It was one of those mornings when I woke up with two small boys in my bed and no husband. The boys were trying to be very quiet and sneak away, I suspected to wake Maddie up. So I asked them where they were going, which made them jump, and Theo replied ‘We’re going to check no bad guys have sneaked in. We’re very brave.’ With that kind of confidence and heroism, what could I say?!

I’m especially grateful that click and collect shops are now easy to book, and so off I went to Tesco for my 9-11 slot, leaving half the children starting work and the other half in pjs watching Moana. 50% seems a reasonable success rate to me. There are however some downsides with click and collect these days. Firstly, I was done and dusted in 20 minutes. No all morning jaunt out of the house for me! Secondly, we’re limited to 80 items. This is actually not much when there’s 8 of you. Well, my maths tells me it’s 10 items per person. So there were difficult decisions to make over whether I had 3 tins of beans for 75p, or a second bottle of wine? It was no joke, especially with two birthdays to plan for next week.

Unfortunately I made an online shopping error with the pasta sauce, as you can see above. Clearly I didn’t check the jar size. I’m not sure the child size jar will do our family for a meal! Still, we hit the jackpot with rinse aid, which had been avoiding us for about a month now at every shop I’ve done. Finally, squeaky clean dishes once more.

The Frozen worksheets went down well…as did supplying doughnuts alongside the work. They were so happy with their work success that we had to FaceTime Grandma and the Aunties to show them. And Micah then insisted on getting out the box of puzzles that he makes Grandma do with him every time she visits, to try and do over FaceTime. Theo’s informed Auntie Mim that when lockdown is over he’s coming for a 10 night sleepover. I’m ok with that plan. I might pack a bag ready, you know, just to be prepared. Once Boris gives the nod, we’ll be on our way.

Liam was busy working on Megan’s DT project today. For the entire afternoon. Which he definitely seemed more committed to than she did. So I sat downstairs with the small ones, who played hard and then watched Monster’s University. Which gave me a chance to sit, crochet, and watch some good soul lifting videos. Except for the hour that my phone was hi-jacked by Toby on a call with his friends, which turned into virtual hide and seek. How that works I can’t even fathom!

This time last year I was generously gifted a ticket to a women’s conference in London, which my mum came with me too, and it was a special time of tears, refreshment, fun, and rest. We booked for this year when we were still sitting in the auditorium, and that’s where I would have been headed today. For 3 days in a hotel, with breakfast cooked for me, with my mum and sisters, listening to powerful talks and meaningful music.

So there’s elements of obvious disappointment that those plans have also been cancelled. Liam and I find it ironic that at the beginning of this year we carefully planned lots of breaks and holiday time throughout 2020. And one by one, we’ve crossed them off.

But often what I think I need isn’t what God knows I need. He knew last year that the conference would be cancelled this year. For the first time in the conference’s history, last year they decided they would record the first one in February 2020, and to stream it, meaning that the entire 3 days is accessible online throughout these days of lockdown.

I thought I needed a break from my family and to find God in London. He knew that this year we’d need to be having a break from normal life not away from each other, but together. He knew that I could find Him in new ways every day in the middle of my kitchen and through the voices of my children and on a Sunday morning sitting on the lounge rug in front of YouTube worship songs. In little conversations with the kids and in time to watch the birds in the garden.

Our pastor shared a talk today and quoted one of my Grandma’s favourite hymns, ‘O Love that Wilt Not Let Me Go’, with these lines that I’ve loved since I was young, and had no idea what they meant:

‘O Joy, that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.’

There are days lockdown is hard and tearful, when it’s loud and chaotic, where it’s scary and lonely, and there are heavy hearted times where I feel other people’s pain and plead with God for them. But there are also so many rainbows to be traced through the rain of isolation too. Moments like our family walk after dinner, where Liam and I couldn’t walk together because of teenage girls pushing in and fighting to hold our hands, of little brothers standing at the bottom of a banking offering to catch their older sisters, of laughter when Micah buried a leaf and then tried his hardest to find it again on a muddy beach. Of giggles as Megan and I tried to whistle the very high notes from Phantom of the Opera. (It’s not possible, in case you’re trying now). Of little ones who snuggle in closer than before and feel safer than they did before. Of surprise parcels through the post because we’re remembering other ways of showing we care. Of learning to work harder at connecting with people and fighting zoom weirdness and dodgy WiFi and drinking coffee over FaceTime and looking horrendous on the camera, because it’s so important to ‘hang out’ with people and make time for community.

And I’ve had rainbows in messages from you kind people who keep reading our crazy and boring days and sending lovely encouraging messages, and it all feels less like isolation and more like we’re building something special together. And that when we go back out into the world we’ll value people more because we won’t take them for granted like maybe we did at times before.

‘O Love, that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O Light, that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to Thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy, that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross, that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from Thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be. (George Matheson)

(‘Hope’ wooden rainbow purchased from Pippa Fitzgerald on Etsy and arrived today).

Ok so that’s one of those exciting yet misleading headlines written by a person who know it’s completely untrue but couldn’t think of a title so is going with it anyway.

Last night Theo was begging for a bath but it was late and we needed to get him in bed so we could join the church prayer meeting. So I randomly promised they could have a bath first thing in the morning. What a brilliant idea it was! We could get the older three sorted on schooling whilst the younger three threw water all over the bathroom and themselves to their heart’s content, all the while contained in one place. A stroke of genius, while it lasted.

