Happily, Liam and the kids stayed in the tent all night, returning to the warmth and comfort of the house somewhere before 7, at which point Liam retreated to bed and the kids watched tv before going back to camp life for breakfast. This is glamping in the extreme – I fear they won’t take our next storm filled Gower trip quite so well with no house and tv to retreat to!

My hot cross buns had some issues with proving, but they still tasted good. Liam found an irony in the fact they hadn’t risen well despite it being holy weekend. Thankfully Christ has risen, regardless of my baking malfunctions.

Baking featured heavily today. There are strong Bowen family traditions in finding as many recipes as possible that you can put mini eggs on, and including them in every future Easter, which means there are more and more ‘traditional’ bakes every year. Mum suggested today that after lockdown we’ll repeat every festivity we’re missing – Mother’s Day, my dad’s birthday, Easter, my brother’s 40th…and that’s without all the ones we haven’t missed yet. Which basically means we’re going to be partying solidly until Christmas. I hope Joe Wicks continues post lockdown, or our waistlines are definitely going to suffer.

The kids were also keen to get in on the baking act, although it mainly featured seeing how many mini eggs they could steal along the way. Micah seems to be pretty well grown out of his dairy and soya intolerances (hooray!!!), so is venturing into the world of real chocolate, and it’s a hit. He came running into the house crying this afternoon, when I asked him what happened, he said, without taking a breath, ‘I fell off my skateboard – where’s my cakes?’

Theo was desperate to go on a scooter ride this afternoon, and as Liam had already done a bike ride earlier, it was my turn. It obviously then became all three of the little ones coming with me, and given that navigating three small children and wheeled objects on pavements is rarely a smooth process, I opted to do the small loop. Which was a wise move, as Theo had given up on the scooter before the end of our street. I did feel a bit short-changed on my daily ‘walk’ though!

We decided that the older kids could do with some exercise too, so Liam set them a scavenger hunt to do on their bikes around our estate. Not that we don’t trust our little darlings, but we told them that to avoid any cheating, we wanted photos of all 3 of them at each place. The photo above was McDonald’s. Clearly the sight of it re-opened those wounds.

I still feel unprepared for the weather change, but we did find the hats and suncream basket yesterday. It turns out if you buy roll on suncream there are no more fights to applying it. They spent most of the day running around shouting ‘where’s my roll on?!’ Hopefully the enthusiasm will last until teens…

Theo’s application technique might need some work though. He looked like a smurf for the rest of the day.

Maddie’s a bit confused over Easter. When she was making her cross on the hill craft the other day, she was really keen to paint eggs on the hill beneath the cross. She still couldn’t figure out where or how they feature in the Easter story. I mumbled some things about eggs and spring and new life…then basically realised I have no idea how the whole eggs and chickens and bunnies thing moved in to take over Easter.

I started reading the book of Isaiah before Coronavirus really took hold of our country, and it was completely unplanned, but very happy timing, that I got to chapter 53 today. A chapter in which Isaiah prophecies the coming Saviour, and His life and death. And in the middle of verses that talk about how Jesus would be rejected, and ‘led as a lamb to the slaughter’, it says:

“Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; Yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; We have turned, every one, to his own way; And the LORD has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭53:4-6‬ ‭

I was thinking today about the little phrase ‘by His stripes we are healed’. Other versions of the Bible say His wounds, or His scars. After Jesus rose from the dead, He still had scars. He had completed the miracle of death and resurrection, but instead of His body being fully healed, He carried those scars after death and back into heaven.

I carry scars around with me-emotional scars of hurt and shame, grief and pain. Scars of anxiety after a sudden loss. Scars of hurt from rejection. Scars of insecurity from my failings, and scars of guilt from my mistakes. But Jesus bears scars on His body so I don’t have to. ‘By His stripes we are healed.’ The reason Good Friday is good is because He came and did what I couldn’t do and took from me all the baggage I carry. The hope I have in the hard days and the dark days is because He bears my grief and my sorrows, and yet He didn’t just come to bring comfort, but to bring freedom. From the burdens, from hurts, from fear, from shame, from scars. And in a world where we are mourning our loss of freedom, that for me is what makes today a very Good Friday.

The evening scenes were insta-perfect. Liam spent the latter part of the afternoon pitching the tent, we cooked a bbq, he had beer, I had Prosecco, they had popcorn, and it was lovely. The views aren’t too bad at this campsite-hills to the rear and a river at the front. It’s a private pitch, and if you shut your eyes you can pretend the sound of the cars are waves crashing. If you have a good imagination, that is. Liam and the younger four children are out there now, intending to sleep. Although how much they’ll get and at what point I’ll have various small people posted into the house I don’t know!

