Lockdown Week 2 has been a week of highs and lows.
High – seeing an orca at the Mount.
Low – making my son cry when I yelled at him for vacating our bubble.
We were jogging on the beach and I watched as he strode further and further ahead of me and his sister. She is 9 and needed a break, and I felt my anger rise as he seemed to ignore my calls to stop and wait.
When we finally caught up to him, an over-the-top tirade spewed out of my mouth. He looked at me with shock in his 11-year-old eyes. "I was just jogging, Mum. I didn't hear. I forgot about the bubble, I just forgot."
I screeched back: "You can't forget, buddy. You can't forget."
He burst into tears and the emotion came out in huge heaving sobs. I felt like crap. I was the cause of his distress. Me and Covid-19.
Of my two kids, he is the one who is feeling it most.
Lockdown is making my bubbly boy fearful and lethargic, and even though exercise brings the smile back to his face, getting him outside is tending to take a superhuman effort.
On Thursday night, he was silent at bedtime – usually the time of day he wants to talk most. When I asked what he was thinking, he told me he was thinking about his life.
He talked about a story he had seen on TV about the oldest man in the world and how he remembered the Spanish flu of 1918.
"What did he say?" I asked.
"That he was scared and couldn't see anyone," my son replied.
He wondered aloud what would happen if he lived another 100 years and needed to explain Covid-19 to young people too.
"What would you say?" I asked.
"That I was scared and couldn't see anyone, and that I got to play lots on my device."
We giggled at the device part, but the rest of bubble life is not that funny.
The anxiety is making him feel sick and it doesn't help that his 73-year-old grandmother – my mum – is self-isolating after a person she worked with on March 23 tested positive for Covid-19.
My mum is calm and optimistic but I worry about her and dad, who is 79, and also my sisters, one a doctor and the other a nurse.
I'm waking in the dark with apocalyptic thoughts – what if this stretches on for years? What if food becomes scarce and the country descends into anarchy? How will I protect my children?
As if on cue, two articles appear online about looting in southern Italy and mobs dousing people in bleach on the streets of the Philippines in the name of stopping the spread of Covid-19.
Thank God for a call from a friend, who tells me how she missed her haircut and has had a go at chopping her sides herself. We joke she'll end up with a Matua mullet, while my hairdresser sends an email telling anyone who wants to touch up their roots in lockdown to give him a call first.
My daughter says the world is "kuku" and as the days wear on, I notice all three of us are retreating further into our bubble.
We're calling and messaging people less than at the beginning of the week, when the kids spent hours glued to Skype and Houseparty chats.
Perhaps it's the novelty of constant communication wearing off, but I wonder if it's healthy not to be talking to the outside world.
I'm also wondering how to tackle a journey to the supermarket when I'm the only adult in our house and I'll technically be breaking the law if I leave the kids at home.
The alternative of having them sit in the car for god-knows-how-long while shoppers are let into the supermarket one-by-one is hardly great.
Luckily, we have enough food for now and I've got about a week to figure it out.
I've gone a bit grinchy too, feeling irritated at #FormalFriday and the barrage of online workouts flooding my Instagram.
Seeing rich celebs in their glittery gowns makes me feel stink, and although I've been in my activewear all week, it's not because I'm doing any more exercise than usual.
I don't want to sign up for the latest Yogaflo or Yogaglo, and I definitely don't want to look at loads of perfect bodies doing press-ups and downward dogs.
Give me a picture of someone pouring a giant gin or with their hair gone wild, like my friend who posted a pic of herself "vibing the 70s".
I'm also struggling with the idea of lockdown being some kind of chill party.
So far, I haven't read a single book or managed to watch any more TV than the news and The Bachelorette final.
I have a load of university assignment deadlines looming and I'm struggling to manage listening to recorded lectures in between making sure the kids are fed, exercised and happy.
My friends who are working from home say it's a nightmare. One locked herself in her bedroom for a Zoom meeting only to be interrupted by the piercing scream of her anaphylactic child yelling he had a bee sting.
Thankfully, among all these lows, there are some highs, and maybe next week I might even be in the mood for an online workout.
For now, my kids are loving the teddy bears in the windows and getting a kick out of making paddling pool spas in the garden.
They also got a buzz seeing the orca in front of Motuotau (Rabbit Island) on Tuesday, and we heard later that three orca had come into the harbour, hopefully enjoying a feeling of safety and freedom without the usual flotilla of cargo and cruise ships.
People we know who live on Marine Parade and The Mall at Pilot Bay are also enjoying the freedom from the relentless din of the traffic, and yesterday morning , we experienced the bliss of having Main Beach entirely to ourselves.
As we walked along the sand from Moturiki (Leisure Island), Mauao glowed a primordial green and I told my kids to bask in the beauty.
"You owe me for this, Mum," my son said. "Ice-cream and chocolate for lunch."
- Juliet Rowan is a former journalist at the Bay of Plenty Times and New Zealand Herald.