Month: June 2020

Imagine.

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Just imagine being almost 2.

Imagine someone you don’t know arriving in your house.

Imagine your parents being angry.

Imagine the sounds of heated arguments, raised voices.

Imagine seeing uniforms you don’t understand, faces foreign to you.

Imagine being scooped up from your cot and put in a car you don’t know with a baby you’re terrified of.

Imagine being driven by a stranger in the dark.

Imagine her taking you to another house.

Imagine being left there with more strangers.

Imagine screaming as they gently wash the ingrained dirt from your hair, encrusted in your eyebrows.

Imagine being offered milk in a different cup, and it doesn’t taste the same here.

Imagine sobbing as they put you in a bed you don’t know, in a room that smells weird, whilst they sing songs you’ve never heard, stroking you with hands you’ve never touched.

Imagine trying to frantically climb away on legs that don’t work from the baby trying to touch you.

Imagine feeling it all without the words to voice it.

Imagine experiencing it all without the power to fight it.

Imagine over time building trust and growing to love and starting to feel safe. Of the old life gradually fading away and the new one becoming home. The strangers becoming family, reminding you you’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.

But imagine that every time something changes or you feel afraid, you are transported back. Back to the two year old, paralysed with fear. Back to the two year old, unable to speak. Back to the two year old, who can’t run away. Back to the two year old, not knowing who is safe. Back to the two year old, having everything and everyone you know ripped away in moments.

And then imagine the fragile world you’re slowly starting to trust stopping with no warning. Those feelings rising up again. Familiar faces gone again. Familiar places gone again. You cling to the safety of home, of family. But you become so used to being there, that each time your Mummy or Daddy goes to leave, the panic rises up again. The world outside is different now. There are germs, there are rules, wash your hands, don’t touch, don’t cough, stand away, don’t hug.

And then imagine change again. You want to try. You want to be brave. You want to go to school. You pack your bag, you put on your uniform, you walk up the drive. And there it is. School, but not the faces you love. It doesn’t look the same. All those rules you must keep. Those invisible germs that might hurt. The fear of friends coming too close. The teacher doesn’t come to welcome you with her open arms and smile – she stands at the door, distanced. No one comes near to take your hand. Nothing feels the same.

Except the old familiar feeling of panic. Of paralysis. Of perhaps there is danger. Perhaps your parents won’t come back.

Imagine. Imagine the fears. Imagine the tears. Imagine our Monday morning.

People said kind things, encouraging things, well meaning things. ‘I’m sure you’ll have a great day!’ ‘It’ll be so nice seeing your friends again!’ ‘It’s only for a few hours, you’ll be back for lunch!’

But those things don’t wash when your brain is in fight, flight, freeze zone. When the pathways to the reasoning part of your brain have still not grown.

Adoption is beautiful, and adoption is broken. Because there’s no gain in adoption without loss. And there’s no quick fix, easy answers, textbook remedies for the damage done.

And let me be clear, the trauma is not just from the two years of abuse. The trauma of being removed from all you’ve known – even if what you’ve known was harm – is equally as real.

But, God.

I believe in trauma. I believe in brokenness. And I believe in hope. I believe in redemption. I believe in rainbows in storms. Of finding the gifts of grace.

Yesterday, even as I sobbed around the corner from her classroom, there were rainbows. The kind friend I bumped into in the supermarket, whilst still shaking, still crying. The senior staff member ringing to update me, who acknowledged, we can now see the need for support. The friend walking past the school who messaged to say she could see her, she is smiling, she’s talking to a friend. The teacher texting photos over the two hours, she’s drawing, she’s making, her special things from home are on her desk. The teacher she loves sending her a video message saying how proud she is. The messages from family and friends, asking, loving, caring, praying. The cuddles when she was safely home.

And knowing God knows my girl. He knew her before she was. He designed her. He loves her. His heart breaks when hers does.

He came to heal the brokenhearted. To free those held captive in their pain. To release them from their prisons. To bring joy to the mourning. Giving beauty instead of ashes. Gladness instead of sadness. To repair the damage of previous generations. To rebuild the ruins. To fight for justice. To protect the vulnerable. To counsel the hurting. To bring hope, joy, salvation, freedom. To bring His kingdom to earth as it is in heaven. (Is 61, Ps 146, Matt 6).

It wasn’t the first tricky day and it won’t be the last. But even when I’m sobbing in my car, I’m always surprised and grateful that we get to be trusted with these precious lives. To be the tear wipers, cuddle givers, tickle monsters, hope bringers. To be the ones trusted with the big questions and the big feelings, all the good and all the bad. I’m grateful for not doing it alone. And I’m grateful for hope of an eternity with no trauma or tears, no brokenness or abuse, no violence and absolutely no viruses.

Day 100 – A last minute hospital visit and an impromptu lockdown party

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Yesterday Liam threw out a comment about having a 100 days of lockdown party. And the more I thought about it, the more I decided we’d go for it. Moods have been tricker since school has come up in conversation, and it’s been almost a month since we last had a birthday here, so it seemed a good a day as any to throw a party just for the sake of it.

It helped everything really. Schooling became making decorations for the party. Although I did sneak in a spider web piece of art too, just so we weren’t entirely off topic.

Unfortunately Megan has been having trouble with her braces for a couple of weeks, so I contacted the hospital yesterday, and was told to bring her in today. The tough part was that at age 14, she was considered old enough to go into the department on her own, including being given a mask for the waiting room, having a temperature check and answering all the Covid related questions, and going through the orthodontic procedure, all with me waiting outside.