I worry that I’ve changed in isolation. I have this strange inner nursery teacher emerging and bringing paint out on a daily basis. I think I’m just beginning to accept that the appeal ability of a learning task has direct correlation with its potential for mass destruction. So I got out the paints and the toilet rolls and we made caterpillar prints. We even added feet and eyes and antennae before boredom set in.

I think some of the pressure I feel in the morning is the fact that if I don’t start strong with an exciting first task, I lose my nursery pupil within minutes. And as he only lasts for one activity, it has to be a good one. But today I stumbled across pages and pages of Elsa and Frozen themed learning ideas. This may buy me at least 10 minutes enthusiasm tomorrow.

Yesterday Liam hung a little shelf for me that I bought ages ago. Obviously there’s no way it will ever look like this again, but it amused me that for a few minutes, I had all my ducks in a row.

I’m not entirely sure what got into Micah today, but he developed a sudden appeal for a hairstyle change. Maybe it was the threat of another lockdown haircut that led him to consider a wig as a better option.

It featured more than once throughout the day, leading me to believe he’s giving it serious consideration.

My head ached a bit today, and I was on a bit of a go slow. So I was extremely grateful for Liam taking the younger four out on a walk leaving me with Megan and Maisie, who I didn’t see the whole time. I actually drank tea and ate chocolate and crocheted in peace. It was lovely.

They returned of course, and the walk didn’t seem to have taken Micah’s slightly unusual mood from him. He brought me five dolls and asked me to look after them. I put them in the washing basket, to try and dutifully keep an eye whilst sorting the other laundry. He then reappeared and decided he needed to go to bed next to them.

We then proceeded to have a good fifteen minutes of him getting out, giving me instructions on what I should be doing to care for the babies, whilst he went and fetched more things for me to look after. This included a puppy, two rocks, a toy bath, and a few cars. He then said he couldn’t stay because he had to go fixing. With that he picked up his tool box and marched off. I fear that the gender stereotypes are strong already.

I really think lockdown is hitting him hard today. He sat at the dinner table singing ‘Let it go’ but replacing the words. ‘Let it doughnut! Let it doughnut!’ Or ‘I don’t care what the coconut says, let the coconut rage on, the coconut never bothered me anyway.’

And the troll disguise was his final party piece before bed. I’ve said it before, they are exhausting but hilarious.

I finished my salt dough piece today, a momento from these strange days together. When Megan, Maisie and Toby were little, I made canvas paintings with their handprints on. And then when each of our foster little ones left, I made a little tradition of taking their handprints on the day they moved on from us. Maddie, Theo and Micah, never had to leave, for which we are eternally grateful. But in true latter sibling style, I also kept forgetting to take their handprints. But these days feel significant and worth recording in many ways. Obviously for the big picture of Covid 19 and protecting our NHS, staying home is no small thing.

But I feel that for our family it is no small thing either. For our older girls, who are almost 13 and 14, these days with them are precious, seeing their humour and identities emerge, and building a trust between us is a gift and an unexpected blessing. For Toby, who at 10 is still working out his own personality and his place in the family. For Maddie these days are precious and slowly helping to build a sense of safety and peace and security. For Theo and Micah…well, we’re probably just protecting the world from them!

So it seemed a good time to make a visual record of these days together. I couldn’t fit Liam and my hands on there though so it looks like we scarpered and left the kids to fend for themselves in lockdown 2020. We can only dream. And because it’s a huge piece of salt dough it’s inevitably going to break before the end of lockdown. But you know, in my head it’s a sweet and lovely memory. And I’ve got a photo of it to prove it.

I read Psalm 90 today, which brought fresh perspective of where our safety and security are, and of making the most of the days we’re given.

1 Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.
2 Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
3 You return man to dust and say, “Return, O children of man!”
4 For a thousand years in your sight are but as yesterday when it is past, or as a watch in the night. – Psalm 90:1-4

He continues:

12 So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.
13 Return, O LORD! How long? Have pity on your servants!
14 Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
15 Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil.
16 Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their children.
17 Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands! – Psalm 90:12-17

I love the Psalmist’s sense of security in dwelling with God. The God who was before all things, and will be forever, and for whom these days are just a passing moment.

And then in verse 12 he asks for wisdom in numbering our days. On my last birthday I turned 38, and I found it hard. My brother Dan passed away suddenly at the age I am now, and when you lose someone that close to you, the reality of the frailty of life is right there in front of you. Our days are a blessing and a gift, and not to be wasted.

So I pray for these days those words of verses 14 and 15, that we may be daily satisfied in God’s love, that for as many days as we face challenges we will find gladness, that God’s favour will be on us, and that even these months in our homes will bear fruit for our families and for the world.

We found a sort of order in the disorder this morning. It helped that the activities for Theo were largely food based. We did a sorting task based on healthy and unhealthy food. He translated this as ‘yummy treats’ and ‘good for you’. Which meant he put all the things he liked in the unhealthy basket and everything he didn’t like in the healthy one. He got top marks on that game.

The second task involved real food addition. This went really well until he started eating the food and messed the maths right up.

Maddie also very much enjoyed her insect sorting game. Until she thought Theo’s work looked much more fun and edible and gave up on her maths to do his instead. By then he was off eating an orange and couldn’t care less about the maths so that was all good.

