I started this morning feeling positive and encouraged, but in all honesty, the days feel hard right now. Today the kids fought or whined for the majority of the day. This morning I really wanted to say to the one who likes to tell tales, that the only thing more annoying than hearing the little ones screaming at each other, is the fact that someone always feels the need to come and tell me. As if I can’t hear it!

After a couple of hours where I basically stood around breaking up fights, offering food, or intervening in dangerous acrobatic feats, I developed a pounding headache. And the mess in the house and the continual ‘mum I want…’ and the thought of this carrying on indefinitely started to get me down.

But even in those moments, there is grace. And paracetamol. And after lunch we sat down, put on a film for the boys, I drank tea and ate cake, and cross stitched HOPE. Liam took two of the kids on a bike ride, and Sleeping Beauty gave me a brief respite. Micah obviously sensed my weariness, because when Theo called ‘I’m done!’ from the toilet, Micah shouted, ‘wees or poos?’ Followed by ‘hold on, I’m coming!’ as he marched off to go and clean his brother up. Needless to say I intervened in that little operation.

Once Liam, Toby and Maddie were back from their bike ride I felt that the rest of the children and I needed to get out, so I ‘encouraged’ them on a walk. However I was met with strong resistance from both the older girls and the younger boys. Theo was particularly unimpressed, he didn’t want to walk down the river or on the street. If we went left he wanted to go right. I persuaded him by stopping at our friend’s house for a social distant chat and for him and his buddy to see each other’s faces. He enjoyed that, but as we carried on informed me that he wanted to be the boss of me, and if he was the boss, he would ‘push me over the side’. Of what, I’m not entirely sure. The pavement? The river? The world? I’ve been parenting for nearly 14 years now so I don’t take the insults personally, but some days the continual abuse can be wearing!

And yet, despite the initial ‘what’s that yucky pizza?’ when they saw my homemade effort, they wolfed it all down, and for the first time today settled down to playing nicely. Micah had us laughing with his rendition of a song in which the chorus is ‘rejoice’, except he was singing very loudly, in his very gruff voice, ‘Rachel’, whilst playing air guitar.

There were even spontaneous signs of affection from these two. And they all went to bed relatively happily, which is always a blessing.

Once the younger three are in bed the older ones spring to life. It was gone 10pm and the older girls were still sitting either side of me and wanting to play and mess around, and it’s a struggle to muster up the energy. But the song Micah was singing is stuck in my head tonight:

‘Painter of skies, maker of stars
Holder of seas and all our hearts
Artist of life, father of lights
When I’m with you my soul ignites
You see my sin but love me the same
Breathe on my hurt and raise me again
Up from the ash, up from the dust
You’re recreating us

I will not waste this day you’ve made
I will be glad

Rejoice, rejoice
In the sunshine, in the sorrow
Oh, my soul rejoice

How can it be, you know my name
Tamer of storms who calms the waves
How can it be, I can’t explain
Why you carry me and all my shame
You take my sin and all of the mess
As far as the east is from the west
Everything changed, I stand amazed
My every breath is grace

I will not waste this day you’ve made
I will be glad…’ (Rend Collective, Life is Beautiful)

Those lines, ‘my every breath is grace, I will not waste this day you’ve made’, have stuck with me all evening. As we hear more stories of families losing loved ones in these very difficult times, I am aware that our every breath is a gift. And whilst it is undeniably challenging spending these days unrelentingly being demanded, with no respite, I don’t want to waste the time we’re given. It sometimes takes all of my energy and internal praying for strength to keep loving and keep giving out, and often I don’t do it as well or as graciously as I could, but the days end and I’m tired but thankful. That we had today. That we have each other. Tomorrow isn’t promised, and I don’t want to waste the time we’re given. So tomorrow, God willing, we’ll start again, there’ll be more grace, more hope, and more opportunities to show patience. I pray I use my every breath I’m given wisely and to show love.

We had a slow start today. As in, I hadn’t really done anything much by lunchtime. We received Theo’s school offer through the post, so that distracted me for a while. I am grateful he’s got into the school we wanted, grateful his other nursery friends will be there with him. And obviously, at the moment the thought of any of them going to school is appealing! But it’s also a strange prospect imagining him going full time in September when he’ll have missed so many weeks of nursery. And all these weeks I thought I’d have with him and Micah before they start reception and nursery are now being filled with schooling everyone and keeping us all plodding along. So there’s an element of sadness in there too, as there is when all the kids started school. Except this is such a unique situation and the transition feels like it will be greater for him after the all the changes of this year. But for today he’s completely unaware, and was instead enthralled by the sudden springing up of dandelions, daisies, and some pretty purple flower all over our front garden, which he deemed as ‘magical’! And insisted on picking dandelion clocks to keep in a jar in his bedroom. I’m not sure how that’s going to pan out.

Meanwhile Maddie made herself an ‘apartment’ under the climbing frame, apparently it’s next to the sea. All the necessities were removed there, kitchen equipment, her cuddle top, and a magazine. She overheard the conversation about Theo getting into school and promptly had a wobble over the fact that she doesn’t want to go back to school, although she does miss her friends, and how many days will it be, and it’s good Theo will be at her school but they’ll only see each other at playtime, and several other worries. So we had a cuddle and talked about how it’s not happening yet, and she’s here and safe and nothing’s changing today. And then we thought about all the things we’re looking forward to doing when the germs are gone. Which other people came and added to. Because I have no intention of going to Niall Horan’s concert.