So off we went, with some understandable anxieties. But the promise of a drive through McDonald’s on the way back, and picking up party food from the shop, all went a little way in helping. She was brilliant and brave and the braces are sorted again for now. And I was brave too, loitering in the alleyway outside.

We got back in time for lunch, and Theo enthusiastically decided our party would have a Numberjacks theme. Because ever since his nursery teacher started sharing episodes for the children to watch, he’s been obsessed. So I went with it, printed off some colouring pages and got them making ‘decorations’.

It did all get a bit hot today though, didn’t it? So we had a break from crafting to dish out ice lollies, and to fill up some vessels with water and have a little play with the hose to cool down.

I then got slightly engrossed with printing off a photo for every day of lockdown, 100 hundred days of memories. Toby created lockdown party bunting, and was so pleased with his success that he announced confidently that he might become a party planner.

It was good to have someone matching my enthusiasm for the cause.

Picnics are a mixed blessing, I find. There’s something delightful about laying a table of food that everyone will eat – obviously completely disregarding the salads. And the happiness of dining al fresco, always to be regarded as a treat in Wales. But then there’s the freedom for small people to run around like excited puppies, and refuse to sit and eat their food, and the frequent freak outs over ants because our entire garden is basically an ants nest.

Nevertheless, it was a fun evening. We looked at all the things we’ve done in the 100 days at home together and picked our favourite photos. It seems like such a long time in a lot of ways, to look at the change in seasons, the things we’d forgotten about in those early days in March. And then the things we are starting to have freedom to do again. The first time we went out more than once in a day! The first time the kids went in the car. The first walk with friends, the first McDonald’s.

And on Monday it will be the first time back to school for two of the children.

There have been many ups and downs over the last 100 days, and although I’ve written a lot, there’s obviously a lot that’s left unsaid too. In my first post on day 1 I shared a page from our kids Thought for the Day book, entitled ‘But God.’ It said that those two words show up over 3,000 times in the Bible – whenever something terrible was looming, ‘but God’! He comes and turns it around, the bringer of hope.

In all the last 100 days, the ill ones, the well ones, the rainy ones, the hot ones, the cranky ones, the loving ones, the jealous ones, the grateful ones, the grieving ones, the rejoicing ones, the claustrophobic ones, the hermit like ones, the anxious ones, the hopeful ones, in all of those days, God has showed up.

He’s been there in the gifts people have sent, in the messages and phone calls. In the Zooms and the virtual church and the music in the kitchen. In the Bible and in books and in the changing of the seasons. In the turning around of cranky days and the teary talks with one another. In the rainbows and the kindness and the sacrifices people have made. In the saying sorry and the forgiving hugs and the chance to always keep learning.

He’s always been here. And He’ll keep showing up in the days, weeks, months to come. Whether they’re easy days or hard days, He’ll be there. Because He loves His world and He loves His people, and it can look like it’s all falling apart – but God.

23 ‘Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand.
24 You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory.
25 Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
26 My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.’ – Psalm 73:23-26

Day 99 – Unicorn Talk

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My latest strategy for coaxing them into learning is to do something really fun and then try and casually switch them into the boring stuff without them noticing. Today we got very excited about making lollies. Micah allocated the red and green chopping boards as teams, and took his banana dissecting duties very seriously. Theo held more of an operational leader role. We successfully filled the lolly moulds and put them in the freezer, and headed to the dining room.

Sadly they weren’t fooled at all. Maddie had a comparison chart to fill in regarding positives and negatives about spiders. The positives were hard to come by. The negatives seemed to consist of ‘creepy, scary, creepy’. I think that we know where she stands on the matter.

So we dragged ourselves through a bit of schoolwork, interspersed with, ‘are the lollies frozen yet?’ every five minutes.

I had to go to Morrison’s this morning, so I took Toby with me to experience the delights of social distancing in the real world. 10 year old boys are not naturals, it appears. But I think it’s given him a little insight into how school might feel somewhat different, and from that perspective it seemed like a worthwhile outing.

When we returned, the small people had moved from playdoh to kinetic sand, which they were now happily throwing around the garden in a wild and frenzied manner. But they seemed relatively happy, and for that both we and the neighbours were grateful.

I’m trying not to assume it’s directly related to the amount of time we’ve all been at home lately, but our neighbours have spent a lot of time constructing an extra extension of trellis above their fence over the last week, to encourage their thick and perhaps sound limiting trailing plant to grow along and up. I can’t say I blame them. I’ve thought about doing the same thing around my chair at the dining table. Maybe one of those Perspex cubes that drummers sit in would work. Although I hear Perspex is tricky to get hold of these days. It seems to be quite popular in the supermarkets.

Much to their delight, the lollies did eventually freeze and were ready for eating. It seems the chocolate milkshake ones were significantly more popular that the strawberry smoothie ones. No surprises there.

Someone had a power nap on the sofa whilst watching telly, a fact he hotly denied later, even when shown this incriminating evidence. ‘No! That’s NOT me!!!’

Everyone seemed to need a bit of exercise this afternoon, so we ventured out, albeit in different directions. Megan and Maisie deemed themselves too cool to go on a family walk, and left way ahead of the rest of us. Toby has been granted a small amount of freedom on his bike recently, so he headed off to do circuits around the outside of the nearby playground.

