I get nostalgic over birthdays. So many memories. So many feelings. I wrote a blog post last year called ‘Birth Days’ all about my thoughts surrounding these celebrations and the complex range of emotions they can raise.

Obviously we weren’t there for Maddie’s birth. Or her first birthday. On her second birthday she hadn’t been with us for long, so we kept it simple with a party in the garden with faces that were becoming familiar to her. She was still bum shuffling at that point, petrified of babies and the bath and unexpected movement. And we had no idea that by her third birthday we’d be calling her our daughter.

But here we already are, on her sixth birthday. Six always feels like you’re losing the littleness of your person a bit more. Over the hill towards ten, they get a bit sassier and more opinionated and cheekier. But at the same time a bit more of who they are becoming is showing through. And that’s exciting, as you learn more of what makes them excited or scared or gives them fits of giggles.

At six, Maddie loves little fiddly things. The little girl who has never before been able to tell me anything at all that she’d like for a birthday or Christmas, named LOL dolls as the only thing on her list, much to my dismay. Apart from being hugely overpriced, they come with insanely ridiculous amounts of plastic packaging which I know would cause an eco warrior a heart attack. But she actually named something she wanted! And this is a breakthrough, for someone who lost all her worldly possessions and people overnight, to have a sense of trusting that the thing she asks for will stay long enough to make it worthwhile asking for. And because I’m a complete soft touch I bought them, obviously. And they were played with all day, shown to numerous people on FaceTime and at the door, and it was worth it for that smile when she opened the paper.

Also featuring highly for this six year old were books, she loves learning and stories and facts – especially about nature. She absolutely loves horses, so they were there on the cake, in the stories, and to play with. Craft and the new found love of sewing has also provided a few things to entertain in the next few weeks. And of course what six year old doesn’t receive a pair of ‘high eels’ as Theo calls them, to risk breaking their neck on as they learn to master walking in them.

Pancakes were Maddie’s breakfast choice, much to everyone’s delight. After breakfast the older children settled down to work, and the younger ones played with the new things. There were of course, a few upsets. Theo’s birthday definitely feels far too far away for his liking, and everything Maddie has is now on his birthday list. But on the whole, there were enough new interests to keep them playing and happy.

And with the very gorgeous weather today, it wasn’t a great hardship to chill in the garden in between being nominated phone holder for a very popular little lady’s birthday FaceTimes, in which she showed several callers everything she had, how it worked, and kept running back and forth to show and tell other new things off.

We had a little party planned for once the older girls had finished work, so we were finding things to keep the younger ones occupied at a fractious time of day. So I, having seen some random parenting hack at some point, suggested a zip line for the toys, and Liam, never one to say no to something that involves harnesses, ropes, knots and carabiners, set to work. The videos are hilarious, but if you look closely on the photo you can see the naked doll making her descent from the bathroom window to the climbing frame. This game kept them entertained for a good while. I’m not sure what the neighbours thought though.

Once again, the benefits of a big family are a ready made party group for the games. We played a diabolical game of Duck, duck, goose, where Micah had a meltdown, Theo chose Maddie every time, and I forgot who was supposed to chase who. Musical chairs was fairly successful, except for Toby sitting on Theo’s hand at the end, which left Theo crying because his hand hurt, and Toby complaining over how hard Theo’s hand was when he sat on it. Musical statues was all sorts of hilarious to watch. But probably the most successful was the ancient Kim’s Game which we used to play at parties at home in the 80s. Sometimes simple really is best.

The party moved on to cake, of course. Amusingly, when I was baking the cake yesterday, I was intending to make a vanilla sponge with coloured layers. Partly for fun, partly because Megan’s cake is very chocolate based. Anyway as I was absent mindedly putting the ingredients in the mixer, I suddenly realised I’d added cocoa powder with the flour without really noticing. So we ended up with another chocolate cake by default really. It’s a good job we like it.

It was a good day. Lockdown birthdays of course haven’t been what we’d have planned, but I have really enjoyed them. In normal years I feel overwhelmed by how we fit in celebrating 3 girls in one month, with all the different things they’d like to do, family we’d like to see, and trying to make them all feel special. It’s been hard not to see family properly, but the pressure has felt much less. To go back to a simple way of celebrating has been surprisingly fun and full of sweet moments. Maddie would have been in school today, but instead her school friends made little videos and the mums sent them through on WhatsApp – moments I would have missed had we not been at home together. The excitement of the FaceTime calls, parcels through the post, and visitors on the driveway hold a greater novelty when your expectations for a birthday are lowered.

And most of all, we got to be with this girl today to celebrate her. Which I don’t take for granted at all. I was thinking yesterday about Hannah in the Bible, who was desperate to have a child, so went to the temple and cried to God for a baby. She made a promise that if she conceived, she would give that child back to God’s service when he was born. And when she gave birth to Samuel, she said:

27 ‘For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me my petition that I made to him.
28 Therefore I have lent him to the LORD. As long as he lives, he is lent to the LORD.’- 1 Samuel 1:27-28

I often see that quote ‘for this child I prayed’, on adoption prints. And it’s beautiful and true, for both birth and adopted children. When we put ourselves forward for the adoption of the little ones, they’d been living with us for 6 months, and they absolutely had our hearts. We had to wait another 8 months before we were approved at panel to adopt them, and it was 22 months after they’d arrived that the adoption order was legally granted in court. At any time in that 22 months, the judge could have changed the plan for them, and we would have had no choice but to move them on, trusting God for their futures and for our broken hearts. So there were many many prayers prayed for this child.