Remember our feral child who I caught as he was about to water the garden? Today we didn’t catch him in time. Instead we saw him out of the kitchen window as he proudly did a wee in the middle of the lawn. He was incredibly smug and had not a jot of remorse. I don’t think the world will be ready for our re-entry back into society.

The younger three felt the need to have a post lunch lie down, like some sort of advert for the slogan above them.

Liam suggested the kids wash my car, which the sensory seekers were very enthusiastic about. Megan developed the less enthusiastic teen method of rolling up and down on a skateboard whilst letting the brush drag along the side of the car. Theo, who loves anything involving water was engrossed with squeezing the cloth and watching the water run down the car, and then found out that it’s really fun to wet the cloth and spin it around whilst spraying all your siblings.

And Maisie allocated herself a ‘supervisory’ role. Needless to say, within about 20 minutes all six children were back in the house, leaving a decidedly smeary still dirty car. Isolation life day 30 – Liam and I officially did something we have never done in almost 15 years of married life – we washed a car together. Things must be getting desperate.

Cute scenes as the younger kids had afternoon telly, followed by Micah falling asleep next to Maddie. It’ll never cease to be amazing how children can flit between screaming at each other to adoring each other within seconds. Any moment like this makes me so incredibly grateful they are together. For all the hard moments, the thought of them being separated from one another is unimaginable.

While they chilled out I decided to have a awesome mum moment and make rainbow play doh. It worked, they were excited, they got stuck in. And then they spent the next half an hour demanding complicated models, complaining about who had the bigger ball of doh, whining about cracks in it, and generally being miserable. So I ditched awesome mum mode and fed them Easter sweets instead.

It was another Bowen birthday today, so another family zoom was set. Liam offered to take the kids for a walk so I could chat without being climbed on by several children. It meant I could really engage in the conversations. And play my part once it all went downhill and we started singing Les Misérables songs. It may need a little more polishing before we release that particular number.

Dinner time included a half an hour stand off with one child over their refusal to eat any macaroni but insistence on having a brownie. It was tiring for both of us, and I just felt sorry for them. All these big feelings, the apparent injustice of it all. In the heat of it I was told I’m not allowed to live here anymore. At that particular moment I was kind of ok about that, but by bedtime they’d changed their mind and I wasn’t allowed to leave the room. If there’s any blessing from a dinner time meltdown, it’s the fact they’re so tired that after a bath they fall asleep the minute their head hits the pillow.

The talk on the news this evening implies, as ever, we don’t know how many more weeks we’ll be here doing this. And I kind of felt emotionless about it all today. I feel tired, but then I felt a different kind of tired before it all. It feels strange to think ahead now, the future seems to be so distant. But at the same time the earth keeps turning and at some point we will be back to it and I’ll be looking at school uniform for six children and feeling super emotional about all the milestones.

So I’m grateful for today, even in the frustrations. I’m grateful that my anxious little girl feels safe at home. That the kids surprise us every day. That Liam and I are still laughing together more than we’re not. That before big changes of GCSEs and year 6 and reception and nursery happen, we’ll have had weeks together where we learned more about loving each other and forgiving each other and what makes each other giggle.

And I’m grateful that in it all, the hard days, the slow and seemingly fruitless days, and the good days, there is help.

6 ‘Blessed be the LORD! For he has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy.
7 The LORD is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him.’ – Psalm 28:6-7

The face of a little girl who has had enough of all this isolating. And her loving brother, who smells her misery from a mile away and swoops in to tease her in any way possible. And really that is how the morning began. Maddie was sad. And when she’s sad, her tummy hurts and her legs hurt and she’s tired, and there’s nothing she really wants but she does want something, just not what you offered. And Theo, who likes a reaction, finds ways to get one. By insisting he play with the only toy she has decided she wants. Or any other clever little plans. They can be hilarious and they can be infuriating. This morning was the latter. So it involved a lot of creative play, therapeutic cuddling, and some bribery. I had to do a food shop, so I took a wish list from every family member. Partly because bringing back something exciting from the outside world is a little highlight of lockdown, and partly because I hoped it might be a distraction from the moods. Requests ranged from a mint chocolate bar, to a Frozen comic, and from the one who always tries to push their luck – a Nintendo Switch. Ha. Ha.

I was really hoping that one of the people I messaged would take me up on my offer of buying shopping for them, just so I could go and wave at a friendly face from the end of their driveway, but alas, no one needed my services, and I had to go straight back home. I never knew I could be so keen to run errands, just to buy more allowed time outside of the house! I arrived back in time for lunch, and was very briefly dubbed ‘best mum ever!’ for fulfilling the various requests. Toby deigned to accept the nasty blue coloured sugar filled sweet thing in place of a £300 games console. He’ll try again next week though, I have no doubt.

Whilst I was out Liam had kept the peace with a game of hide and seek, followed by getting them cleaning the summer garden toys. Which started the inevitable question… ‘can we have the slip and slide, pleeeeeaassse?’

And we obliged. There was lots of laughter, and only one injury. So that seemed a winner.

Once they had enough and were getting cold, we dried them off and opted for telly time. We made a coffee and tried to sneak outside to drink it, child free, in the sun. We timed it as less than five minutes before the pitter patter of tiny feet joined us. Actually, more of a thud thud thud, because there’s nothing delicate about Micah. So our coffee break became a paper aeroplane throwing contest. We had a delightful moment where Micah declared ‘you’re my favourite mum and dad!’ A minute later, for no obvious reason, he informed me I was ‘heavy. And moody. And tired.’ I mean he’s not wrong, but it does make me wonder what Liam says about me behind my back…

Overheard this afternoon during tv time…one sibling to the others, ‘I’m just taking the remote, so that I’m in control.’ You’ve got to love sibling rivalry and the fight for status. The remote control, the ultimate symbol of power.