I then pulled out my secret ‘I knew it was going to be a rainy day’ activity of painting the salt dough cupcakes that we made yesterday. I know, I’m getting braver with paint. Or just more closely supervising the antics. Although Maddie still ended up with one eyebrow painted blue, despite my watchful eye. I can’t claim credit for any of these activities of course. They all come from helpful super-parenting groups. Written by people who are much less scared of glitter and shaving foam than I am. But I was particularly pleased with this one, if all goes to plan it will have provided three days worth of entertainment – the making of the dough, the painting of the cakes, and tonight I dutifully put them all in cupcake cases on a tray in the toy kitchen, and they’ll be there in the morning, ready for play. Or, the more likely outcome, which is that they’ll be confiscated and binned after a few minutes of children either persistently trying to eat them, or throwing them at each other’s heads. I’ll keep you posted on the next exciting instalment.

These are the three pretty princesses who pranced around for a while after lunch. In this photo you can see the smallest saying a perfect ‘cheese’, whilst the middle child states all his reasons for why he should have Elsa’s hair. And the biggest adamantly refusing his demands, even though he pleaded, ‘but I don’t have the long hair like you, mine is all short, so I neeeeeeed the hair.’ You can see by her face she was not to be easily swayed.

I didn’t take many photos today because my phone had an unfortunate incident where it fell out of my pocket into the toilet. Whoops. The screen is already very smashed which renders the splashproofness into not very splash proof. So for a large portion of the day the home button wouldn’t work but everything else would. Which meant I had to ask Siri for everything. ‘Siri, open WhatsApp. Siri, open Barclays. Siri, open Safari.’ Poor Siri sounded so hen-pecked that I let him (her/it) have a rest. And then miraculously it healed itself.

To be fair, there wasn’t much to photograph as the afternoon for the children largely consisted of them watching The Jungle Book followed by another Disney plus spin off from the Jungle Book in quick succession. They then went prowling around the house, claws out and hissing at everyone they passed. Like they needed to do impressions of wild animals!

The day of rain caught up with us though and when I was trying to make dinner they were running around like the cheetahs they’d been imitating. So I made what may prove to have been a parenting mistake. I taught them ‘What’s the Time Mr Wolf?’

Maddie got it very quickly, then started adding lots of rules to the original rules. Micah understood, but shouting ‘dinner time!’ and roaring was far more fun than the boring ‘two o clock’ part. And Theo, who loves and hates anything involving suspense, giggled and squealed and ran around in circles. But they found it hilarious and it gave five minutes entertainment so I counted that a win.

It was really encouraging to join a church online evening to pray tonight, to see a hundred other faces all calling on God to bring healing and comfort and peace. I miss community. I love my family to pieces, and there’s so much good for our kids in being cocooned with us. But there are so many others that I’m grateful for and I miss seeing, hearing different perspectives, and being encouraged and challenged by. And I’m really missing seeing my friends and families babies! I’m not getting my baby fix, and they’re all growing up!

Sorry, I digress. It was so good to ‘be’ with others, even online. To be reminded of how big God is and of how much He loves people.

I was encouraged today by Psalm 103,

2 Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits,
3 who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases,
4 who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
5 who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.
6 The LORD works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed.
7 He made known his ways to Moses, his acts to the people of Israel.
8 The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. – Psalm 103:2-8

The story Theo picked this evening talked about the Star Maker, the One who created the stars, coming down from heaven to become a baby and lie under the stars He had made. And He came because He loved us. And He wanted community with us. He cares about our hard days and our grieving hearts and our messy broken stuff. He cares about the people who are vulnerable and hurting and anxious and sick. He listens to my cries in the garage and my tears at the news and my fears for my family and my anxious children’s worries. And He cares. And He brings help and healing and hope.

This morning I got up with a long to do list already imprinted in my brain. Before anyone had a chance to stress me, the stresses were there. Theo woke me to ask if it was my birthday, a bit odd because my birthday’s not until August. It turns out he wanted it to be his birthday, which he knows is after mine. In November. So I had to set him straight on the sad news. But that aside, we trudged downstairs

And then I set to work. Getting breakfast, printing off school worksheets. Obviously the paper and ink both ran out so that needed sorting. Online banking to juggle the money that is still being paid into the wrong account. I was aware that there was a wet load of washing in the machine and the upstairs bathroom had the telltale pink ring around the plug and a thick layer of dust on the shelves, giving away the fact it’s been at least two weeks since that was cleaned. There were clean piles of laundry in every bedroom waiting to be put away, and all the Easter decorations with a dead Easter tree dropping leaves in the dining room.

But in the meantime Theo was shouting at me for a drink repeatedly, and Maddie had developed a mystery pain in her foot, which she couldn’t stop talking about (often a symptom of anxiety and stress for her). The older kids were somewhat reluctant to get out of bed, and Liam is still not sleeping well or feeling great. So before 8:15 the pressure was rising and I was already heading for boiling point.

Liam went to help the older girls sort out their work and I tried to get the younger ones going with some learning. Toby is great and cracks on with it. Maddie loves most of it unless you suggest writing a sentence. Otherwise, she flies through the worksheets at a pace quicker than I can keep up with. Theo and Micah liked the play doh modelling tasks, but Theo suddenly felt he’d done enough and went to strop on the sofa. At which point Micah also decided he had played ball for long enough. He threw the puzzle I offered him, rejected the colouring pens, and demanded one of Maddie’s worksheets. Which I gave him and he did one scribble on before going off to hunt for Liam.

It was around this point that I really started to feel like I was going to lose it and either shout or cry. But I knew inside that it wouldn’t be fair to rant and rage at my family who had no idea how I felt, and were probably oblivious to the things that were getting me down. (Except for the stropping kids. They’re hard to ignore!). So I had a chat with Liam, who is exceptionally gracious to my plot losing moments, and he disappeared upstairs with the cleaning products.

