Chickenpox, Chaos and KPop.

So here we are—me and Ava, stuck in isolation thanks to chickenpox. I thought I’d share what a day actually looks like for us right now, because honestly, if I don’t laugh about it, I’ll cry.

8:00am – Ava wakes me up by shouting that her spots are itchy. The day hasn’t even started and I’m already on Calpol duty. Coffee in one hand, medicine in the other. That pretty much sets the tone.

9:30am – Frozen is on again. I’m convinced Disney made this film purely to test parents’ sanity. Ava sings Let It Go like it’s the first time she’s ever heard it. I smile, because she’s happy, but inside I’m wondering if there’s a record for “world’s most repeated song” and whether we’ve broken it.

10:30am – The KPop Demon Hunters soundtrack kicks in. Again. It’s been the soundtrack of our isolation—on repeat, all day, every day. I now know every single lyric, every beat, every high note. At this point I’m pretty sure I could join the band. Ava dances around like she’s on stage, and I sit there wondering if I’ll ever be able to get these songs out of my head. (Spoiler: I won’t.)

11:00am – Colouring time. I hand Ava a pile of pens and paper. She colours one unicorn, hands me the pens, and says, “Can you do 25 more? Yours are prettier.” My hand cramps by unicorn number three, but apparently stopping is not an option.

1:00pm – Lunch. Ava eats half a sandwich and announces she’s full. Five minutes later: “Mam, can I have chocolate?” I knew it was coming.

2:00pm – Ava can’t decide where she wants to be. She runs back and forth between her room and mine, bringing toys, blankets, and half her wardrobe with her. One minute she wants her bed, the next minute she’s curled up in mine. By the end of the hour both rooms look like a hurricane’s been through them, and she still hasn’t settled anywhere.

3:00pm – Fort building. Attempt one: collapse. Attempt two: collapse. Attempt three: slight improvement until Ava climbs in and it caves in again. “Don’t worry mam,” she says, “we’ll just be fort builders tomorrow.” I’m glad someone’s optimistic.

5:00pm – The soundtrack is still blasting. Ava’s dancing, I’m trying not to lose my mind, and I’ve officially accepted that this is our life now: chickenpox and KPop.

6:00pm – Dinner. To my surprise, she actually eats all of it. Small miracles really do exist.

7:30pm – Bath time. I try to gently wash her spots while she splashes water all over the floor. It ends with me soaked, Ava giggling, and the bathroom looking like a swimming pool.

8:00pm – Bedtime. Ava asks for “just one more story.” We’re three stories deep before I finally tuck her in. She whispers, “Thank you mam.” My heart melts, as always.

10:00pm – The house is finally quiet. No Frozen. No unicorns. No KPop Demon Hunters (for now). Just silence. And even though today was boring, messy, exhausting, and full of songs I’ll be hearing in my dreams, I know one day I’ll look back and miss this. The slow, silly, itchy days where it was just me and Ava against the world.

Tomorrow will probably be the same—more itchy spots, more collapsing forts, and KPop Demon Hunters blaring until I know the choreography in my sleep. Isolation might be testing my sanity, but at least Ava’s happy, and that’s what matters. (Send earplugs.)