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.