Which left Liam and I with Theo, Micah, and a slightly fractious unicorn. Who we engaged in conversation to try and see if we could help encourage some verbalising of the fears and feelings that kept her up late last night and saw her creeping into our bed at 1:30am.

‘Hey, unicorn, it seems like you’re a little bit worried at the moment?’

Unicorn nods it’s head violently.

‘I’m wondering if you’re thinking about going back to school?’

Unicorn nods again.

‘I wonder if maybe you feel a bit worried about school feeling strange, and about keeping a distance?’

Unicorn nods violently, neighs and paws at the ground.

It turns out unicorns are real, and I’m learning their language. And it’s much less scary to ‘speak’ through an inanimate object if you feel a bit worried about something and aren’t sure how to express it. I’m thinking about trying it myself the next time I have to face a difficult conversation. I wonder if Liam can interpret crocheted penguin language. And how to say, ‘please could you put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket instead of next to our bed?’ in penguin talk. Not that I’d ever need to say it, of course.

Tonight we had friends over and a fire and we got to use the fizz emoji again after far too long. It may be a cliché, but there’s definitely a new level of appreciation for these moments now we’ve lived some months without them. And with the uncertainty of what the months ahead will hold, these are the pots of gold to look for and enjoy.

It feels like the hope we hung onto is there, coming nearer with every garden glass of Prosecco, every distanced walk, every news announcement saying that maybe, in two weeks, we’ll be able to travel and move nearer and even go in a house. There is light ahead.

I looked closely at the growing sweet peas today. I’d say my sweet peas, but given that I didn’t plant them and haven’t watered them, I’m not sure I can make such claims. I love how as they grow, and they are frail and wobbly, they send out tendrils to hold onto something for support. They are vulnerable, they look for something stronger and cling on.

But in my Google education about growing them, I was interested to see that the advice to was keep a check on the tendrils, and snip them if needed, because if left unchecked they cling onto the wrong things, or their neighbouring plants, and the whole thing ends up a mess.

I saw myself in those young sweet peas today. When I feel wobbly I’ll send out a tendril, look for something to hold onto. A family member, a friend, the words of a book. Those things are gifts and blessings and good. But if I don’t hold onto to the right thing, there is a danger I’ll choke those around me and tie myself up in knots.

There is One I can cling to, who’ll guide me in the right way, who’ll hold me fast when the winds rock me, who’ll allow me to grow stronger and bloom and become who I’m made to be.

14 “Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows my name.
15 When he calls to me, I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will rescue him and honor him.
16 With long life I will satisfy him and show him my salvation.” – Psalm 91:14-16

Day 98 – Incy Wincy Spider

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Hello and happy Monday to you. I wanted to start by giving a quick thank you to all of you who were so kind to comment on my post on Friday about finishing these blogs. I won’t stop writing, I do enjoy the process and there’s plenty more tucked up in my head! So I will be popping in, just a little more infrequently. If you’d like to see when I post you can opt to subscribe on the blog, and it’ll pop you an email to let you know.

So here we are again, another weekend passed. Saturday we had a morning of activity, prepping for Father’s Day. We made a cake, which my helpers lasted approximately until they’d stuck their fingers in the butter and spilt sugar over the kitchen floor, leaving me to do the rest.

We then moved on to cards. Feeling confident in my new found pre-school crafting abilities, I googled some ideas and went for it. It’s always hard to merge the Pinterest image in your head with actually letting the children have their own creative way. As the photo above shows, I struggle to allow freedom of creativity in the craft department.

The kids insisted on hiding their presents themselves, which was slightly concerning, especially as at least one had chocolate in it. By Sunday morning, Micah had hidden his so many times that even he had no idea where it was. Thankfully it was found just in time to avoid complete meltdown.

Saturday afternoon we walked with friends. This was the first time our little ones had seen friends in all these weeks, and it produced a variety of emotions as expected. But it was so nice to see them settling into it and enjoying hanging out together.

In the evening it was Marvel night, which Toby is generally excited about from somewhere around Friday lunchtime, and I fear it’s going to be with us long after we have freedom again. One should think carefully about these traditions. Especially when they involve watching the Incredible Hulk.

But all joking aside, for as much as the films themselves might not be my viewing choice, I love that it’s important to the children that we do it together. And for that I’ll keep mustering enthusiasm.

Liam was wished a happy Father’s Day by being held hostage in the bedroom, by a zealous Theo, who insisted he stay there until the party was ready. Cryptically, he told Liam the party was for ‘someone who puts up the sitting hammocks’, confirming just how important that particular role is to him.

After we’d made Liam his choice of bagel with poached egg, gifted presents and proudly presented cards, we moved to church online. We’ve hit the stage where the younger three children pick the exact same three songs every week, despite my best efforts at sneaking other ones into the repertoire. There was a lack of musical accompaniment this week, although Micah sat and ‘played’ the music on his pretend iPad, which is actually a kids kindle case, whilst singing along very loudly in his very deep monotone.

We made prayer hands for the crafts. There were different prayer points suggested for the different fingers, which was great until it got to the teenage girls, who were reluctant to choose to pray for ‘someone who points you in the right direction’. It turns out they weren’t that keen on being pointed in the right direction. I wrote myself on that finger for them. I need all the prayer I can get.

Especially on a Monday.

The Monday vibes were strong today. There was a significant reluctance to do anything I suggested. And perhaps not helped by Maddie’s topic for the week being spiders. I can’t say I relished the YouTube videos of extreme close ups either.