Toby very much enjoyed making – and eating his Easter freakshake this afternoon, whilst some of us joined a family zoom to celebrate my brother Nathan’s 40th birthday. When we were children, I hated the four months of the year he’d claim he was two years older than me. Today I felt very smug about ‘only’ being 38. How things change!

After dinner Liam had a work call to take, so the kids and I went for a walk. They opted to do the street route instead of the river tonight. It basically consisted of me calling the ones running ahead to come back, shushing the ones who were shouting, stopping the others from stroking cats, and keeping our eyes peeled for rainbows. It wasn’t the most restful of wandering, but the change of scenery and taste of freedom is still much needed.

Today was another day. There were fun bits, there were hard bits. The younger children particularly, are never entirely settled in these times. Whenever Micah’s upset he cries for Grandma. Maddie’s struggling with the loss of teachers who really got her needs, and little friends who accept her as she is. Theo is bored and wants to run of steam and make a lot of mess and play superheroes with his nursery buddy. Things changed so fast and they can’t make sense of it and we can’t give them a number of sleeps until it’s over, and that’s hard and tiring.

I was encouraged by these verses from Isaiah this morning. They are in the context of there being strength for those who seek social justice for the vulnerable, but this evening I felt them for me, for any other parent or carer, who is weary from the constant demands of those in your home.

10 ‘if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday.
11 And the LORD will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail’. – Isaiah 58:10-11

I often feel the burden of the vulnerable, and was praying this morning for the children at risk during these days of lockdown. And sometimes I wish I could do more, care more, help more. But these verses reminded me that I’m doing what I’m asked to do, for those in my home, who often claim to be hungry. And although they are actually very well fed, they are, at the moment especially, emotionally hungry and afflicted, because everything has changed and is uncertain. And I’m grateful for the promise that as I pour myself out in caring and loving and feeding and meeting needs, God is there, satisfying my needs and strengthening my bones, and watering me, so I can keep pouring out to them. I’m not doing this alone.

The day started with breaking up arguments. Closely followed by four children then climbing all over the bed, and a nursery rhyme sing-off taking place. Before I’d consumed caffeine. About two hours later, Megan and Maisie sleepily appeared, only to put in complaints that they’d been woken at 6:30 by Maddie whilstling outside their door. And at 7:30 by all three of the younger children knocking. They wanted to know if we could put a stair gate up to stop the intrusions. I suggested they could just get up and entertain them, but this idea was not enthusiastically received.

Our team won the Bowen family quarantine quiz last week, which meant we had to set the questions for this week. I’d like to pretend I played a role in both winning and setting a new one, but I have zero general knowledge, Megan and Liam can take the credit. My role was basically sending the answers for the last one, and reading the questions for the new one. It’s good to know your limitations. Don’t ever ask me to be on your pub quiz team. Except to note take.

Grandma sent a quiz to the younger ones, which they completed with great gusto. I’m not entirely sure the Queen would appreciate the fact that she lives at ‘The London Castle’, but it was accepted by the quizmaster, so they were happy.

Toby had great plans for our family Olympics today, and once Toby has an idea, he ensures you don’t forget it. I pacified him for a while by playing football with him, Maddie put herself on my team, and Micah began a rival match on the same pitch with Liam playing both on Toby’s team and also against Micah at the same time. As you can imagine, it was an absolute shambles.

The Olympics began after lunch, beginning with ‘javelin’, using a dart. Toby’s technique was lovely, but Megan took the lead.

Micah gave the ball hopping race a good try, he loves a good bounce, but I think the very short legs made this a tricky number to negotiate.

The short jump was a tie between Megan and Toby, apparently Maisie’s heavy shoes weighed her down.

The baton was somewhat uncoordinated, there were arguments over one team member not liking his team’s green baton and trying to switch teams midway. Another competitor took the baton, started running, then realised she’d left her cuddle blanket behind, so ran back to collect that before completing her leg of the course, much to the upset of her teammates.

The sprint races were more successful, and the results were close enough to not cause too many disputes.

The caterpillar race concluded the Games in complete chaos. Micah preferring to go and lie next to his favourite team mate, and Theo opted to lie on top of his. I don’t think they quite understood the concept.

Somehow the boys got involved in a water fight at this point, until Micah announced he needed a wee. And promptly dropped his pants and trousers, clearly intending to just use the grass. I objected to this new low level of feral behaviour, and marched him inside as he huffed and stropped and complained ‘but we ALWAYS use the toilet!’ like this is a bad thing. I’m trying to make sure we wash and cleanse and I even put make up on sometimes, but I do have concerns over how we’ll reintegrate back into normal society with any level of socially acceptable behaviours.

Especially as Maisie has taken to hanging out in the rabbit run. I think she prefers the bunny’s company to the rest of us. I can’t say I entirely blame her.

After we’d finished all the fun and games in the garden, Megan had made long daisy chains, and the older kids were sneaking back inside, Liam mentioned taking the children for a walk but wasn’t sure if we’d get it in before dinner now. I pointed out that it was 2:15. How are there so many hours in a day?! Having spent a lot of last week frantically baking in order to not miss out on any Easter treats, and also to hide in the kitchen for some cake mixing therapy, I had a sense today of restlessness. I guess this weekend was something we were aiming for, a bit of a high spot of excitement in the mundane, and now we are back to the long days, still with no idea when this might end.

