life

What We Read This Week (Jenny and Madeline)

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Not so many stories were read this week. The reason? C had a couple of nights when she spent about an hour and a half in the bath. After my second ‘time to get out of the bath now’ if she doesn’t get out then she doesn’t get a story. I think I miss it more than she does but by that stage of the evening there’s very little left by way of consequences.

Still, when I asked her to choose her favourite story from the week, she had a tough choice. Jenny’s Bear (Michael Ratnett & June Goulding)? Or Madeline (Ludwig Bemelmans)? She vacillated a little but settled on Jenny’s Bear. Her favourite bit? When the bear arrives and drinks the pretend tea. Pretend tea!!! It’s very funny.

(We played nail salon this week, can you tell?!)

She also loves Madeline (we have Madeline In London). Partly I think because Ruby Red Shoes also goes to London, and partly because there is so much in the story. We can only have it when she is very speedy when getting out of the bath though.

My personal favourite from this week was a repeat from last week. Nursery Rhymes came out again, and Old Mother Hubbard was read and reread. And C wanted to read it herself for the first time. It was the funniest thing all day. Such a nonsensical rhyme anyway, but when you can’t actually read so just go on memory and also possibly don’t understand ALL of the words and just tack on a second half of a verse even if it doesn’t match the first half… Gold.

E has been going for regular favourites (Hungry Caterpillar and the Green Sheep) but also playing with a stack of little animal books (10 chunky books from Green Start). Each has 3 pages with rhymes about different animals. We bought them before C was born so I have read them over and over. Bonus: great for teething babies.

Of Balls and Paints and Bath Toys

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I sometimes get the urge to organise something for a girl to play with. Usually there is an agenda behind this, such as developing a skill or working towards a milestone or enhancing early literacy skills or just plain old wearing them out so that they sleep. The success rate is a bit meh. Often there is delayed success which is always nice in hindsight but a bit disappointing at the time.

However, being an ‘on’ mum all the time is just plain exhausting. And, thankfully, not so great for kids. Boredom is wonderful.

Hello, unstructured and child-led play. What a relief.

There have been a few winners lately, leading to oodles of squeak-laughs and mummy downtime.

Winner: seahorse ball. C was given this for her first birthday and it is played with every week. It is a pink beachball with a separately-inflated seahorse and seaweed inside it, so it rolls unpredictably. So much fun. When C was smaller she would bounce and roll around on it too, and it was the first ball she could catch. It is one of the few things that keeps E in the play zone for more than two minutes as she loves the back-and-forth nature of it. The girls have started playing to and fro with it – usually a reminder to C to be gentle followed by E trying to eat it then throwing it back to C, all accompanied by riotous laughter. Gold.

Winner: paints. Oh my. One of those ‘ooh Pinterest has shown me all the food-safe finger paints’ moments. One of those ‘ooh Pinterest has all these fingerprint and handprint crafts we should totally do some of them’ moments. One of those ‘yay look at all this mess… (this is good for them this is good for them this is good for them this is good for them)’ moments. Fingerpainting wasn’t a huge success in terms of prints. Fingerpainting was a success for sensory play and just getting messy then getting in the bath. Fingerpainting was also a success for reminding C that painting can be fun and doesn’t have to be done at the easel and we have other paints she can use and get paint alloverher and then get into a bath for loads of bath play.

Winner: bath toys. E is finally at the stage where she doesn’t just shove the toys in her eye so I can let her loose next to the box of bath toys and she will explore them and throw them and chase after them for ages. And C loves loves loves a ‘splash bath’. She will happily spend an hour or more playing in the bath, just as imaginative with her bath toys as she is with her soft toys. Because we have had such stinking hot humid weather lately this has been a very welcome activity.

So that’s where our unstructured play, boredom busters are at present. I have so many ideas for things to make for them but for now, this tired mummy is thankful for easy play. Phew.

The Magic of Twinkle

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One of my great joys this year has been seeing my two girls interacting. The way E’s face lights up when C finally makes it to the breakfast table. The way C will sit down with E and ‘read’ (recite) stories. The way E builds up then lets loose a squeak laugh when C does something, anything, that she finds funny. 

And the way C will sing to E to calm her down. This has been one of the most beautiful (and unexpected) parts of my year. It began a few months ago, when E was crying because I was doing something outrageous like washing my hands and therefore not holding her. C sang, very gently and beautifully, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. E calmed down right away while my heart melted just a little bit.

