reflection

This Time of Year

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That time of year. This time of year. Is this time of year my favourite? It may well be.

This time of year, when the sun is rising that little bit later so that a morning walk comes with less being blinded by the sun and more “Ooh, look at that bootiful sunrise” if E or S is with me. That later rising of the sun reminding us that summer in Brisbane does pass for a time. 

This time of year, when the weather starts tipping to autumn with shorter days and dryer days and nights below 20C and a slight crispness at the beginnings and ends of the days. This tipping to autumn that reminds me of when C was born and all that went on with the much-awaited birth of a firstborn.

This time of year, when there is even a slight chill some mornings and the weather forecast shows highs in the upper 20s instead of relentlessly in the 30s. This slight and occasional chill that has children suddenly chilly. This chill that reminds me that they can’t live in short sleeves all year, and winter clothes should be organised soon, preferably the soon that comes before the cold weather.

This time of year, when a trip to the garage for the winter clothing happens. 

I love this changeover of the seasons. Going through the old clothes. Smiling with each memory that emerges with them. Noticing all the holes. Noticing all the holes that I used to think would be frustrating, that something needs mending or is unusable, but actually noticing the holes and seeing how well-loved it was, or how much time playing kittens this pair of leggings saw, or remembering the stack that needed bandaids on that knee for a week, or just how much it was worn and therefore value for money. 

Noticing the sizes available and realising what is missing due to growth spurts and school starting and physical clothing preferences. Thinking about what sizes will be required this year by which child. Reminiscing to C’s babyhood, when she was fairly easily in the size for the age but always outgrew them about a month early, and the sadness felt every time I realised there was no way she was fitting into that size again and therefore maybe I wouldn’t even see a baby in these clothes again because who knew if we would have any more babies? Then – ha! – we sure did have more babies, but some of those clothes could hardly be worn anyway as E and S grew faster than imaginable. 

Grew? Grow. E, at just 4, is needing size 5 separates but dresses are size 6, but clearly not for much longer. S, 2 and a half, is a comfy size 3 in separates but can work with size 4s and needing size 4 dresses and snuck a pair of C’s size 6 leggings the other day and wore them without issues the whole afternoon. C is also a bit ahead in sizing, being almost – practically – 7 and needing size 7s and 8s. With a weight percentile much, much lower than her height percentile she can get away with wearing smaller sizes in warmer months but really needs the length back for the cooler weather.

Noticing the deficits in our supply and planning a trip for winter clothes shopping with the girls. Planning how to make it fair while still getting the start, at least, of what they actually need and attempting to find out what suits their particular wants and needs. “Let’s go shopping for winter clothes!” starts in my mind as a fun thing to do with the girls on the weekend but turns into a balancing act harder than Christmas presents. 

We did this on Saturday. It was the worst shopping trip of my life, I think.

Everyone will want a dress. Every girl gets a winter dress. E quickly found an Elsa dress. It was available in sizes 2 – far too small for S – and 8. Foreseeing 2 winters of wear from E, I let her choose the size 8. There was no similar dress for S. S had a tantrum. C consented to a pink dress with frilly hems. S refused the green dress and as she was too far gone, really, in her Elsa dress tantrum, I picked a navy floral number for her.

Everyone will need at least one pair of leggings. C will need a pair that is vaguely navy so she can wear them at school. C goes for every other option and goes all sad sack on me when I say no. Every. Time. S is still tantrumming about the Elsa dress. I pick out a pair for her then realise she doesn’t know anything that is happening and figure she will actually be fine in size 4s and we have enough in size 3 and 4 to get us going. E is still on a high with her Elsa dress so I pick out 2 pairs of size 6 leggings for her. She is 4. She goes to preschool. Those knees aren’t going to last.

Everyone will need at least one long sleeved top. The long sleeved tops are on the same table as the short sleeved tops, distinguished by writing on the front sticker. Every top C picks is short sleeved. I point out where to find short or long, and she finds 2 options. One of these is a leopard print on a pale coffee colour. She looks ill when she holds it up but is determined to have it. I refuse. I suggest an alternative (we use a plain white tee from home and do an iron-on transfer) which is only just barely considered. I still refuse to buy her something that makes her look like she is about to vomit. She puts it back, slowly and sadly.  E is still on a high with her Elsa dress but has enough presence of mind to shout “NO” at me when I show her a few options that I thought she would love. Unsurprisingly, back at the first option again gets a resounding “YES”. A very sweet top is found for S which pulls her out of a tantrum for about 80 seconds.  