It really was a lovely evening. But in the nature of authenticity, I have to be honest and say it was probably the worst morning we’ve had since the beginning of being isolated. Despite the cute picture of two pyjama clad blonde boys, which is why we can confirm the camera may not lie, but it’s truth can be twisted. Because one of those boys barely stayed for the picture, and then he went on a destructive mission. To either wind up or destroy. I tried to channel his energy into shooting targets on the wall, but that lasted for all of about 10 seconds, as did every other activity we tried to give him. And then everyone else wanted to do something different, and other people started arguing, and it all unravelled.

For whatever reason, and there are probably several, we just all lost it. There were tears, tantrums, fights, and meltdowns. It wasn’t pretty. I hid in the garage for a while. We had a subdued lunch. Then we talked about it. Then we prayed. Then we talked a bit more.

I’m not a psychologist, so I can’t give explanations about it all. And the reality is that in normal life, every now and then, there will come a day where the pressure cooker reaches its boiling point and the steam explodes. It is almost certainly heightened at the moment by all being together with no escape for 24 days. The loss of family and friends and freedom. The lack of structure and routines of normal life. Heightened anxiety over work and the virus and the risk of those we love being exposed to it. Little ones who live in a heightened state of fear anyway having some of the stability they rely on removed suddenly and they can’t understand why. It’s all likely to add up and tip us over the edge.

But in some ways, all the reasons why this morning we fell apart aren’t really the bit that I think is worth focussing on. Because there will always be days where it becomes too much. Coronavirus won’t take over our lives forever, and as much as we’re all promising that once it’s over we’ll be grateful for the small things and we’ll appreciate life more, when this is all over there will still be the days when life feels too much.

But just like I told myself yesterday, there is hope. We are messy people all living together, all having days where our boat is rocked and we’re struggling to hold on. And the good news for me is that we don’t have to do the holding on, because we’re being held. Tomorrow is Good Friday, and my hot cross buns are proving in the fridge tonight. The cross there to remind us of the One who came to hold us because we can’t hold ourselves. To save us because we can’t save ourselves.

It almost certainly wasn’t coincidence that today this arrived, sent by a friend, with words of encouragement. That today I received a parcel of Easter goodies from mum, including a tub of homemade mini egg caramel shortbread. They definitely tipped me over the emotional edge into happy-sad tears, but the reminder that I’m not alone was never more timely.

And I guess, if there was a reason I started writing these posts, that would be why. Because I want to remind all of us that we’re not alone. Which is why I try and be real about our days. Because I think we try and live up to a standard we set ourselves or we are falsely dragged into believing exists. Some days I feel like I’m there, I’m smashing the home schooling and the cleaning and baking up a storm. Other days, I’m hiding in the garage. Sometimes it’s all in the same day, that’s just how quickly the wind can change around here!

And today it changed for the better, thankfully. I had my cry, we had a family chat, and asked God to help us love each other better and to keep people safe and to end these tricky times. Then we made a plan of action for the afternoon, Liam started on the tent and I headed for the Tesco marathon. By the time I arrived home order was restored. Except for Micah, who unfortunately had a rough afternoon. He was accidentally poked in the eye by a sibling, so his eye was swollen and watery and looked like he’d had a fight. He woke up, needed a wee, walked with one eye shut to the bathroom, slid over in a puddle kindly left on the floor by his brother, landed on his bum and wet himself. And I thought my day was bad!!! Thank the Lord for the magic healing properties of ice lollies (and eye drops) I say.

This evening I read from the kids Bible the story called ‘The Captain of the Storm’, about when Jesus and his disciples went in a boat and Jesus fell asleep. And then a great storm came, and his friends were terrified and cried to him to help. And He woke, and the one who had spoken the waves into being commanded them to stop, and they did. The story (taken from Matthew 8) says that,

‘Jesus’ friends had been so afraid, that they had only seen the big waves. They had forgotten that, if Jesus was with them, then they had nothing to be afraid of. No matter how small their boat-or how big their storm.’ I have nothing to be afraid of. My boat (or house) might feel too small and enclosed right now, and the Covid storm outside too big, but I am not alone in this storm, just as I have never been alone in any storm I’ve faced before. And when I call out to Him, He hears.

1 Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by.
2 I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me.
3 He will send from heaven and save me; he will put to shame him who tramples on me. God will send out his steadfast love and his faithfulness! – Psalm 57:1-3

This morning I was taking no chances of the 10am ‘where is our routine’ meltdown, so I had the younger three doing Andy’s Wild Workout by 9am. Maddie and Theo loved it, Micah snubbed it, I think he felt that as a Joe Wicks pro, these childish exercises were beneath him.