We have seen many subsequent renditions of this. Usually Twinkle, sometimes Baa Baa Black Sheep. Sometimes gently, sometimes very loudly to override the screaming. Sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, and sometimes slowly until the last line or two and then a quick dash to the finish line. Sometimes with a caring voice and sometimes with a funny ‘granny’ voice.

And every time, E will stop the crying when she hears the singing. I suspect much of it is the surprise factor, just like babies will stop and stare when grandparents and nurses start up with the duck noises or when someone claps nearby. But there is also that knowledge in her that C cares for her and looks after her and loves her and is trying to help.

I only occasionally have success singing Twinkle to her. The song that I can sing to calm her down is Hickory Dickory Dock – although if I sing it near C she tells me I’m doing it wrong even though I sing the version we did in music classes when she was a baby. Glenn has success with Baa Baa Black Sheep but, more often, Incy Wincy Spider. He does a long pause at the start of the last line aaaaannnnnnd no matter what E is doing, she’ll lift her head and wait for it and break out into a wholeofherface smile and then maybe also a squeak laugh and then big laughs when the song continues. 

Music is magic.

What We Read This Week

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It seems E has a favourite book: The Very Hungry Caterpillar. The edition we have (on extended loan from neighbours) is a beautiful size for little hands, and has little holes where the caterpillar eats all the food just perfect for little fingers to explore. E will make a beeline for it whenever she sees it, and if I start reading it to her before she sees I have it she immediately turns her face to me and breaks out in a smile. Delightful.

Every now and then, C insists on ‘the Humpty Dumpty book’. Which is, of course, a large collection of nursery rhymes. Duh. Humpty Dumpty is the first in the book but it is a superb collection. Nursery rhymes I remember from when I was little, nursery rhymes we sang and recited when I took her to the local library baby rhyme time sessions. Yes, it was very useful to have around for those longer rhymes with oodles of verses (one, two, buckle my shoe … nineteen, twenty, my plate’s empty!). Her absolute favourite in the book, that we will end with after I’ve read a few, is Old Mother Hubbard. The first time through she will let out a sudden laugh about halfway through, then subsequent readings the laugh starts earlier and earlier and there are many dramatic ‘WHAAAT???’s and ‘WHY IS SHE BUYING THE DOG A COAT?’ And ‘WHY – WHY – WHY IS THE DOG RIDING A GOAT?’ And other questions that are all logical and hilarious. So many questions. Perhaps not the calmest thing to read right before bed but who am I to argue?

We have also been reading (as seen in the pic) The Toymaker and The Bird (Pamela Allen), We’re Going On A Bear Hunt (Michael Rosen and Helen Oxenbury), and There’s No Such Thing As Monsters! (Steve Smallman and Caroline Pedler). All very much loved.

Let Me Remember

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We are deep in the trenches.  The days that are flying by in a fog of getting to the next nap or mealtime or bedtime, days that are filled with how. How am I going to fill that time between morning tea and lunch, or afternoon tea and dinner. How am I going to stay awake after yet another night of horribly broken sleep. How am I going to keep my cool when I am massively sleep-deprived and lacking in any time to be creative for myself and I am merely coping, just getting by and hoping I am doing enough and hoping I can remember.

Hoping I can remember, because I know this all passes, passes so so quickly, and before I know it the girls will be taller than me and borrowing my clothes and shoes and makeup and spending more time out of the home than here.

So many things to remember.

Let me remember the softness. The softness of the hair, so soft that I could rest my cheek on it all day. The softness of the skin, the soft skin of tiny hands as they hold and explore and reach and gripple, the soft skin of bigger hands as they slip into mine when we cross a road or descend the stairs, the soft skin of plump cheeks as a head rests on my shoulder.

Let me remember the heaviness. The heaviness of a baby. The solid weight of a little baby. The hefty weight of an older baby. The lanky weight of a leggy preschooler who still wants a cuddle-walk to the bathroom to clean her teeth but is all legs and knees and elbows and ribs.

Let me remember the curves. The curve of round cheeks. The slight curve of eyelashes when the eyes are closed in sleep. The gentle curve of fingers relaxed in sleep.

Let me remember the spontaneity and fun of children. The squeak laugh that starts in the belly and spurts out with delight. The sudden raspberry conversation across the breakfast table. The imminent 3-year-old tantrum waylaid when the baby thinks it is a game of peek-a-boo.