C will need pyjamas. I veto the flannel pair as I am hoping hoping hoping that her size 6 flannel pair will fit for at least the first really cold night. She accepts the lighter weight, heart print with ruffle sleeve pair as acceptable. E doesn’t wear pyjamas so I’m not buying any for her. Except, having made that decision on Saturday, guess who has worn pjs every night since. Of course. Thankfully, C’s size 5 Frozen pyjamas will work out until I can gauge if this wearing pyjamas thing is going to last. S has one and a half pairs of pyjamas that should fit so fingers crossed I find the other bit and then maybe have another rummage in the garage – that’s right, I am no longer organised in the garage department – for size 3 clothing. And my jeans. I am really really really hoping they will be too big but I’m not going to buy another pair if they do actually still fit. 

So that was our winter shopping trip. The hardest thing I have done in a long time, which is really saying something considering the NEAR CYCLONE we just had with 3 SICK GIRLS so that gives you an indication of how horrible it was and how poorly I cope with grumpy and tantrums and stubborn. All that aside, they all love their new clothes. I can’t wait for cooler cooler weather.

In The Wake Of Alfred

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There’s been a lot of drama lately. A lot of angst, anxiety, fear, worry. A lot of preparation. 

In the end, for us it turned out to be for a whole lot of rain and a bit of wind. E would call Alfred a Drama Prince.

We got lucky. Super duper ultra lucky, and there are hundreds of thousands of people who suffered and are still suffering. We did not lose power. We did not have any disruption to our water supply. We didn’t flood. We didn’t have a tree come down anywhere near us, certainly not crushing a car or roof or whole entire house.

What we did have felt like a mini lockdown, akin to what it would have been five years ago but with an end in sight. I take my hat off to families that had to do COVID lockdowns with multiple children and no clear end.

We made it through. Life is returning to normal. Monday, daycare was still closed and school was open only for supervision of children of essential workers. By Monday lunchtime, I was turning myself into a pretzel crossing fingers and toes and whatever possible that they would be able to be back to normal on Tuesday. We were outside on Monday afternoon with girls splashing in the backyard pool and blowing bubbles when two emails came through – bam, bam – within a minute of each other. School would be open for all students. Daycare would be reopening, but please pack food as their food service is out of action this week. Can. Do.

Having made it through this Alfred Experience, I feel I have some people to thank. The usual, of course. Glenn – a rock. Unphased in the areas that matter, like shopping in a panic-ridden shopping centre and finding all that we needed and being able to plan meals and make meals and be around to give girls cuddles and have Siri play Kiss and have mini rock concerts with whoever (E, mostly) needed them.

Auntie J, who shopped for us when I had planned to pick up essentials for our emergency kit but then had 3 girls home sick so we weren’t going anywhere. She offered. I sent her a list. She delivered. I transferred her money. I breathed a little easier.

Prime Video. The girls watched about 39 hours a day… okay, that’s a slight exaggeration. But really, doing some quick calculations here, 8-9 hours a day. Up to 9 hours a day of watching mostly Prime Video. I’ll move on. It was a lot.

Bubbles. Bubbles are the best, aren’t they? Thank goodness I had restocked our big bubble mix the Friday before this all started. Thank goodness I had splurged and gone for the big 2 litre bottle. Bubbles for years. Well, months. That said, with twice-daily usage for 7 days, we used about a fifth of the bottle. A couple of Christmases ago, E was given a bubble set which has a little dish and 4 different blowers. This was the best thing ever during this time. I didn’t have to keep a hold on the massive store of bubble mix to prevent the inevitable major spill. Each girl could blow and chase and spin and pop and come back for more. On the very windy days, we could just hold the blower out and let the wind take the bubbles. And one of my favourite videos is of all girls doing “cyclone bubbles”, holding a blower out and twirling in a midst of circling bubbles. Beautiful.

Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler. Thank you. What a duo. Not a day went by that I didn’t read a Donaldson/Scheffler book. That’s such an understatement. Multiple times a day. And having S and E reciting parts of a book while turning the pages… well. That makes my heart sing. And having such interesting illustrations that girls can get lost in them, spotting connections and little details, was enormously important. There were some other books read, too, but this duo was at the forefront.

AirPods. Oh my. I only cottoned on to this in the last little while but they help so much. Anyone else tried it? Sensory overwhelm in the form of too much noise is starting to take place. AirPods in on noise cancelling, and it takes the edge off. I was hoping for the screaming children level to be reduced but no. It doesn’t really make a difference to that. But if you are having to listen to an annoying children’s show and don’t have the mental energy to switch, or are in the middle of a rock and roll party or Wicked playlist and just have too much doomscrolling to do, then this really helps.