There was definitely a sense of heightened tension and anxiety for little miss, lots of questions about school and distancing and it was a day on the edge. So we crafted. A lot. It seems to help keep a vague degree of calm when one of us is by their sides, present to calm frazzled feelings, soothe sulky stand offs, and mediate in the melee.

Liam started them with stick spider webs, which they loved, although raised concerns that a spider might actually decide to live in it.

We made a new batch of playdoh which they then played with for a while, involving plenty of soothing sensory squishing. And also plenty of throwing it around the dining room.

We then attempted spider web plates, the most popular part of that one of course being the hole punching. They then insisted on hanging them on the door, fighting for whose was the highest, had the longest string, and swung the furthest when hit. If there’s a way to compete, they’ll find it.

And as the final last ditch effort, we made spider web rainbow cupcakes. I fear we’ve completed a week’s worth of crafts in a day, but maybe Tuesday will dawn with a slightly more positive take on literacy and numeracy. Maybe.

It took a lot of emotional energy to keep a level of calm today. Especially as I felt like I was losing it at around 9:30am as we attempted early pen skills at the same time as early number forming at the same time as a war was breaking out over the two times tables, one student was standing on a chair waving ribbons, and another was crying because ‘you made me sad’. (Micah’s favourite phrase of late. Said when we say absolutely anything he disagrees with.

In between the meltdowns over, ironically, a spider, the fear-related regression to baby-like behaviours, and the late night soothings of troubled minds, it was a Monday of Mondays.

But the sun shone beautifully and the washing dried on the line. There was enough of yesterday’s roast to not have to really cook another dinner, and lots of pudding and cake. We were on time for piano lesson zooms and happy birthday to my nephew zooms. And Ikea reopened today. So there is much to be thankful for.

28 ‘For it is you who light my lamp; the LORD my God lightens my darkness.
29 For by you I can run against a troop, and by my God I can leap over a wall.
30 This God-his way is perfect; the word of the LORD proves true; he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him.
31 For who is God, but the LORD? And who is a rock, except our God?-
32 the God who equipped me with strength and made my way blameless.
33 He made my feet like the feet of a deer and set me secure on the heights.’ – Psalm 18:28-33

I find huge comfort in the fact that tonight and tomorrow and all the days to come, there is One who lights a lamp in my darkness. Who gives courage for the battle. Who gives safety in the danger. Who gives stability in the unknown. Who gives strength in the weariness, freedom in the shame, and hope in the desperation.

Tomorrow is a new day, full of possibilities. And coffee, too, no doubt.

Day 95 – So near yet so far…looking to the ‘new normal’.

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Here’s a funny story. Earlier this week, Megan bounded downstairs enthusiastically, asking if she could buy something online as a surprise for her younger siblings. As she assured me it was only £3.95 I said yes, and promised not to ask any questions.

Last night she brought down this tin. She had ordered 100 miniature bee stickers (except they sent 106 Mum!), which she had numbered, and had planned out a treasure hunt for 99 of them. Before bedtime yesterday, Maisie and Toby ran around excitedly, sticking them all over the house, the most organised swarm there has ever been. They insisted I wake them when the little ones got up, a request absolutely unheard of, but such was their level of dedication to the cause.

So I dutifully sent the little ones up at 7 (much too scared to brave them myself!), and listened to them excitedly running around looking for bees and presenting them to Megan.

It was a very cute and creative plan and I loved watching Megan organise it all, and the younger one’s excitement at the game.

It got a little tricky when the last two couldn’t be found, some small children not able to cope with the idea of the poor little lost bees, but there was a sneaky replacing two of them to be found again and with that trick we found closure. There was also a little meltdown when one bee had to be removed from it’s position and this apparently was not ok. This resulted in a quiet time of a child hiding under a blanket in the corner of the kitchen whilst I sat on the stool calmly reading a parenting handbook giving advice on what to do when your child won’t come out from their blanket, whilst offering assurances that I was there when they were ready to emerge. Which they did, when I mentioned breakfast.

Undeterred by yesterday’s painting larks, I brought out another colour mixing activity. I was pleasantly surprised with the controlled mess levels on this one.

So we happily created three balloon pictures and then, once they were sucked in by the messy play, I sneakily switched us into other schoolwork.

Every time I do a google search for inspiration and print off worksheets someone else has produced, I am more in awe of both those who come up with the ideas, and those, like my mum, who taught and home schooled way before it was so easy to be the grateful recipient of other people’s efforts. Duplo number sheets were definitely a hit with the boys.

Liam went out today, so there was a general sense of unrest amongst the small people. They opted to empty boxes of toys all over the living room, unzip the bottom of the boxes and wear them as ‘box trolls’, until they got outside, abandoned the boxes, and ran around the garden for approximately 2 minutes before someone hurt someone with something for some reason, and they returned to tell on them. When I tell them not to tell tales, they whine indignantly, ‘it’s NOT a tale! It’s TRUE!!!’

So we tried magic painting books, which they boys committed to for somewhere around three strokes on two pages before complaining about the fact that Maddie was playing with all of the bees. Obviously she wasn’t actually playing with all 106 bees. But it still wasn’t fair.

So I took the road of shameless bribery, and promised pizza in front of the tv, which we’d literally never done until Maisie’s birthday in May, and they’ve begged to do it again ever since. With the holy grail of dinners to look forward to, we managed to make it through the afternoon without total disaster.