But the second half of Hannah’s words often get missed off the word art prints. ‘Therefore I have lent him to the Lord.’ As much as I love my children, God loves them even more. As much as I make plans I think are good for them, His plans are greater than mine. And as much as I dream and hope and desire for them and their futures, I don’t ever want to hold onto them so tightly that they aren’t free to spread their wings and become who they’ve been created to be, given back to the One who gave them to me.

Maddie and I were awake before 7, ready to party. Micah and Toby joined us around 7:30, at which point I’d starting hanging more banners. Gradually other family members drifted down, until at 8:30 I decided enough was enough, teen or no teen, we were waking the birthday girl. So I bravely sent Theo and Micah in to do it for me.

Theo’s favourite bedtime story lately has been the vintage edition of Topsy and Tim’s Baby Brother, where the family adopt a new baby boy. This is only the explanation I can give for why he decided to wake Megan up by announcing loudly (and completely falsely) ‘We’re going to have a new baby brother!’ To which she looked very excited, and I had to quickly explain that no, that’s not the case. Then received an interrogation from Megan and Theo as to why we couldn’t or wouldn’t be providing them with a new sibling. I felt like all birthday presents we had to offer were somehow going to be a disappointment after that kind of wake up.

Thankfully the hammock distracted them from the topic and we moved seamlessly into present opening without further ado. I take a lot of photos, and I occasionally get grief from my family over it. But I love looking back at the birthdays over the years, and seeing what they were into at that time. At 14, with a hammock from us and a beanbag chair from my mum, alongside the sofa moving fiasco of the last couple of weeks, there definitely seems to be a theme of lounging! Harry Potter still features, and this year One Direction and Taron Egerton were new additions to current interests.

We did our best with a lockdown substitute for McDonald’s breakfast, with sausage and egg muffins, hash browns and milkshakes. McLurker’s didn’t do too badly at all on their opening day.

There were definitely pros to a lockdown birthday in regards to loosening the homeschool reigns for today. The birthday girl just did what needed to be completed today, and then made the most of the sunshine. And employing younger siblings to swing the hammock for her.

However it wasn’t that easy to find activities to replace a 14 year old’s birthday plans, that, let’s face it, would not have featured siblings and parents high on the guest list. So we opted for splitting into two teams and doing a photo scavenger hunt around the estate. It took a good half an hour to establish suitable team members, working out what would be a good dynamic and fair on the responsible parent, whilst taking preferences into account.

Basically we realised we weren’t going to please everyone. So we allotted the teams anyway, and headed off. Most things were not too hard to find, and friends were obliging at having a socially distanced photograph taken. But it turned out there wasn’t a cat to be seen on the whole estate.

So we got home and improvised to claim our win. The other team reckoned it was a draw, but we got back first so I choose to believe we won.

It turns out the cat thing got a bit out of hand however. In hindsight that may not have been the wisest thing to teach them. 14 years in and still achieving parenting fails on a daily basis!

Cookie dough was the other theme to feature highly in this year’s birthday gift and food requests, so this was a Cookie Dough frosted chocolate cake. It went down well, but we’ve got a second cake coming tomorrow for birthday number two, and even we might not manage that amount of cake in isolation. If you’re local and random cake parcels appear on your doorstep, ask no questions, just eat up.

Family zoom time happened to help celebrate, with a particularly disjointed rendition of happy birthday, and sufficiently awkward conversations between the teens, their cousins, aunties and grandparents. This was followed by a driveway visit from Nanny, and another aunty and cousin. It’s lovely to see everyone and the efforts people will go to to still show their love on birthdays.

Dinner was Dominos, as per the birthday girl’s request, and I’m always happy to not cook for a night. Then it was time to settle the younger ones before getting ready for Maddie’s birthday and then settling down with the big kids for Megan’s film choice of Eddie the Eagle.

It was a late night and they were just heading for bed when the girls suddenly decided it was a good night to start questioning when they could have their phones in their room at night. My heart sank. The last thing you want on a birthday is to end with an argument, but we weren’t going to be making that kind of decision on a whim either. The comical point came when one child who wasn’t happy with the decision decided to set a 3am alarm to go off in our bedroom in revenge. Only they then had an attack of conscience, cancelled it, and lay on my lap despairing over their guilt and wishing they’d gone through with it. Which made us all laugh. We finished the night with hugs, and I prayed a silent and tired thank you for managing to maintain a peaceful end to a happy day.

Birthdays are fun and exhausting too. And they often involve all kinds of emotions and sugar highs and tiredness and jealousy from other siblings, and strange feelings for them and us over different children’s stories and the whole complex dynamic of a birth you weren’t present at. So as much as I love celebrating I’m weary too, and praying that Maddie’s birthday tomorrow brings more happiness than tricky moments, more laughter than tears, more joy than battles. I love these verses someone sent me the other day from Isaiah, reminding me of the gentle Shepherd who’s with us on the rollercoaster of parenting:

‘He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young.’ – Isaiah 40:11

Tonight I’m resting in His arms, gaining the strength to open my arms wide again for my children tomorrow.

We started today as normal, I set tasks, everyone looked at me and said ‘no’. Well, that’s not fair – Megan and Maisie now work upstairs and I’m assured they were working. Toby cracked on with his. Theo point blank refused. I finally convinced him after showing him pictures of his nursery teacher’s cat that she REALLY wanted to see him do his hunt for things starting with C.