Let me remember them when I too am older and worrying about girls being independent and asserting themselves and setting foot in the big wide world. Let me remember how little and precious and fragile and fiercely independent they are, now.

Let me remember their babyhood and preschool years, the memories that cannot be caught in a photo, the memories that they will not have themselves.

Let me remember.

Halloween 2021

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Admission: I’m not a huge fan of Halloween. I’m not a huge fan of dressing up, or seeing loads of ghosts and witches and zombies and ghouls. Or worse, oodles of princesses and fairies and mermaids and just any costume. I’m not a huge fan of being scared, or tricks that give a thrill, or scary movies that frighten me silly.

I am, though, very much a fan of observing the things that make up the rhythm of a year. Doing certain things only at certain times of the year. And, although my family didn’t do Halloween when I was growing up because it was ‘too American’ I am married to an Irishman and Halloween is, actually, Irish.

Hello, Halloween.

This year, as well as doing daycare dress-up, we’ve done some craft and some food and talked a little bit about some of the Irish and Scottish traditions of Halloween. Including the origin of the jack-o-lantern which was enough spookiness for me for this year thank you very much.

Dressing up:

C chose to be a ghost this year. The last two years she opted for black cat (yay for reusing props!) but this year when I asked what she wanted to be, and told her she could be a black cat, or a pumpkin (please no) or a witch or a ghost, she was very excited about the ghost option. Easy. One white sheet I was wanting to repurpose anyway, folded, cut into a circle, head hole cut out a little too big so pleats sewn in, tassels cut in so she could be extra spooky when she ran, eyeliner to make ghostly eyes (Glenn is great at applying makeup). I had to laugh to myself when we got to daycare and the teacher who greeted her asked if she was a ghoul or a friendly ghost and C really didn’t look enthusiastic about being a friendly ghost. She wanted to be a scary ghost. Gold.

Craft:

We made paper jack-o-lanterns, and bought some battery-operated candles to put inside. (I’m very happy that $3 for 6 candles was actually the only purchase for the whole Halloween.) C was quite happy cutting along the lines to make the lanterns, and then insisted on cutting her tape to tape them together. 

Food:

On Saturday we made chocolate cupcakes, and decorated them on Sunday. Icing dunked in ground pistachios then adorned with candy eyeballs and fondant tongues = monsters. We tried to make pumpkins with fondant and icing but they looked more like sad St Patrick’s Day flowers or something (very Cake Wrecks) so we turned them into orange monsters instead. And, thanks to Pinterest, I found Barmbrack bread. An Irish bread baked around the time of Halloween, that Glenn remembers having as a child. The enjoyment I found in baking it told me it will be a staple of our future Halloweens. Not just the act of soaking fruit then mixing dry and wet ingredients and baking in a loaf then slicing and toasting and eating with butter while drinking tea. It’s more than that. It is the making of something only at a particular time of the year, part of the rhythm of the year and the rhythm of our life.

October.

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[Trigger Warning: pregnancy loss]

October. That month of jacarandas in bloom and the city coloured purple. That month when storm season really kicks off and the warmth and humidity also brings the promise of cracking thunder and lightning and rain and hail. That month of shops full of orange and black and red and green as Halloween and Christmas are jumbled together and pushed upon us. That month when newsfeeds are full of end-of-year events and pumpkins and stories of loss. The school year is coming to an end. The northern hemisphere is sliding into cooler weather. And October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.

I’ve seen so many stories of loss. Loss of hope, a tiny beginning that was nixed, the promise of a new life that would not make it to babyhood or toddlerhood or big school. 

While we have experienced our own losses, and come horribly close to another, I have never shared our story for the world to see. It is ours. Ours, but not uncommon, and not unexpected considering we started this whole parenting quest rather late in life.

I have my own reminders. Star Wars: Episode 7. Stranger Things. Blueberries. Sorry folks, there’s no heartbeat. 

Hospital corridor. Photo taken right after that ultrasound.

For us, these have turned into the layers of our life. They are there. They happened. They have been followed by successful pregnancies and beautiful babies and milestones and mischievous laughs and tantrums and sleep deprivation and cuddles and all of the things I hoped would come into our life, and so much more. The almosts, the near misses, the actual hospitalisation, have all reminded us of the precariousness of life as well as the enormity of the precious and amazing gift that is our children. 