Today the Welsh First Minister gave our update on Coronavirus, and I felt sad again. Shops are opening, schools are opening. But I still can’t see my family or hug my friends or worship with my church. And that still hurts. And I sat with that sadness for a little while. And then I reminded myself of all I have to be grateful for. We’re closer to those things than we were at the last review, and we will get there, one step at a time, building resilience and patience and faith along the way.

When I began blogging daily at the beginning of our lockdown, I never imagined still being here 95 days later. I never imagined the kindness of all of you who’ve been reading when you can, and those of you who’ve sent encouraging messages – it’s definitely helped me feel less like I’m talking to an empty room, less like I’m alone in isolation.

We know now that lockdown isn’t just going to end. There’s no magic wand to get life back to normal, but we’re taking safe baby steps on our way.

With that in mind, I’ve decided that I will stop writing daily on day 100 of lockdown, which is next Wednesday. It feels a nice round number to my organised little brain, and as we prepare to help our children with a gentle transition back to school the following week, we take another step towards the ‘new normal’ we’re being told about. As much as it has helped me to process these days, life inevitably will shift again, – and there’s only so many pictures of our latest bakes or stories of my emotional wobbles that anyone except my parents would want to read!

It feels strange to be looking at some aspects of life re-beginning, feeling so near yet so far away from normality. Shops are reopening, but we don’t know when furlough will end for Liam. Yes, so near, yet so far. But the purpose remains the same. To try and keep each other safe. To love my neighbour as myself. To honour those who’ve sacrificed so much in these weeks.

In the book of 1 Samuel, after God has defeated the Israelites enemies, Samuel places a stone of remembrance. The ‘Ebenezer’, the stone of help, because he said, ‘Till now has the Lord helped us’.

He has helped me this far, He will help tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

Or as the hymn says it,

‘Come, Thou Fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy, never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount, I’m fixed upon it
Mount of Thy redeeming love

Here I raise my Ebenezer
Here there by Thy great help I’ve come
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home
Jesus sought me when a stranger
Wandering from the fold of God
He, to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood.’ (Come Thou Fount, Robinson/Rice)

(Duplo sheets free download from Life Over C’s website).

Day 94 – Paint and puddles

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I’m not sure what came over us this morning, I’m blaming the rain sending everyone a bit loopy. Liam and I got a bit carried away with organising creative art in the kitchen.

I started with bubble painting, which they absolutely loved because, you know, paint and bubbles are a recipe for mess, chaos and sheer delight. Unfortunately it was a complete flop and didn’t work at all. There was coloured bubble mixture everywhere and no lovely bubble pictures. But they had fun.

So then Liam suggested marble painting. Which definitely produced more successful artwork, but the price we had to pay involved paint covered marbles bouncing all around the kitchen.

Giddy with artistic success, Liam brought out string and finished the trio of abstract art with worm pictures. By now there were drying pictures and paint all over the kitchen, and we still hadn’t had coffee, so we decided that lesson should come to an end.

So we went for something a little more science based and made frog life cycle books. The big excitement of this activity was me bringing out my paper cutter, which everyone wanted a go at, and I narrowly missed losing my fingers in their eagerness to be involved. By now it felt like that was sufficient learning and creativity for all of us, so we opted for a YouTube education via Numberjacks, whilst Liam and I hid with coffee.

What is it about rain that sends children wild? There was some serious sofa leaping going on, so I gave them an obstacle course instead. But by mid afternoon we decided a welly walk was needed.

There were some who wholeheartedly approved.

Others opted to go around the puddles, which the small boys couldn’t understand at all. ‘But Mummy you’ve got wellies! WHY won’t you paddle?!’

Despite all the persuasion/direction needed to get everyone out the house, the arguments over not taking umbrellas/importance of wearing coats etc etc, it always lifts the mood tone when we get outside. We rewarded it with hot chocolate and a film for the kids, tea and a sit down for the parents.

We started talking about preparing for a return to school at dinner. How we’ll need to get up a bit earlier next week, whether some children would like to drive past school beforehand. How many sets of stationery I need to purchase, and whether their shoes still fit.

Different children manifest the anxiety over all the changes in different ways – not settling at night for some, overly sensitive and frequent tears for others, irritability for others. I watched a helpful video I was sent by the Psycology service today, which reminded parents that prior to managing our children’s fears we need to try and work out, what triggers my fears? What in all of this is my worry, and am I putting it onto them?

I know from years of frequent changes that when I hear of a new plan, I often get grumpy, objecting to it vocally or internally. Once I’ve thrashed it out in my heart and head, I gradually move to acceptance. In my dim and distant past I remember studying change, people’s responses, and management theories of it, and I don’t think I’m alone in my responses. Change isn’t easy, but it is inevitable, and I need to be aware of my own weaknesses in it, as I try and support my family through all the emotions of it too. Acknowledging all of the feelings, validating them for myself and the kids is helpful and necessary.

But most helpful and necessary of all, is lifting my eyes upwards to the One who doesn’t change.

‘God is not man, that he should lie, or a son of man, that he should change his mind. Has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken, and will he not fulfill it?’ – Numbers 23:19

We started out this morning all a bit tired and grouchy. And I knew there had to be a choice, to get bogged down by all the hard stuff, all the unknowns and things I can’t control, all the tensions amongst the kids. Or I could hand over again all the things I can’t control and have no answers too, and choose the things I can-to ask for help, to be grateful, and to make choices to love. Even even it’s hard.

I didn’t and don’t get it right a lot of the time, today and every day. But I’m grateful for today, for puddles and coffee and crazy art making. And I’m grateful that tomorrow is a new day full of possibilities. And hopefully less rain.