I was upstairs dressing Micah when Theo appeared ready for the day. Although possibly a tad overdressed for the Easter heatwave today.

The fire service had a busy start to their shift, after a few fights over who was going to be the Mickey Mouse fireman, and I’d been instructed to repair several engines doors. They take their vehicle maintenance very seriously, these young men. If only toy fire engines were built to a higher standard so that the doors didn’t fall off every time.

This is what the meltdown of two teenagers in McDonald’s withdrawal looks like. In the absence of all fast food restaurants and the school canteen, I don’t think they’ve eaten such a high level of nutrition since they were toddlers. Clearly the lack of sugar and E numbers is taking it’s toll.

Liam and I decided after yesterday that we all needed to get out for a walk today, so we headed down the river and up the hill. We’re so lucky to be in walking distance of space like this, and we’re definitely learning not to take that for granted.

Micah played hide and seek. His stealth skills need work.

It did everyone good to get out – it’s not easy to do every day due to the numbers of us trying to walk down paths and streets whilst maintaining safe social distancing, but there definitely was a sigh of relief to being out in the open and feeling a taste of freedom.

Micah’s taken to having a daily afternoon nap lying on Megan whilst the others watch a film after lunch. I think the walk wore him out today though, because he wet himself as he slept. She may have decided that signifies the end of that particular sweet ritual. All the outfit changes following that little incident meant it seemed to the kids the ideal opportunity for a water fight. It took a good 20 minutes to work through who was having which pistol and the ‘his is better than mine, no actually I want the one I originally had…he made me wet!!!’ type arguments before they settled down and actually had a lot of fun for a while, giving me opportunity to bake a Simnel cake for Easter.

No matter how much they walk up hills or run wildly around the garden, all the exercise in the world doesn’t completely extract the crazy from these kids. Dinner time was very loud and chaotic, and this evening Maisie produced a homemade mask which she’d constructed from a bandana and hair bobbles (thank you life hacks), and sat wearing it for the entire evening. I spend a lot of time teetering on the border of finding them hilarious and rocking in the corner. I fell both sides of the line on many occasions today, but overall they really do make me laugh.

When we were walking this morning we saw bluebells and lambs and heard a woodpecker, and it was so good. It’s so strange how the outside world is changing through the seasons whilst we all stay at home. But strangely reassuring too, that although the world as we know it is completely different for now, there is a stability in the way God is still faithfully turning the earth, and moving us from season to season. It reminded me of the promise God made to Noah after the flood, when He said that He would never flood the world again, and that ‘While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.’ – Genesis 8:22

I love that rainbows in windows have become a symbol of hope during these strange days – the sign of the covenant that God placed in the sky when He spoke those words to Noah are brightening our streets as a reminder that we’re not alone in this, and it’s not forever. After the dark of night morning comes, after the dead of winter Spring comes, after the terror of a storm the sun shines, and the chaos, the loneliness, the fear, and the pain of this season are not the end either.

20 Our soul waits for the LORD; he is our help and our shield.
21 For our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name.
22 Let your steadfast love, O LORD, be upon us, even as we hope in you. – Psalm 33:20-22

You know you’ve been in isolation too long when…your husband starts a game of fidget spinning championships on the child’s head.

Today brought challenges. That’s a delicate way of saying one particular child was in an especially volatile frame of mind. And determined to upset everyone along the way.

Perhaps I should have been more perceptive to his subtle objections to joining in with Joe Wicks. It was the start of his visible protests to conforming to any expectations. We made it through the morning, though, with frequent interventions and calming strategies required. I concluded that the lazier mornings definitely don’t work for some of the smaller family members, and although schooling brought challenges, the day is too long without structure, and we would need to be proactive in planning activity in order to avoid riots.

The thing is, there were two reasons I didn’t home educate, and opted to send my children to nursery. One was to paint, and the second for an education. In that order. So why I thought I’d pull off an Easter painting craft with great success and minimal chaos I’ll never know.

The first part of the project went fairly smoothly. Maddie was all for it, straight in there with hand painting and engaging with the plan. Theo refused to paint his hand until he’d painted mine first. Still, we got the first pieces made, and they were left to dry whilst the kids were distracted by the obstacle course Toby and Liam had been constructing.

My mistake was in thinking that they were happily distracted and I’d get on with hoovering upstairs. Little did I realise I’d return to carnage. They had enough of the obstacle course, so went back to painting. Only this time, they emptied a bottle of paint into the pot and topped it up with water. An older child attempted a clean up operation using a tea towel and pouring the excess paint into the sink. Where I’d put a new t shirt to soak. Which was still in there, only now covered in paint and water.