It went along the lines of me saying ‘oh look Theo! There’s something with four wheels! Yes, it’s a car! What sounds does car start with? C-ar?! Yes! It’s a C!’

Maddie, who should be doing her work but insists it is much much too boring, is following us around thrusting appropriate objects beginning with c at him, whilst I try and remove them so he actually learns something, whilst trying to get her to go and finish her work, much to her objection.

So then we moved on. He picks up a horse. Me: ‘Theo, what sounds does horse start with? Is it a c?’ Theo: ‘no, it’s a hor.’

I despair.

Anyway we finally got a tray of objects, we formed a letter c, and boom. Task done.

Megan and Toby had piano lessons via zoom this morning, so we had to keep everyone else out of the lounge and reasonably quiet. This is harder than you’d think. I set up the laptop for their lesson using the trolley we put the morning snacks on. Liam starting getting snacks out to distract them from the lounge, at which point Theo had an almighty meltdown because the trolley wasn’t there, and how on earth could he have the snacks if they weren’t on the usual trolley?

Once we’d calmed him down, and the second piano lesson was beginning, Liam agreed to play a game with them. ‘Pigs in Pants’ was the game of choice, much to his delight. I think the game lasted 35 seconds exactly before carnage ensued and Liam regretted his offer.

Maddie’s very into scavenger hunts, which was helpful as one of her school tasks was to find blue objects. Of course, what she does the two small boys copy, so one by one they came and asked for a bag, and trotted off to hunt.

I’ve spent the rest of the day looking for things, realising they are blue, and having to hunt down the bags. The four blue pencils from my colouring pencils set? In the bag. Micah’s drink? In the bag. I’m just glad it wasn’t a repeat of the one where they took all the remote controls and the car keys. That was a fun day.

Tomorrow is Megan’s birthday, and Wednesday is Maddie’s, so I’ve spent large portions of the day wrapping presents and baking cakes. My lovely family have been very organised in sending gifts to the girls. Except they all arrived not yet wrapped. And as I type I’ve just remembered another one that’s in a safe hiding place still not wrapped. Whoops.

Birthdays always evoke a lot of memories don’t they? It’s hard to believe it was 14 years ago I was 41 hours into being induced with Megan, and it was just over 3 hours before she arrived. Liam thought I deliberately held on so that she wasn’t born on Star Wars day. I can guarantee there was no way I’d have slowed that episode down any longer than it had already taken. There are no jokes over the curse in the Garden of Eden on Eve and all woman kind – pregnancy, birth, and bringing children up is all sorts of painful at times.

But I don’t think it’s just the birthing of the child, that brings beauty and pain, it’s the birthing of a mother. I loved babies. I’d had more younger siblings than anyone I knew. I was a midwife. I really loved babies. I knew about babies. And then she arrived, and was absolutely nothing like I expected. And I didn’t feel anything like I expected. And I loved her but I didn’t know her or understand her. And that frightened me. And I felt so alone.

And here we are, on the eve of her fourteenth birthday, and she’s not the same as she was, and I’m definitely not the same as I was. She is the same height as me. She’s clever and loves reading and is arty and loves children. She still does things like paint rocks on her bed with nail varnish, which I used to tell her off for when she was 7, but now I accept as a lesser evil than posting inappropriate selfies on Instagram. Her sense of humour is hilarious and nothing like mine and she is very very tactile. And I am not. I told Liam yesterday the problem with children the same size as you coming at you for endless hugs and flopping on you with their crazy wild beautiful hair in your face is that they are actual adult human sized beings but they behave like children. And it reminded me of Elf, where the massive man-child sits on the tiny Papa Elf’s lap. But at the same time I’m grateful and I love that she still wants to hug us and get excited and tell us all about Bill Weasley and Liam Payne and memes and the film that made her cry and all the other random stuff I have to summon up the energy at 10pm to be interested in. Because it matters to her.

If there was one prayer I’d pray over her on her birthday, it would be the one I always wrote in our babies and foster babies Bibles, and prayed over them, the one my childhood pastor prayed over us at our dedications:

‘The LORD bless you and keep you;
the LORD make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.’ – Numbers 6:24-26

And incidentally it’s the words of the UK Blessing song which is spreading on social media and is powerful and emotive and is bringing hope to our nation, because it’s how God feels about us. And if there’s any message I want Megan to know today, tomorrow, and as she grows into adulthood, it is how very loved she is.

‘The Lord bless you and keep you
Make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you
The Lord turn His face toward you
And give you peace.

May His favor be upon you
And a thousand generations
And your family and your children
And their children, and their children.

May His presence go before you
And behind you and beside you
All around you and within you
He is with you, He is with you
In the morning, in the evening
In your coming and your going
In your weeping and rejoicing
He is for you, He is for you.’ (Bethel music)

Happy birthday my beautiful firstborn, Megan Elizabeth. We are for you, and He is for you.

This morning Liam was on a zoom spin session on the driveway with friends. I can’t really get my head around any of that. Zoom is bad enough, zoom whilst on a spin bike seems crazy. And zoom whilst on a spin bike in the open air where neighbours may see you seems all shades of foolish. Which is why I sat in the bedroom and watched the kids empty all the happyland out again. This picture sums it all up nicely – Maddie and Theo having an animated conversation about Santa and fairies, and in the background, Micah climbing all around, up, over, and down the bunk bed.

