We had a slow start today. As in, I hadn’t really done anything much by lunchtime. We received Theo’s school offer through the post, so that distracted me for a while. I am grateful he’s got into the school we wanted, grateful his other nursery friends will be there with him. And obviously, at the moment the thought of any of them going to school is appealing! But it’s also a strange prospect imagining him going full time in September when he’ll have missed so many weeks of nursery. And all these weeks I thought I’d have with him and Micah before they start reception and nursery are now being filled with schooling everyone and keeping us all plodding along. So there’s an element of sadness in there too, as there is when all the kids started school. Except this is such a unique situation and the transition feels like it will be greater for him after the all the changes of this year. But for today he’s completely unaware, and was instead enthralled by the sudden springing up of dandelions, daisies, and some pretty purple flower all over our front garden, which he deemed as ‘magical’! And insisted on picking dandelion clocks to keep in a jar in his bedroom. I’m not sure how that’s going to pan out.

Meanwhile Maddie made herself an ‘apartment’ under the climbing frame, apparently it’s next to the sea. All the necessities were removed there, kitchen equipment, her cuddle top, and a magazine. She overheard the conversation about Theo getting into school and promptly had a wobble over the fact that she doesn’t want to go back to school, although she does miss her friends, and how many days will it be, and it’s good Theo will be at her school but they’ll only see each other at playtime, and several other worries. So we had a cuddle and talked about how it’s not happening yet, and she’s here and safe and nothing’s changing today. And then we thought about all the things we’re looking forward to doing when the germs are gone. Which other people came and added to. Because I have no intention of going to Niall Horan’s concert.

Remember our feral child who I caught as he was about to water the garden? Today we didn’t catch him in time. Instead we saw him out of the kitchen window as he proudly did a wee in the middle of the lawn. He was incredibly smug and had not a jot of remorse. I don’t think the world will be ready for our re-entry back into society.

The younger three felt the need to have a post lunch lie down, like some sort of advert for the slogan above them.

Liam suggested the kids wash my car, which the sensory seekers were very enthusiastic about. Megan developed the less enthusiastic teen method of rolling up and down on a skateboard whilst letting the brush drag along the side of the car. Theo, who loves anything involving water was engrossed with squeezing the cloth and watching the water run down the car, and then found out that it’s really fun to wet the cloth and spin it around whilst spraying all your siblings.

And Maisie allocated herself a ‘supervisory’ role. Needless to say, within about 20 minutes all six children were back in the house, leaving a decidedly smeary still dirty car. Isolation life day 30 – Liam and I officially did something we have never done in almost 15 years of married life – we washed a car together. Things must be getting desperate.

Cute scenes as the younger kids had afternoon telly, followed by Micah falling asleep next to Maddie. It’ll never cease to be amazing how children can flit between screaming at each other to adoring each other within seconds. Any moment like this makes me so incredibly grateful they are together. For all the hard moments, the thought of them being separated from one another is unimaginable.

While they chilled out I decided to have a awesome mum moment and make rainbow play doh. It worked, they were excited, they got stuck in. And then they spent the next half an hour demanding complicated models, complaining about who had the bigger ball of doh, whining about cracks in it, and generally being miserable. So I ditched awesome mum mode and fed them Easter sweets instead.

It was another Bowen birthday today, so another family zoom was set. Liam offered to take the kids for a walk so I could chat without being climbed on by several children. It meant I could really engage in the conversations. And play my part once it all went downhill and we started singing Les Misérables songs. It may need a little more polishing before we release that particular number.

Dinner time included a half an hour stand off with one child over their refusal to eat any macaroni but insistence on having a brownie. It was tiring for both of us, and I just felt sorry for them. All these big feelings, the apparent injustice of it all. In the heat of it I was told I’m not allowed to live here anymore. At that particular moment I was kind of ok about that, but by bedtime they’d changed their mind and I wasn’t allowed to leave the room. If there’s any blessing from a dinner time meltdown, it’s the fact they’re so tired that after a bath they fall asleep the minute their head hits the pillow.

The talk on the news this evening implies, as ever, we don’t know how many more weeks we’ll be here doing this. And I kind of felt emotionless about it all today. I feel tired, but then I felt a different kind of tired before it all. It feels strange to think ahead now, the future seems to be so distant. But at the same time the earth keeps turning and at some point we will be back to it and I’ll be looking at school uniform for six children and feeling super emotional about all the milestones.

So I’m grateful for today, even in the frustrations. I’m grateful that my anxious little girl feels safe at home. That the kids surprise us every day. That Liam and I are still laughing together more than we’re not. That before big changes of GCSEs and year 6 and reception and nursery happen, we’ll have had weeks together where we learned more about loving each other and forgiving each other and what makes each other giggle.

And I’m grateful that in it all, the hard days, the slow and seemingly fruitless days, and the good days, there is help.

6 ‘Blessed be the LORD! For he has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy.
7 The LORD is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him.’ – Psalm 28:6-7