I’ve got to be honest I didn’t take the carnage well. And discovering a tipped over bottle spilling water under the laptops on the desk was a breaking point. I shouted and thought about crying, and thought about storming out. But instead I hid in the kitchen until I could go and say sorry to the child who was unfairly on the receiving end of my wrath.

Then I rang my mum whilst I peeled potatoes. And listened to a hymn that says ‘it is well with my soul’, and I told God that it wasn’t well with my soul. And I need help.

And then the kids came and found me and one sat on my lap and one asked for food and one blew a recorder in my face. But help came, and I felt calmer, and dinner was a fairly uneventful affair.

I went on a walk, not exactly on my own tonight, but I enjoyed the company. Liam was on a work call so we wandered down to the river before bedtime.

And I watched the big kids carry the little kids, and the mischief makers spontaneously hugging, and I was genuinely grateful that despite all the crazy moments, I get to isolate with these people.

And the truth is that even in the crazy days there are always moments to be thankful for. Friends who deliver icing sugar and have coffee over FaceTime. Flowers that arrived beautifully packaged in a box with a special note from my Mum. Messages of encouragement and support and honesty.

The completed Easter craft, which Maddie chose to write on. And the hymn I listened to, reminding me where my hope is, in both the calm and the chaos. A hymn written by a man who had lost everything – his business, and then his four daughters in a shipwreck, but who knew that even in the lowest moments, there is help and hope.

‘When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.’ (Horatio Spafford)

Day 1 of the Easter holidays. I hoped that they would subconsciously understand this concept and have a lie in. At 6:15 I woke, Theo and Micah were fast asleep horizontally across my bed and pushing me out of it. Liam was gone. Megan and Maisie came wandering in with Maddie – you have to understand that at nearly 13 and 14, it is rare to see them before 10 unless physically removed from their beds. Apparently Maddie had been in their room since 5. What was going on?! This was not the morning I had in mind! But hey ho, I thought. At least we don’t have to do Joe Wicks-I’ll do my food shop instead.

Which I did, leaving Liam with the kids, who promptly complained bitterly that they weren’t exercising, despite the fact they’ve complained every day they HAVE exercised, and so he ended up doing it with them anyway. Which I felt smugly happy about.

The shopping experience took me a good ten minutes longer than it should have done, because I got completely lost trying to find the start of the queue somewhere in between the girls shoes and the boys pants. It’s still a strange experience, shopping, isn’t it? A real mixture of mask wearing folk and those who seem completely oblivious to social distancing advice. Combined with a reasonable amount of polite aisle dancing amongst those of us who are aware of the guidelines but still can’t work out how to manage it in real life when I want the pasta and you want the sauce. Either we both dive into the two meter zone or we both back off. It’s like some sort of bee waggle dance. Thankfully the stockpilers seem to be working their way through their supplies, and I can now get hold of not only the 6 pints of milk, but also 3kg bags of pasta which might feed my brood for a meal or two, and even the 16 pack of loo roll. Things are looking up! Sadly not a bag of icing sugar in sight however. It will be a buttercream free Easter.

By the time I’d shopped and unpacked and stopped the kids eating the shopping as I unpacked it, it was lunchtime. Toby was keen on making the recipe for Dinosaur Poo cakes he’d found in a book, so I gave the little ones bubble wands to entertain them in the garden.

This was short lived, sadly, because once Megan had retreated from being their entertainment figure, lured in by the appeal of smashing digestive biscuits, Theo promptly decided his bubbles ‘weren’t working’, and tipped the entire mixture on the floor. Then proceeded to have a meltdown because he wanted more bubble mixture.

At this point they all came back in, but Toby was at a crucial hob lighting stage of baking, so I provided them with junk from the recycling box and craft equipment, and suggested they created a masterpiece.

After much battling over tape and glue, Maddie proudly presented her masterpiece, leaving Theo still chanting, ‘I need help. I need help.’ On repeat. So do I, I thought. And persuaded (bribed) Megan to help him with the castle whilst I finished assisting with the dinosaur poo creations.

She’s a good girl, that Megan. One proud castle owner finally satisfied, she hastily ran away as fast as she could. At which point Micah started the chant. He also wanted a castle. (Of course he did!).

By now the dinosaur poo cakes were setting in the fridge, so I channelled my inner architect and constructed a castle. Except that by this time the hour was drawing near, that time when small blonde haired boys morph into little ogre like beings, and determine to wreak as much havoc as humanly possible. Beginning with the destruction of their younger brother’s castle, because that is bound to bring a satisfying reaction! So in my wisdom and experience, I made the executive decision that it was probably telly time. And wondered again, how on Earth with managed without a TV when Megan and Maisie were small. And why we would have put ourselves through such madness?