We’ve developed a sort of system with online church now, we watch the introduction and worship from church, then have other worship via YouTube which normally involves lots of the kids favourites and I stick some of mine in too. Then we watch the Sunday school story and do the craft, and at some point later in the day – often over the washing up – Liam and I catch up on the message.

Today’s accompaniment included a xylophone, maracas, Liam on the cajon, and Maddie dancing with ribbons. Unfortunately Theo decided he wanted a song which absolutely none of us could work out what it was. And the more we tried and got it wrong, the more stressed he got. So it made for a somewhat more disjointed morning, involving various attempts to try and help soothe him whilst keeping everything going for everyone else. Thankfully, he loves baking, so the video of a family baking bread on the Sunday school lesson went down a treat.

And then the big people helped the small people make baskets to hold the five loaves and two fish, baskets which they were very proud of.

After lunch my head was aching and my back was aching and I felt really tired. But I knew it was probably more a case of lethargy and being in the house too much, than anything else. So we eventually persuaded everyone to get out for a walk.

It was Bluebell heaven for me. I have a soft spot for bluebells, probably going back to my vague childhood memories of when my Grandpa died on May 2nd, when I was six years old. In the week following his funeral, we filled jamjars full of bluebells and placed them on his grave, making beautiful memories of a poignant time for a small child.

3 years ago after the sudden arrival of Micah we moved into a street named after bluebells, and in May of that year, after we were approved to adopt, we had our first family photo session with all six children in amongst bluebells in the woods. So I guess in a lot of ways, for me they symbolise hope, quiet beauty in the midst of challenge, and family. And I hope that when my children are older, they’ll look back at this time and remember the Bluebell walks more than the lockdown disappointments.

Of course despite the idyllic photos every family adventure comes with its fair share of arguments, falls, and frustrations. For some reason every child has felt the need to hang off me or at the very least be within six inches of my face for the majority of the day. But there were logs to climb and horses to watch in the field, and we breathed fresh air and saw reminders that the seasons are still changing and the world is still turning, even 48 days into being isolated together.

The benefits of a good walk are the much needed cup of tea for the grown ups and telly time for the kids on the return home. After a family zoom for me in which we discussed hair cuts and dye, dinner plans and the mass May birthdays, I cooked a hugely indulgent plateful of Churros for pudding. Which has no doubt undone any good the walk did, but was delicious and comforting. And there are leftovers.

When we walked today Maddie and I were chatting about the sheep. And why Jesus describes people as sheep. And it reminded me of a time many years ago, when life went out of my control and I felt like I was falling apart. We were fostering a little one we’d had since a tiny baby, and over a year into the placement, the plans that were being made for that child took U-turn and it was very very hard. And I fought it and prayed and questioned and struggled. Because I loved that baby like my own.

Around that time I went on a retreat day, and the lady running it prayed with me. And as she prayed, she described a sheep, stuck on a rock face, clambering and scrambling to try and get to safety. But that whilst the sheep was struggling, it was putting itself in danger, and what it most needed to do was to stop. To stand still, and wait for the shepherd to come and carry it to safety.

That situation didn’t go my way, but God used it to teach me a lot about my desire for control and trust, and resting in His faithfulness and His timing. And that He loves each person and each child better than I ever can, and His care for them goes beyond what I am capable of. And when I look at our family now, the family He’s picked for us, I know His ways are better than mine.

In these tricky days, we’re being forced to stop, and rest, and wait for someone else to make a decision. And I still want to fight that. To try and plan how we’ll manage the days. What we’ll do if the job doesn’t work out. And I come out of this overweight and unkempt with a messy house. How we’ll transition anxious children back into school – and into school for the first time. What if people forget about me? Often my anxiety comes from a place of feeling out of control. But when I was watching the sheep, and remembering that hard but precious part of my story, I also remembered a verse from Exodus, when the Israelites are leaving Egypt, but Pharaoh has a change of heart and gathers an army to chase them to the Red Sea. And the Israelites panic. And Moses says to them:

“Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.””
‭‭Exodus‬ ‭14:13-14‬ ‭

To be still. Maybe the best thing I can do is to rest. To wait. To trust that God hasn’t stopped loving His people and rescuing His people. His timing is perfect. I can stop wrestling and stressing and fighting the challenges and fears, and just be still. The Shepherd will come. The God who parted the Red Sea for the Israelites to free them will come to us in our time of need and rescue us. We only need to be still.

I woke early today, before any of the kids, so I snuck down with Maddie when she woke up and we put the telly on. I actually quite like being the first one awake – in term time I set my alarm deliberately intending to wake up before anyone else just to get a possible ten minutes with a cup of tea before everything gets noisy – both outside and inside my head.

Lockdown me isn’t setting an early alarm, but I quite enjoy giving the kids a bit of tv before breakfast and having my cup of tea in relative peace. But today I sat back down after breakfast, picked up my crochet, and slowed down. Earlier in the week, Maddie’s reading book was the Hare and the Tortoise, which reminded me of the phrase we’re hearing a lot at the moment: ‘it’s a marathon, not a sprint.’ I think I tend to live life in the fast lane whether I want to or not, being busy and moving on to the next thing – and if things aren’t moving, then I’m worrying about what I need to do next. But life has slowed down now, and I’m starting to find enjoyment in that. To not feel like I should be doing the next thing, but to make the most of it, because who knows when we’ll get a time to slow down again? Maybe I’m learning some new things in lockdown.

Liam is always willing to give me time, I’m just never very good at asking for it. This morning he went upstairs with the younger kids, and a happyland town took over the bedroom.

