I’m grumpy today. I’ve tried not to be. No one has done anything, I just am. I feel like I’ve done my time. I’m frustrated and a bit bored and anxious and feeling the isolation. I’m still grateful for the sun, for our health, for being safe, for being with people I love, but I’m in a grump. I’m sad for other people, for those who are working so hard, for those who are lonely, for those who are grieving or scared. And I’m missing community.

But that aside, there have been good moments today. The sun’s still shining, a friend brought us more food. The littles were excited to have post and a wave from their buddies. I completed day 5 of PE with Joe without swearing at the TV.

I had lemons to use up so I suggested to Theo that we make a cake with them. I got the recipe books out for him to choose-lemon cupcakes, lemon bars, lemon loaf…he looked at all the books on the shelf and said sadly, ‘are they ALL lemon? Aren’t any of them chocolate?’

So we compromised and made both.

I tried to relieve my boredom by colouring my garden wall. Then I scootered on the driveway. Liam got on his skateboard and we had races. The kids were nowhere to be seen. There’s a chance the neighbours think we’re losing the plot, and if I’m honest, I think they might be right.

In the afternoon I had this great idea that would make isolation much more fun. We’d set up a restaurant for dinner, the kids could make signs and menus, we’d make it posh and it would be a nice change to the monotony. I was inspired and enthused and called them to join in.

Two of them caught the enthusiasm, they named the restaurant (The Lurker Lounge), and started creating a menu, including starters of veg sticks and garlic bread, followed by pizza and pesto pasta, with cupcakes to finish.

Unfortunately it didn’t end up quite as insta-perfect as I’d dreamed. One unnamed assistant picked up an open bottle and shook J20 all over the kitchen as we were dishing out. Mr Lurker developed a splitting headache and retired to bed halfway through the meal. I ran between sorting food, checking his temperature, and clearing up dishes. Only to have a small but destructive child squirt antibacterial spray into my glass of wine. I’d like to think he was caring for my welfare and protecting me from any Covid germs, but his smirk at my distress leads me to believe otherwise. He was just being a little (insert chosen adjective here).

I’d like to say it improved, but unfortunately the three small people had loud meltdowns when I tried to put them to bed, bringing a pained looking Liam out to help. Now they are quiet he’s returned to sleep off the migraine. The older kids are watching some terrible American sitcom, and I’m forced to watch quarantine memes and drink the rest of Liam’s wine.

Joking aside, apart from a genuine concern at Liam not feeling great, I know things will be ok. It’s inevitable to have down days, we’re being forced into a way of living that is foreign to the freedom we usually know. As humans, we’re social beings made for connection and relationship, and to be asked to distance ourselves is always going to be hard. So I’m accepting today’s feelings and being honest with you, with myself, with God. Really, I have little to complain about, and I know that. But at times it’s lonely and it’s boring and these people mess up my house and sabotage my wine, and that is hard to accept with gentleness and grace.

So I’m hanging onto the words of my favourite Psalm which I read this morning, reminding me that I am known and loved, on my best days and in my grumpy days, and that I am never ever alone.

1 O LORD, you have searched me and known me!
2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.
3 You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways.
4 Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether.
5 You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.
7 Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?
8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
9 If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,”
12 even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.
13 For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
18 If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you. – Psalm 139:1-18

It’s 8:30 and the small 3 are asleep. Half an hour ago we opened the window and joined in claps and cheers with people all over the country to say thank you to our NHS. I have so many family and friends who are working hard, risking their own health, tirelessly to help us all. But this isn’t new, they didn’t just start in these last two weeks. They do it day in, day out, night in, night out, on bank holidays, at Christmas, in the snow. They go to work when they are ill. They go to work when they are going through personal crisis. They go to work when they are afraid of what they’ll face when they get there. I hope and pray that after the Covid crisis is over, the government and the country will not forget who we were cheering tonight.

In other news, we had a slow start today, and I thought I would be alone with Joe Wicks. But by 9:10 the troops had joined us, except for Theo and Micah, who hid in what Theo informed us was called the ‘Fairy Love House’. He never fails to entertain.

Next up whilst the older ones worked was ‘washing the car’ using a water pistol. You can imagine how long we lasted before he turned the gun on the rest of us.