After administering first aid to Theo in the form of an ice lolly for a bumped lip, and then removing a very large splinter from Toby’s foot, I snuck outside to drink tea and read, only to be immediately followed by at least three family members. It was fun to sit and watch Micah helping Liam build a chicken coop though.

We did manage our evening walk, accompanied by a toy rabbit on a lead. It was supposed to be a leisurely stroll, but Maddie had a sense of urgency, and frog-marched us all at high speed along the path.

In my restlessness this afternoon I was starting to wonder again what I should be doing in this time. I’m used to being busy, and if I stop, I feel like I’m wasting time. I should be doing something, helping somehow. I had been looking forward to our holiday as that feels like allowed rest. In a place away from home, with extra family members, and amazing scenes of beautiful tranquility, I always call the Lakes ‘my soul’s rest’. But I’ve been realising that maybe God wants me to be able to find a way to rest in the unrest too. If I feel crowded, the temptation is to opt to find a way to escape, do my walk on my own, hide away for a while. And that is okay at times, but I think that it can be a choice, too, to be able to stop even in the busyness and on a walk with all the brood, and still be able to find rest for my soul. Because right now, this is where I’m placed. These are the people I am able to help and love and support. I’m not on the front line, but I have a house full of people and I am being given a unique opportunity of days and weeks where we can build relationships, build family unity, build connection and be each other’s safe space. Yes, we are being pushed together, and yes, it’s hard and all consuming, but equally I don’t want to look back in a couple of months and feel like I wasted this time by being frustrated with all the mess in the house, jobs I haven’t done, and the people touching me all. the. time.

And I believe that God can help me in that. Even though I’m not getting my holiday, He promises rest. Jesus said to the people around him,

28 “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” – Matthew 11:28-30

And the apostle Paul said that ‘He (Christ) said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness…For when I am weak, then I am strong. – 2 Corinthians 12:9&10.

At the moment, my place is here, with my family. And at the end of a phone, with extended family and friends. So if all I do in this time is use it to love the people I’ve been given, in the best ways I can, with rest and strength that come from a place other than a holiday or a break from the unrelenting needs of those around me, then this time will have been for good. And it feels overwhelming and exhausting, but I can find that rest and strength in One greater than me, I can be honest about my exhaustion and my weakness, and ask for help and strength, and for this time to be used for good. And He will hear, and He will sustain me.

28 Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.
29 He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength.
30 Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted;
31 but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. – Isaiah 40:28-31

It was Easter as we know it, in lots of ways. Chocolate for breakfast – tick. A huge roast dinner – tick. An egg hunt – tick. More cakes than we can eat – tick. Children asking to eat chocolate all the day long – tick.

After a few delivery email stresses, the little hopping bunnies I’d ordered for the younger three arrived yesterday, and proved pretty popular. There were a few arguments over them needing collars, so Liam got to work and sorted that out. It meant Theo spent the whole day dragging a bunny, bucket of eggs, and a box of kinder eggs everywhere he went. And had a large meltdown over not having them all in bed with him too.

We tuned in for church online, there’s something comforting about seeing those faces and knowing that even though we aren’t meeting in the building, all across the world people are still ‘meeting’ in communities to celebrate Easter. I’m still the most enthusiastic singer in our congregation though. I’m sure the neighbours love it…

Dinner was a relatively happy affair. Once we’d agreed that the youngest could eat ham wraps, there was no way they could comprehend eating dinner at lunchtime. Although they did somehow sneak some Yorkshire puddings on the side, the only bit of a roast they’re interested in. And it turns out Megan didn’t agree with eating lambs, so went for a veggie option, in contrast to Maisie, who would have eaten the entire leg if I’d given it too her.

As ever, there was great enthusiasm over the egg hunt. Maisie has an incredible ability to spot them the minute she walks out of the door, so whichever little sibling puts them self on her ‘team’ always fares well!

Pretty much every group photo has Theo being held into place for a split second before he legs it out of the shot. He’s either very invested in something, or very not. Family photos-not so much.

One of us may have gone into an after dinner food coma. Megan is his usual choice of pillow, but she was upstairs so he had to make do with me. I managed to sneakily lie him down though, and escape to the other chair with a coffee and Liam – an extremely rare afternoon sit down. In which Liam also seemed very close to joining the afternoon nap time.

Family catch ups included FaceTime with Nanny and Bowen family zoom. It’s so strange to think that only a few weeks ago I had never heard of Zoom. And absolutely detested FaceTime. But in a very short space of time it’s become not only the norm, but a much needed form of replacing the face to face interaction we’re missing so much. The Bowen family group opted for optional Easter fancy dress, so bunny face paint and a very cute baby chick made appearances. I struggled to see over the top of the soft toys that were gradually filling the table in front of me as Maddie and Theo insisted on showing the family all of their favourite things.

We recovered from dinner enough to eat a Sunday tea. Theo tends to go downhill somewhat when he’s hungry, so I pacified him by getting him to help fill up the cake stand. ‘Let’s put these fancy ones on top Mummy! Now the bunny biscuits all need to be together and the ducks can all be together next to them!’ Once the sugar rush kicked in at tea he started leaning on my shoulder declaring undying love for me and how very kind I was to make cakes. Not half an hour earlier he was accusing me of ‘being very selfish!’ because I wouldn’t let him eat three kinder eggs in one day. I should never let him get hungry.