I gave up on getting any more work out of the younger ones and opted for life skills instead. Baking a chocolate cake is essential for their future isn’t it? Followed by mixing up salt dough and modelling it, because they love the weighing and measuring and the gooey mess, and I figured painting the results would buy us another activity tomorrow.

After lunch Liam and I had a longer chat about how things could work a bit better, and what we both felt would help the kids and us to keep plodding on. I felt today that I needed some exercise and some space from the house. I struggle with the battle of continual mess. I love home-making, I love my big family and I love time together. But the amount of chaos created by everyone being here all the time can make me lose perspective. I felt I needed both to walk off the brownies I keep eating, and to get out for more than the 10 minute round trip of the river that the small kids can manage.

So I left Maddie and Theo in front of a film, Toby on a wii game, Megan and Maisie working away, and Liam cutting the lawn. I packed Micah in the buggy and went off for a trek up very steep hills and then along the canal. Strangers smiled at me, the birds sang, I saw hills and horses and walked and walked. A friend had sent me an encouraging video to watch, so on the way back I listened to that. Micah slept for the entire hour and a half. And it was exactly what I needed. To come home with fresh eyes and tired legs and to feel like my body and soul had been energised.

Obviously just because I felt better doesn’t mean I came back to complete tranquility, but snacks helped, and a bit of cake decorating therapy for Toby.

This morning when it was all overwhelming and I felt like I couldn’t do everything expected of me, an early Bible story came to mind. Back in Exodus, Moses sees the burning bush and has a chat with God. God has seen His people suffering, and is sending Moses to challenge the Pharaoh, and to tell him to free the Israelites. We all know it – ‘Let my people go!’. But Moses can only see his inadequacies and limitations. He doesn’t think he’s the right person for the job. He raises several points on why he probably isn’t the right candidate. He’s got a bad reputation in Egypt, and anyway they might not listen to him or believe him. Oh, and also, he’s not a very eloquent speaker.

But on all these points, God replies, and tells Him that he is the man for the job. Because Moses isn’t doing it alone. God tells him, ‘But I will be with you…I Am Who I Am…Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak.’ (Exodus 3:12, 14, 4:12).

On days like today I’m like a much less interesting version of Moses. I haven’t been asked to do amazing feats helping a nation escape a tyrannical leader, and I didn’t encounter miraculous fiery foliage on my walk. I’m just here, being asked to care for my family and keep loving and plodding on, in the ups and downs and through the impact of trauma and grief and hormones and toddler terrorism and the isolations of life. And some days even that feels too much. And I throw out all the reasons why I’m not capable and it’s too hard and I just. can’t. do. it.

But God is the I Am. The One who always has been and always will be, and He promises to be with me. To give me what I need. He knows me and my strengths and weaknesses. He knows my faults and my failings. But He’s given me more than I could have imagined in the gift of my family. And more than that, He gives me His presence and His power to help me care for them. Because He never asked me to do it alone.

I have to be honest with you. I had no idea what a ‘flotilla’ was, but I have a thing for collective nouns, so I thought it would be fun to look it up. I can’t really blame isolation on that being a highlight of the day, I would have found entertainment in learning that previously. Which doesn’t say a lot for me on the entertaining scales, does it really?!

When I sat downstairs on the early shift this morning I picked up my crochet to do a few more rows. I have this nifty little row counter which helps me keep track of where I am on the pattern. Well it would, if it wasn’t such an appealing toy for my offspring. Perhaps they are wannabe nightclub bouncers, clicking people entering the building. But for whatever reason they love it. And today they left me clueless as to whether I was on row 15 or 23. Because it certainly wasn’t row 1113.

I was on a bit of a mission this morning, because two parts of a set of toys had gone missing since yesterday, and that kind of thing really bothers me. So I was combing the garden, hunting the house, and quizzing the kids on the possible location of the pieces. Theo has an amazing ability to know just when to wind someone up. So he started by telling me ‘oh I know! I put them in the tree!’ And smirked as I went out hunting through the leaves. Following that he named several other places he ‘may’ have hidden them. And then walked around singing a little ditty that I genuinely have no idea where it came from: ‘you break it, you buy it! You break it, you buy it!’ He moves me from laughter to tears of frustration and back again a thousand times a day.

We tuned in to church this morning, our band opting for a more muted vocal accompaniment today.

For the first time, Little Fox also sang along. The congregation was increased greatly in number by the teddies that joined us as we talked about things we worry about, and how Jesus spoke to calm the storm.

Everyone got involved with the craft activity of making boats like the one in the story. Although I’m not sure the fishing boats in historical Israel were called ‘Coca Cola’. Maddie insisted on including the disciples and a bed for Jesus to sleep in.

And then they went out onto the stormy lake. Thankfully the boats did not sink, and they provided entertainment for most of the day.

Having been in and out of the pool several times, it got to later in the afternoon and Theo came to talk to me in the kitchen. He spotted the hatch in the utility room ceiling, which opens to a space in the garage roof. This was absolutely fascinating, and he quizzed me for about 15 minutes on it. What was up there, are there spiders, is it dusty, we’d need a ladder to climb up there, could we clean the dirt out…on and on until I was giving up the will to answer. He then disappeared and returned a few minutes later with Maddie and Micah. They had packed backpacks including drinks and teddies, found torches, got their ‘communicators’ (megaphones), and were ready to go on an adventure exploring the loft hatch. There was much anger when I said I was afraid that wouldn’t be possible. I tried to appease them with exploring the eaves cupboard in Megan and Maisie’s attic room, but was met with sulking, tears, and disappointment. Meanest Mum Ever.

