Ivy made it through the night but left in the wake of a sleepless, sick child, is her mother, who feels barely a human, let alone a human capable of looking after many.

My washing machine ( a most valuable tool in a house of nine) decided to break, as if in sympathy for my broken child, or perhaps my broken spirit.

So I have done little today but nurse the girl and stroke my son’s hair, so that he knows I love him and I know he’s there.

I’ve been slack and kept the big kids home. It has been comforting to have them with me, filling the house with noise, dulling the worry.

The house is in ruin

and I don’t care because when your son brings you this;

and tells you they are his ‘monies’ everything looks clean and rosey and beautiful.

Thank you, my boy.

Thank you.