Micah staged a protest in his car, on the road to nowhere, when he learned once again that we weren’t going to Grandma’s house. We made do with sending a video, but he really does blame me for all of this. (I blame Grandma, who confessed that she’d always prayed that her children would home educate. Powerful prayers from that lady.)

We decided we needed to get out, and bravely stepped beyond our four walls. We did encounter people. These are the scariest of species right now. Suddenly it feels like you should dive sideways into a hedge, turning away and avoiding sharing the same air or making eye contact at all costs, when faced with an oncoming homo sapien. That aside, it was so lovely to get out. To feel space and freedom and climb logs and throw stones and pretend we were in the Lake District.

There are so many small moments in each day that I’m thankful for. It doesn’t stop the scary moments, the frustrating moments, the ‘why do my kids still whinge when we actually leave the house after nearly 2 weeks moments’, but it helps to look at the good stuff. And the funny stuff. Like Maddie blurting out at the dinner table, ‘Megan, what does pregnant mean?’ Cue one embarrassed nearly 14 year old, who we left to it as she embarked on a biology lesson with an extremely inquisitive 5 year old. ‘I don’t understand the holes’, being my particular favourite moment.

On that high point I’ll leave it there for tonight. I hope your Friday brings equally comical or beautiful moments amongst the weirdness of our lives right now.

1 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.
3 He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever. – Psalms 23

I’m starting to wonder what the world out there is like. The last time I went to a supermarket there was food on the shelves and lots of people and we were all squeezed into a queue together. If we went for a walk as a family we wouldn’t have had concerns the police might approach us for being too gang-like to possibly be a family group.

I stand in the garden in the morning these days and it’s eerie. Mostly because it’s so quiet all around the estate and I know that all the children are at home so I’m wondering what the parents are doing with them? Why is it only in my garden they sound like they’re murdering each other?

Those ponderings aside, today has felt long. Liam found out he can’t order from Wickes unless he’s providing an essential service. Apparently my jobs list doesn’t qualify in the list of hospitals and care homes. So now I need home education ideas for a 40 year old who’s highly likely to play truant and be found drinking beer behind the shed.

He did at least join in with PE today, unlike Theo, who is increasingly reluctant to be schooled, unless it is on his terms. Which is limited to making cakes. Although he was very into making ‘Dragon Dough’, which passed a good half hour and created an hour’s worth of cleaning.

He’s a tricky one to entertain that one. My creative brain is a little overworked today. He didn’t like my colouring idea, but Toby and I enjoyed it and we can’t please everyone. There’s plenty more fence to be covered. Hours of fun right there! Theo, it turned out, would much rather lie in the Heather bush.

But one particularly frustrated child aside, there were some very lovely moments along the way. Glorious sunshine is always a winner. Micah stroking a teary Theo and offering to go and get his favourite toy ‘Batty’ for him. Then when Theo nodded yes, please, Micah turning around and delegating the job to me. He might be the youngest but he rules the roost.

Sisterly love always makes me smile. As did Maddie lying on the bed and watching and re-watching her teacher reading stories to her with a contented look on her face. I’m so grateful for the effort their lovely teachers are going to to keep a little bit of normal for them.

Happy post arrived in the form of brownies, one of my ‘good deeds’ in supporting a local business. This one was a real sacrifice for sure. And even more special was the hand written letter with lovely words that the postman delivered from a friend. And the long distance sighting of and chat with my lovely sister and brother in law. It was a challenge to keep the kids away, but so good to see their faces. I do miss hugs.

It’s good to keep in touch with other people. As it’s starting to feel like we’ve been here for a while now, and are losing touch with the world, it’s helpful to keep perspective and keep looking outside my own circumstances to what’s going on with other people. I’m not sure I’ll ever love FaceTime or Zoom, but I’m so glad we’ve got those options and I want to keep hearing from people. The good stuff and the hard stuff. I don’t want to emerge back into the world in a few weeks or months and feel like people are strangers. It might be a bit more effort right now, but it is totally worth it, even when it’s just a WhatsApp feed full of other slightly crazy isolated people who all need a laugh. Or cry. Or a song. Or a verse. Or a YouTube suggestion. Or food shopping. Or just to not feel alone. Thank you to all of you for being those people, you are a gift to me!

‘A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.’ – Proverbs 17:17

It’s only Tuesday so obviously we started enthusiastically. We were there ready for Joe at 9. We were all more motivated today. Well, all except the two small boys, who thought it was far more fun to get all the balls from the basket and throw them at me whilst exercising. Like a 30 second plank wasn’t challenging enough, without having rugby balls aimed at your head.

