After two unsuccessful attempts, my partner Joel, our baby girl Quinn and I were granted an exemption to enter WA on compassionate grounds as my dad is unwell.

This is my account of what it’s like to spend 14 days locked in a 29sqm hotel room with no fresh air or physical contact with anyone on the outside world… whilst both trying to work (me running a PR company; Joel being one third of the band Eskimo Joe and a professional song-writer/producer) and above all, keeping our baby girl happy and healthy.

Watch: A thank you to masks. Post continues below.

Day One: Great expectations

During the three and a half hour flight from Melbourne to Perth, Joel and I chatted about which Netflix series we should get stuck into during our 14 day forced vay-cay and how we should definitely order a bottle of bubbles as soon as we arrived. This naïve optimism came crashing down when we were greeted on the tarmac by the federal police who ushered us through for medical checks and an entry interview.

The interrogation, combined with having an 11kg restless toddler Baby Bjorn’d to me and a surgical mask digging into my face, made me break out in a sweat, making me anxious I'd fail the temperature check.

Thankfully, we got the all clear and a police escort took us to our hotel.

We were soon within the four walls of Room 814. My first impression was that it was nicely appointed, and super clean and bright (thanks to the three large, non-opening windows).

We’d been in the room no more than 15 minutes when Joel rang down to reception to see when we were allowed to go out for a "fresh air break". The answer was, "in 14 days, Sir."

Day Two: Feeling the love (and the nasal swab).

Quinnie woke up at 6:15am which was pretty good considering the two-hour time difference with the East Coast.

Like most people who live in Melbourne my first thought turned to coffee. Joel rang down to order two proper coffees, only to be told the café didn’t open on weekends.

WHAT…THE…ACTUAL…This had to be some kind of sick social experiment to see how far you could push a Melburnian? Being the Perth CBD at 6:20am on a Saturday, McCafe (via UberEats) was our best option.

Breakfast (in the form of sugary baked goods, yoghurt and the interesting choice of Coco-Pops for a toddler confined to a tiny room) got dropped at our door, followed by a call to say it was there around 7:30am.

Both of our phones were lighting up with messages from friends and family offering to drop off toys, food, creature comforts, alcohol (which was contraband!) This detail made the experience feel more like detention and less like the Holiday Inn.

Looking at the empty Mini Bar and reading the paperwork saying no alcohol was allowed to be ordered online or dropped off in care packages made it hit home that this was no holiday.

Whilst unpacking some of Quinnie’s toys and attempting to make the room as homely-yet-functional as possible, we received a call from the nurse to say she’d be coming past in the next two hours to do our first COVID test.

The test was way more tolerable than I was expecting, but it was traumatic holding Quinnie while she had hers done.

After a few tears, followed by one Kit-Kat finger, we’d overcome the first major hurdle towards COVID-free(dom)!

Day Three: Our big fat Greek feast.

Quinnie is LOVING hotel quarantine life.

She’s been her usual happy self, playing with her toys all day long.

My cousin messaged to say she was cooking up an authentic Greek feast for our dinner (lamb shoulder, tsatziki, Greek salad… plus, a bonus apple crumble) and would drop it to the hotel around 6pm.

This was the good news we needed today! Food is the biggest thing we’re really struggling with in here. Three times a day, a mystery brown paper bag is dropped at the door, and it’s potluck as to whether it’s something you would or could actually eat.

Happiness levels fluctuate depending on the contents of that brown paper bag. I don’t often complain but the kids menu is not appropriate for a toddler

So far it’s been either mushy pureed baby food which Quinn is too old for, or adult meals like curry or noodles which she doesn’t eat.

Simple toddler staples like cut-up fruit, toast or hot chips haven’t made an appearance yet and there’s SO much sugar in everything, she’d literally be climbing the walls in here if we gave her this stuff.

Day Four: Getting creative.

Today was a pretty challenging one for me and any work I’d planned on getting done went completely out the (non-functional) window.

Joel was working, writing a song with a well-known Australian musician, so I had to get creative with how to entertain Quinn without making heaps of noise.

We played blocks, learnt flashcards and I set up an art station in the shower so we could paint and make as much mess as possible, then wash it down the drain.

Joel’s writing session was done by about 3pm and it went really well despite all the distractions.

Day Five: A very sh*t day.

I was woken up today around 6:30am not by sound, but by smell…. given the fact Joel was on the toilet and only a sliding door separated us.

This was an indication of how the rest of the day would roll. Quinn didn’t sleep well because she’s cutting her two-year old molars and we’renow six days deep into constipation.

Joel had both a writing session, and also speaking engagement to music students in Tasmania (which he forgot to tell me about until half an hour prior).

The tiny room felt cluttered and dirty. Quinn was whinging and asking for toast (which was impossible to make for her because electrical items were banned in the rooms due to the fire hazard).

We were down to the last few baby-wipes and my head was pounding. When I checked the date on my phone, I realised my period was due at any moment which explained why EVERYTHING was annoying me.

I text a girlfriend who works close to the hotel to see if she could drop off some wipes for us and half an hour later, the most thoughtful care-package arrived at our door… wipes, sheet face masks, chocolate bullets and toddler snacks.

God, I love my mum friends! A few hours later Quinnie did a monumental poo. And then we both had a day sleep and I woke up feeling happy again.

Day Six: My boyfriend saw things he shouldn't have.

I thought before we embarked on this experience, 14 days with minimal human contact (& no make-up wearing) would be the perfect time for a complete skin overhaul ahead of seeing all of my friends and family in Perth.

I pretty much packed the entire bathroom cabinet and today with my skin feeling hormonal, I decided to do a deep cleanse and Enzyme Mask. It did not go well.

Day Seven: Oh, we're halfway there.

It’s pretty amazing how quickly time passes and how you adapt to living in this unnatural state – we’re already halfway through!

We’ve learnt to break-up the day by sticking to a routine, largely based around when the meals come and when the baby sleeps.

New bed sheets and towels were dropped at the door, so I did a big clean through (which took no more than 20 mins thanks to the room size).

Day Eight: The slump.

I woke up feeling a bit flat, with the realisation that whilst we had made it through seven days locked in this room, there was still seven more left to endure.

I spoke to mum who lifted my spirits like she always does. She said that she and my 38-week pregnant sister were cooking up a storm for us and on the menu was crumbed chicken and spaghetti, fresh-baked bread, salad and sausage rolls for Quinnie.

The care package that came later that day was not only my favourite dinner – but also included a box of new games and activities to keep our baby girl entertained.

I decided not to give them all to her at once and instead give her something new each day so she didn’t get bored. Today it was BUBBLES!

Her whole face lit up with absolute joy when the room filled with rainbow-coloured prisms as the water hit the light. My whole face lit up with joy when I saw that crumbed chicken. And realised that in less than I week, I’d be able to give my mum an actual hug.