Shelley Husband. Don’t know who she is? Spincushions? Australian Crochet Designer of the Year? Well, anyway, she is my crochet guru idol person. Her granny square patterns are *beautiful* and elevate crochet squares to art. Last year, I realised a shawl would be a good addition to my winter workwear, and I planned it out and bought the yarn. I don’t usually have the urge to crochet in summer, but I couldn’t wait to get started on it in January. It has accompanied me to swimming lessons and psychologist appointments and been my general go-to Me Time when it’s too late to start sewing. Even one side of a round helps my calm. And wowsers, did I ever need it during this time. Admittedly, there were a couple of rounds that were frogged and then frogged again and for one round, frogged a third time before I had it right, but it was the calmness of repetition with the satisfaction of seeing a growing square of beauty take shape in my hands that was essential for my mental health. (Today, with a server issue at work so no work, I finished this square. Two more to go, and then some border squares I think. This is, fittingly, the Hope square from Granny Square Patchwork in 4-ply Luxury in Amazon Green from Bendigo Woollen Mills.)

Emergency services. Not for us in particular, thank goodness, but their social media presence, keeping us informed. Emergency services and weather pages and news channels. I realise it’s a bit in the doomscrolling category but it’s also in the reassurance realm and the awareness and information department. I’d much rather “Well, thank goodness that wasn’t as bad as we feared” over “Why is it so windy today?!”

A pink-handled crochet hook rests on an intricate green crochet granny square, which is slightly rumpled on top of a slightly rumpled grey and white checked quilt cover.

Parenting accounts on social media. Nurtured First has been a favourite lately, but any account – I’m not talking the ones that make me laugh with their representations of what parenting is like in the real world (although a little levity is always a good thing), but the ones that are there to help – accounts that remind me of things that stop me losing it in the face of things that make me lose it. I doubt my neighbourhood appreciates it, but I have noticed a difference in my frustration levels, and a definite rise this week in intentional calmness. I mean, I have a looooooooooooong way to go there, but there were times when I COULD have exploded but I didn’t.

The best of the parenting accounts for me – and “parenting account” is nowhere near the complete picture, but it has been my saviour and well I could go on and on and on and on – is The Occuplaytional Therapist (OPT). Without her and her posts over the years, this whole Alfred thing would have been a markedly different experience for us. Through her, I became more aware of the why of children’s behaviour. Another viewpoint. A better understanding of child development. All of the things. All of the things that meant I could grasp that C needing to have quiet and routine and an active role in preparation was the way she was coping, and that E was letting out big emotions with loud sounds, and to tell her to stop that and be quiet would help C but then stifle E and then we would likely have different problems to deal with. S needing cuddles for hours and hours was her comfort and what a relief that I kind of needed S cuddles too and wasn’t touched out. C apparently bossing E around was not really about being in charge or being in control or better than her, but needing to establish some control when things were feeling out of control. E needing loud – to be loud herself, and to have loud rock music on – was so not helping me, but coming from the understanding that it was her out, combined with those lovely AirPods, made it easier to bear, especially when followed by the amazing handsies we do at bedtime. So the OPT has opened up my sight to the why, which has helped me, you know, not lose my cool at every single thing every single time. Baby steps.

This list is not complete, of course, but these are the people and things I thanked in my head at the time and thought I should really put it out there as part of the stuff of our lives. Thank you.

Expected and Unexpected Milestones

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There have been a few developments this week. That feels like an understatement but see for yourself.

Glenn had a birthday. No matter how many you have had, I always feel a birthday is special. A celebration of life, of that already lived and that which is to come. This one felt extra special, not from being any particularly special age or any celebration that we did, but from family. The girls were all aware that daddy’s birthday was coming up. E made him a card with all the Frozen stickers she was given for her birthday. C was such a lovely helper on our shopping trip to buy daddy’s birthday presents. And S… this was the first year that she really initiated “happy birthday daddy”. Not just copying others, as she often does, but just randomly in the middle of breakfast. And while he was opening presents. And during dinner. We had these very sweet, very lovely, “happy birthday daddy”s punctuating the day.

Speaking of copying, S has upped her copying. For quite some time – I mean, at least a year, possibly 18 months or so – S has been an excellent mimic. Which has contributed to her being a much more understandable speaker, I think (one of the factors, anyway), but also has made some things extra funny. Like, one of the things of our family is Glenn will stand with his feet apart in the hallway or the kitchen entrance and say, in a Big Daddy Voice, “You’re not getting past here”. E and C will either slip to the side or, more likely, drop and go through the daddy tunnel. S, though, copies his stance and then sometimes copies his Big Daddy Voice herself. Copying does often result in screams and shouts and growls of “STOP COPYING ME” from the other girls but they all do it to each other and to me. At the park on the weekend, though, S took it to the next level. I was pushing her in the swing.

S: What’s in the … [other end of the pendulum]

Me: What’s in the what?