PE complete, we settled down to work. I thought I was doing well setting Maddie some time-telling challenges. It turns out she knows how to tell the time and flew through that in 5 minutes. In that time I attempted to give the two boys activities which they threw across the table, and Toby had a sad little meltdown over missing school and his friends and generally being fed up of our new normal.

So we left the big girls to it, we found cardboard and paint to go outside for the little ones, and phoned a friend for Toby to chat to.

And that was really how the day went. It wasn’t bad, but we were just all a bit droopy. So I just went with it. The small ones played in the garden until lunch, the bigger ones did a bit of work, and then after lunch we chilled.

Which I think is what everyone needed, judging by the naps on the sofa. They watched films, Liam had some important jobs to do in the garage, and I pottered in between laundry, housework, and connecting with family and friends.

It’s such a strange time of feeling like I’m not really doing anything. It’s like going camping, when making a cup of tea seems like a monumental moment in the day. But at the same time it’s frustrating. I’m a doer, a fixer, a helper. I left the health service 8 years ago, but I’m watching everything that’s going on and wishing I could do more than just being supportive. I stopped fostering 3 years ago, but knowing there are so many vulnerable children and families out there makes me feel helpless.

So I do what I can. I pray. I try and care for my people. I try and connect with friends and family and see how they are. Because these days are difficult for everyone. No matter who you are, there’s an impact. And like someone said in a text today, what is tough looks so different for everyone in this. In so many ways I feel like we in our little corner are getting away lightly. All we are being asked to do is to stay at home, safely, together. And my heart aches for those who are facing much harder days. Grief. Loneliness. Illness. Job loss. Anxiety for their own vulnerability or someone they love. Going to work not knowing what they’re facing.

Today I felt like I wished I could do more. But for now, here is where I am meant to be. So I made meatballs and chocolate mousse and hugged my people and even let Liam hide in the garage. (Sorry, he was doing jobs.)

And I spoke to friends and family and was grateful. And I listened to music and read verses like these, and I prayed that I can help where I can, and I that I love those around me whilst we all wait and hope.

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

I’ve been wondering what threats I can use on misbehaving teens now. Grounding them doesn’t seem to have the impact that it used to. We watched Boris this evening, I told the kids they should watch too as this was something important. Something their kids would learn about in history. To which Megan, queen of deadpan drama, said ‘well, we’ll probably be locked down for so long we won’t even be able to have children.’

You can use my eldest’s optimism to make your own judgement about how school went today! We started at 9 for PE with Joe, as did most of the country. I was by far the most enthusiastic, Maddie the most reluctant, Theo the most disruptive, and Megan and Micah competed for the fittest. Nothing new there then!

School started well, and lasted for at least 10 minutes before certain older members looked suspiciously like they were playing games instead of researching World War 2.

They all managed a piece of work though, so we counted that a success. And with the sun shining so beautifully I was never going to keep them indoors anyway.

I got a sense today that for those whom isolation is just beginning, you’re feeling like I was this time last week. I promise it will be ok. Don’t think about the long term, just do today. Or the next 10 minutes, if need be. Screens are ok. Hiding in the toilet is ok. Them not enjoying every online activity and bouncing on the trampoline is ok.

You will have enough food. Even Boris says you’re allowed to get food. There are 8 of us and we’ve been home for a week (plus a week before that in the daytime), and we haven’t run out of food. We are massively blessed with amazing friends and family who’ve offered help, who’ve been kind and generous, and we haven’t even run out of toilet roll. And there are people there for you too. We might have to be less British and ask for help. But that’s ok. (I have a food order booked next week if you need to add to it.)

I’ve been blown away by how lovely people have been. The nursery teacher and year 1 teacher who have children of their own, both putting little videos on for the children to see them and keep an element of familiar and normal. A mum from school offering to do a group story time so they could have some fun and see each other’s faces. The people checking in to see how we are. The social worker on the phone offering a daily call if we wanted it, just to support us in helping the kids through a time like no other. People doing our shopping and adding treats in. There is so much good to be found.

