It's a chaotic suburban home like tens of thousands of others across Australia in the age of the great coronavirus shutdown.
Alyaa Al-Attabi has just arrived home from work at a nursing home and her husband Rashid Hejeejo will soon head off to work the nightshift at a chicken processing plant.
Their three eldest children Yasmine, 8, Nadine, 6, and Ryan, 5, tear about the house in their school uniforms as if they were in the playground.
"We make them wear their uniforms to remind them that even though they are not at school they should still be learning," Ms Al-Attabi says with a patient smile.
For many refugee families the shutdown of ordinary life has brought isolation from the cultural and support networks that are a vital link to establishing their new lives in Australia.
Read More
- Take a look inside Wollongong Hospital's COVID-19 ICU
- Homeless Tasmanians will not be fined
- Man tests positive to coronavirus at drive-thru clinic
- Expert pans 'panic decisions that don't make biological sense'
- Engineer prototypes life-saving ventilator in just days
- J.K Rowling launches Harry Potter at Home to help self isolating parents
- Mum explains strategy for homeschooling son with special needs
The Lower Hunter region of NSW has become home to more than 1000 refugees, mostly from Africa and the Middle East, over the past 15 years.
While some of the larger African communities comprise hundreds of families, Newcastle's Iraqi community only has five.
"It is hard not being able to visit our friends but this is not new to us; we have lived through wars where it wasn't safe to go outside," Ms Al-Attabi, who along with her husband will soon become Australian citizens, said.
"We are doing everything possible to keep ourselves and our children safe. I'm especially worried about my little son (two-year-old Mohamed) because he has a heart condition."
Like the rest of the world, Newcastle's tight-knit Iraqi community is using social media to stay connected with family and friends to bridge the physical separation.
"We have a WhatsApp group that lets us stay in touch with our friends. It makes a big difference because you don't lose contact," Ms Al-Attabi said.
"I also use Facetime to speak with my family in Iraq three times a week. They haven't got the same level of infection as here but the lockdown is much more strict because the health system can't cope with lots of people getting sick. If the police catch someone walking around the street they fine them automatically."
Refugee advocate Sister Diana Santleben said many refugees were drawing their reserves of resilience to cope with a new set challenges arising from the pandemic.
"I think most of them know there is light at the end of the tunnel," she said.
But she said those seeking asylum were particularly harshly affected because they were unable to access any government assistance.
"I have got one African lady who is a single mum because her husband is in detention. A couple used to mind her two girls so she could get nursing shifts but now there is no-one to mind the kids," she said.
"She rang me the other day to say she couldn't make the rent payment this week. I had just been given a donation from a local high school that was exactly the amount she needed to pay the rent this week and next."
"There are other families who are in a similar situation."
If you're looking to stay up to date on COVID-19, sign up for our twice-daily digest here.