Day 93 – Thunder and Lightning

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It’s strange how life has changed over these months. Suddenly the little jobs I would have classed as errands are now a major feat and take up half of the day. This morning I felt like I was juggling priorities – the kids needed someone to sit with them to do schooling, I wanted to hang the washing out before the weather changed. I had several parcels to weigh and measure and print labels for, before going to the post office and Morrison’s. Which is always more than a ‘popping in’. And of course the usual dishwasher emptying, laundry sorting and getting everyone going with school work.

Thankfully there’s another team member here with me, so Liam successfully got Theo making sand letters whilst I ran around.

Maddie was having a wobbly morning, and it’s hard to learn about maths or frogs when you’re feeling all the feelings. And I knew me leaving the house was going to be an issue if we couldn’t find a calming strategy. So I dug out the magic painting book I ordered the other day, and it proved itself magic indeed. The excitement of the colours appearing, the delight over the woodland pictures, and the soothing paint strokes all seemed to help, so she settled herself there for a good while.

Older children have wobbly days too, but the chicken falling asleep on his lap cheered Toby up, and then he got to go with Liam for his first real life interaction with friends in 3 months. I think like me, he was nervous of the thought of all the changes, but thrilled to see friends and play.

The Wii fit told us it hadn’t been used for 256 days which I’m sure isn’t true…but it was good to see them enjoying it together. Apparently inspired by all their film favourites, they practiced ski jumping like Eddie the Eagle, and bobsledding Cool Runnings style.

Theo meanwhile decided to make the most of the sunshine, and opted for bubbles. He wasn’t satisfied with these ones through, and pleaded for the bigger ones. So I dutifully got the Dr Zigs ones out, and ran around the garden with them for him.

He then decided he should sit in the swing whilst I made bubbles for him there. And how happy he was, living his best life whilst I waved the wand around at his demand.

The other kids came out at the mention of ice creams, and Micah insisted on pulling up a chair with the big girls, and joining in the chats.

We watched the thunder clouds roll in and Maddie kept an eye on me dashing out to get the washing in at the first lightning flash and thunder roll. The children all disappeared then, up to Megan and Maisie’s attic bedroom to watch the storm from there.

I felt a little like the weather today, moving between calm skies to storm clouds and back again. The pressures of the morning, the peaceful afternoon, broken by another tricky update phone call, making the months ahead as uncertain as ever. Knowing that I don’t need be anxious, but aware of how I resent change and that feeling of the unknown. And a wondering if I’ll ever get five minutes peace before Christmas!

I decided to run tonight, the final run of week 6 being a full 25 minute run with no walking. I left in light rain, and ran for 23 minutes in heavy rain before it eased off for the last two minutes. I learned the pros of running in torrential rain are keeping cool and hydrated and a sense of freedom. The cons being the very steamed up glasses meant I didn’t see the huge puddle coming up and my shoes are more than a little damp. The picture doesn’t do justice to how wet I was at the end!

Seven weeks ago I could barely walk up to the girls attic room without feeling unfit and out of breath. And I wouldn’t have imagined having the motivation to get to this point. Admittedly the half hour escapes from the house are definitely a selling point, but the reality is I’ve just plodded through the plan. One run at a time. And it works.

And really that’s all we can keep doing in these weeks too, isn’t it? Keep plodding, one foot in front of another, one day after another, and like Laura on the podcast kept telling me, ‘trust the plan’.

It’s not the government plan I trust in, but the plan of the One who knew this time would happen before time began. Who’s been faithful through every upheaval and challenge and loss and financial hardship and bad day and good day I’ve been through before, and will be again.

The thunder and lightning reminded me of God’s power today, that He who came to fight our battle for us will equip us for every day that feels like a battle.

1 ‘Blessed be the LORD, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle;
2 he is my steadfast love and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield and he in whom I take refuge, who subdues peoples under me.
3 O LORD, what is man that you regard him, or the son of man that you think of him?
4 Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.
5 Bow your heavens, O LORD, and come down! Touch the mountains so that they smoke!
6 Flash forth the lightning and scatter them; send out your arrows and rout them!
7 Stretch out your hand from on high; rescue me and deliver me from the many waters…’Psalm 144:1-7

Day 92 – Froggy faces

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I spent a long time this morning researching colour mixing activities that didn’t involve paint mixing. But after all my google searches, here is where we ended up.

But for all my resistance to the inevitable mess-making, the sheer delight on their faces as they stirred and watched the magic happen made the fact that the boys then painted their noses red and did nose prints on the paper worthwhile. I think.

And when Theo then considered perhaps he could get involved in pulling Santa’s sleigh next Christmas, he point blank refused to have his nose cleaned for quite some time.

But it was still worth the joy. Honestly.

Maddie worked hard today learning about frogs. We borrowed Toby’s book to learn some facts and then painted a picture with the leftover paint. She comes up with some classic faces for the pictures to send to her teacher. I *think* she was trying to enact the frog’s bulging eyes that we’d been talking about.

We finished off our frog lessons with baking, obviously. We found frog muffins in the Gruffalo recipe book, which were good fun to make, and a few of us thought they were delicious. The ones who don’t trust green food weren’t convinced, even though I told them spinach was superhero food. Micah would have happily picked all the eyes and tongues off and munched his way through those though, if I’d let him.

Toby practiced his graffiti art with a logo for the Olympic Games today. I wonder how long it’ll be before he starts on his bedroom walls.