S: What’s in the … [other end of the pendulum; looks back at me with a smile. Maybe this is delight at being in the swing]

Me: In the what? The tree?

S: In the what? The tree?

Me: In the tree?

S: In the tree?

Me: The – are you copying me?

S: Are you copying me? [widest possible grin on her face]

Speaking of the park, E can now climb the climbing wall. We hadn’t been to this park for a while. E is cautious by nature. Suddenly, from the swings where I spend most of my park life apparently, I heard big screams. I wasn’t sure if it was the screams of “I’m frustrated” or “I’m hurt”. I got there as fast as I could to hear, “AGH I CAN’T DO IT CAN YOU HELP ME”. Now, I am a big fan of if they can do it, they can do it; if they can’t, let them work out how to do it. That’s great. But also, sometimes, there’s no way they’re going to approach something again if they don’t experience any way of how they can. So I stood behind E and told her I was right there. No good. With her hands and a foot in position, after moving one foot she again screamed, “I CAN’T DO IT”. This time, though – milestone #1 for this experience – I suggested we look at it from below. If you put your hands here and here, then a foot here and a foot here – uh huh – then you could move that foot to there and that foot to there, then— she was at it again. And nailed it. Milestone #2 for this experience. Then she repeated it a bunch of times and I did a Timelapse of her doing it which has S in the background and then she watched the video on repeat for a while and scream-laughed every time but was also SO proud of herself.

Speaking of E, there are a couple of things that switched when she turned four, as she is “A growmup girl now”. Big change #1: no more nighttime nappies. This has not been quite as successful as any of us hoped. Yet she still insists on no nappy, only undies. And she still wakes up during the night (most nights, anyway), very distressed and utterly surprised that she is wet. She must wear a nappy if she is coming into our bed so I put that on over her (fresh, dry) undies. And most mornings, she tells me she has a wee in her nappy, and – oh MAN – wet undies?!?! How did that happen?! Big change #2: no more baths. Showers. Which would be a bit easier for everyone if she wasn’t absolutely terrified of showers. But the first night that she insisted on a shower – so I drained the bath that S had just been in – and then E realised that she is scared of showers so could she have a bath please – and there was no way I was running another bath – quick thinking meant I offered to have a shower with her and now that is what happens every night. Which is, honestly, fantastic. It’s true that I no longer have that few minutes to be on my own and get clean without dodging a slippery child, but having a shower done before 7pm (or so) means that’s another thing ticked off the list of what I have to do. I’m loving it.

Still speaking of E, Glenn took her for a daddy-daughter doctor visit. As in, I wasn’t involved at all, except for booking the appointment. Previously, I’ve always taken them and Glenn has come sometimes and not other times. This worked beautifully! E is such a daddy’s girl right now so needed his comfort when she had her 4-year-old stabs.

Speaking of… Nope. No link for this one, but it is the most grey-hair-inducing. I was walking home with E and S after daycare on Tuesday. In the midst of the most dangerous section – big driveways for big buildings with impatient drivers – S was suddenly climbing out of the pram. She had been securely buckled in. She was no longer securely buckled in. I strapped her back in – which was hilarious, apparently – and tried to keep walking while watching her unbuckle herself again. I gave up. E apparently had tired legs, so she was allowed to get in the pram while S held the pram and walked with me. Wednesday I took her in the stroller (smaller, no storage areas, much harder to push) because I don’t think she has mastered unbuckling that one just yet. She was allowed out to do some walking, and to be fair, she is pretty good at holding on and staying on the side I tell her to stay on. E and C quite enjoy getting a free ride (although they have to take turns) when S is walking, but goodness me the weight difference is noticeable when I’m pushing a nearly-7-year-old up a hill.

And Now She Is Four

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For at least a month before her birthday on the weekend, E would wake up and ask, “Am I four now?” The more often she asked – the closer it got to her birthday – the more dramatic her response to “No, not yet”. A slightly disappointed “Aww I want to be four!” progressed to a slightly angry “BUT I WANT TO BE FOUR NOW” which progressed to dramatic facepalms and “STILL?!?!” I assured her that I had wanted her to be born well before now, too, but her birthday would come along eventually. I don’t think that helped AT ALL but what can you do? I even tried showing her on a calendar and that just made it worse.

It finally, finally was her birthday. Her whole-body reaction of delight and relief and happiness when I could say “Yes” to her sleepy question – well, it made my day. We made her day as special as we could, with croissants for breakfast (family tradition passed along from my side); church (where the girls – the drama! – missed out on the usual post-church ice cream because somebody ELSE who was NOT turning four was actually celebrating being ordained for 40 years and put on a barbecue but thank goodness the girls’ favourite person – a lovely girl who is nearly 10 – was there and made a lovely fuss over E); seeing a favourite honorary Auntie at the play cafe for a babycino and treats and a big play; her request for dinner (sausages); and her choice of cake. 