The time spent sitting down and even indulging in the luxury of having a shower renewed me with a new zest for creating order, much to my family’s dismay. I ordered every bedroom floor to be tidied so that I could hoover the dust pit that is our house. Happily, some of the children indulged me. And in the meantime I put more boxes into storage and Liam hung pictures. 47 days into isolation and it feels like we’re just starting to do the jobs we haven’t managed to do in 3 years of living here. Which makes me wonder if we’d ever have got round to doing them in normal life.

Micah turned up dressed like this and demanding a jacket as well. He then started climbing in and out of the wardrobe on the landing. I was a little confused until he kept calling it his clock, and then the obvious dawned on me. He’s Andy from Andy’s Dinosaur Adventures. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.

After lunch he traded occupations and turned into Dean the window cleaner. I’m grateful Dean comes to clean the windows that the kids have made dirty by pretending to be Dean.

Later on they took the never ending streams of teddies outside to live in the semi-built chicken coop. I’d be okay with leaving the teddies to live there actually, but they did all reappear in the house before bedtime. Which was a swift process tonight so we could continue watching the Marvel films. Toby is giving us all an education on Saturday nights, I can’t say my heart is completely in it though. Still, four films down, 950 to go.

My lovely sister sent me this today and it got me thinking again about all the things I’m grateful for. And all the people I’m grateful for. Some days being grateful comes easily.

But other days it’s not so easy is it? On hard days or lonely days. In isolation or surrounded by people. Some days we can have everything we need and still feel like we’re lacking. I read a book several years ago when I was struggling to see all the good things I had. It was called 1000 Gifts, and the author, Ann Voskamp, challenged herself to find 3 things every day she was thankful for. And it changed her whole mindset. And it changed mine, too.

And I think that’s partly why writing this daily blog has been so helpful. Because even at the end of a tough day, when I look back through pictures of the children playing or learning or a walk together, or see the messages or gifts I’ve been sent in the day, I can’t help but be grateful. Or even as I just remember the food I’ve eaten and the fact I’m still at home and healthy. And on the days when it’s a fight to be joyful, my safety is a gift, and the breath I breathe is a gift. There is always something to be thankful for.

‘Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.
I say to the LORD, “You are my Lord; I have no good apart from you.”

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure.

You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.’ – Psalm 16:1&2, 9, 11.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was one of those mornings when I woke up with two small boys in my bed and no husband. The boys were trying to be very quiet and sneak away, I suspected to wake Maddie up. So I asked them where they were going, which made them jump, and Theo replied ‘We’re going to check no bad guys have sneaked in. We’re very brave.’ With that kind of confidence and heroism, what could I say?!

I’m especially grateful that click and collect shops are now easy to book, and so off I went to Tesco for my 9-11 slot, leaving half the children starting work and the other half in pjs watching Moana. 50% seems a reasonable success rate to me. There are however some downsides with click and collect these days. Firstly, I was done and dusted in 20 minutes. No all morning jaunt out of the house for me! Secondly, we’re limited to 80 items. This is actually not much when there’s 8 of you. Well, my maths tells me it’s 10 items per person. So there were difficult decisions to make over whether I had 3 tins of beans for 75p, or a second bottle of wine? It was no joke, especially with two birthdays to plan for next week.

Unfortunately I made an online shopping error with the pasta sauce, as you can see above. Clearly I didn’t check the jar size. I’m not sure the child size jar will do our family for a meal! Still, we hit the jackpot with rinse aid, which had been avoiding us for about a month now at every shop I’ve done. Finally, squeaky clean dishes once more.

The Frozen worksheets went down well…as did supplying doughnuts alongside the work. They were so happy with their work success that we had to FaceTime Grandma and the Aunties to show them. And Micah then insisted on getting out the box of puzzles that he makes Grandma do with him every time she visits, to try and do over FaceTime. Theo’s informed Auntie Mim that when lockdown is over he’s coming for a 10 night sleepover. I’m ok with that plan. I might pack a bag ready, you know, just to be prepared. Once Boris gives the nod, we’ll be on our way.

Liam was busy working on Megan’s DT project today. For the entire afternoon. Which he definitely seemed more committed to than she did. So I sat downstairs with the small ones, who played hard and then watched Monster’s University. Which gave me a chance to sit, crochet, and watch some good soul lifting videos. Except for the hour that my phone was hi-jacked by Toby on a call with his friends, which turned into virtual hide and seek. How that works I can’t even fathom!

This time last year I was generously gifted a ticket to a women’s conference in London, which my mum came with me too, and it was a special time of tears, refreshment, fun, and rest. We booked for this year when we were still sitting in the auditorium, and that’s where I would have been headed today. For 3 days in a hotel, with breakfast cooked for me, with my mum and sisters, listening to powerful talks and meaningful music.

So there’s elements of obvious disappointment that those plans have also been cancelled. Liam and I find it ironic that at the beginning of this year we carefully planned lots of breaks and holiday time throughout 2020. And one by one, we’ve crossed them off.

But often what I think I need isn’t what God knows I need. He knew last year that the conference would be cancelled this year. For the first time in the conference’s history, last year they decided they would record the first one in February 2020, and to stream it, meaning that the entire 3 days is accessible online throughout these days of lockdown.

I thought I needed a break from my family and to find God in London. He knew that this year we’d need to be having a break from normal life not away from each other, but together. He knew that I could find Him in new ways every day in the middle of my kitchen and through the voices of my children and on a Sunday morning sitting on the lounge rug in front of YouTube worship songs. In little conversations with the kids and in time to watch the birds in the garden.

