Six years. One hundred and forty children and teenagers. All of them boys, many of them with adult problems.
Bay of Plenty couple Robin and Kahu Grace have looked after them when they've needed somewhere safe to stay.
When their own home wasn't an option.
They've cooked for them. Taken them to the doctor and dentist, and to school. Hosted birthday celebrations. Gone on outings to rivers and lakes, to the mall, cinema and local public pool.
They've sat down and listened. Taught them life skills. Laughed alongside them. Cried. And then they've always had to say goodbye.
"I'm not afraid of crying," Robin says, sitting down alongside his wife this week to reflect on it all.
"To see them go can be very sad."
Kahu says at first they would see the kids leave and think to themselves, "I hope they're going to be okay". But she says they then had to get over that.
"Because there were more children that needed us."
The quietly-spoken couple, who both grew up in Rotorua, are sitting in their lounge.
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Māori songs are playing softly in the background, a line of shoes sits neatly at the front door. Two boys are sitting at a table outside playing Scrabble.
Robin, 53, used to work in sawmills and in the bush. Kahu, 54, started off at a timber mill and then worked in mental health.
In 2013, with their three daughters grown up, they signed up to run what was then a Child, Youth and Family home in Tauranga.
The home has been open for more than 40 years and is now overseen by the renamed Oranga Tamariki (Ministry for Children).
There are about 80 Oranga Tamariki family homes in New Zealand, three of them in Tauranga and seven in the Bay of Plenty region.
As many as 120 children and young people are living in these homes around the country.
Unbelievably, the caregivers looking after them, the likes of Robin and Kahu, don't get paid for it.
Robin and Kahu were both first-time carers when they landed the job.
They took part in some training programmes but were completely unprepared for what lay ahead.
"We kind of just jumped straight into it," Robin says.
The first two years opened their eyes to what was happening in the community. They also learned a lot about themselves. It was tough.
"A lot of our children come with a lot of trauma and a lot of self-blame," Robin says.
He says they come from home environments where there's neglect, sometimes family violence.
"Mistrust, very aggressive, very angry, hyper-vigilant, no trust of adults. A lot of them come in and they're blaming themselves for being here and putting their families through it."
Robin says and he Kahu try to connect with the children and let them know it's not their fault, that "this is about adults not really looking after you as they should".
But of course, that's always easier said than done. A lot of the kids don't talk a lot, he says, and they arrive with adult problems.
"And some of them are as young as 5. So what we've got to try and do, is undo all of that, all of those worries, and just see the kid. They don't have the skills to deal with some of these emotions."
Robin was physically attacked by a boy within the first two years.
He says he and Kahu were still learning at that stage and were only just starting to see how aggressive the children could get.
Robin says sometimes there's verbal abuse and sudden outbursts.
Several times they have slaved away in the kitchen and prepared a big meal for everyone, only to be told the food is "pig crap" or some other creative insult.
Robin says that kind of thing used to hurt, until they realised the kid was just venting and was maybe triggered by something.
"When they do say things that can be very hurtful, it's not personal. So we don't take it personal."
The boys are mainly aged between nine and 17.
Most stay at the house for about three months, some shorter – maybe only a few days or a weekend. They can end up staying a lot longer than planned. One boy stayed for two years.
There can be six kids or teens living at the house at a time, seven if there's a short-term emergency.
Robin says there was a lot of trial and error in the early days.
They started out with house rules but soon realised the kids were just purposely breaking them to see how they would react. So, they replaced the house rules with basic daily routines. And routines for what to do when you might be angry.
Kahu says at the end of the day, they can't force the kids to stay at the house and follow their routines.
"We just say to them, if you want to go, there's the main door, don't climb through the windows. So we let them go. And then they might come back."
Robin says giving positive praise when a kid independently follows a routine is especially important. And so is laughter.
"I feel really happy when we're together and we're enjoying each other's company and we're having a laugh. I get roasted a lot, they're so fast I just can't keep up with them. They do like teasing me."
He says one day he told the kids that, hey, he didn't like the word "fat".
He told them he would rather be called "bulky".
"For two weeks straight that's all I heard," Robin says with a big laugh.
They have also learned to always follow through with promises.
"With these children, when you say I'm going to be there at 9 o'clock, you have to be there at 9 o'clock," Robin says. "Five minutes past that, anxiety starts kicking in, they have a feeling like 'oh, they're not going to come'."
He says they've had some kids as young as 14 come straight off the street, who have been homeless.
Simple things – a hot shower every day, good home-cooked food, clean washing and clean beds, a trip to the park, a ride on a scooter – can be a luxury. A spontaneous gesture or day-trip can mean the world.
Six years down the track, it appears Robin and Kahu have got things under control.
They can sense when something is wrong, if there's tension in a room.
"We both know how our young lads roll so we kind of know exactly when someone's a bit out of sync," Kahu says. "It's easy to pick up straight away."
They de-escalate those situations before they become an issue; they quickly sit everyone down and have a hui.
"You can be soft and still be firm," Robin says. "You have to be firm but fair."
He says they don't always get it right.
"We make mistakes like every other parent. We do try to correct that and we don't do it again."
Kahu says they've had a few cases where kids might not want to go home when the time comes.
"But we say to them, at the end of the day, no matter how good it's been here, we know inside you still want your family, and you need to go home to your family and give it a go, see how you go," she says.
"The majority of the children that we have had, have gone back home to family, and to us, that is our reward because we've seen that it can happen."
The couple is not oblivious to the controversy that has surrounded Oranga Tamariki this year, with video footage of babies being "uplifted" causing a social media storm, sparking continued media coverage and several investigations.
"What we're seeing and how it happened was probably not what we wanted to see ourselves," Robin says.
He says while there are always two sides to every story, it is important to acknowledge what is being said and felt in the community.
Angela Hardgrave, who's been involved in providing foster care for 15 years, nominated Robin and Kahu for an Excellence in Foster Care Award this year.
The national award honours extraordinary foster caregivers in New Zealand and a ceremony is being held in Auckland next week.
Hardgrave says she has witnessed the difference Robin and Kahu make in young peoples' lives, "by genuinely caring and showing them that they have choices in life if they do the right thing".
She says she really likes the way they interact with the kids and how they are always honest with them.
"They have the ability to show kids, who go into their home angry and frustrated, how to cope and deal with those feelings in a positive manner."
Sue Ramage, the Oranga Tamariki caregiver recruitment and support supervisor, says Robin and Kahu have amassed a wealth of knowledge and experience over the years, in caring for the children and young people placed with them, who have often suffered serious trauma.
Robin and Kahu initially signed up to do this job for five years.
Now they are extending it year by year.
They, and all the other foster parents who do what they do, don't get paid.
They receive a small allowance per child that is paid fortnightly and covers board, personal items and pocket money. There is also a monthly clothing allowance, and allowances for Christmas and birthday presents.
Oranga Tamariki says a review of caregiver remuneration is currently underway.
Robin says he would love to get paid. He says being paid wages or a salary would help them plan and save for their future beyond this job, for their retirement.
But he also says that not being paid is not going to stop him from doing what he loves.
"It's the children that are keeping us here," Kahu adds.
"I couldn't leave, we couldn't leave," Robin says.
"Once you get connected to the kids they become part of your family and it would just be like walking away. We couldn't do it."