You’ll be pleased to know the Dinosaur Poo was delicious, and Toby was very proud of his efforts, and I was glad to have said yes to something that made him happy. Because in all honesty, I’d much rather be a lone baker than an assistant one. But he loves some quality time, this one, and it means a lot to him to have something to show and share for pudding.

Lately Liam and I have been watching a programme on Netflix which pushes the limits of ridiculous amounts of disasters in every episode. It’s cheesy entertainment, and I don’t mind it because it’s so ridiculous.

But I have to admit that the world we’re living in is starting to feel a bit like that, isn’t it? Seeing tonight that our Prime Minister is now in intensive care with Coronavirus feels like we’re teetering on the edge of chaos. Someone on the news pointed out that they hoped it would be a reminder to people who weren’t taking it seriously, ‘that anyone can catch this virus. Even the Prime Minister isn’t exempt.’

Maybe it will make people wake up and think. And maybe it will make a lot of us feel even more anxious. About what is going on, is there any sense to it, who else might catch this virus? This morning I was watching the sparrows again (sadly nothing more exotic is visiting our bird feeder these days. Our neighbours are enticing them which much fancier feeders. It feels like a neighbourly competition. But I digress…). Whilst I was watching the birds on the feeder I thought about these verses from Matthew:

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?
26 Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? – Matthew 6:25-26

For a long time, whenever I read those verses I felt guilty. Because I was anxious. Worried about money and health and homes. And I felt like I shouldn’t be, because these verses told me not to be. But there was one particular situation that nearly tipped me over the edge emotionally, and as I was reading these verses, it dawned on me. Jesus said this because He knows. He knows we’re anxious. He knows we worry. He’s not telling me off, he’s coming like a loving parent, putting His arm around us, and reminding us that we don’t have to be afraid, because He’s got this, and He’s got us. Just like I do, with my anxious little children. When trauma causes them to react to things that feel out of control, their flight/fright/freeze responses triggered, I hold them close, and whisper that ‘Mummy’s here, you’re safe, I’ve got you.’

The birds aren’t worrying about their food-it’s provided for them. And whatever I’m anxious about, I can take to the Father who cares, who hears, who’s got me.

Obviously I’ve taken complete artistic license with that title, because in no way did anyone ‘spring’ into cleaning. There were lie ins (for which I was very grateful, thank you Liam). There were loud complaints at the horrific idea of helping clean. And we ‘visited’ Longleat safari first, which was a good way to spend half an hour. But I couldn’t live in the mess anymore, so we gave them the choice of jobs, and off they went. I think poor Toby chose poorly, it seems we have rather a lot of windows and mirrors in our house. Also choosing Micah as his cleaning buddy means some of the windows are now dirtier than they were before. But it definitely feels better when it smells clean, even if the effects are short lived!

I spent a good hour scraping the hopscotch I made out of masking tape off the floor-it turns out three weeks might be a little too long to leave it there. I actually found it quite therapeutic. And then Liam joined me, flaunting a scraper that was far superior to my cheese knife. It turns out the weirdest things can become a competition in isolation life.

Micah got a bit carried away with the cleaning. Even the grass needed a sweep. Unfortunately he seemed to overdo it, because his mood went somewhat downhill and he spent a large portion of the afternoon in a grump. We tried FaceTiming Grandma and the aunties, but he just looked sadly at Grandma and didn’t want to be cheered up. So I left the phone with Theo and Maddie whilst Micah resorted to biscuits and the horrendous Blippi on Amazon Prime. If you haven’t watched Blippi, then I highly recommend you don’t. He’s like an addictive substance to Micah. So having pacified him, I went back to find Theo and Maddie still chatting to aunties, whilst hanging upside down off the sofa. I’m not sure how successful that particular conversation was, really.

You know you’re peaking in isolation craziness when you actually see unicorns riding across the lawn…

Rapidly joined by a daisy picking superhero.

The Dark Knight then paddled away on more important missions, and was replaced by a lipstick and bow wearing beauty.

The little ones then decided to make a home in the Morrison shelter which was outside on the decking, because it’s massive, and actually of little use in fighting Coronavirus – except in applying fairly safe social distancing rules. Thus began a half an hour (at least) episode of one small person after another coming back and forth demanding blankets, then cushions, then teddies, then drinks, requesting the blanket to be straightened, another pillow because they couldn’t possibly share theirs, not that teddy-the OTHER one, can you take my shoes off, I need my drink filled again…in the end I was sorely tempted to lock the whole lot of them in there and be done. Actually what happened was as soon as everything was exactly as requested, they decided they were very tired and please could they watch telly. Leaving the entire contents of their bedrooms for us to tidy once they were in bed.