Our pastor shared a talk today and quoted one of my Grandma’s favourite hymns, ‘O Love that Wilt Not Let Me Go’, with these lines that I’ve loved since I was young, and had no idea what they meant:

‘O Joy, that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.’

There are days lockdown is hard and tearful, when it’s loud and chaotic, where it’s scary and lonely, and there are heavy hearted times where I feel other people’s pain and plead with God for them. But there are also so many rainbows to be traced through the rain of isolation too. Moments like our family walk after dinner, where Liam and I couldn’t walk together because of teenage girls pushing in and fighting to hold our hands, of little brothers standing at the bottom of a banking offering to catch their older sisters, of laughter when Micah buried a leaf and then tried his hardest to find it again on a muddy beach. Of giggles as Megan and I tried to whistle the very high notes from Phantom of the Opera. (It’s not possible, in case you’re trying now). Of little ones who snuggle in closer than before and feel safer than they did before. Of surprise parcels through the post because we’re remembering other ways of showing we care. Of learning to work harder at connecting with people and fighting zoom weirdness and dodgy WiFi and drinking coffee over FaceTime and looking horrendous on the camera, because it’s so important to ‘hang out’ with people and make time for community.

And I’ve had rainbows in messages from you kind people who keep reading our crazy and boring days and sending lovely encouraging messages, and it all feels less like isolation and more like we’re building something special together. And that when we go back out into the world we’ll value people more because we won’t take them for granted like maybe we did at times before.

‘O Love, that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O Light, that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to Thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy, that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross, that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from Thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be. (George Matheson)

(‘Hope’ wooden rainbow purchased from Pippa Fitzgerald on Etsy and arrived today).

Ok so that’s one of those exciting yet misleading headlines written by a person who know it’s completely untrue but couldn’t think of a title so is going with it anyway.

Last night Theo was begging for a bath but it was late and we needed to get him in bed so we could join the church prayer meeting. So I randomly promised they could have a bath first thing in the morning. What a brilliant idea it was! We could get the older three sorted on schooling whilst the younger three threw water all over the bathroom and themselves to their heart’s content, all the while contained in one place. A stroke of genius, while it lasted.

I worry that I’ve changed in isolation. I have this strange inner nursery teacher emerging and bringing paint out on a daily basis. I think I’m just beginning to accept that the appeal ability of a learning task has direct correlation with its potential for mass destruction. So I got out the paints and the toilet rolls and we made caterpillar prints. We even added feet and eyes and antennae before boredom set in.

I think some of the pressure I feel in the morning is the fact that if I don’t start strong with an exciting first task, I lose my nursery pupil within minutes. And as he only lasts for one activity, it has to be a good one. But today I stumbled across pages and pages of Elsa and Frozen themed learning ideas. This may buy me at least 10 minutes enthusiasm tomorrow.

Yesterday Liam hung a little shelf for me that I bought ages ago. Obviously there’s no way it will ever look like this again, but it amused me that for a few minutes, I had all my ducks in a row.

I’m not entirely sure what got into Micah today, but he developed a sudden appeal for a hairstyle change. Maybe it was the threat of another lockdown haircut that led him to consider a wig as a better option.

It featured more than once throughout the day, leading me to believe he’s giving it serious consideration.

My head ached a bit today, and I was on a bit of a go slow. So I was extremely grateful for Liam taking the younger four out on a walk leaving me with Megan and Maisie, who I didn’t see the whole time. I actually drank tea and ate chocolate and crocheted in peace. It was lovely.

They returned of course, and the walk didn’t seem to have taken Micah’s slightly unusual mood from him. He brought me five dolls and asked me to look after them. I put them in the washing basket, to try and dutifully keep an eye whilst sorting the other laundry. He then reappeared and decided he needed to go to bed next to them.

We then proceeded to have a good fifteen minutes of him getting out, giving me instructions on what I should be doing to care for the babies, whilst he went and fetched more things for me to look after. This included a puppy, two rocks, a toy bath, and a few cars. He then said he couldn’t stay because he had to go fixing. With that he picked up his tool box and marched off. I fear that the gender stereotypes are strong already.

I really think lockdown is hitting him hard today. He sat at the dinner table singing ‘Let it go’ but replacing the words. ‘Let it doughnut! Let it doughnut!’ Or ‘I don’t care what the coconut says, let the coconut rage on, the coconut never bothered me anyway.’

And the troll disguise was his final party piece before bed. I’ve said it before, they are exhausting but hilarious.

I finished my salt dough piece today, a momento from these strange days together. When Megan, Maisie and Toby were little, I made canvas paintings with their handprints on. And then when each of our foster little ones left, I made a little tradition of taking their handprints on the day they moved on from us. Maddie, Theo and Micah, never had to leave, for which we are eternally grateful. But in true latter sibling style, I also kept forgetting to take their handprints. But these days feel significant and worth recording in many ways. Obviously for the big picture of Covid 19 and protecting our NHS, staying home is no small thing.

But I feel that for our family it is no small thing either. For our older girls, who are almost 13 and 14, these days with them are precious, seeing their humour and identities emerge, and building a trust between us is a gift and an unexpected blessing. For Toby, who at 10 is still working out his own personality and his place in the family. For Maddie these days are precious and slowly helping to build a sense of safety and peace and security. For Theo and Micah…well, we’re probably just protecting the world from them!