I thought the family zoom call might brighten the mood, and it did for a while, until Theo realised that Auntie Mim wasn’t on there as she was napping before a night shift. He declared he was just going to stay and chat to everyone until she woke up, but sadly the call had to end, and his grief was real. It’s no winder the kids have big emotions, a desire to control, and lots of worries. This world we’re living in is so alien and the months of missing people are long – especially when you’re only small. Thankfully the roast dinner brightened him up a bit.

Liam’s still coughing a lot at night, but he saw Megan’s enthusiasm to get the sofa up to their bedroom and spent some time doing a repair on it before taking it up to them. I’m hoping the new found order in the room will last. At least until tomorrow.

We settled the small children and were given permission by the older kids to go for a sneaky river walk this evening. It feels like moving into a new age and stage with the girls, and it’s fun and exciting and scary and lovely all at the same time. It was definitely a blessing to get a 10 minute quiet walk in before it got dark.

The kids Sunday school story this morning was one of my favourites, which I’ve quoted here before. The story of ‘The Captain of the Storm’. The storm whips up and the disciples are afraid and they cry to the sleeping Jesus to help. And He stands, and tells the wind and waves to hush. Because He made them, and He has the authority over them. And He asks the disciples, ‘were you scared? Did you forget who I Am? Did you believe your fears instead of me?’

As we walked along the river in the quiet this evening, I thought of many different times where I’ve walked that same path over the years. In different life storms, in grief, in hurt, in fear. I found myself wondering what the next few weeks and months will hold. Seeing Theo’s sadness at missing family hurts my heart. When Toby went to bed he was upset, worrying about Coronavirus and who might get ill-or even die. And I understand that fear. But as I walked tonight I remembered all the storms we’ve been through before, and the Captain of those Storms. The One who is right here, alongside us. He speaks, and the storm is stilled. The loss remains, but the internal storm can be quieted in His presence and at His word.

And as Paul finishes his letter to the Thessalonians, this is my prayer for all my family and friends tonight.

‘Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times in every way. The Lord be with you all’. – 2 Thessalonians 3:16

Early this morning Theo left his spot on the sofa buried with teddies to make me a coffee in his machine. I must have looked bad if a four year old sensed the caffeine needs. Liam was coughing a lot last night so he went downstairs, but he was replaced by both Theo and Micah. So really there wasn’t a lot of sleep for either parent!

We felt like we’d earned our mid-morning brownie and coffee, but as per normal, within seconds of us sitting in the corner of the kitchen, Micah sniffed us out… ‘I’m hungry’. So I gave him a biscuit. ‘Can I have two?’ I just wanted my coffee, so I said yes. Crack on, have two. I sat back down. ‘I need a chair!’ So I went and got him his own chair. Sat back down. ‘Mum, where’s my drink?!’

Finally, the boy was satisfied to let us down the coffee.

Toby got in touch with my dad yesterday to ask if they could compare what birds were visiting the garden. My dad asked him what days they were going to do it. To which Toby (who spends a large proportion of his time on minecraft) said, ‘oh I think over the weekend, when I’ve got some spare time.’ Oh how I laughed.

So this morning we reminded Toby of the birdwatching challenge. You can imagine how enthusiastic he was. Micah offered to help though. They saw one pigeon and one house sparrow before they wandered off. Sorry Dad.

Meanwhile Megan and Maisie showed they mean business with their bedroom planning. They asked if they could have the little sofa that’s been in our summerhouse, and when I said yes they set to work cleaning it up. I have never seen them so enthusiastic about a project. Especially one involving cleaning. But it made me grateful for this time at home. Days where we’re learning more about each other. Where we have the time and space to say yes to things.

I felt quite optimistic taking the kids for a walk after lunch. But it turned out to be the most shambolic one yet. Very early on Micah decided he didn’t want to walk. Theo objected loudly to the route we’d chosen. We went to the little beach area and at the other end were a family with a dog who seemed very keen to hang out with my kids. Much to their dismay. The serious insult was when the dog ran over, grabbed Maddie’s teddy and ran off with it. Cue loud crying from her, me being rather cross with the dog owner, and finally managing to get a rather dirty toy back.

At this point I told the kids it was time to go, and the boys asked to throw one more stone in the river. Unfortunately Micah somehow managed to throw his stone at Theo instead of in the river. Cue more crying, and Micah and Theo both wanting a carry back home.

Thankfully Toby was keen to help today! And we were all cheered up by the very impressive giraffe with the rainbow on the way home. I feel slightly intimidated by the increasingly high standard of artistic ability that is going into the rainbows around here. It’s a good job no one really sees our windows with one pitiful little rainbow effort. I hope the postman isn’t judging.

I do have a fondness for rainbow themed toys though so maybe that counts. Micah very much enjoyed playing with these today. It was endearing watching him pick little figures to be our family.

Slightly more concerning was the fact that he insisted on cooking each of us on the hob before adding us to the line up. I’m trying not to read too much into it. But I might not let him back in my bed tonight.