And there’s bits that are hard too. I’m grieving the holiday and conference that we can’t go on. Things I’ve been looking forward to for a year, crossed off the calendar. Postponed for another year, probably. And I know that’s nothing in comparison to the people having to postpone weddings, or other major events. So very very hard. It’s ok to feel that loss too. To quote the wisdom of Trolls, ‘it’s not all cupcakes and rainbows’. Although we’ve eaten a significant number of cupcakes, and I hear there are rainbows appearing in windows everywhere.

At the end of the day my missed holiday is a small price to pay for the safety of my paramedic sister, my nurse sister, my doctor brother. For the protection of my pregnant sister. Or the amazing elderly lady volunteering in the National Trust property we visited in Cornwall, the lady Liam actually wanted to adopt and bring home. In hindsight, it’s probably a good thing we didn’t. She may not have enjoyed lockdown with us.

I’ll finish with a verse and a song, because they’re what lift my spirits (also the Prosecco and chocolate next to me, but I can’t share them sorry. Boris forbids it.)

21 But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
22 The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
24 “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” – Lamentations 3:21-24

And for a song, we all love Rend Collective’s My Lighthouse. Maddie particularly does an excellent rendition of this one:

In my wrestling and in my doubts
In my failures You won’t walk out
Your great love will lead me through
You are the peace in my troubled sea
You are the peace in my troubled sea

In the silence, You won’t let go, In the questions, Your truth will hold
Your great love will lead me through
You are the peace in my troubled sea
You are the peace in my troubled sea

My lighthouse, my lighthouse
Shining in the darkness. I will follow You
My lighthouse, my lighthouse
I will trust the promise
You will carry me safe to shore (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore

I won’t fear what tomorrow brings
With each morning I’ll rise and sing
My God’s love will lead me through
You are the peace in my troubled sea
You are the peace in my troubled sea.

I say it’s day 6, but who really knows? I have to consciously check my phone in the morning to know the day of the week now. Turns out today was Sunday – Mothering Sunday no less.

Although it was strange not to be headed to church this morning, and I missed that community, I’m so grateful for all I have today. I was surrounded by little and big people, some of them fighting to get as near to me as they could (that’ll be the older two boys, then). My big girls had gone to the shops and bought me something way back last weekend when we had that kind of freedom! Maddie and Theo had produced works of art in school which I then paid for to support the school, gave to them when they arrived, they hid them and I feigned extreme surprise when they proudly produced them this morning. And Liam had been very lovely and ordered some surprises off my wishlist (which I wrote so long ago that I forget what is on it), supporting small businesses (that always makes me happy), and somehow it all seems so much more special to receive gifts when you know it’s not as easy as nipping to Tesco the night before.

Maddie was insistent that because it’s Mother’s Day she should do the washing up. She stood there for an hour washing a handful of things, until her fingers went all wrinkled and she declared it was very tiring.

I had on my mind today all those friends for whom Mother’s Day is so hard. I feel blessed and humbled for all I have, and pray I always remain grateful and never take what I have for granted.

We had an epic family Zoom call to mum, in which I was largely pushed out of the way by my children, two people munched on snacks, Dr Joel couldn’t get the sound to work so had to join in via sign language and written messages, and no one really knew what anyone was saying. But it was hilarious nonetheless, and lovely to see everyone’s faces. We have little to complain about isolation when we live in a time like this really-my presents came via mail order, we connected together via the laptop, and the Dominos man brought my Mother’s Day dinner.

It was good to join in the National Day Of Prayer this evening, and spend some time whilst sitting with small people tucked up in bed, calling on God for hope and healing for our world. For protection for the staff who are caring for those who are ill. For protection for those who are vulnerable. For the leaders of our country to make the right decisions in managing this crisis. For the people around us to consider one another’s needs before their own. For comfort for those who are grieving loved ones. And for good to come from all of this.

6 ‘Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.
7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. – Philippians 4:6-7

That is a true story. Then he said ‘sit up or else’, and fired it at me. It’s no wonder at every massage I’ve had they said I was tense.

After I was rudely awoken, I had that feeling you have when something awful has happened. When you wake up and for a minute it seems normal (fart gun aside), and then you remember that nothing is normal.

Aside from a couple of wobbles this morning, on the whole it was a better day. The sun was shining, Liam was present and not having to work, the kids played outside and I cleaned. I realised we were either going to become hermits surrounded by tonnes of waste, or I’d have to move into manic cleaning woman mode. And the latter seems to be better for all of us. Especially you, when you visit in the future.

