Day 42 (ish)

Found a couple of scraps of observations on my phone that I wrote over the last few days. Ithought they showed a snapshot of the contrasts we're living with at the moment so i'm publishing them together....


This morning I let the baby sleep and did my workout in peace. The girls are increasingly independent in their play, I never know what I'm going to find when I happen upon them again.

I wake Leo and wander into the living room, chancing upon what looks like a family of parakeets who have unfortunately exploded all over the floor.

The colourful feathers I brought for crafting have been the center of some elaborate game. Baby delightedly crams them into his mouth.

We lie for ages in the sunshine tickling each others feet and shouting with laughter, blinded by the sun coming in at the window.

Piling on top of each other, boy child belly laughing.

So much joy feels wrong when people are dying and grieving and fighting hard.

Reconciling joy and pain again.

It possibly will take my whole life to allow these two to walk along together, natural fellows, neither diminishing the other but drawing in parallel, until Jesus comes again.

Two days later...

This morning I had that terrible groundhog Day feeling.

I pulled the covers over my head and ignored all the children for as long as possible, it didn't help.

Snapped at Matt and scowled over my morning cup of tea. 

The children can sense my ennui and are all climbing on me at once.

Yesterday this was cute, today I feel overwhelmed by the way they have so much need for me.

 I just don't want to be touched right now. I feel like I might scream.

The baby is cross, I am cross.

Middle girl is a sponge soaking up my emotions and she tantrums twice before 9am, shouting fraustration and unreasonable demands.

She scares me this mirror child. 

I feel stuck and useless, I feel like life has been ruined forever more.

We make biscuits. 

I do the weekly shop very very slowly.

I come home and the day is almost over.   

Easy does it. 

Day 31

A hard couple of days so I am methodically jotting down moments of gratitude amongst the bad.

The babies chubby legs sticky with suncream.

The smell of wild garlic in the shadowed trees, just like in the sussex woods I walked as a teenager.

Remembering four years have passed since Clara arrived, four years since that hard labour, and the change it wrought in me. Four years since I was broken and remade.

Watching her learning to read, haltingly, worlds opening up to her. The best gift I could ever give.

Easter day,
 he is risen even now, he has shrugged off the grave clothes even now.
 He reigns here and now.

Hammock cuddles with each of them in turn.

Yoga in the garden, woodsmoke and sunset.

Planting things with dirty hands, wondering at the strangeness of the suffocating soil being the means to grow life.

Claps and cheers for the NHS floating up into that same sunset.

New woodland spots.

Clara got into our first choice of school. Things are changing even as they stay the same.

Lindor chocolate.

Mudcakes being made every day on repeat.

here endeth the list.

I fell in love with the following poem a decade or so ago. Back then I had both time and inclination to savour the loveliness of life.

In the years that have elapsed since I have carried these lines in my head, like a constant refrain;

Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost

Increasingly I am doing this, my time constraints have changed over the years but my desire to encounter beauty has not.

Even more so in these days, 

pursuing that beautiful 'white singing hour of peace' and the relief it brings to connect with God even

for a tiny moment, in being present and practicing gratitude. 

Here is the poem in full;

Barter

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,

Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,

Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,

And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.

Sarah Teasdale

four years old!!!

yesterday it seems!

Day 25

Good Friday

Trying and failing to engage with Jesus death with three littles underfoot. fielding questions about crucifixion from a four year old (send help).

Yesterday we decorated our easter tree which is a nice tradition, Matts been working hard on various digital church things so hes been a bit out of the picture. we've also been prepping for Claras 4th birthday which falls on Easter sunday! We've got a good pile of presents and matts been editing a hilarious video of lots of friends and family singing to her which is making me laugh and cry little bit.

Last night I watched a live gig of one of my favourite poets Hollie McNish. Loving getting to experience things virtually that I never would have made it to in person, definite silver lining.

I fed the baby in the hammock, hes all chubby armroles and wispy fair hair. He seemed happier today, I can finally see that bloody tooth emerging when I peer into his mouth. Hes changing every day at the moment, its nice that I can watch it unencumbered by nursery runs and other commitments.

It was a nice garden time until we all realised that the grass was full of ants and we had to strip all three children off who had been rolling in the grass and were covered in ant bites!! oops!!

Me and the girls went for another long walk this time found a whole new (to us!) wood on the edge of a quarry with motorbike tracks in the middle, it made for very interesting watching. They are getting so adventurous. All this extra walking and suddenly they are shinning up rocks and trees, enjoying it and growing their rescilience every day.

I genuinely enjoyed spending time with them, they were fun and we were all so present in the moment. The way they relate to each other is changing as well now that they are limited to one another. I'm seeing the fruit starting to emerge, a bit of extra kindness for each other here and there.

Later on I baked hot cross buns (I am a notoriously terrible baker so I hope no one breaks a tooth!)