Whenever I asked what sort of cake she wanted for the party, she gave me a different answer. For the cake for on her actual birthday to have with family, she wanted “a chocolate cake and strawberry cake”. When we went to Woollies on Saturday and were up to the cake department, she put on her fastest feet ever, zoomed over and pointed to the pavlova with strawberries on it. Ohhhhh. Phew. Easy. I love making cakes for my family for celebrations, but also, there was a lot on over the weekend and not having to add “make and decorate a cake for family” made me just that little bit less stressed.

Last year I had decreed that birthday parties could only happen every second year. If you turn an even number, you get a birthday party (which, admittedly, didn’t work out for S last year turning two.  Oops). E was looking forward to her mermaid birthday party in the park for over a year. Unfortunately, she is a summer baby and the weather often gets in the way. In the planning stages, we could see that the weather for the week leading up to her birthday weekend was set to be raining, so any parks in our area would be sodden messes. This would make for the best day ever in her whole entire life but I just couldn’t do it. Thankfully, daycare was quite happy to put on a little party this week. We sent in cake, balloons, party hats and party bags, and let them deal with it all. Win.

Well, almost win. When I was decorating the cake (a 5-layer rainbow cake with ‘violet’ icing and Frozen snowflake sprinkles, and panicking that I didn’t know if the icing was looking enough like violet to satisfy this all-shades-of-purple aficionado), I was a little bit sad that I wouldn’t be there celebrating her party with her. I wouldn’t get to see her excitement. I wouldn’t get to see her face. I wouldn’t get to see her put as much of a slice of cake as is humanly possible in her mouth and kind of sit with it for a while before, to my amazement, managing to chew and swallow before finishing off the rest of her slice. I wouldn’t get to wipe ‘violet’ icing off her cheeks or fingers. I would only be able to imagine her face as “Happy Birthday” was sung to her around a cake with candles alight, seeing her eyes down and eyebrows raised far up in such an E expression and the widest and most delighted smile on her face as she took in all this joy for her. All this joy because E finally turned four and we love her.

Are The Voices In My Head Bothering You?

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There is so much. So much noise, clamouring noise in my head of what needs to be done. Do I seem quiet? Distracted? Step inside and take a peek at what’s going on. This is an example from Sunday night as I was lying on the girls’ bedroom floor while C tried to go to sleep and I tried to stay awake.

“Finish prepping daycare bags. S, spare top. E, spare top and bottom. Do I take out any undies from – no. S probably needs four pairs spare. Remember that daycare teacher from long ago who scolded you for not having enough pairs of spare undies when C was toilet training. Lunchbox for C. Yes you need to do it tonight. Just because on Thursday morning you managed to pack her lunch in about 23 seconds doesn’t mean that’s a good way to go about things. Sandwich. Tomatoes for vitamin C. Cookies. Fruit break should I give her pineapple or apple I think apple. Haven’t sorted the washing. Does everyone have clothing close enough to the top of the mountain of washing? Yes I think so. Don’t worry about that tonight then. But really, you need to do it. Like, soon. Maybe in the morning before people wake up. 

“Why did E fall asleep so late. She was so tired. Hope she’s not coming down with something. What was that song she sang for me. Something about a frog that she acted out on her bunk. It was quite impressive. How can I afford to send her to ballet lessons. Dancing. C has a catchup Irish dancing lesson tomorrow. Is that a good idea. Out of routine and she will hate it. She needs new dancing shoes. Sigh. Will G be okay getting daycare girls home and having dinner OH Monday. Parent information night at the school. That’s not going to work out. Timings and exhaustion levels and cranky children levels and nope we can’t do the dancing catchup. Remember to let the teacher know. How soon can you pay the Irish dancing term fees. It’s due this week and will your pay cover it. I think it should but can there be any daycare payment then too. Maybe. Hopefully. Stupid clerical error meaning I wasn’t paid last week and check the accounts to look for the possible dishonour fee for that payment and then it would have been overdrawn too so is there another fee for that stupid stupid stupid pay thank goodness for managers stepping in.

“Money this week. Heart payment on Wednesday will be covered by pay. Irish dancing due Friday. Should be enough available for that and then Centrelink comes in so phew. We can breathe again. E’s birthday presents. What will it be. Can we manage a full Elsa costume probably not. Why did her friend get the whole Elsa hair? Ugh. How can we do that birthday party. Must email daycare about it. Preferably tonight. How do I include the friend who hasn’t moved up to preschool yet. Maybe I message her mum and we meet up elsewhere? Or can I ask daycare staff to sort that?