And yes, the haircut is still under discussion.

Today involved sitting down with the children and explaining the detailed plans for school and working out what their fears are, how it might look, and what the pros and cons are. In a lot of ways it’s helpful that the older children are able to communicate their perspectives. For one morning a week, it seems like nothing, but I can understand the big feelings that go with the unknown. Because that’s the bit I struggle with too.

A few months ago I was wondering how this September would feel with Micah starting nursery. After 14 years of little people at home, it feels like a big change. But now it’s the not knowing what September might even look like that is hard to get my planning head around.

But once again I was reminded today that I don’t need to be anxious about September. Or January. Or tomorrow. In February, I had no idea that Covid-19 would take over our lives and our world. And honestly, I’m glad I didn’t. Worrying about it wouldn’t have changed what we’ve faced, and would no doubt have taken the joy out of the good days we did have, celebrating Micah’s birthday and Liam’s 40th.

I don’t know what the next weeks and months will look like, how we will all continue to adjust, but I’ll keep looking up, trusting and waiting, and we’ll keep plodding on. And baking. Always baking.

1 ‘The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
2 When evildoers assail me to eat up my flesh, my adversaries and foes, it is they who stumble and fall.
3 Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war arise against me, yet I will be confident.
4 One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple.
5 For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will lift me high upon a rock…

13 I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living!
14 Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD! – Psalm 27:1-5, 13-14

Day 91 – Still running

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Well here we are again, week 13 and heading for Midsummer. Another new week, another weekend passed.

Saturday was a leisurely start, with some serious equine play to start.

Followed by mid-morning art lessons with Toby. They produced some magnificent pictures of pizzas and unicorns, everything they hold dear.

We decided to risk the possible showers and go for a walk in the afternoon. Despite this idyllic picture, the path was heaving with walkers and cyclists, so it all felt a bit stressful to begin with.

Once we wandered off the main path we found the less populated parts, with the tempting river for those in wellies. Despite Theo’s best efforts at wading in to swing from the vine, I managed to keep my eagle eyes on him and foil his plans.

Obviously there were ructions. The oppositional child had a strop every time we had to choose which way to go, because he was adamant that we pick the other one. There were arguments surrounding the Saturday Marvel film watching, when an older sister discovered we weren’t watching them in the recommended order, which was horrifying to the rule keeper. But this of course upset the order-chooser, who was adamant there were no ill motives of only watching their favourites at work.

At which point I considered suggesting that we scrap the whole thing as I could think of much better ways to spend my Saturday evening. However I knew that would be unthinkable in the already tense atmosphere.

So we managed some mediation and negotiations, and wandered out into the open field.

Where suddenly everyone was friends again and Theo stole a sister’s phone and shouted ‘selfie!!!’ at them all.

Then we made our way back, with a couple of crying children and seriously holding up both the speed and the peace of the people behind us.

We agreed we would slot back into the Marvel watching plan as best we could, and so the evening’s entertainment was Captain Marvel. It held my attention a little more than the previous films have, which could have been the plot or it could have been Jude Law. Liam suspected the latter, but I could neither confirm nor deny these accusations.

Sunday started with a stack of pancakes, and a table set by Maddie, who completely surprised me with her attention to detail including table mats and actually setting the knives and forks out. Given the normal table ‘throw it all one table setting standards here, I felt this moment should be documented.

The children’s Bible story this week was the Last Supper, and I found some cute play doh mats for them to create it with. Given that this was Micah’s, I think his special meal at the bottom there might have been crafted by someone else. I noticed Liam was looking quite pleased with himself.

As Jesus, the Servant King, had washed the disciples feet at the Last Supper, we also did a little hand washing activity, and told each other things we loved about that person whilst we washed their hands. The sensory seekers absolutely loved this, and insisted on moving on to feet washing too. Theo was especially engrossed in this activity, enthusiastically telling Maisie how much he loves her ‘shiny teeth and weird eyes’.

I think she was grateful.

I spent a portion of the weekend making mini garden birds. Because what else needs doing on a lockdown weekend?! I think Liam’s nervous about the growing numbers of crocheted creatures he’s being surround by, and may start petitioning the government to lift lockdown on those grounds alone.

And now we’re back to Monday again. I feel more positive at the start of this week. I don’t know why, but I’m grateful. My learners still took a bit of persuasion, but we made frog week maths into jumping on lily pads and that seemed to help a little.

Tonight I was out running, on week 6 of couch to 5k. I was feeling ok on the run, once I got through the first five minutes of everything hurting.

And then I saw ‘her’. You know the one. She was confidently running along, with her tall and slender frame wearing Lycra shorts and a cropped top, her black ponytail swishing magnificently, across the road from me. I was the red sweaty mess, my mum tum sucked into my years old Aldi middle aisle running gear, my short frame never looking elegant, especially not with lockdown hair and absolutely never when running.

And I felt all the comparisons and inadequacies rise up, and then I remembered. I don’t know her story. She might have been running every day for a decade whilst I’ve been eating brownies and chasing toddlers.

I think it can be easy in lockdown to glance around and feel inadequate or jealous of someone else’s perceived experiences or successes. But we’re all just plodding through this in the places we’re in, on our own couch to 5k quarantine life. Walking sometimes, running effortlessly some days, dragging our weary bodies and tired minds along on other days. There are the days no one sees, the hard and lonely ones, as well as the garden camping successes, or the bake off delights.