In so many ways it was a happy Easter Day. We are so lucky with having each other, having a garden to run around in, having loving families to catch up with. But there were moments when I was stressed and moments when I was sad. Because although I did all the things I hoped we’d do to celebrate Easter in lockdown, I’d much rather not be doing it like this. As I was cooking the roast, I was thinking how social the cooking preparations are when we are on holiday or at mum’s. We’re all doing bits in the kitchen, or chatting over the washing up. Instead it was Liam and I doing it, a bit stressed over little people that really need one of us with them at all times, still washing dishes at 9pm because that’s how long it takes without others to share it with. The message from church was amazing, and it was so encouraging to remember the hope of the resurrection, and so were the songs I listened to whilst I cooked. But no way is that the same as being with church family, singing the songs together. And when I read sad stories on the news, and Toby went to bed upset and asking ‘what can we do tomorrow?’, I felt a longing for this to all be over.

But this morning when I was thinking about the resurrection, these verses came to my mind. Verses I love, and bring me great comfort.

31 What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?
32 He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?
33 Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies.
34 Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died-more than that, who was raised-who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us.
35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?
36 As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.”
37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.
38 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers,
39 nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. – Romans 8:31-39

This time we are living in is hard, but not hopeless. Because Jesus rose and went back to heaven, He is there praying to the Father for us. And nothing can separate us from His love. Social distancing is keeping us apart from one another, Coronavirus is bringing fear and pain, but nothing can keep us apart from the love of the One who created us, and died for us because that was how much He wanted to be with us. Because we love others, we plod on with being apart, knowing that it’s for a purpose, to protect each other and be together again. Because He loves us, He went through the pain of death so that we never have to truly be alone. And that’s why I’m celebrating tonight. Happy Easter!

It wasn’t much after six when I was woken by a cockerel. Actually it was Micah who, for some reason known only to him, decided to start the day saying ‘cockadoodledoo!’ several times. We were supposed to be waking up in the Lake District today – perhaps he was trying to recreate the countryside vibes.

The morning largely featured accidents, unfortunately. Starting with me dropping and smashing a jar of peanut butter when I was making the kids toast. Not long after that as I was clearing the breakfast things, Micah called me – ‘Mum, I spilt some milk on my chair’. As the carnage above evidences, he’s prone to underexaggerating somewhat. Still, no point crying over spilled almond milk. About 5 minutes later I went to the freezer in the garage, only to discover it had been left ajar all night. A couple of things were defrosting, and as I got them out I dropped a tub of thawed ice cream all over the garage floor. Sigh. You know those days when you wish you could start over and hopefully have less clumsiness? And maybe there’ll less early morning crowing whilst we’re at it?

Maddie and Theo have become a bit obsessed with Tangled this week, and have watched it most afternoons. I love the film, although I’m slightly nervous for the time when one of them accuses me of being the crazy lady who stole babies…Disney has an unfortunate habit of throwing in all sorts of trauma triggers for children. Megan actually refused to watch any of them until about 2 years ago, and she, in theory, had relatively trauma free early years. Anyway, you can never predict which films are going to cause issues and which aren’t. So far so good with Rapunzel. Instead they spent a large part of the afternoon acting out various scenes. I was called urgently to come and assist the poorly queen, who was going to have a baby and needed the magic yellow flower. I thought they wanted my midwifery skills, but actually Princess Theo just wanted help finding the dandelion that had the most chance of having healing powers.

I went back to my baking but the clumsiness clearly hadn’t worn off, and I grated a significant portion of my finger along with the white chocolate. I called Liam to assist, and the three younger ones excitedly followed to witness my injuries and real life blood. Still in character, there were various offers of yellow flowers to help, and Maddie to wrap her hair around my finger whilst singing, but it turned out that some steri strips and a fair amount of pressure did the job just as well.

Naturally there was a lot of garden play today. Micah was cooking up a storm, handily the new welly rack Liam built multipurposes as an oven it seems. Cinderella was hard at work too, which was helpful as I’d suggested the garden needed tidying or there might not be any egg hunts happening tomorrow. Which prompted Liam to take camp Lurker down rapidly, assisted by Toby. Clearly egg hunts are effective bribery. Tobes was chuffed with himself today for cycling with Liam to wave at Nanny at her house – the hill there is no mean feat!

I went on a walk to the shop via the river to replace the almond milk Micah had poured everywhere this morning, and the peanut butter I had smashed. When they say to only leave the house to buy essentials, I don’t know if they’re factoring in extremely clumsy Saturdays. I admired the chalk artwork on the street, and whilst I hope to do more than just ‘exist’ in May, it’s a sobering reminder of the seriousness of what we’re doing.

Today I felt a bit of quiet sadness as I prepared for Easter Sunday tomorrow. I don’t think we’ve ever been without extended family for Easter, and this year we’d planned to be in the Lakes with my parents, four sisters and a brother in law. As fun as the baking is, and preparations for a happy day, there’s a part of me that is grieving what we’d hoped for. And alongside that was the heightened hurt that seems to come with every celebration. It’s been 3.5 years since Dan died, but I can’t make desserts we have at Easter without all the memories of past years flooding back. He was always busying himself helping in the kitchen, excited over the secret Easter bunny gift he’d bought, taking photos of the multitudes of puddings, intensely listening to the kids chatter, and writing glowing messages on Facebook about his love for our family. The memories pop up out of nowhere, happy memories but painful too.

It was a busy jobs kind of day, and a thoughtful sort of day too. A friend popped over last night to drop some things off, and it was so lovely to see her face, but hard too. I feel like I’m missing people more and more as the days go by. But I know it’s for a purpose. If we can protect others and minimise the numbers of people who will be grieving after this is all over, then our short term pain will be worth every family still together.