“Is C’s friend experience right now a start of the year thing, or because she had 3 days off school last week and everyone else got on with their lives, or is it continuing from last year but worsening? Should I talk to anyone about this. How can I make it easier for her. I just want to give her big cuddles. Please be a better week. Can the psychologist help with this. Does the psychologist believe me about her. When’s the next psychologist appointment. I don’t think it’s this week. How will I cover the gap. Dentist. Everyone needs to see a dentist. Should I start C on OT now or later. How do I start her on OT. I said I would take her to the ceramic painting class this week. Hm. If I’m working then I don’t want to be stopping working because it means I will be stopping earning. I hate this time of year from the financial viewpoint.

“How does everyone get to be supported and validated while learning to respect each other and the others’ boundaries? When is Ash Wednesday. Ah. March 5. Which means yeah that girl’s birthday party can’t be on the Sunday. She said the 3rd which is the Monday. She must mean the 2nd. Dr Seuss’ birthday. Green eggs that day for breakfast. Baked goods. Are there enough in the freezer and the cookie jar for this week. Freezer stocks are running low but I think the cookie jar will cover us for a few days. Must buy more spinach. I can’t believe I ran out of spinach. When is G working this week. Have to organise with myself when a strength workout will happen. Remember to pick up C on Monday because J is away. Ooh but G can pick her up Tuesday because he has a bonus day off. How can I remove things from our play zone without having indignant children. Washing machine just finished.”

I had heard it said before, but yeah. Mums have quite the mental load. And it’s not because the dads are useless or uninterested or unable to organise themselves out of a paper bag. (Admittedly, sometimes I think that might be the case but it’s not the case here or for many of our friends.) We didn’t really discuss it, but G and I each have our roles in the family and household. I love doing all of this. It’s just that, sometimes, the voices in my head remind me of that scene in Scrubs when Elliot has her brain opened up and it’s like the universe roars out.

School’s Back!

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Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

Bye, darling girl! I love you! Have a wonderful day!

School is back, and holidays are done. Holidays that went better than last summer and better than feared but still … still had that feeling of gritted teeth. We’re getting through it. How much longer now? Grr.

Morning walking. Walking for physical health but also to find some space in the day, to carve it out for myself, to have the morning sun in my eyes, to breathe fresh air and not have to answer five questions fired at me from multiple sources all at once every ten seconds. Walking because looking after me in this way helps me reset and look after everybody else. 

Taking myself to the bedroom for a break so that I don’t explode. Breathe. Be interrupted during that minute – that one tiny minute of 60 seconds – because sometimes girls can’t even last that long or I have left my breathing space mental break cool down time too late and then I am rushing back out to nurse the injured child or to remind girls of something like we don’t hurt others to get our own way or that sometimes it’s okay to let others do their thing and let me deal with them.

Two girls going to daycare two days a week. The pre-holiday financial stress of knowing there may be zero income to cover this but also the holiday family stress of having three girls together for all the other days so balancing it out to be two days a week of daycare and then five long and tricky days where they’re all together. The relief – such relief! – when I actually was allocated work for every single day that they were at daycare and I could work and earn just that little bit of money that meant that I didn’t have to use up my entire savings to get through the holidays.

Having that little bit of money meant having freedom to buy girls things like an ice cream on a day out, or buy sushi for them for lunch, or buy craft supplies, or buy replacement sandals when one child just stepped into a pond and when I hauled her out immediately there was only one sandal on one foot and the other was lost at the bottom of a pond and there were so many tears but she didn’t have to go home barefoot. Money that meant I could buy C black school shoes, which are not essential for this school but still a nice thing that she asked for and I knew it would help her feel Proper. Buying school shoes and realising that school socks will be better than her multicoloured rainbow unicorn socks so being able to say yes to school socks. I know this doesn’t sound like much but if you’ve been there, you know. Money that meant I could take her to the uniform shop when it opened last week and buy her uniforms, all secondhand, but not stressing that if there was nothing in her size secondhand then I would be buying new. 

Big Days Out. People hearing about these massive outings and saying how amazing I am but me knowing inside that this is just because I am so far from amazing that this is the only way I can keep girls from fighting with each other all day because when they are out they are so beautifully behaved and just seem to get on better. Big Days Out that wear them out but it’s still a balancing act of Big and not so Big that they are actually worn out and get sick from exhaustion then have to stay home from playgrounds and daycare and then we implode.