Love to everyone as we all prepare for a very different Easter.

Day 23

Today was a good day.

Me and the children went on an epic walk, I forgot the dummy and the sling but even so we coped and even had fun!

As we were walking past a house with a beautiful front garden I complimented the owner and she dug up a plant for me (leaving it at a respectable distance of course!)
We dropped off a present on the doorstep for one of the girls little friends and got to see her smile as she opened it.

On our walk back we exchanged chatter with the people we saw in their gardens.
We arrived home to a parcel of books that Matt had ordered, including a surprise one for me (books are my love language).

The baby napped in the back garden and the girls disappeared off and played at being cats on holiday (an inexplicable yet consistently popular game of theirs.)
We were able to do some shopping for a vulnerable lady who lives locally. She keeps chickens and gave me a full box of freshly laid eggs.

The sun shone and the world felt like a kind place again.

Once the children were in bed Matt and I rocked in the hammock as the sun set and we talked. Phones left inside, hoovering left undone 

Day 21

I've lost my book and everything feels chaotic today. A shanty town of play tents has appeared in the living room and I feel claustrophobic and desperate for some time away from the children.

I thought I might have had more energy in this season of slow starts and gentle activities but I actually have less.

It turns out that I'm just not very good at slow and gentle! as an extrovert fuelled with interaction and new things. In isolation I'm getting none of the stimulation I normally take for granted and I'm feeling it.

Might also have something to do with the baby who is teething like you would not believe. He needs me at night so I am currently up all hours.

We've been doing  a lot of playing doctors recently with some chat about all the 'poorly people'. My favourite comment came from Sylvie who looked deeply perplexed and said..

'Maybe we should just get the poorly people a plaster to make them feel better? Then we could go to the swimming pool and cafes again?'

Don't worry, i'm emailing Boris the suggestion.

The day was saved in the end by my  afternoon walk. Leo was finally happy when he was in the sling facing me dummy firmly in place and Matt kept the girls.

The woods were sundappled and felt magically removed from plague and pestilence.
Before all this happened I was a bit snooty about this little wood. It has some oaks and a few slightly scraggy Birches thrown in and is pretty unassuming generally.

Now these same woods are like a magical fairy grotto offering space and escape. We've been  exploring them most days the last two weeks and they keep revealing new secrets, climbing and minibeast hunting spots. Interesting carvings on rocks and squirrel nests.

We strolled around taking it in, both humming a bit, enjoying the normal feelings and forgetting for a little while.

hoping everyone is holding up well and enjoying the sunshine as much as possible <3 span="">

this lasted 2.5 seconds before they got bored 

shanty tents 

escaping to the woods 

Day Sixteen

Another morning lightens, gradually the schedule slips later as we take our feet off the pedal a bit,

why hurry if there's nowhere to be?

For me and the children, no one to miss us or comment if we did nothing at all or stayed in our pyjamas all day long. 

We are doing things though, for my sanity if nothing else.

In the garden, we're planting out strawberry shoots. God knows that I'm not green fingered and my languishing houseplants attest to it. But I am trying. It feels like a huge effort to me, squabbling toddlers in tow (squobblers?) And grumbling babe strapped to my back.

I'm so greatful that I don't have to rely on the fruits of this garden to live. The soil is coarse and difficult, the shade and tree roots unassailable obstacles to growing and digging. Not to mention the billions of beech nuts cutting into any feet that dare to be bare.

We try to tame it a bit, have done the last two springs. Progress slow and doddering. It's hard to plant passion into a garden we'll be leaving in a year or two but we try.

I put the baby down and turn my back for a second filling up the watering cans.
When I look at him again he has a mouth crammed full of soil, he blissfully chews on its soft yielding earthiness. He smiles wide showing off teeth caked in the stuff.

I hustle him inside for a drink, its the second time he's done that this week. Just turned nine months old and into the world in a big way. Cheerfully emptying mop buckets/potties/bins whenever they cross his path. He also has a love affair going on with technology, especially my laptop which he enjoys lying on top of and licking.

Back outside and the girls have ceased their squabbles and are happy in the playhouse. The sun comes through the clouds just a little bit.

I practice gratitude.

The girls have stopped asking for the outside world. It turns out there's enough for them to learn and grow within these walls, that we are enough. 

I still don't feel it though.

Reading the news is scary right now. Crying for the parents who lost their 13 year old boy yesterday. Thinking about refugee camps and countries with dubious access to health care.
It's so unfair that the poor will suffer the most as they always do.

The enormity of all of this keeps smacking me round the face when I least expect it. A grim sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, catching sight of new frown lines in the mirror.

So I am practicing taking deep breaths and reminding myself that the walls are not closing in, there is much to be greatful for and hope always remains.


 

right before he leaned over and ate the soil

doctors 

minibeast forest session 

slime which I later had to cut out of Sylvies hair (!)

this kid <3 td="">

preschool time