It just made me think, let’s keep being kind. To ourselves, to others. It’s proving to be a long slow journey, and we need patience and encouragement and to recognise it’s different for everyone, but we’re all the same too. And we’re not alone in it. There is grace for today, and hope for tomorrow.

‘Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.’ – Ephesians 4:32

Day 88 – Dancing in the Rain

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We were given a rather large bag of cornflakes yesterday, which Micah was very excited to drag to the breakfast table this morning. And then insisted it had to sit on the table, dominating the standard size boxes of cereal somewhat, but creating a handy barrier for the children who can’t manage a breakfast time without someone ‘looking at me meanly!’

Theo had made concrete plans to use the cornflakes for Gruffalo ‘knobbly knees’ cornflake cakes, so was very anxious that we might use them all up and not leave any for the cakes. We reassured him that even we don’t eat quite that much in one breakfast sitting.

Another day, another self-chosen outfit for Miss Maddie. I’m pleased to report the wardrobe alterations have made a significant difference to the clothes-choosing stress in the morning. As long as I remain true to my word that she can wear anything that is in there. It’s always exciting to see what she’ll come down in.

As the rain was due in the afternoon we decided to let the kids play outside this morning and do a bit of school work after lunch. Liam had some jobs to do outside so I intended to get on with more cleaning. However I ended up having a difficult conversation with one of the children, which was hard, exhausting, and tearful for both of us.

Once we worked through that, I went back to the cleaning. By now it was already heading for lunchtime, so I was busily scrubbing bathrooms and hoovering corners, at which point a small child from downstairs clearly started to get hungry. And decided to start yelling at me.

‘MUM!’

‘Yes?’

‘I NEED TELLY!’

‘It’s nearly lunchtime, I’m just finishing this and I’ll get lunch.’

Angry child: ‘MUMMMM! I NEED SNACKS!’

‘Just hold on, it’s almost lunch.’

‘MMMUUUUUUMMMMM!!! I NEEED TELLLYYYY!!!’

I got downstairs, but needed a wee quickly before getting lunch. Of course, no toilet roll. Despite the fact we’ve always managed to find toilet roll in the shops through the pandemic, finding it in our own house has proven tricky on many occasions. Where it all goes is a mystery. No one ever seems to have used it up, and everyone is confident that they always replace it. Just another family life conundrum I suppose. Along with the disappearing scissors and the serial drink spillers.

Things improved a bit after lunch. Chicken therapy is proving popular for calming frazzled nerves and soothing troubled souls.

Theo was insistent that Daddy make the cornflake cakes with him, so I left them to it and got to be Toby’s maths helper for a while. Judging by the noises from the kitchen, I’m not sure Liam enjoyed the baking experience as much as the boys did. I can’t say I loved the maths either. Maybe we should stick to our usual roles.

I had to collect something from a house nearby this afternoon so took a lively Theo for a walk with me. It was starting to rain a little, so we took his umbrella which he was thrilled about. Theo loves a bit of rain.

It turned out to be more than just a bit of rain, however. It started to get heavier as we walked back, so we came along the river to hide under the trees. By the time we came up the path by the house it was like wading through a lake, the downpour was torrential, and we were soaking and laughing hysterically.

It turned out other family members were also dancing in the rain and coming back in at the moment we arrived, and poor Maddie had just been stung by a wasp. Imagine if you will the chaos of drenched clothes, giggles from some, tears from others, and me applying sting ointment and loving cuddles with steamed up glasses and dripping wet hair.

And yet that chaotic five minutes lightened the mood in the house immensely. The wet people changed into pyjamas, Maddie had cuddles, treats and telly, and we made a cup of tea and decided to get chips for dinner.

The pros and cons of lockdown seem to often be the same thing. I’m loving spending time with our family, getting to know one another better, talking more, and just being together. But at the same time the intensity of that can become the thing that is exhausting. Facing all the discussions head on, dealing with the issues that are arising because we’re seeing them, being both the apparent cause and cure of their frustrations. And having no place to hide from the challenges.

I can see a lot of benefits in that for our family. But there can be days and weeks like this one, where it seems like all the issues and needs are continually coming at us from all directions and we’re juggling emails to schools and social workers, medical needs, therapeutic input, relational challenges, and accident prone pre-schoolers. And it can get a bit overwhelming.

It turns out what helps on those days is crying to God for help, sending some honest messages asking for prayer or advice, and embracing a rainstorm head on.

The freedom of embracing the rain reminded me of the verses in Ezekiel, where he is prophesying to those exiled from Judah, giving a message of hope and a promise of God’s unwavering love and plan of restoration for His people. In amongst some beautiful chapters of reassurance, he says,

‘And I will make them and the places all around my hill a blessing, and I will send down the showers in their season; they shall be showers of blessing.

And the trees of the field shall yield their fruit, and the earth shall yield its increase, and they shall be secure in their land. And they shall know that I am the LORD, when I break the bars of their yoke, and deliver them from the hand of those who enslaved them.

They shall no more be a prey to the nations, nor shall the beasts of the land devour them. They shall dwell securely, and none shall make them afraid. – Ezekiel 34:26-28

Those verses gave hope to an exiled people, and they promise hope of a heaven to come. But they also give me hope when it feels like we’re the exiled people, apart from those we love, held captive by a viral pandemic preying on our world and stressing out our homes. He is the God who sends showers of blessing, who brings safety and security and freedom, whether here on earth or with Him eternally. He promises and provides refreshment, nourishment, sustaining grace, and showers of blessing, for each and every day.