Big Days Out this summer that included the trip to Bluey’s World and the day at the City Botanic Gardens playground and the trip to my brother and sister-in-law’s new place on Boxing Day where we also saw my parents and my sister-in-law’s parents and brother and it was a huge day that had girls falling asleep on the way home. There was a Big Day Out to the shopping centre to beat the heat and have girls playing in the shopping centre play areas for three or four hours. There was a mummy-daughter shopping trip that was promising to be a wonderful pre-Christmas shopping trip but ended prematurely when the heat and the sunlight and the people and the noise and the noise and the noise and the noise caused poor C to be so overwhelmed she was nearly vomiting. 

There was mummy cooking more. This makes me happy but also oh my goodness the stress of trying to prep dinner just before taking girls outside when it is shady enough but they are definitely at the point of the day when they need to be outside it is real, this stress, and I finally worked out the need to prep dinner way, way earlier, like at lunchtime sort of earlier and then we managed to have maybe three nights at the end of the holidays where it was not so stressful. 

Baking, both together and partially together and managing to do some on my own as girls were doing their own thing. Relishing this together time while also simultaneously finding the stress of having girls fight over the ladder and the step stool and whose turn it is to tip or stir or taste and that moment when you realise you need an ingredient which requires you to leave the preparation area because you don’t have extendable arms so there will be at least one child unsupervised next to uncontained ingredients and stove knobs.

Craft. Not as much as there could be because the mess is a big factor. Also not as much as there could be because then once they have finished gluing coloured pasta shapes to cardboard or gluing cotton wool to a plastic bottle with fairy lights inside it or making glass jars into tea light holders (actually those are quite lovely) then we have all those things in our place needing places to live because of course they cannot ever be thrown away or repurposed. They are Special. 

There were regular trips to the library. I had neglected it somewhat because I feel libraries are a place of calm, for order, for quiet, and this is all the things my girls are not. Plus the lack of cooperation when I say it’s time to go meant it was a very stressful place and experience for me. However, the last few months I gave it another go and it is such a hit. The children’s area with its pretend cafe and its wall games and big armchairs and ‘doctor computer’. New and colourful and attractive and enticing books. Row upon row of chapter books for C. Indoor drinking fountains. The rituals of borrowing books and returning books.

“Hey Siri, play rock and roll music.” “Hey. Siri. Play … STOP! HEY. SIRI!!!!! PLAY. ROCK. AND ROLL. MU. SIC.” As it turns out, I have three rocking rock chicks. Especially E. They love Kiss and Queen and ABBA. All girls can now activate Siri on the HomePod. They are expert at requesting movie soundtracks and have been practising other options like Mamma Mia and I Was Made For Loving You Baby and Rock And Roll All Night. The HomePod is now unplugged as turn taking took a dive and there are only so many times I can listen to children shouting at Siri and then listening to We Will Rock You (much as I love it).

New indoor climbing equipment and balloons and outside time with balloons and scooter and tricycle and ride-on car and playing mermaids and jumping in the massive swimming pool puddle that forms when it rains a lot and the mud oh my goodness the mud that I have had to clean up because when it’s available it is the most favourite thing for the girls ever in their lives.

Even though this feels like it is over, it’s also not really over. All these things will still happen, will still be happening, for the next little while. Weekends still exist. Sick days still happen. We just have all the added extras of school and lunches and activities and girls not having to be in each other’s faces most of the time. 

Annnnd breathe. 

A Snapshot of S Aged 2 Years and Nearly 5 Months

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At the front of our place, there is a wall. It is one of those walls that is there to denote the edge of the property before it becomes council property. It is low – knee height sort of territory – and has four stepped sections as the land slopes towards the train line and the shops and the street at the end. As I use our outside area for outside playtime for girls when I need to – which lately, it seems, is more often than not – I have spent much time on and around that wall. 

Someone doing a longterm time-lapse from the other side of the street would have seen me sitting on the high end, learning how to play with my girls, being pregnant and not pregnant and pregnant and not pregnant and then holding new babies. Walking beside toddlers holding their hands as they brave walking along the wall and then walking beside them just to be there if they took a misstep as they did it “all my byself”.  There have been countless games of ring-a-ring-a-rosy just inside the wall. Millions of bubbles. Girls have learnt how to roll down hills there. I have been a doctor and a patient and a burger shop customer and an ice cream customer and an ice cream store helper. Princess parties happen there. Pretend ambulances blare their sirens as a team of pint-sized paramedics and doctors and nurses attend the apparently-suddenly-injured, fixing broken legs with bandaids and upsets with lollipops. Mermaids swim down the hill. Girls have learnt to scoot. All three girls now race a scooter, a Minnie Mouse ride-on car and a flamingo tricycle down the path then haul their current vehicle back up the top to do it again.