The tricky thing with writing about my isolation experience is that I try to keep it to just that. It’s not for me to share details about other family or friends, and I try to be respectful of Liam and the children with what I share about our lives too. So some things do go unsaid. And this morning I was sad for someone else’s situation in all of this, and the impact it’s having on them. Sometimes it’s just hard and rubbish and there are no words except – you’re not alone. We’re with you in this. I might be tucked up in my home and you in yours, but don’t let the distance make you think you’re unseen.

Over the last few weeks I keep thinking of some verses in the book of Joel, talking about God’s promise of redemption for His people. They were exiled, alone, facing destruction. And He made a promise to them.

23 “Be glad, O children of Zion, and rejoice in the LORD your God, for he has given the early rain for your vindication; he has poured down for you abundant rain, the early and the latter rain, as before.
24 “The threshing floors shall be full of grain; the vats shall overflow with wine and oil.
25 I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer and the cutter. – Joel 2:23-25

That last verse has encouraged me in different situations, both this year and in the past. Even in the darkest of times, where it feels hopeless, redemption can come. Sometimes I feel like these months are being wasted, all the hopes and dreams I had for this year crossed off the calendar one by one. But they don’t have to be wasted. God can and will restore the ‘years that the locusts have eaten’, or in our case, the empty months and the pain and the loss that Covid 19 has brought. Keep looking for the rainbows – there is always hope for the future. This is not the end of the story.

I was so happy when my hoarding older daughter announced she is going to have a bedroom reorganisation, and included in her written plans was sorting out the soft toys! Hooray! After all this time!

Nope. The quiet spell I enjoyed yesterday whilst the younger children disappeared to be entertained by their older siblings? That wasn’t entertainment, it was a cunning ploy to donate all of their toys to the little ones. Every one of them. There are now thousands of soft toys roaming the house and garden from dawn until dusk. At a very unearthly hour this morning I found myself carrying basket after basket of said toys downstairs to watch early morning telly. Are pest control working these days? I promise I’ll stay 2 meters away as I hand hordes of teddies over.

Liam had a rough night last night but he has been up and about today, for which I’m very grateful. We tackled schooling this morning, aided by coffee. Maddie picked me to play her maths board game. Which unfortunately I won by a long way (even though I tried really hard not to, and even though she cheated shamelessly), which resulted in a sulk.

Meanwhile we thought we’d try patterns again with Theo, bravely involving paint in a desperate last ditch attempt to make them exciting. And lo and behold, he did it! Red/green/red/green. We praised him, celebrated…

And watched the way he engaged the age old trick of happily painting the entire page brown. I know I know. In a child’s brain the pattern is still underneath. But I felt it visually represented his feelings on the whole learning thing.

So we left the learning there and went back to learning through play outside. Accompanied by several hundred teddies.

Whilst I was hanging yet more washing out, Megan appeared with her phone. ‘Daddy, it’s Nanny on the phone for you’. Yesterday my mum rang her to get hold of me. Megan is starting to voice complaints about becoming her parents carer.

Later she reappeared with her phone laughing hysterically at a meme she’d found. “Write your name in reverse to find your demon name….Girls called Hannah: ‘am I actually a monster?’” Why that tickled her so much I can’t imagine.

We sat down to grab a cup of tea in the kitchen when Micah shut the door leaving him and Theo outside. It was a beautiful moment. But they reappeared at the window rather dramatically and I felt obliged to let them back in.

Moving on from the soft toys, Jaws entered the pool today. Just to liven things up a bit. The pool was worthy of the stress of yesterday, it provided a lot of fun today.

Later this afternoon Maddie and Theo’s lovely primary school produced a video of all the teachers and staff sending messages to the children. I’m glad I watched it without the kids first, because I was an emotional wreck. And their faces when they watched the people they love waving and saying how much they miss them were an absolute picture. The visible relief that these special people are still there, still caring about them, speaks volumes.

I ordered Charlie Macksey’s beautiful book which arrived today, there are so many poignant pages in it. And this one spoke right to me as I struggled to choose between the simnel cake or a Beth’s Bakes brownie. Focusing on cake was about at my level at the end of this week.

But I loved ones like this too. The reminder that sometimes, especially after tiring weeks and sleep deprived nights and early mornings it takes strength to get up and do it all again. But God promises to be that strength, especially in my weakest and weariest moments.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9

And from the old hymn Great is Thy Faithfulness, I love that line, ‘strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.’ That’s all I need.

‘Great is Thy faithfulness
O God my Father
There is no shadow of turning with Thee
Thou changest not
Thy compassions they fail not
As Thou hast been
Thou forever will be

Great is Thy faithfulness
Great is Thy faithfulness
Morning by morning new mercies I see
And all I have needed Thy hand hath provided
Great is Thy faithfulness
Lord unto me

Pardon for sin
And a peace that endureth
Thine own dear presence to cheer
And to guide
Strength for today
and bright hope for tomorrow
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside

Great is Thy faithfulness
Great is Thy faithfulness
Lord every morning new mercies I see
And all I have needed Thy hands hath
provided
Great is Thy faithfulness
Great is Thy faithfulness
Great is Thy faithfulness
Lord unto me.’

Liam was still poorly this morning so we were an adult down. Which is never a good ratio. However, we started well. For about the first 15 minutes of Joe Wicks.

And then Micah joined us.

And things went rapidly downhill. Suddenly my gym buddies had turned into gym equipment and Micah was practicing his long jump using them. Joe Wicks promises we can come out of lockdown stronger and fitter than before. He does mean that’s possible when you only complete 2 minutes of a 30 minute workout every day, yes?