What We Read This Week (Baby Favourites)

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This week saw a major reorganisation in our place. One of the driving factors was the overflowing bookshelf. We now have a much more spacious bookshelf in use but that has meant no more of the baby gravitating to the books. It seems the same four books have been read all week.

Who Sank the Boat? (Pamela Allen). Every time it reads ‘Do YOU know who sank the boat?’ C calls out ‘MOUSEY!’ So I guess I need to teach her about rhetorical questions soon.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar (Eric Carle). Such a winner in our family right now. C isn’t fantastic with days of the week yet and this book is really helping. E loves putting her fingers in the little holes and, well, eating the book.

Good Morning, Gumnuts (one of the Gumnut Babies books, inspired by May Gibbs). One of C’s books really (but sharing is caring, right?) and I had to really lay down the law and not let her go as a gumnut baby for Book Week. Yikes.

Higgly Hen (Axel Scheffler). The winning feature of this book is the sound button. Who doesn’t love the sound of chickens? E will go for it if she is in sight of it so we often hear random chickens while she plays.

C has been in a big Ruby Red Shoes phase. It’s been a year since my Mum gave her the first book (which I was asked to read every night for about 6 weeks before it went into standard rotation); since then Mum has also given Ruby Red Shoes Goes to London (‘Ruby Red Shoes on the bus’); Ruby Red Shoes Goes to Paris (in which I must read the 3rd postcard repeatedly); and A Book About Ruby’s Feelings (which often turns into a matching game for the pictures). C loves Ruby so much that she went as her for Book Week (the shoes are really a dark red colour but that didn’t come out well in this photo). I absolutely love reading her all of the Ruby books, partly because it reminds me of my Mum, partly because the words are so gentle and evocative, partly because I would love to be in Ruby’s world. Is that strange? The outfits, the nature, the food, the flowers… I find it inspiring.Thank you, Kate Knapp.

Recent Sewing, Pink Spot Edition

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On the way to daycare when the weather had started to warm up.

Me: ooh, your hat is looking very small.

C: no it’s not!

Me: it doesn’t go past your forehead, that’s too small.

C: I LIKE IT LIKE THIS!!!

Me: I’m going to make you a new hat.

…

Me: so I’m going to make you a new hat, what materials would you like? You get to choose 2 materials.

C: PINK!!! That’s my favourite colour.

Me: I thought you might say that. Light pink? Dark pink? Flamingoes?

C: Flamingoes! And dark pink! And you can make a hat for E too you can make it dark pink too so it will match.

As it turned out, the flamingoes were a little too big for the tiny sizes for E so blue and white stripes were picked instead. I couldn’t resist making her next pair of slippers in the same combination too.

And, after experience making C’s last hat (bumble bees and honeycomb) I knew that she wanted to be able to SEE the flamingoes so they are on the inside.

I do rather like that I have matching hats for my girls, and definitely girly slippers for E so even when she is wearing something not pink and girly, she is still recognisably a girl from her feet.

Both hats are the Sunny Hat flower options (my first time for both). I chose large petals for C and small for E because, variety, and to be able to see at a glance which is which. And the slippers are the Wayfarers, my fourth pair. 

All patterns are from Twig + Tale. I could use many, many words telling you how much I love their patterns but suffice it to say I am pretty much learning sewing and building my self-made wardrobe through their patterns.

Unofficial Milestones

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The last couple of weeks have been rough. Gastro went through the whole family. Our easy baby stopped sleeping. Parent guilt has hit hard as I spend my time trying to get her to sleep and struggle to spend time with, you know, our other child. 

But through all this, there have been little things happening, the little things that make up a life and are the very reason I wanted to write this blog, not wanting to lose them. The little things that are, nonetheless, important. The little things that don’t make it to the milestone pages but maybe they should. 

Like when a baby learns to put her head down, that being on her tummy doesn’t mean she must have her head raised. That resting her head can bring great comfort to her, or be incredibly adorable when it is rested for 3 seconds and then raised again with the smile of achievement as she eyeballs you.

Like when a 3-year-old starts using ‘like’, and ‘so’. Or when she starts ‘reading’ the stories to me and taking hints from the letters as to which word it is. Bonus points for doing different voices, and interjecting comments about the pictures or storyline. 

Like when a daddy can put a ponytail in young, fine, curly hair, a ponytail that doesn’t pull or hurt but does stay in for the whole day. 

These are our little things. Important, little, us.