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).

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.

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

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

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

Thursday morning and we’re plodding on. I had a good lie in which was very pleasant after yesterday’s early start. Maddie dug out her Bee book which I’ve read more times than I can count to help her fill in a bee fact file. My admiration for teachers has grown so much over these weeks. How they coax and enthuse and keep doing it day after day and help little learners learn is beyond amazing. With all those different characters in a classroom, the confident, the shy, the pleasers, the oppositionals, the excited and the frightened. Continually finding creative ways of sharing information and inspiring them to want to learn. Thank you, teachers.

Whilst Maddie and I wrote about bees Liam and the boys used a Frozen themed alphabet and the alphabet song to learn new letters. And then the three little ones used their name puzzles as a game. Which might have been slightly fairer if Micah’s didn’t have the letters printed both sides. For children that consider most things ‘not fair!’, they didn’t actually seem to mind this completely unfair method of playing.

I had a mess-related sulk this morning. It wasn’t mature or kind or pretty. Continual disorder is probably the thing I struggle with the most about having everyone at home. I get stressed by the mess and dirt but equally it’s been hard to be motivated to do anything about it when it’s a never ending battle. As I’m trying to sort one room, the others are being destroyed around me.

I know it’s only for a time, and I know one day I’ll be missing them being here, but for now, when there’s nowhere else to escape to, and there’s no break from it, it gets me down at times.

But we settled down. I had a long cleaning session whilst Liam patiently played games, made flower pictures, and then I went for a run. And getting out for half an hour was good for the body and mind.

I received a lovely message from Maddie’s teacher today which was helpful in the whole school decision dilemma. I’m grateful for people who get it, who care, who support, and for answers to prayers.

Earlier this afternoon I went into the garden and cut a few sprigs of lavender. This particular shrub is a standing joke between Liam and I. About 16 years ago, before we were married, and I had literally no horticultural knowledge or skills at all, I decided to plant lavender seeds. I took them seriously, watered them, and even asked a friend to take care of them when I went away.

Of that large tray of seeds, we still have two shrubs. They have been very slow to grow, but we’ve packed them up with us every time we’ve moved house, and Liam has faithfully watched over them. This is the first year they’ve been big enough or fruitful enough to really be considered taking any notice of. After 17 years!

In that time I’ve not gained an awful lot more gardening skills or knowledge, but I’ve successfully bought lavender plants much further along and even grew a huge lavender border at one house. But these little babies kept moving with us, in the hope they’d eventually grow big enough to be something lovely.

When I was running today I thought about those shrubs, and their slow, slow growth to reaching their potential. And I thought about myself, and how much I dislike the growing and learning process.

I have a tendency to not want to make mistakes. And so I’ve been reluctant to try things, in case I fail. Crafts, sports, diets, skills, speaking in public. I’ve been too proud to want to risk the humiliation of failure. Like the famous line from Apollo 13, ‘failure is not an option’.

But here’s where I have to learn to accept my humanity. Because I do fail. And I’ve made big mistakes. And I’m learning that if you don’t, you’ll never become who you’re meant to be. Who God has made you to be. If we’d thrown those spindly looking lavender shrubs away over the years because they were a bit pathetic and not flowering well, I wouldn’t have them here now, a reminder of allowing time for growth. Reminders to not be impatient with myself and others over our failings and flaws and slow growth, but seeing how gentle care and nurturing can produce beautiful flowers.

The potential for growth give me hope. For me, in my good days and bad days, in my slow progress, and for my children. To remind me to keep being patient. To keep tending, nurturing, learning how to best care for them, watering and feeding them well, and to keep loving. And to keep trusting the One who created us, waters us, is growing us, and is ever-patient with our weaknesses.

I listened to these words from a song today:

‘I stand upon the solid
Rock of faith in Christ
This steadfast hope shall not
Break apart within the trial
I am assured His promises will never fail
As long as life remains He is faithful

God is patient
God is kind
He does not envy
He does not boast
His ways are higher than my own, His thoughts consume the great unknown
Of this alone I am sure
My God is love.’ (Elohim, Hillsong worship)

I often fall down at the list from 1 Corinthians 13. But God doesn’t. He is patient, He is kind. He is love.

I was woken early today – somewhere near 6 kind of early, which is really quite unacceptable when it’s only been 7 hours since you said goodnight to the oldest child. Anyway, I heard the delicate tones of three small people loudly arguing on the stairs. So I decided in the interests of all other sleeping family members, I would take them downstairs and we would sleepily watch the telly.

