So my half term antics were a lot calmer this time round, because for the most part of it I only had three out of the five with me. I'm not saying that having three kids is calm, neither is having two or even one for that matter. But any less than the maximum number, usually makes a great difference in this house. At the beginning of the week, the husband and his brother, took my biggest two off to climb Snowdon, in treacherous, adventurous, 'mum's not here, so let's keep climbing' type weather.
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They had waterproofs with them, warm clothing, spare trousers and hoodies, maps of the mountain, climbing boots, head torches, thermal socks, Ben 10 aliens and snacks. So they were pretty well prepared, even though the husband forgot his spare trousers so ended up at the pub in the evenings, in his pyjamas. (I only packed for the boys, so no comment) It sounds like it wasn't the easiest climb, with poor visibility, sideways hail storms and crying boys. The two men ended up carrying a terrified child each on their shoulders, headlong into the icy wind, for quite a long way back down the mountain to safety.
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I was pretty well prepared too, for the glorious, sunny day in the garden, which I was having back home. I had made a shady tent for baby to play in. I had suncreamed the littlest ones. I had given out ice creams. I had the juice ready for when they asked. I had set up Happyland, and I had positioned the sun lounger exactly where I wanted it, turning it to face the sun every so often. I had thought about sending a photo of all this to the husband, but had decided against it.
I was prepared in the evening too; tv remote, glass of white, and a bar of hazlenut chocolate, just before fluffing the pillows on both sides of the bed, allowing me to choose and roll at choice. (I'm sure the hostel bunk beds were just as spacious for the male-bonding Snowdonia survivors too).
And now it's the night before school starts. The preparation has commenced; the uniforms are ready in neat piles. Their shoes are out in pairs, in the porch. (Five pairs, which is confusing me somewhat) Their lunch bags have been washed from the experiments that were growing in them. The boys themselves have been washed from anything growing on them too. The sandwiches are made. The cereal is out.
(I sound amazing don't I? Don't be deceived. For a more balanced view of my organisational skills, take a look at my
last blog post. Every so often, I do like to give the husband false hope that I am the dream wife he had hoped for all those years ago) And so I'm ready for what tomorrow brings. Or am I? I know that whatever preparation has happened, however well I've nailed it practically this evening, there is still something I need to do.
I know that I need to be ready for tomorrow, with the realisation that I can't actually do tomorrow!
I can't do it on my own. I can't do it in my own strength. I can't be a good mum in my own strength. I can't be a good wife in my own strength. I can't do anything in my own strength. The preparation which needs to take place, starts with me humbly admitting that I need God's help for tomorrow. I need His help when I feed the baby at 5:30am. I need His help when they forget to brush their teeth tomorrow. I need to confidently approach the throne of grace, before tomorrow even comes and as soon as tomorrow comes. I need God's help in order to glorify Him tomorrow, otherwise even with all the prep in the world, I know how my day will turn out. The days I think I can do it alone, just end up exactly like my last blog post. So, I aim to end today in His wonderful presence and I aim to start tomorrow, right back in it. I simply can't do tomorrow without Him. Thankfully, He has already gone ahead of me tomorrow, so He knows what I really need to be prepared for.
"Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me". Psalm 54v4
"Do not be far from me my God; come quickly, God, to help me". Psalm 71v12