And in a very small way, the looking forward to seeing friends and family again that I’m feeling now is like a glimmer of the hope of heaven. There will be an end to sadness and sorrow and grief. At Easter, Jesus went through the worst imaginable suffering to bring that hope of a future free from illness and separation and death. On Easter Saturday, his friends felt abandoned and lonely and grief stricken – but Sunday was coming, bringing the resurrection and rejoicing and the promise of a future of togetherness and freedom and peace. Whatever your Easter weekend has felt like, I hope you know there is hope, tomorrow is a new day! I’ll finish with the words of a song I listened to today:

‘If love endured that ancient cross
How precious is my Savior’s blood
The beauty of heaven wrapped in my shame
The image of love upon death’s frame.

If having my heart was worth the pain
What joy could You see beyond the grave
If love found my soul worth dying for,

How wonderful, how glorious
My Savior’s scars victorious
My chains are gone, my debt is paid
From death to life and grace to grace.

If heaven now owns that vacant tomb
How great is the hope that lives in You
The passion that tore through hell like a rose
The promise that rolled back death and its stone.

If freedom is worth the life You raised
Oh where is my sin, where is my shame?
If love paid it all to have my heart,

How wonderful, how glorious
My Savior’s scars victorious
My chains are gone, my debt is paid
From death to life and grace to grace.

When I see that cross, I see freedom
When I see that grave, I’ll see Jesus
And from death to life, I will sing Your praise,
In the wonder of Your grace. (Grace to Grace, Hillsong worship).

Happily, Liam and the kids stayed in the tent all night, returning to the warmth and comfort of the house somewhere before 7, at which point Liam retreated to bed and the kids watched tv before going back to camp life for breakfast. This is glamping in the extreme – I fear they won’t take our next storm filled Gower trip quite so well with no house and tv to retreat to!

My hot cross buns had some issues with proving, but they still tasted good. Liam found an irony in the fact they hadn’t risen well despite it being holy weekend. Thankfully Christ has risen, regardless of my baking malfunctions.

Baking featured heavily today. There are strong Bowen family traditions in finding as many recipes as possible that you can put mini eggs on, and including them in every future Easter, which means there are more and more ‘traditional’ bakes every year. Mum suggested today that after lockdown we’ll repeat every festivity we’re missing – Mother’s Day, my dad’s birthday, Easter, my brother’s 40th…and that’s without all the ones we haven’t missed yet. Which basically means we’re going to be partying solidly until Christmas. I hope Joe Wicks continues post lockdown, or our waistlines are definitely going to suffer.

The kids were also keen to get in on the baking act, although it mainly featured seeing how many mini eggs they could steal along the way. Micah seems to be pretty well grown out of his dairy and soya intolerances (hooray!!!), so is venturing into the world of real chocolate, and it’s a hit. He came running into the house crying this afternoon, when I asked him what happened, he said, without taking a breath, ‘I fell off my skateboard – where’s my cakes?’

Theo was desperate to go on a scooter ride this afternoon, and as Liam had already done a bike ride earlier, it was my turn. It obviously then became all three of the little ones coming with me, and given that navigating three small children and wheeled objects on pavements is rarely a smooth process, I opted to do the small loop. Which was a wise move, as Theo had given up on the scooter before the end of our street. I did feel a bit short-changed on my daily ‘walk’ though!

We decided that the older kids could do with some exercise too, so Liam set them a scavenger hunt to do on their bikes around our estate. Not that we don’t trust our little darlings, but we told them that to avoid any cheating, we wanted photos of all 3 of them at each place. The photo above was McDonald’s. Clearly the sight of it re-opened those wounds.

I still feel unprepared for the weather change, but we did find the hats and suncream basket yesterday. It turns out if you buy roll on suncream there are no more fights to applying it. They spent most of the day running around shouting ‘where’s my roll on?!’ Hopefully the enthusiasm will last until teens…

Theo’s application technique might need some work though. He looked like a smurf for the rest of the day.

Maddie’s a bit confused over Easter. When she was making her cross on the hill craft the other day, she was really keen to paint eggs on the hill beneath the cross. She still couldn’t figure out where or how they feature in the Easter story. I mumbled some things about eggs and spring and new life…then basically realised I have no idea how the whole eggs and chickens and bunnies thing moved in to take over Easter.

I started reading the book of Isaiah before Coronavirus really took hold of our country, and it was completely unplanned, but very happy timing, that I got to chapter 53 today. A chapter in which Isaiah prophecies the coming Saviour, and His life and death. And in the middle of verses that talk about how Jesus would be rejected, and ‘led as a lamb to the slaughter’, it says:

“Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; Yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; We have turned, every one, to his own way; And the LORD has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭53:4-6‬ ‭

I was thinking today about the little phrase ‘by His stripes we are healed’. Other versions of the Bible say His wounds, or His scars. After Jesus rose from the dead, He still had scars. He had completed the miracle of death and resurrection, but instead of His body being fully healed, He carried those scars after death and back into heaven.

I carry scars around with me-emotional scars of hurt and shame, grief and pain. Scars of anxiety after a sudden loss. Scars of hurt from rejection. Scars of insecurity from my failings, and scars of guilt from my mistakes. But Jesus bears scars on His body so I don’t have to. ‘By His stripes we are healed.’ The reason Good Friday is good is because He came and did what I couldn’t do and took from me all the baggage I carry. The hope I have in the hard days and the dark days is because He bears my grief and my sorrows, and yet He didn’t just come to bring comfort, but to bring freedom. From the burdens, from hurts, from fear, from shame, from scars. And in a world where we are mourning our loss of freedom, that for me is what makes today a very Good Friday.

