terms with Hermes delivery driver and when I thought it was going well, I asked him if he wanted to move in, of course, he said no. The postman ran a mile and my next-door neighbour slammed the door in my face. Nain however, was blessed with the gift of Furlough and was daft enough to think that shacking up in the madhouse was a good idea. All hail Nain, suddenly I was able to work, like work work. 

Approximately seven years passed and the lockdown rules were loosened, Nain bolted out of the door as quickly as she could and Fred's childminder said three magic words that still give me goosebumps "send him back" oooh just typing them makes me emotional. Fred went back to hang out with his mates for 30 hours a week and I was able to be better at my job. There have been instances since, where I've had to juggle Fred and work at home due to Covid-related exclusions etc. but knowing it's not forever makes it much more bearable. 

As with all aspects of life with these little creatures, some days make us beam with happiness and others have us dreaming of wine by 9am; the same applies to working from home with a toddler the best advice I can give is to take the good with the bad, stock up on alcohol, pick your battles and don't dwell on how shockingly sh*t your day may have been because it won't be the last day that has you rocking in the corner and despite me only highlighting the negatives (because there aren't actually any positives to the situation) try and remember that there are hundreds of exacerbated parents all over the country thinking that they can't do it when, in reality, by the end of the day they realise that they have actually done it.