We were so kindly blessed today by amazing friends thinking of us and leaving gifts on our doorstep, by others asking if we needed anything. And I’m so grateful.

But today I feel sober too. It’s becoming increasingly apparent that despite all the pleas, people are still not really listening to advice about isolating and distancing. There are groups of teens wandering our estate. There are crowds at Barry Island and on Snowdon. It’s so tricky because we’re being told so many things, and we know we need to look after our mental health.

But this virus is taking people’s loved ones. Earlier today I was thinking about my brother Dan. He was a nurse, a flu-fighting champion for his health board. He was passionate and vocal and he would have had so much to say about all of this. And I was thinking how much I miss him. And how I don’t want to feel that heartbreak again, and how I don’t want other people to feel that pain of loss either. But, tragically, people already are facing a tomorrow without someone they love.

So if there’s anything I’m thinking today, it’s how important this is. Hard, yes. Unprecedented, yes. Lonely, yes. But worth it, to save someone’s life, absolutely yes. Life is a gift we so easily take for granted. Let’s protect it and treasure it by listening to what we’re told. Let’s love our neighbours by not going out tomorrow.

‘Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.’ – Romans 13:10

Hooray for waking up to sunshine! And hanging washing out! And garden play!

Today was a funny day, in that I didn’t feel as emotional as yesterday, but I just felt a bit unmotivated. Maybe it’s the tiredness, or just the post-tearful day of yesterday. Maisie’s still pretty unwell with a high temperature, so I’ve been keeping an eye on her. Micah was happy to get out but also extremely grumpy. It’s been tough on him having Liam in the house but not very accessible when dealing with lots of work issues.

We FaceTimed Grandma and the aunties, which was slightly chaotic on our end, although honestly, they’re not much more sensible than we are. The only time I did get really sad today was when Micah was upset and just wanted ‘Grandma-y’. Because really we just all want a Grandma hug right now, don’t we? A big cuddle and a reminder it’ll all be ok.

I’ve started to be concerned that by the time we’re released back into society I will a) have gained several stone. b) be unable to do my hair or make up, and c) have lost all social skills. Not that they were great anyway…

I might have chosen to have a large family, and I LOVE my people, but I’m a bit of an introvert at heart. A wide range of kids ages means they’re around from early until late. The close proximity over the next few months will, I hope, build amazing family connections, and help us learn to reach out to family and friends in new ways, but it is going to challenge all of us I know.

We went for a drive this evening, just to see outside our four walls. We delivered a present to a special little friend’s doorstep, and then let the kids run races in an empty car park. It does feel a little like having a black cross on the door at times. Or feeling the need to ring a bell and shout ‘unclean’ when outside.

This evening brought positive news regarding support for businesses, which was a huge answer to prayer. I’m praying that all those whose jobs are at risk will be helped and provided for, and that we’ll all look for ways to help.

This morning when I felt anxious I sang out these words to a song I love, and tonight I’m thankful that once again they’re proving true:

I love You Lord
Oh Your mercy never fails me
All my days
I’ve been held in Your hands
From the moment that I wake up
Until I lay my head
I will sing of the goodness of God

All my life You have been faithful
All my life You have been so, so good
With every breath that I am able
I will sing of the goodness of God

I love Your voice
You have led me through the fire
In darkest nights

You are close like no other
I’ve known You as a father

I’ve known You as a friend
I have lived in the goodness of God. (Bethel music).

Happy Friday friends-enjoy the weekend.

A picture from Cornwall, just 2.5 weeks ago. How life can change in such a short time!

Today will be shorter and probably not very eloquent because I’m exhausted. And Maisie, my last child standing, has now developed an excruciatingly high temperature, so I’m on medical duties whilst I type. I’ve set a 4am alarm for the medicine round to keep it in check, and whether they have the C bug or not, whatever they have/had is pretty unpleasant.

Enjoying the small things-this one was pleased as punch to wear her mismatched birdie tights. She’s a bit wobbly, sudden removal from friends and lovely teachers isn’t easy for little ones who’ve know big loss. On the other hand, school can be a scary place too, so hunkering down in the safe place for a while might not be a bad thing for her little heart.

Creative snack rationing. I gave them money from my coin jar and they came to my shop to purchase their snacks. Even the big kids found this amusing. Especially the one who then stole all my money.