Megan and Maisie loved having a zoom with their friend. I thought it was only going to last 40 minutes, but about an hour and a half later they were still on there. It turns out the limit is only for if there are more participants. Once they knew that, they said sadly, ‘oh so she could have stayed with us while we ate dinner! Mum you’re so rude!’ I hereby apologise to their buddy for not inviting her to watch us eat spaghetti bolegnaise through her laptop.

Micah’s mood was hard to lift today. At dinner someone said they had a joke, to which he crossly replied, ‘I’m NOT a joke!’ and dramatically put his head in his hands. He did enjoy a ride with Daddy though, and as hard as it is for Liam to not be working, I’m grateful we have him around. Because this little boy can’t make sense of it all, but he does love a Daddy cuddle.

Liam and I are having friends round on zoom tonight. We’re currently sat on our bed with wine and chocolate ready, normal clothes on top and pyjama bottoms. I think I could get used to this level of preparation for social activities. Although we did have to bring our own drinks to this party.

It’s Sunday tomorrow (in case you’ve lost track of the days). I still feel sad that we can’t go and meet with our church family, I especially miss singing together. But I love that we’re still connected with one another virtually, that tomorrow the kids can all learn the same story, and we can hear our pastor speak on some of my favourite verses. It isn’t the same, as none of these things are. Making my own curry isn’t the same as a takeaway. Watching Joseph online doesn’t have the atmosphere of the theatre. And FaceTime with friends and family isn’t the same as real chats – and nothing can replace a real hug. But these are tastes of the real thing, and somehow they bring an extra dose of joy when they feel like an unexpected treat.

It’s now much later and we’ve finished our night with friends, which was full of ridiculousness and laughing, and was so good to do. And it reminded me again of how much I have to be grateful for. In all the uncertainty, we are here and safe. We are sheltering, and there is joy to be found in it. Psalm 63 says ‘for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.’ The psalmist had fled danger and run into the wilderness to hide, and there he found reasons to be joyful, thanking God for His protection even in a time of danger. I want to spend these days more aware of my blessings than the challenges. Looking for ways to love others rather than complaining about what I’m lacking. Being grateful for each day gifted to me instead of being fearful of what danger lies outside. Praying for those who are struggling, instead of worrying about what the future holds. Holding onto hope, sheltering in the shadow of God’s wings of love, and choosing joy.

We started out fairly motivated today-not for PE, that was a definite struggle. But the work was flying along. I saw this idea of using our little wooden Grapat pieces to do sweet shop maths, so thought we’d give it a go. It was a great success! Theo loved it, Micah gave it a good go, and we upped the maths level for Maddie. One activity fits all! Except for my oversight – I wasn’t aware that the purple pieces were actually Theo’s dragon eggs, and therefore he was extremely reluctant to allow them to be a part of the game. Once he’d had his go they were smuggled back into his Backpack of Important Special Objects and no doubt they will be never be seen again.

I invested in some pretty educational posters from an independent artist called Wonder and Rah. They are primarily to help me and Liam. Our brains are a bit tired with all this learning we’re doing.

Maddie and Theo had big news today. Lots of babies were being grown and delivered. Maddie was overheard explaining to Theo that ‘the babies will come out and then they’ll sew my belly back up.’ Clearly too posh to push.

It was a fairly uneventful Friday-not that there’s many big events to happen these days! I had some good catch ups with family and friends, including a FaceTime with mum where we couldn’t see her face. Micah was fed up this afternoon, so I offered him to talk to Grandma, at which he buried his face in his hands and said ‘not in the phone! At her house!’ Missing people is hard. Especially when you’re three and have absolutely no idea why we can’t go to Grandma’s house and why gymnastics is STILL closed. He had a bit of a meltdown in the afternoon, so he and Liam went for a walk and sent me a picture. I’m think it did them both good.

One of the things that is really brightening this whole isolation thing for me is seeing people from all walks of life using their talents and skills and sharing them with the world online. People all isolated but coming together as a worldwide community. The fact that we could have a whole day’s timetable of educational programmes from PE to maths with Carol Vorderman. Come to think of it, why haven’t we just sat them in front of the TV and flicked between these people?! Perhaps a plan for after the holidays…

Today I absolutely loved watching the entire Phantom of the Opera’s orchestral performance alongside Andrew Lloyd Webber playing the piano. All playing from their own homes, but so beautiful. I probably watched it five times. And nearly cried every time.