So it seemed a good time to make a visual record of these days together. I couldn’t fit Liam and my hands on there though so it looks like we scarpered and left the kids to fend for themselves in lockdown 2020. We can only dream. And because it’s a huge piece of salt dough it’s inevitably going to break before the end of lockdown. But you know, in my head it’s a sweet and lovely memory. And I’ve got a photo of it to prove it.

I read Psalm 90 today, which brought fresh perspective of where our safety and security are, and of making the most of the days we’re given.

1 Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.
2 Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
3 You return man to dust and say, “Return, O children of man!”
4 For a thousand years in your sight are but as yesterday when it is past, or as a watch in the night. – Psalm 90:1-4

He continues:

12 So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.
13 Return, O LORD! How long? Have pity on your servants!
14 Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
15 Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil.
16 Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their children.
17 Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands! – Psalm 90:12-17

I love the Psalmist’s sense of security in dwelling with God. The God who was before all things, and will be forever, and for whom these days are just a passing moment.

And then in verse 12 he asks for wisdom in numbering our days. On my last birthday I turned 38, and I found it hard. My brother Dan passed away suddenly at the age I am now, and when you lose someone that close to you, the reality of the frailty of life is right there in front of you. Our days are a blessing and a gift, and not to be wasted.

So I pray for these days those words of verses 14 and 15, that we may be daily satisfied in God’s love, that for as many days as we face challenges we will find gladness, that God’s favour will be on us, and that even these months in our homes will bear fruit for our families and for the world.

We found a sort of order in the disorder this morning. It helped that the activities for Theo were largely food based. We did a sorting task based on healthy and unhealthy food. He translated this as ‘yummy treats’ and ‘good for you’. Which meant he put all the things he liked in the unhealthy basket and everything he didn’t like in the healthy one. He got top marks on that game.

The second task involved real food addition. This went really well until he started eating the food and messed the maths right up.

Maddie also very much enjoyed her insect sorting game. Until she thought Theo’s work looked much more fun and edible and gave up on her maths to do his instead. By then he was off eating an orange and couldn’t care less about the maths so that was all good.

I then pulled out my secret ‘I knew it was going to be a rainy day’ activity of painting the salt dough cupcakes that we made yesterday. I know, I’m getting braver with paint. Or just more closely supervising the antics. Although Maddie still ended up with one eyebrow painted blue, despite my watchful eye. I can’t claim credit for any of these activities of course. They all come from helpful super-parenting groups. Written by people who are much less scared of glitter and shaving foam than I am. But I was particularly pleased with this one, if all goes to plan it will have provided three days worth of entertainment – the making of the dough, the painting of the cakes, and tonight I dutifully put them all in cupcake cases on a tray in the toy kitchen, and they’ll be there in the morning, ready for play. Or, the more likely outcome, which is that they’ll be confiscated and binned after a few minutes of children either persistently trying to eat them, or throwing them at each other’s heads. I’ll keep you posted on the next exciting instalment.

These are the three pretty princesses who pranced around for a while after lunch. In this photo you can see the smallest saying a perfect ‘cheese’, whilst the middle child states all his reasons for why he should have Elsa’s hair. And the biggest adamantly refusing his demands, even though he pleaded, ‘but I don’t have the long hair like you, mine is all short, so I neeeeeeed the hair.’ You can see by her face she was not to be easily swayed.

I didn’t take many photos today because my phone had an unfortunate incident where it fell out of my pocket into the toilet. Whoops. The screen is already very smashed which renders the splashproofness into not very splash proof. So for a large portion of the day the home button wouldn’t work but everything else would. Which meant I had to ask Siri for everything. ‘Siri, open WhatsApp. Siri, open Barclays. Siri, open Safari.’ Poor Siri sounded so hen-pecked that I let him (her/it) have a rest. And then miraculously it healed itself.

To be fair, there wasn’t much to photograph as the afternoon for the children largely consisted of them watching The Jungle Book followed by another Disney plus spin off from the Jungle Book in quick succession. They then went prowling around the house, claws out and hissing at everyone they passed. Like they needed to do impressions of wild animals!

The day of rain caught up with us though and when I was trying to make dinner they were running around like the cheetahs they’d been imitating. So I made what may prove to have been a parenting mistake. I taught them ‘What’s the Time Mr Wolf?’

Maddie got it very quickly, then started adding lots of rules to the original rules. Micah understood, but shouting ‘dinner time!’ and roaring was far more fun than the boring ‘two o clock’ part. And Theo, who loves and hates anything involving suspense, giggled and squealed and ran around in circles. But they found it hilarious and it gave five minutes entertainment so I counted that a win.

It was really encouraging to join a church online evening to pray tonight, to see a hundred other faces all calling on God to bring healing and comfort and peace. I miss community. I love my family to pieces, and there’s so much good for our kids in being cocooned with us. But there are so many others that I’m grateful for and I miss seeing, hearing different perspectives, and being encouraged and challenged by. And I’m really missing seeing my friends and families babies! I’m not getting my baby fix, and they’re all growing up!

Sorry, I digress. It was so good to ‘be’ with others, even online. To be reminded of how big God is and of how much He loves people.