It’s been my most emotional day so far. There are definitely going to be impacts and challenges that just a couple of weeks ago no one would have dreamed of. I had a teary long distance conversation with my friend in the street as I dropped something on a doorstep, came home and read a message from my pastor, blubbed like a baby, and allowed myself to feel it all.

But in all that, there were lovely points too. A friend hunting down my shopping needs and delivering to the doorstep. Theo’s nursery teacher messaging for our address and hand delivering Mother’s Day surprises to all the homes. The kids random conversations about Maisie walking down the aisle to Baby Shark… ‘and then you can come in mum, Mummy Shark do doo do do do…’ They’re nothing if not a little crazy, but they do help to lighten the moments.

I had some lovely chats with friends and family via messages and phone and FaceTime, and felt truly cared for today. My song for the day was ‘He will hold me fast’ sung by the Norton Hall Band on YouTube, and Psalm 46 lifted my spirits.

1 ‘God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.
4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High.
5 God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns.’ – Psalm 46:1-5

Today was wobbly, but had so many beautiful moments too. The weather forecast is looking brighter, and my children laughed hysterically at Megan’s joke-

‘This is my step ladder. I never knew my real ladder.’

On that high point I shall leave you, with lots of love. Xxx

Apologies to my husband and eldest daughter. But I felt it was the only photo to truly reflect the sense of crazy today. Anyone else?!

We had a rough night with Toby entering our room, burning up and delusional. He was fighting something that was too loud and too big and we couldn’t get any sense out of him. It turned out it was a Pokemon surrounding the world. Maybe some deeply significant symbol of Coronavirus?…We got his temperature down and then Liam bed hopped as various children woke and slept and went hot and cold.

Suddenly my fears for lack of snacks were replaced by the need for Calpol. It goes quickly when 5 children are having at least 7.5ml several times a day! But two different people showed up and delivered the different bottles to my doorstep, and I was reminded how grateful I am for community, and how much we’re going to need each other in the coming days.

Calpol disaster avoided, we diligently started on activities. Kinetic sand, reading, number play…we were flying through them. Two older kids went and played school with the younger 3, and I thought, we’ve got this thing sorted.

But things change so fast don’t they? Emotions are flying up and down, I’m reassuring someone else one minute and the next I’m anxiously needed someone to repeat those reminders to me. Because this thing is real and everyone’s lives are changing. It’s not playing schools for a couple of weeks, it’s fearing job loss and family loss and will we have enough food and how are we going to get through this? There were moments this afternoon when it felt too big. So I put my phone aside, we made cards and walked to our friend’s house to post them and wave through the window.

And I re-read the verses I read this morning, ‘In my distress I called upon the LORD; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears.’ – Psalm 18:6

I listened to songs that calm my soul, and I made a dinner that no one liked. One child wanted to make cookies for pudding, which resulted in flour everywhere, and cookies that were ready about an hour too late. But they’ll be nice tomorrow!

I think the reality is no one knows what to feel do they? It’s unprecedented and confusing and unreal. And whilst I’m internally wondering what the future will look like, my children are stropping about their birthday and not seeing their friends. Because that all still matters too.

So I think I have to keep doing what I keep saying. Just do today. Play and pray and read and talk and learn and relax. Do what I can do. I messaged some local small businesses and put orders for deliveries to our door. I did a YouTube yoga session after dinner which highlighted quite how tense I felt. I asked others how they are and prayed for needs outside my own. Because we need each other more than ever. And sometimes the best way to lift my spirits is to try and bear someone else’s burden too.

So on that note can I make a request? One group of people that are on my mind in all of this are the vulnerable children. The ones who depend on school for their place of safety, their routine, even their dinners. The ones who are already on the poverty line and now are even more at risk. Whose parents were under stress before and they bore the brunt of that-and now the stress has multiplied. We might feel anxious about entertaining our children for a few months, but there are thousands of children who might be fearing the unthinkable with weeks at home. And the workers who support them may not be able to visit due to increasing distancing measures.

Please can you pray for them? Can you send an email highlighting your concerns? Can you give a donation to a charity that will help them? Message me if you want more information on how to help, and while you pray for your sanity, pray for their safety.

Tonight I feel calm again. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have faith that God does. It won’t last forever, and there will be good in every day, things to laugh about, people to love. So here’s to tomorrow, and finding the joy and the crazy. Which in my case looks like my daughter and my husband and their own peculiar sense of humour. ❤️