We had an amazing early morning delivery of fresh eggs from our friends, so Liam cooked eggs in 3 different forms before school, which meant we were already on leisurely timing for the school day.

But then morning didn’t go quite as planned. I’m trying to gently chat to each of the children about school. How they feel about going back, what it might look like, what we should do. I started this conversation with one of the older children, and was completely unprepared for how emotive it would be. The anxieties, her fears, the many thought out reasons why she absolutely doesn’t feel ready to go back. We talked and hugged and I promised we hadn’t decided yet.

I moved from that tricky conversation to coaxing Maddie through maths she wasn’t keen on, despite my creative efforts at making bees to help with wing addition. Actually it was only bribery of baking a bee chocolate cake that helped the situation.

And of course as soon as the small boys got wind of chocolate and stirring they were insistent on being involved. Which always makes for an entertaining baking experience.

Maddie pranced around at some point this morning with her wings on, and I overheard her trying to encourage Theo to play with her.

‘I thought you wanted to play with the most beautiful and best owl ever – Me.’

I think that sold it to him.

Later she appeared in the same dress but had put a pair of tights on. ‘Mum!’ She said, ‘have you seen the new me?!’

I could do with a pair of those tights.

There were a few ‘incidents’ today. The paddling pool began to deflate and created a puddle, or a ‘swamp’ according to the kids. Which I looked out of the window and saw them knee-deep in. Shoes, socks, trousers soaked.

A little while later I answered the door to a delivery driver, and as I shut it, I heard Micah crying from upstairs. It turned out he was attempting to get clean socks, and had tried to climb the chest of drawers, which he was now holding up as it leaned precariously on him. That child is ageing me faster than the other five put together. It’s a good job he’s got super strength in those arms.

We recovered with some afternoon tv which two children thought would be better watched upside down. To be fair, we’ve watched Trolls so many times maybe it would be more entertaining from a different angle?

Maddie, Micah and I finished decorating the bee cake, which she insisted on adding larva at three different stages of development to, along with the adult bees. She’s committed to accuracy, this one.

Today has been a strangely emotional one, where it’s felt like all of the children’s different needs have been heightened and required patience, care and attention. Whilst at the same time the question of school is weighing down on us.

Two schools have sent surveys asking if the children will be attending which have to be completed by tomorrow, but we won’t get the details of plans regarding how school will look until Monday. Which makes it a little tricky to make a decision with not a great deal of information. I can see so many reasons both to send them back and to keep them home, and it’s not overly simple which might be the best option for each child.

Two of our children have medical/psychological issues that have been heightened during lockdown, and could cause more stress back in the school environment. One is deaf, and will struggle more than usual if teachers or pupils choose to wear masks, or even just in the 2 metre distance from others. Another is committed to finger sucking and abandoning a seriously germ-infested but much loved cuddle ‘toppy’ wherever she feels so inclined, perhaps defeating the object of any hand washing and social distancing school might attempt.

We had tears and discussions with two of the older children today, over various matters. Then I received a 50 minute video sent from the psychology service to adoptive parents regarding the return to school to watch, and later Liam received an email with updated furlough information from his workplace to look through.

And it just felt like a heavy sort of day. Albeit with comedy moments thrown in, like Theo declaring Megan ‘the Queen of poop. And wee. And toilets. And stinky!’ because he was a bit annoyed with her. You have to love four year old boys for their insulting yet mood-lightening abilities.

I stood in kitchen attacking the mammoth clean up operation whilst Liam sorted the kids bedtime, and I felt quite tearful with the weight of it all. But as I washed up, the music in the background played,

‘Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee.’

And the verse that keeps popping into my head returned again,

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
‭‭Exodus‬ ‭14:14‬ ‭

And the one that says,

‘Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD GOD is an everlasting rock.’ – Isaiah 26:4

And I felt peace. That the best thing I can do is to be still, to hide in the cleft of the everlasting Rock. Finding rest and grace for today there, and wisdom and hope for tomorrow.

There probably isn’t a clear answer on school, and the weeks may continue to be a bit tricky. But the Rock we stand on is unchanging and strong, and He is the One who is fighting for us, never leaving us alone in it. So even if it’s unsettling, I don’t have to be unsettled. I can be still.