I’m grumpy today. I’ve tried not to be. No one has done anything, I just am. I feel like I’ve done my time. I’m frustrated and a bit bored and anxious and feeling the isolation. I’m still grateful for the sun, for our health, for being safe, for being with people I love, but I’m in a grump. I’m sad for other people, for those who are working so hard, for those who are lonely, for those who are grieving or scared. And I’m missing community.

But that aside, there have been good moments today. The sun’s still shining, a friend brought us more food. The littles were excited to have post and a wave from their buddies. I completed day 5 of PE with Joe without swearing at the TV.

I had lemons to use up so I suggested to Theo that we make a cake with them. I got the recipe books out for him to choose-lemon cupcakes, lemon bars, lemon loaf…he looked at all the books on the shelf and said sadly, ‘are they ALL lemon? Aren’t any of them chocolate?’

So we compromised and made both.

I tried to relieve my boredom by colouring my garden wall. Then I scootered on the driveway. Liam got on his skateboard and we had races. The kids were nowhere to be seen. There’s a chance the neighbours think we’re losing the plot, and if I’m honest, I think they might be right.

In the afternoon I had this great idea that would make isolation much more fun. We’d set up a restaurant for dinner, the kids could make signs and menus, we’d make it posh and it would be a nice change to the monotony. I was inspired and enthused and called them to join in.

Two of them caught the enthusiasm, they named the restaurant (The Lurker Lounge), and started creating a menu, including starters of veg sticks and garlic bread, followed by pizza and pesto pasta, with cupcakes to finish.

Unfortunately it didn’t end up quite as insta-perfect as I’d dreamed. One unnamed assistant picked up an open bottle and shook J20 all over the kitchen as we were dishing out. Mr Lurker developed a splitting headache and retired to bed halfway through the meal. I ran between sorting food, checking his temperature, and clearing up dishes. Only to have a small but destructive child squirt antibacterial spray into my glass of wine. I’d like to think he was caring for my welfare and protecting me from any Covid germs, but his smirk at my distress leads me to believe otherwise. He was just being a little (insert chosen adjective here).

I’d like to say it improved, but unfortunately the three small people had loud meltdowns when I tried to put them to bed, bringing a pained looking Liam out to help. Now they are quiet he’s returned to sleep off the migraine. The older kids are watching some terrible American sitcom, and I’m forced to watch quarantine memes and drink the rest of Liam’s wine.

Joking aside, apart from a genuine concern at Liam not feeling great, I know things will be ok. It’s inevitable to have down days, we’re being forced into a way of living that is foreign to the freedom we usually know. As humans, we’re social beings made for connection and relationship, and to be asked to distance ourselves is always going to be hard. So I’m accepting today’s feelings and being honest with you, with myself, with God. Really, I have little to complain about, and I know that. But at times it’s lonely and it’s boring and these people mess up my house and sabotage my wine, and that is hard to accept with gentleness and grace.

So I’m hanging onto the words of my favourite Psalm which I read this morning, reminding me that I am known and loved, on my best days and in my grumpy days, and that I am never ever alone.

1 O LORD, you have searched me and known me!
2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.
3 You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways.
4 Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether.
5 You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.
7 Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?
8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
9 If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,”
12 even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.
13 For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
18 If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you. – Psalm 139:1-18