The evening scenes were insta-perfect. Liam spent the latter part of the afternoon pitching the tent, we cooked a bbq, he had beer, I had Prosecco, they had popcorn, and it was lovely. The views aren’t too bad at this campsite-hills to the rear and a river at the front. It’s a private pitch, and if you shut your eyes you can pretend the sound of the cars are waves crashing. If you have a good imagination, that is. Liam and the younger four children are out there now, intending to sleep. Although how much they’ll get and at what point I’ll have various small people posted into the house I don’t know!

It really was a lovely evening. But in the nature of authenticity, I have to be honest and say it was probably the worst morning we’ve had since the beginning of being isolated. Despite the cute picture of two pyjama clad blonde boys, which is why we can confirm the camera may not lie, but it’s truth can be twisted. Because one of those boys barely stayed for the picture, and then he went on a destructive mission. To either wind up or destroy. I tried to channel his energy into shooting targets on the wall, but that lasted for all of about 10 seconds, as did every other activity we tried to give him. And then everyone else wanted to do something different, and other people started arguing, and it all unravelled.

For whatever reason, and there are probably several, we just all lost it. There were tears, tantrums, fights, and meltdowns. It wasn’t pretty. I hid in the garage for a while. We had a subdued lunch. Then we talked about it. Then we prayed. Then we talked a bit more.

I’m not a psychologist, so I can’t give explanations about it all. And the reality is that in normal life, every now and then, there will come a day where the pressure cooker reaches its boiling point and the steam explodes. It is almost certainly heightened at the moment by all being together with no escape for 24 days. The loss of family and friends and freedom. The lack of structure and routines of normal life. Heightened anxiety over work and the virus and the risk of those we love being exposed to it. Little ones who live in a heightened state of fear anyway having some of the stability they rely on removed suddenly and they can’t understand why. It’s all likely to add up and tip us over the edge.

But in some ways, all the reasons why this morning we fell apart aren’t really the bit that I think is worth focussing on. Because there will always be days where it becomes too much. Coronavirus won’t take over our lives forever, and as much as we’re all promising that once it’s over we’ll be grateful for the small things and we’ll appreciate life more, when this is all over there will still be the days when life feels too much.

But just like I told myself yesterday, there is hope. We are messy people all living together, all having days where our boat is rocked and we’re struggling to hold on. And the good news for me is that we don’t have to do the holding on, because we’re being held. Tomorrow is Good Friday, and my hot cross buns are proving in the fridge tonight. The cross there to remind us of the One who came to hold us because we can’t hold ourselves. To save us because we can’t save ourselves.

It almost certainly wasn’t coincidence that today this arrived, sent by a friend, with words of encouragement. That today I received a parcel of Easter goodies from mum, including a tub of homemade mini egg caramel shortbread. They definitely tipped me over the emotional edge into happy-sad tears, but the reminder that I’m not alone was never more timely.

And I guess, if there was a reason I started writing these posts, that would be why. Because I want to remind all of us that we’re not alone. Which is why I try and be real about our days. Because I think we try and live up to a standard we set ourselves or we are falsely dragged into believing exists. Some days I feel like I’m there, I’m smashing the home schooling and the cleaning and baking up a storm. Other days, I’m hiding in the garage. Sometimes it’s all in the same day, that’s just how quickly the wind can change around here!

And today it changed for the better, thankfully. I had my cry, we had a family chat, and asked God to help us love each other better and to keep people safe and to end these tricky times. Then we made a plan of action for the afternoon, Liam started on the tent and I headed for the Tesco marathon. By the time I arrived home order was restored. Except for Micah, who unfortunately had a rough afternoon. He was accidentally poked in the eye by a sibling, so his eye was swollen and watery and looked like he’d had a fight. He woke up, needed a wee, walked with one eye shut to the bathroom, slid over in a puddle kindly left on the floor by his brother, landed on his bum and wet himself. And I thought my day was bad!!! Thank the Lord for the magic healing properties of ice lollies (and eye drops) I say.

This evening I read from the kids Bible the story called ‘The Captain of the Storm’, about when Jesus and his disciples went in a boat and Jesus fell asleep. And then a great storm came, and his friends were terrified and cried to him to help. And He woke, and the one who had spoken the waves into being commanded them to stop, and they did. The story (taken from Matthew 8) says that,

‘Jesus’ friends had been so afraid, that they had only seen the big waves. They had forgotten that, if Jesus was with them, then they had nothing to be afraid of. No matter how small their boat-or how big their storm.’ I have nothing to be afraid of. My boat (or house) might feel too small and enclosed right now, and the Covid storm outside too big, but I am not alone in this storm, just as I have never been alone in any storm I’ve faced before. And when I call out to Him, He hears.

1 Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by.
2 I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me.
3 He will send from heaven and save me; he will put to shame him who tramples on me. God will send out his steadfast love and his faithfulness! – Psalm 57:1-3

This morning I was taking no chances of the 10am ‘where is our routine’ meltdown, so I had the younger three doing Andy’s Wild Workout by 9am. Maddie and Theo loved it, Micah snubbed it, I think he felt that as a Joe Wicks pro, these childish exercises were beneath him.

I was upstairs dressing Micah when Theo appeared ready for the day. Although possibly a tad overdressed for the Easter heatwave today.

The fire service had a busy start to their shift, after a few fights over who was going to be the Mickey Mouse fireman, and I’d been instructed to repair several engines doors. They take their vehicle maintenance very seriously, these young men. If only toy fire engines were built to a higher standard so that the doors didn’t fall off every time.