And then there was the sheer excitement when I heard Universal are playing a full length musical every Friday! We were there, the entire family ready for Joseph. The younger one’s musical theatre education about to start, which is really the only education they need, isn’t it?

There were a few issues with the on duty firefighter who insisted on standing right in front of the tv and blocking two of his sister’s views. He insisted he was ‘on a mission’, and could not be moved.

Maddie told me at bedtime that she wants to be three things when she grows up, a teacher, a horse rider, and an actor in a show. She’s going to ride horses on Saturdays, act in the shows on Sundays, and teach for the rest of the week. I wish I was so confident in what I’ll do when I grow up.

As challenging as these long days are, I’m finding we are settling into it somehow. And in a way I’m grateful for this cocooning time. Yes the kids miss normality and friends and activities, but they are (mostly) enjoying each other’s company in a way maybe we don’t get to see often. Now they have only each other for entertainment, they are (sometimes) appreciating each other more. For the more socially anxious ones, it’s a relief to be in their safe place without the exhaustion of school. For the older two girls, it feels like a special and unexpected chance to hang out with them in early teenage days, and they have no choice but to hang out with us! Don’t get me wrong, there are a high number of arguments and irritations. Tonight it’s mostly me, by 10 o clock I couldn’t bear being crowded or nagged any more. They’ve never had such an efficient good night. Which of course, was Toby’s prime opportunity to come out with some completely obscure scientific wondering. ‘If we can see water but not air, can fish only see air and not water?’ What?! Do they have a book of The Most Ridiculous Questions to Ask Your Parents at Bedtime, with a sequel of Even More Ridiculous Questions to Ask When Your Parents Look Really Tired and Are Trying to Get out of Your Bedroom as Quickly as Possible?

Today Liam and Toby finished the Morrison shelter project. Liam is keen on setting off an air raid siren in the middle of the night and getting him to sleep in it for the rest of the night. Personally I fear that may screw him up so much that Liam will have to sleep in his bedroom for the next five years to undo the damage, but I’m leaving that decision up to him. I’ll keep you posted on how that one pans out.

There were a few things playing on my mind today – how will the Easter holidays look without school work? The days already feel long, how will we fill those days? We have some little medical niggles cropping up with one of the kids and it’s a strange time to know what to do about those, isn’t it? No one wants to bother the already stretched health service. I’m fairly decisive when it comes to the obvious emergency situations, but the ones that are just not quite right are harder to triage in my mind in these days. So they niggle at me. But I read Psalm 16 this morning, and this little verse stuck with me all day –

I have set the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken. – Psalm 16:8

It’s short, but it calmed my soul. It doesn’t directly answer my questions, but it reminds me that God is with me. The One who knew me before I existed, who loved me enough to send His Son for me, is walking with me through the big things and the small things. I’ve experienced that in the good and the really hard, and so I hold onto it now. For the big things and the small things, because He is with me, I don’t need to be shaken.

But I do need to go to bed, so I’ll leave you there. Have a safe Saturday. Xx

We’ve got our morning routine pretty sussed now. I get up, put the telly on for small people, make my tea and hide in my kitchen corner to read and wake up. Once I’ve come round, we get breakfast and then it’s half an hour of torture with Joe Wicks. PE, I mean, obviously. During which the kids shout their names incessantly, waiting for their shout out, which will never happen because I have no intention of saying our names and city to 800,000 people on YouTube. Also (and the real reason) because I have absolutely no idea what my password for YouTube is, and therefore will never be able to comment. They’ll probably hold it against me until adulthood, but I’ll just have to live with that.

Then it’s school time, except to make space for school we have to do a major clear of the breakfast dishes, sweep a mountain of coco pops off the table, along with half a ton of kinetic sand which the younger kids played with because they are too wise to give in to the Joe Wicks peer pressure. Today as they were getting their school bits ready Micah settled himself next to Toby, who supplied him with headphones and perhaps did more DJ action than maths. Hopefully Toby’s knowledge of pre-school entertainers such as The Wiggles and Bob the Builder will help him go far in life.

Anyway, much to his dismay, I informed Toby that today was the day. The hair needed some attention. Armed with clippers and Alexa for entertainment I opened my hair salon in the kitchen. If Lindsey our lovely hairdresser is reading this, I’m really sorry. I know the 9 minute YouTube video tutorial is absolutely not the same as your qualifications and experience and I’m sorry for what you’ll have to repair once isolation is over.

I’m an all or nothing kind of girl, so once I started, it was hard to stop…

…and I just kept pouncing on them and snipping away…

…and in the end I did all six of them. We could have made a wig with the carnage left in the kitchen.

