When I wake these days I momentarily forget the strange times we find ourselves in until the floating anxiety kicks in - a feeling which has magnified now homeschooling has started.
All weekend I vacillated between pessimism and pragmatism - reading scary medical reports with a wretched feeling and the next minute brisk and distracted with decluttering as I cleared a work station for the kids - thinking: I've got this, there are healthcare workers on the frontline; I can manage a few spelling tests.
We were initially told homeschooling was for two weeks; but it's clear from Leo Varadkar's speech we are talking months.
I love my children but this Mary Poppins gig with no expiry date makes me nervous. It feels like the ultimate test for my parenting skills.
At least I am not alone; it's a daunting prospect for everyone. If you are a parent to one of the 1,500 children who are currently homeschooled, or if you are a stay-at-home parent, this jail-like-life is a whole new level of staying home.
The mind boggles when I wonder how single parents and those who also have to work remotely will cope. There is a meme doing the rounds that parents on my school WhatsApp groups are laughing at a little too hard: it is of a woman with headphones busy at a computer and on the floor behind her are three young children with mouths bound by tape and their ankles and wrists tied. It strikes a nerve because it shows the truth.
My brother lives in Madrid and is into the second week of homeschooling so I rang him for a heads up. "It's fun", he said in a flat voice, before confessing, "Well, actually, it's challenging."
He has a nine-year old and his son races through the work and is bored. Himself and his wife have to keep up with their own jobs but someone has to supervise the set school work sent online each day.
They are tag teaming and there have been hairy moments.
My situation is easier as I am freelance and can work when the kids are in bed so I was cautiously optimistic yesterday morning as I waited for my classroom assistant to get home.
Our school had opened for 30 minutes for parents to fetch worksheets and though I was dying for a gossip my partner went along as he is the more skilled social distancer.
We got off to a tremendously positive start; though this was short-lived. My partner was busy on a conference call and was also supervising our 11-year-old with his Ancient Rome project. I was in charge of the 1st class and 3rd class and was to keep an eye on the toddler wandering free range around the house.
We sailed easily through the first 45 minutes with the seven-year-old busy with his maths and spellings while my 3rd class pupil set about making a 3D robot from recycled materials. I hummed as I made tea and cracked open the coronavirus chocolate supply, before sitting down with my laptop to check emails.
I am not quite sure when everything went belly-up; but I lost control around 11am, when I found my son playing Fortnite, his project untouched, and the three-year-old making bubbles with shampoo on the bathroom floor. I snapped at my daughter who needed an empty milk carton and was impatient with my seven-year-old son and his glacial reading.
We were all upset and I never quite got a grip back on the day. By noon the TV went on and I was in despair.
My nine-year-old daughter pointed out reasonably her teacher was more organised, did not check her WhatsApps or shout at them in class; I had a lot to learn.
But at least the work is straightforward and my children don't own phones. I would imagine it is difficult without teacher interaction with older pupils. Friends with children in private secondary schools in Dublin report their children's lessons have moved to Microsoft Teams and Zoom.
Other schools are sending work home online through Google classroom with no online video classes.
While there are those wonder kids that voluntarily get on with it, my guess is most need to be supervised or video games, Snapchat and Facetime will be the focus. The Play- station has been a godsend so far to keep in touch but now it is time to settle down to normality it's tricky.
There is a parenting book I read years ago that was seminal for me and I found it again this weekend in the big clear out. It's called 'Calm Parents, Happy Kids' and the main premise is if you snarl at your kids they will snarl right back at you.
I like this book because it contains solid tips for keeping cool when the proverbial hits the fan. Most focus on the child's behaviour but this book points out how important it is to look after yourself as a parent so you have the resources to draw on.
Author Dr Laura Markham is a clinical psychologist and says how we behave is how our children learn to navigate the world.
"Most parents think they are trying to teach their children a lesson when they shout but what they are doing is modelling problem-solving by shouting.
"Children learn from us, not from what we tell them but from everything that we do," she told me.
This seems like timely golden advice; never before has it been more important for us parents to keep calm and not shout at our kids.
It feels like the Covid-19 sniper is shadowing us all. But imagine how unsettling it is for our children. We need to try to set a normal tone.
I have learned three things from day one of homeschooling - I can't focus on the children if my phone is on and I am reading Covid-19 updates; I have to take it slow and keep to a timetable; and thirdly, teachers and crèche workers are complete angels and I won't take them for granted again.
Oh, and that I might just end up murdering my classroom assistant who remains hiding upstairs.
Taoiseach Leo Varadkar decided towards the end of last week that he wanted to speak to the nation, believing it was important to address an increasingly unnerved Irish public on their national holiday - "a St Patrick's Day like no other. A day that none of us will ever forget," as he described it.