Don’t be fooled by these lovely photos. The morning did not go smoothly. He wasn’t keen on patterns. He likes to go off trend. Why should it go pink/blue/pink/blue when you could randomly throw in yellow/red just because you want to? I thought building the Very Hungry Caterpillar’s fruit from Lego would be fun. He thought it was more fun to break it up and build a really big tower. But Maddie enjoyed the fruit building more than her maths game, so at least someone was entertained? Toby seemed inspired to do a mocktail making maths activity. This involved pouring Fanta, coke, apple juice and squash in a glass and drinking it. He claims it was to learn proportions. In that case my Disoronno and coke is purely to keep my mathematical brain alive and well.

I wasn’t in a happy place this morning. Even Alexa wouldn’t listen to me any more. But threatening her with no pudding has about as much impact as it does on my offspring. The kids wouldn’t play ball. My husband’s poorly. I couldn’t even listen to the music I wanted. Theo had a meltdown because Maddie moved the tuff tray across the garden. Then she stood and screamed because he sat in the spot she wanted to sit in.

And I thought about having a pity party and crying about how rubbish it all is, and then in that moment when I was hanging out the washing my friend rang me. Because she’d thought about me before her coffee, which is seriously significant. And I felt seen. By her and by the other lovely people who messaged today, and by my mother in law who sent a food parcel with treats in. But mostly by God.

Because even if no one knew what was going on here and what kind of day I was having, He knew. And He put me on someone else’s mind. And even if no one had rung, and there were no food parcels, He is here, in the ugly moments, as well as the good.

The other day I read someone on an online forum say that being isolation had made them realise that they had no real friends. When they thought about who they could ring they couldn’t think of anyone. And I felt really really sad when I read it, that there is anyone who feels like that. I felt loved today, and it reminded me to stop making this about me, and to keep looking outwards at who I can love.

And these ones of mine need a lot of love. So after lunch we chilled. We snuggled and watched a film.

And then we made Oobleck which is super weird and really fun for sensory loving people and makes a lot of mess for something that only provided about 15 minutes entertainment.

So then I pulled out all the stops and went for the paddling pool. And it was brilliant and also caused mayhem. In the form of two children who like splashing and one who hates it. And one small child who kept ignoring my ‘don’t run on the kitchen floor!’ instruction and fell and banged his head. But overall they had the pool and ice creams and even though it wasn’t great all the time and people still made faces at my dinner, and Liam still isn’t well, I have so much to be thankful for.

I don’t want to lose perspective in these days. It’s a challenge for everyone, and for some it’s far far harder than in my little corner. It can be easy to get distracted by the frustrations in my days, but there’s a purpose in what we’re doing, and ultimately I really have nothing to complain about. I have a home where I am safe with people I love, I have kind family and friends. I have more than I need. And I am not ever alone. Because of the giver of all good things. Who is constant and faithful and is there in the storms, and makes rainbow reminders that He will never break a promise.

‘Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change’. – James 1:17

Apparently it’s Wednesday, but I struggle to keep track of the days of the week as well as what number day we’re on now. We didn’t manage Joe W today, I had to do a food shop, which I try and do earlyish to arrive at the optimum point of lack of queue but still having the possibility of there being flour on the shelf. I struck gold today-bags and bags of flour! Including a factory size sack! Which I didn’t buy because it was £9 and even I don’t need that much flour. But I did feel awkward when the cashier starting talking about why on earth people would buy the big bags of pasta or the tray of 30 eggs. I am one of those people. I didn’t tell her though. Sometimes the whole ‘there’s eight of us’ conversation is just too much to be overwhelming people with on a Wednesday morning.

Anyway, we didn’t manage Joe but the smaller family members wanted to do Andy’s Wild Workouts. Well, you may notice that the smallest member had a lying down protest about not joining in. But the others were keen.

When we knew we wouldn’t be going on holiday for Easter, I bought a couple of new things to stash away for a day when we needed something new to break the monotony. So having had two tricky days this week, I brought out the Frozen Lego. Which kept the younger ones pretty happy for most of the day. Toby is a whizz on building Lego, so he was keen to ‘help’ Maddie and Theo, and it gave them something new to play with for the day. And then destroy. And then have Toby tell them off for destroying it before happily rebuilding. It seems like a lovely circle of entertainment.

Absolutely the high spot of the days is when you have a nice delivery on the doorstep. I’m very keen to support small businesses. Especially when they make the best brownies I’ve ever tasted. I’m not sharing these with the kids, although I split one with Liam and the Micah plopped himself between us. He lay his head on Liam’s arm and looked longing up at him. ‘I’m hungry’, he said sadly. And was fed a mini egg. Then he moved across the sofa, lay his head on my arm, and looked up at me. ‘I’m hungry?’

Ha.

I did share. Because he has those eyes. But I’m eating the next one alone. In the garage.

We FaceTimed my mum and dad this morning. My dad quizzed Toby on the Second World War, and Maddie and Theo excitedly showed mum their Lego. Micah had a meltdown afterwards. It reminds me of when we had foster children who would struggle massively with contact with birth family members. They’re so excited to see those people, but saying goodbye and not knowing when the next time will be is a fresh trauma every time. They are dysregulated, and they take all the emotion out on the people at home. I get it, in a small way. I feel elements of that every time I FaceTime or zoom family and friends. It’s lovely, but it’s not enough. And for Micah, it tipped him over the emotional edge of knowing whether he wanted a bagel or sandwich for lunch.