Hopefully it’ll have grown before we see people in real life. At least I didn’t use a bowl.

Mr Lurker has been busy in the garage again. I don’t think there’s a tv in there, as I’m actually hearing worky types of noises, and even seeing some structures being produced. The welly rack I requested several houses ago may be a dream becoming reality! And Toby’s WW2 Morrison shelter is nearly ready for him to sleep in I’m told. As long as he’s washed his hands he should be safe from anything in there.

Toby AKA Tony, the baby, or Toblerone, or Tobias Decimus Maximus, has been a bit sad of late. He genuinely loves school. He loves learning, and he’s a real socialiser. At home he’s the one in the middle – two older teen sisters, three younger siblings, and he’s missing his crowd of 10 year old boys who get his quirky humour and actually understand Pokemon language. So he was very happy to have a Zoom with one of his buddies. To me, I couldn’t hear any word of actual conversation, but there was a lot of laughter, and that was good to hear.

Micah’s coming out with a lot of interesting dialogue these days. It can be something as sweet as the very lovely ‘cleaning is perfect’ song he made up this morning. How proud I was. What a little angel! But that same cute little blonde boy at dinner time challenged Toby to a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, and immediately said, ‘I’m Rock-I’m going to smash your head and win.’ I despair. I can’t even blame nursery because he hasn’t started yet.

It was an all girl after dinner walk tonight. In which Megan told jokes, Maisie insulted Megan (‘without me you wouldn’t even have friends!’), and Maddie made the point of doing the opposite of everything I said, but if her hero Megan asked her to jump, she’d flutter her eyelids and ask ‘how high Meggy?’ I love these kids. Which is good really, given that we’re in such close proximity these days.

I didn’t have any great revelations today, but lots of questions running through my head. About what things will look like in a few weeks, months. About the safety of my family on the frontline. About the whys and the how longs and all the other stuff. Some of it not even remotely related to the C Virus.

I don’t have any answers, but I do have hope. So I turned to the lyrics of a hymn that I’ve sung through tears, through clenched teeth, in trouble and in happiness. And if I don’t have much faith at the start of it, the promises in it lift my spirit and my eyes upwards, to where I find hope.

‘In Christ alone my hope is found,
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid Ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand.

In Christ alone! – who took on flesh,
Fullness of God in helpless babe.
This gift of love and righteousness,
Scorned by the ones He came to save
Till on that cross as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground His body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain:
Then bursting forth in glorious day
Up from the grave He rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sins curse has lost its grip on me,
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me
From life’s first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand
Till He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand.’

Someone the other day said that the days were going really fast. I think they’re in a different time zone to me. It’s not that today was bad, but the days definitely do feel veeeerrryyy long. It’s not that they’re boring, although there are definitely times when it feels like Groundhog Day. Toby still asks me every night, ‘what are we doing tomorrow?’ I think in the desperate hope that I’ll find something more interesting than ‘staying at home!’ But maybe the feeling of a day lasting 40 hours is simply because I’m not getting 6 children out of the house by 8:15, doing 5 school drop offs and pick ups, and then all the after school/evening running around. And for that, I’m grateful.

Schooling went better today-Auntie Estie’s Pokemon maths lesson worksheet went down a treat with Toby, and definitely saved me from the swing dance lesson, so I owe her big time when we’re allowed to see each other again. And I finally found some activities that inspired my little reluctant student.

I was particularly chuffed with this one. I decided to channel his water pistol obsession and turn it into a learning opportunity. Spray the letters of your name. Spray the numbers in the right order. What’s one add two? Spray the answer!

It all went well until they turned the pistols on me and I had to make a hasty retreat into the house.

Other than that, it was a peaceful day here really. I was supplied with baking goods so I put them to use and basically faffed in the kitchen for most of the afternoon.

I was thinking today that it can seem quite trivial when I write about my days sometimes, knowing that for other people there are much greater challenges to this time than we in our home are facing right now. And I never want my lighthearted take on our days to minimise the hard stuff that I know people are coming up against. I find it helps me to look for the bright spots and the hope amongst the very real losses or fear of loss that many of us are facing, and I’m grateful for all of you who’ve said you enjoy reading my daily ramblings! I just want you to know that whatever you might be going through, juggling work and childcare, financial loss, plans cancelled, grief, loneliness – I haven’t forgotten you, and I’m praying for you in your dark moments.

I read one of my favourite bits in Isaiah this morning, verses I’ve held onto in some of my lowest moments, so I hope they encourage you too.

1 But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.
2 When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.
3 For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. I give Egypt as your ransom, Cush and Seba in exchange for you.
4 Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you. Isaiah 43:1-4