This is what the meltdown of two teenagers in McDonald’s withdrawal looks like. In the absence of all fast food restaurants and the school canteen, I don’t think they’ve eaten such a high level of nutrition since they were toddlers. Clearly the lack of sugar and E numbers is taking it’s toll.

Liam and I decided after yesterday that we all needed to get out for a walk today, so we headed down the river and up the hill. We’re so lucky to be in walking distance of space like this, and we’re definitely learning not to take that for granted.

Micah played hide and seek. His stealth skills need work.

It did everyone good to get out – it’s not easy to do every day due to the numbers of us trying to walk down paths and streets whilst maintaining safe social distancing, but there definitely was a sigh of relief to being out in the open and feeling a taste of freedom.

Micah’s taken to having a daily afternoon nap lying on Megan whilst the others watch a film after lunch. I think the walk wore him out today though, because he wet himself as he slept. She may have decided that signifies the end of that particular sweet ritual. All the outfit changes following that little incident meant it seemed to the kids the ideal opportunity for a water fight. It took a good 20 minutes to work through who was having which pistol and the ‘his is better than mine, no actually I want the one I originally had…he made me wet!!!’ type arguments before they settled down and actually had a lot of fun for a while, giving me opportunity to bake a Simnel cake for Easter.

No matter how much they walk up hills or run wildly around the garden, all the exercise in the world doesn’t completely extract the crazy from these kids. Dinner time was very loud and chaotic, and this evening Maisie produced a homemade mask which she’d constructed from a bandana and hair bobbles (thank you life hacks), and sat wearing it for the entire evening. I spend a lot of time teetering on the border of finding them hilarious and rocking in the corner. I fell both sides of the line on many occasions today, but overall they really do make me laugh.

When we were walking this morning we saw bluebells and lambs and heard a woodpecker, and it was so good. It’s so strange how the outside world is changing through the seasons whilst we all stay at home. But strangely reassuring too, that although the world as we know it is completely different for now, there is a stability in the way God is still faithfully turning the earth, and moving us from season to season. It reminded me of the promise God made to Noah after the flood, when He said that He would never flood the world again, and that ‘While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.’ – Genesis 8:22

I love that rainbows in windows have become a symbol of hope during these strange days – the sign of the covenant that God placed in the sky when He spoke those words to Noah are brightening our streets as a reminder that we’re not alone in this, and it’s not forever. After the dark of night morning comes, after the dead of winter Spring comes, after the terror of a storm the sun shines, and the chaos, the loneliness, the fear, and the pain of this season are not the end either.

20 Our soul waits for the LORD; he is our help and our shield.
21 For our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name.
22 Let your steadfast love, O LORD, be upon us, even as we hope in you. – Psalm 33:20-22

You know you’ve been in isolation too long when…your husband starts a game of fidget spinning championships on the child’s head.

Today brought challenges. That’s a delicate way of saying one particular child was in an especially volatile frame of mind. And determined to upset everyone along the way.

Perhaps I should have been more perceptive to his subtle objections to joining in with Joe Wicks. It was the start of his visible protests to conforming to any expectations. We made it through the morning, though, with frequent interventions and calming strategies required. I concluded that the lazier mornings definitely don’t work for some of the smaller family members, and although schooling brought challenges, the day is too long without structure, and we would need to be proactive in planning activity in order to avoid riots.

The thing is, there were two reasons I didn’t home educate, and opted to send my children to nursery. One was to paint, and the second for an education. In that order. So why I thought I’d pull off an Easter painting craft with great success and minimal chaos I’ll never know.

The first part of the project went fairly smoothly. Maddie was all for it, straight in there with hand painting and engaging with the plan. Theo refused to paint his hand until he’d painted mine first. Still, we got the first pieces made, and they were left to dry whilst the kids were distracted by the obstacle course Toby and Liam had been constructing.

My mistake was in thinking that they were happily distracted and I’d get on with hoovering upstairs. Little did I realise I’d return to carnage. They had enough of the obstacle course, so went back to painting. Only this time, they emptied a bottle of paint into the pot and topped it up with water. An older child attempted a clean up operation using a tea towel and pouring the excess paint into the sink. Where I’d put a new t shirt to soak. Which was still in there, only now covered in paint and water.

I’ve got to be honest I didn’t take the carnage well. And discovering a tipped over bottle spilling water under the laptops on the desk was a breaking point. I shouted and thought about crying, and thought about storming out. But instead I hid in the kitchen until I could go and say sorry to the child who was unfairly on the receiving end of my wrath.

Then I rang my mum whilst I peeled potatoes. And listened to a hymn that says ‘it is well with my soul’, and I told God that it wasn’t well with my soul. And I need help.

And then the kids came and found me and one sat on my lap and one asked for food and one blew a recorder in my face. But help came, and I felt calmer, and dinner was a fairly uneventful affair.

I went on a walk, not exactly on my own tonight, but I enjoyed the company. Liam was on a work call so we wandered down to the river before bedtime.

And I watched the big kids carry the little kids, and the mischief makers spontaneously hugging, and I was genuinely grateful that despite all the crazy moments, I get to isolate with these people.

And the truth is that even in the crazy days there are always moments to be thankful for. Friends who deliver icing sugar and have coffee over FaceTime. Flowers that arrived beautifully packaged in a box with a special note from my Mum. Messages of encouragement and support and honesty.

The completed Easter craft, which Maddie chose to write on. And the hymn I listened to, reminding me where my hope is, in both the calm and the chaos. A hymn written by a man who had lost everything – his business, and then his four daughters in a shipwreck, but who knew that even in the lowest moments, there is help and hope.

‘When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.’ (Horatio Spafford)