I was going for a walk this afternoon. I was going to go on my own. Then I said I’d take Toby, to get him off a screen. Then Maddie wanted to come too. Then Theo wanted to come too. So me and three of the kids went on a walk. We went and threw stones in the river, and whilst we were there an actual real life person we knew saw us and stopped at the top of the bank to say hi. At which point Theo somehow managed to throw the rock on his own head and erupt into an ear piercing screech followed by tears. So the friend left us to it, and having assessed that Theo was actually fine, I felt a bit robbed of that human interaction from the outside world.

Maddie’s wearing all her fancy and favourite clothes on any given day, because why not? There’s no point saving them and possibly growing out of them before a special occasion! Every day can be a fancy day if you want it to be.

Micah had a little late afternoon nap and was then rather oppositional when it was dinner time. I called him to the dining room, so he ran to the kitchen. I called him back, to which he informed me that no, dinner was in the garden ‘actually’. And he plonked himself down and genuinely looked like he’d rather eat wooden food than the tuna pasta I’d made. I had to meet him halfway with offering bread and butter as an accompaniment in the end. I gave him the real stuff though, not the wooden loaf.

Liam had a bit of a cough this morning, which we wondered if (hoped…) it was hayfever initially. However, despite the antihistamines and the paracetamol, as the day wore on the cough increased, along with achey muscles, headache, and then an early night. So it looks like we’re back on self isolation again. Obviously this time literally the only difference it makes it that I can’t go to the shop anymore.

It’s such a strange experience isn’t it. For those of us who aren’t facing the reality of this disease in work or at home, there is an element of living in a bubble of safety. On the odd occasion when we go to the shop or watch the news we are reminded that everything is different and strange, but still, we can’t see the virus or touch it. It’s out there but almost mystical. But when someone in the home starts to feel unwell, the anxiety can rise, especially as more people nearby or that we know of are affected by Covid. The thermometer has never been so well used. Every cough is like a siren sound. It’s hard to find the right level of care without paranoia.

But I’m reminded tonight I can only do what I can do. My anxiety won’t prevent anything bad happening, and it won’t make anything better in the meantime. I can do what I can, offer medication and check temperatures, and keep us all at home, and I can pray and trust and hope, and in it all, I can be at peace.

1 O LORD, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.
2 But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.
3 O Israel, hope in the LORD from this time forth and forevermore. – Psalms 131

I was woken fairly early by the younger children arguing this morning, so I took them downstairs, sat them on the sofa and turned the telly on. I sat down in my armchair, still half asleep, and promptly got sternly told off by Theo. Apparently it’s not my armchair, it’s their machine, and I should not be sitting in it. I didn’t feel ready to face the day like this.

Going ‘back to school’ has not been as smooth as hoped. I think there’s a general sense of the novelty of home schooling having well and truly worn off. The older girls have retreated to working upstairs, which is understandable given the noise levels downstairs! I evicted half of the family from Joe Wicks PE class because we couldn’t hear the teacher any more.

The younger children reacted to my absence yesterday by only wanting Liam today. This was not much fun for him, given the low moods, but meant I could do some of the exciting jobs I hadn’t yet managed to do over the last month. Highlights included sorting the piles of clothes in the bedroom. The low point was banking. We opened a new account just before lockdown, it turns out it’s really easy to get all the bills to pay out of the new account, not so easy to switch over money to be paid into it – largely because of the hours involved waiting to get through to various finance departments which obviously don’t have any staff any more. The world has stopped but some things have to carry on and it all feels a bit harder to manage right now.

And the children seemed to echo that vibe today. There were strops over cookie making. Strops over which shoes to wear. A particularly dramatic strop when I said no we wouldn’t be buying Maddie a horse for her birthday. I’m not backing down on that one.

After a difficult conversation over schoolwork with an older child I ended up having my own meltdown. I just don’t want to be the teacher and the mum. Mum is the one to come to for support and cuddles and reassurance over school stresses, I’m not supposed to the one who is causing the school stress.

But there were moments like this where two small brothers were in giggles rolling over and over and saying ‘another cuddle!’

And the bath never fails to bring joy. Often small bathroom floods too, but happiness nevertheless.

And the older children actually played a game together! They always pick the Game of Life, today Maisie had five children and Toby was a doctor but still living at home. Probably still paying off his student loan, I imagine. Megan likes to live the rich actress life but end the game with no money. Toby ended up winning, so I’m not sure what life lessons they’re learning.

Obviously we did not see a pony today. But sometimes it’s nice to scroll back and see the things we did only a few weeks ago. And hope and dream of when we can get out again.

I feel somewhat incoherent tonight…it’s just been a wobbly sort of day. I’m hearing stories of people affected by the virus and my heart hurts for them. It feels wrong to complain when I have so much to be thankful for. But I’m tired too, as many of us are, of living this different life. I know how important it is, and we’ll plod on, one day at a time.

And tonight I’m grateful for these verses from Psalm 94, for the comfort and the peace and rest there is in a God who loves me.

17 If the LORD had not been my help, my soul would soon have lived in the land of silence.
18 When I thought, “My foot slips,” your steadfast love, O LORD, held me up.
19 When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul. – Psalm 94:17-19

In another version, verse 19 is interpreted as this:

“Whenever my busy thoughts were out of control, the soothing comfort of your presence calmed me down and overwhelmed me with delight.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭94:19‬ ‭TPT

I love that. I can hand the cares of my heart, and my busy thoughts over, and rest in the calming and soothing presence of the One who is soothing and steadfast.