I was encouraged today by Psalm 103,

2 Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits,
3 who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases,
4 who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
5 who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.
6 The LORD works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed.
7 He made known his ways to Moses, his acts to the people of Israel.
8 The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. – Psalm 103:2-8

The story Theo picked this evening talked about the Star Maker, the One who created the stars, coming down from heaven to become a baby and lie under the stars He had made. And He came because He loved us. And He wanted community with us. He cares about our hard days and our grieving hearts and our messy broken stuff. He cares about the people who are vulnerable and hurting and anxious and sick. He listens to my cries in the garage and my tears at the news and my fears for my family and my anxious children’s worries. And He cares. And He brings help and healing and hope.

This morning I got up with a long to do list already imprinted in my brain. Before anyone had a chance to stress me, the stresses were there. Theo woke me to ask if it was my birthday, a bit odd because my birthday’s not until August. It turns out he wanted it to be his birthday, which he knows is after mine. In November. So I had to set him straight on the sad news. But that aside, we trudged downstairs

And then I set to work. Getting breakfast, printing off school worksheets. Obviously the paper and ink both ran out so that needed sorting. Online banking to juggle the money that is still being paid into the wrong account. I was aware that there was a wet load of washing in the machine and the upstairs bathroom had the telltale pink ring around the plug and a thick layer of dust on the shelves, giving away the fact it’s been at least two weeks since that was cleaned. There were clean piles of laundry in every bedroom waiting to be put away, and all the Easter decorations with a dead Easter tree dropping leaves in the dining room.

But in the meantime Theo was shouting at me for a drink repeatedly, and Maddie had developed a mystery pain in her foot, which she couldn’t stop talking about (often a symptom of anxiety and stress for her). The older kids were somewhat reluctant to get out of bed, and Liam is still not sleeping well or feeling great. So before 8:15 the pressure was rising and I was already heading for boiling point.

Liam went to help the older girls sort out their work and I tried to get the younger ones going with some learning. Toby is great and cracks on with it. Maddie loves most of it unless you suggest writing a sentence. Otherwise, she flies through the worksheets at a pace quicker than I can keep up with. Theo and Micah liked the play doh modelling tasks, but Theo suddenly felt he’d done enough and went to strop on the sofa. At which point Micah also decided he had played ball for long enough. He threw the puzzle I offered him, rejected the colouring pens, and demanded one of Maddie’s worksheets. Which I gave him and he did one scribble on before going off to hunt for Liam.

It was around this point that I really started to feel like I was going to lose it and either shout or cry. But I knew inside that it wouldn’t be fair to rant and rage at my family who had no idea how I felt, and were probably oblivious to the things that were getting me down. (Except for the stropping kids. They’re hard to ignore!). So I had a chat with Liam, who is exceptionally gracious to my plot losing moments, and he disappeared upstairs with the cleaning products.

I gave up on getting any more work out of the younger ones and opted for life skills instead. Baking a chocolate cake is essential for their future isn’t it? Followed by mixing up salt dough and modelling it, because they love the weighing and measuring and the gooey mess, and I figured painting the results would buy us another activity tomorrow.

After lunch Liam and I had a longer chat about how things could work a bit better, and what we both felt would help the kids and us to keep plodding on. I felt today that I needed some exercise and some space from the house. I struggle with the battle of continual mess. I love home-making, I love my big family and I love time together. But the amount of chaos created by everyone being here all the time can make me lose perspective. I felt I needed both to walk off the brownies I keep eating, and to get out for more than the 10 minute round trip of the river that the small kids can manage.

So I left Maddie and Theo in front of a film, Toby on a wii game, Megan and Maisie working away, and Liam cutting the lawn. I packed Micah in the buggy and went off for a trek up very steep hills and then along the canal. Strangers smiled at me, the birds sang, I saw hills and horses and walked and walked. A friend had sent me an encouraging video to watch, so on the way back I listened to that. Micah slept for the entire hour and a half. And it was exactly what I needed. To come home with fresh eyes and tired legs and to feel like my body and soul had been energised.

Obviously just because I felt better doesn’t mean I came back to complete tranquility, but snacks helped, and a bit of cake decorating therapy for Toby.

This morning when it was all overwhelming and I felt like I couldn’t do everything expected of me, an early Bible story came to mind. Back in Exodus, Moses sees the burning bush and has a chat with God. God has seen His people suffering, and is sending Moses to challenge the Pharaoh, and to tell him to free the Israelites. We all know it – ‘Let my people go!’. But Moses can only see his inadequacies and limitations. He doesn’t think he’s the right person for the job. He raises several points on why he probably isn’t the right candidate. He’s got a bad reputation in Egypt, and anyway they might not listen to him or believe him. Oh, and also, he’s not a very eloquent speaker.

But on all these points, God replies, and tells Him that he is the man for the job. Because Moses isn’t doing it alone. God tells him, ‘But I will be with you…I Am Who I Am…Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak.’ (Exodus 3:12, 14, 4:12).

On days like today I’m like a much less interesting version of Moses. I haven’t been asked to do amazing feats helping a nation escape a tyrannical leader, and I didn’t encounter miraculous fiery foliage on my walk. I’m just here, being asked to care for my family and keep loving and plodding on, in the ups and downs and through the impact of trauma and grief and hormones and toddler terrorism and the isolations of life. And some days even that feels too much. And I throw out all the reasons why I’m not capable and it’s too hard and I just. can’t. do. it.

But God is the I Am. The One who always has been and always will be, and He promises to be with me. To give me what I need. He knows me and my strengths and weaknesses. He knows my faults and my failings. But He’s given me more than I could have imagined in the gift of my family. And more than that, He gives me His presence and His power to help me care for them. Because He never asked me to do it alone.