Some mornings having a choice of clothes can just prove too much. Of course, it’s not really the clothes choosing that is the issue. It almost certainly comes from a place of heightened anxiety. You know when you’re in a restaurant and the waiter is coming nearer and you can’t choose what you want to eat, and the closer they get the harder it is to get your brain into gear and be able to pick? I think it’s a bit like that. When a child had early trauma, their brain is wired to be on high alert – the feeling of uncertainty or fear or sadness quickly turns to fight, flight, or freeze. So on some days, when there’s a choice to make, it’s just too hard.

One of the things I’m grateful for in these lockdown days is the lack of needing to be somewhere. On a school day, when I’m trying to get everyone out of the house at a set time, a panic over which socks to wear can raise my anxiety levels through the roof too. But today as I was tempted to get frustrated, I remembered that really, there is no rush today. I watched that little face, and I decided to sit on the floor as well. And agree that it’s all pretty hard isn’t it. All the change and not seeing people we love and things being different. And it’s okay today to just stay in pyjamas until we can figure out what to wear later.

Once we’d sorted the clothing crisis we moved on. Counting with Cheerios proved popular this morning. Although I’m not sure the maths was entirely correct, as the Cheerios kept mysteriously disappearing.

The teddy situation took a turn for the worse today, as Toby also decided to start emptying his teddy hoard and bring them downstairs.

This upside of this was that it turned into a game where they buried each other under the teddies, and filmed each other jumping out, which bought me at least one cup of tea and a string of WhatsApp message replying, the measure of successful entertainment these days.

We’ve established that only one parent can really get on with a job at any point, and as Liam offered to finish the very top landing painting (which I begun over a year ago and neither of us could face finishing!), I was the supervising parent on duty most of today. Which, other than the mediation role frequently required, can be quite entertaining to listen to them playing. Theo started angrily wrapping a scarf around the piano stool, shouting that he was ‘fighting the bad guys-they keep spreading germs everywhere!’ If only it were that simple.

The pros of being on duty parent are sitting down for chill out movie time in the afternoon, something I would never have done before lockdown. We’re working our way through Disney plus, but Micah watches about as much of most films as my mum does in the evenings. I enjoyed starting a new crochet project, and he enjoyed his nap. A win win situation.

We had the most exciting meal of the last month today – freshly cooked fish and chips delivered to our door from my lovely mother and sister in law. It was every bit as stunning as I’d been dreaming it would be.

After dinner we went for our walk around the block, accompanied by a flip flop wearing, toenails painted firefighter. He walked like I do in high heels for the whole thing, leading me to vow to check his footwear next time. Mum sent some scavenger hunt cards, which proved a great asset to making the same streets much more exciting this time.

Of course for Theo the most exciting thing of all was the big hole at the end of our drive, due to welsh water having to fix a leak – and having to get the gas company involved because of a big pipe (technical terminology I know. I couldn’t really hear what he was saying because he insisted on standing at the end of the driveway for some reason). Anyway the crater was fascinating to Theo, who started asking all about it, moving onto ‘how will they get me out when I fall down it?’ Not if, when. It doesn’t bode well, does it?

So my pyjama wearing child never did pick any clothes today, she did the evening walk in them, and changed into clean pjs for the night. And that was just fine. Parenting is quite the journey, with all of our children, isn’t it? From the first night we brought Megan home, where she screamed on the hour every hour the entire night, it’s continually a learning curve, of lowering expectations, understanding priorities, gaining perspective, and learning to listen and study instead of lecture and making judgements.

Parenting adopted children in many ways is the same and in many ways is very different. And there are reams I could write about that. But today as I reflected on the morning’s stresses, it reminded me, as it often does, of how parenting continually keeps showing me more of God’s kindness, patience, and gentle understanding toward me.

I love these verses in Hosea, showing a God who loves His children despite the hurt they cause Him, despite their brokenness and ignorance at the way He’s saving them from their own foolishness.

1 ‘When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son.
2 The more they were called, the more they went away; they kept sacrificing to the Baals and burning offerings to idols.
3 Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk; I took them up by their arms, but they did not know that I healed them.
4 I led them with cords of kindness, with the bands of love, and I became to them as one who eases the yoke on their jaws, and I bent down to them and fed them’. – Hosea 11:1-4

Tonight Theo desperately wanted me to give him an inhaler when Micah had his. He stropped and sulked, and couldn’t understand why my saying no to medicine he didn’t need was keeping him safe, caring for him, and protecting him. And that’s why I love that phrase in Hosea – ‘I took them up by their arms, but they didn’t know I healed them.’

So often I find myself explaining things to the children or reminding them of my love for them and what that means – ‘I’m saying no because I love you and want you to be safe’, or ‘you don’t need to be afraid because I’m here with you’, or, ‘I promise there will always be food for you’. And as I say it, I hear God’s reminders to me. That He is my Father who loves me, is providing for me, is keeping me safe, and who knows what I need. And that’s as true in these months of isolation as it ever has been.