S is in the phase now of wanting to walk on the wall. If I take out my phone to catch a memory of her rainbow sparkly headband matching her rainbow sparkly sandals, or the tiny hairs framing her face being set off in the afternoon sun, or a curl escaping from its hairband, or her little hand holding mine tight, she points her left hand with all the force of an exorcist and growls “NO PHOTOS” so I am forced to take mental snapshots and write down what I can.

“Mummy, help!” “Mummy, hol’ my hand”. “Mummy, BIN MEEEE” (catch me as I jump off and spin me around and around as I look up at you with glee and laughing eyes until you put me down all dizzy). “I walk”. “Mummy, come on!” “I got you”.

Walking confidently, holding my hand. Confidently, yet clutching me tight. Looking for the moon and pointing with excitement when it’s spotted. Brushing hair out of her eyes. Watching trains trundle by or whizz by. Doggies. Waving at most people who are walking past. Making most people who are walking past smile, changing them from downcast, everyday drudgery faces to lighter, happier faces who often smile and say “hello” in return and sometimes even stay for a chat. Approaching each stepped edge of the wall cautiously, left hand coming across to clutch my top as she gingerly steps down and breathes out as she is safe and releases her grip. Arriving at the end of the wall and jumping off, sticking the landing. Looking up at me, half-laughing, as she says, “Mummy, come on!” Laughing to the point of almost falling over as we both run up the hill to do it all again.

S is so, so independent. She is so sure of herself, and advocates for herself and those around her admirably. “I don’t want to eat that”, “Nuh-uh”, “That’s not fair”, “THAT’S MINE”, “My turn”, “You turn”, and so many more phrases, are all heard on a regular basis. She also still apparently feels that, despite her advanced language skills, she often has to stick up for herself by scratching and biting. That aspect I find incredibly challenging to deal with, and E – the usual victim – is getting jack of it. On the upside, though, through her grins in the aftermath she will say sorry, then “You okay? You need ice pack?” So there’s hope yet.

I know she will outgrow the biting and scratching. I hope she does not outgrow sticking up for herself and others. I know she will outgrow elbow dimples and toddler shoulder muscles and plump cheeks and tumbling hair and cautious steps and needing to hold my hand and needing me at all, really, so I am here for all of it, and enjoying the cuddles and the beautiful strong personality that promises to be as forceful as a river.

Bluey’s World. For Real Life.

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Way back last year, when we found out that Bluey’s World was going to happen for real life, Glenn and I knew we would want to take the girls. But this was not the kind of thing we could just finance for a “What are we doing today? Hm I dunno, let’s maybe go to Bluey’s World” kind of thing. Five of us would be a substantial outlay. That, along with the strong desire (and need, really), to keep THINGS to a minimum, resulted in the main Christmas present being One Whole Family Trip To Bluey’s World.

The gasps! The excitement! The “For real life!”s! We were cereal.

Every. Single. Morning. Since Christmas Day. The first thing E has done, even while barely awake or seemingly even approaching awake, was to ask, “Are we going to Bluey’s World today?” And when the answer was “No, not today”, that was such a hard thing for an excited 3-year-old to bear. 

But Thursday was the day. Wackadoo!

We had afternoon tickets because a), it was cheaper, and b), even though I feel I now have a good handle on getting girls up and ready to get out the door for whatever it is by 8 (ish), I didn’t want to have that panic of getting girls up and ready to get out the door with all of the extra things that I knew we would need for a big trip like this one. The downside, of course, was having to deal with very excited girls who are almost at the thing they want to be at. “Are we going to Bluey’s World today?”  “Yes!” “Yay! When are we going? I want to catch the Bingo ferry. Are we going today?” On repeat. But eventually we were out the door, with S walking for the first time until we were on the train.

I’m not here to give a review. I’m not here to recap what you already know if you’ve already been. I’m not going to give any spoilers if you haven’t yet been but plan to. I am here to put down those little elements special to our family.

Elements like our girls being the life of the party, totally engaged with the experience. Our girls being the kids who screamed – SCREAMED!!! – with excitement, several times. Our girls who were jumping with joy and delight that couldn’t come out any other way. Our girls who were first through each entrance. Except for that one bit with the TV, which held S entranced.

Elements like the lights catching E’s purple dress and turning her ultraviolet and sparkly. S wearing the romper I made for E two years ago which is from licensed Bluey fabric and having staff delighted with her outfit. C’s skort twirling as she jumped and danced.

Elements like the joy of finding only some of the many, many details that make this experience, just like Bluey episodes, so much more layered and complex than what it could have been if they weren’t, you know, the team at Bluey.  Long dogs? Check. Little squiggles of grass? Spotted. Bins? Oh yeah.  Food in the kitchen? Nicely played.  Purple underpants? Haha, yes.

Elements like the bits of the house that I didn’t consider as a part that we would see, but see them we did and use them, too. Like the Flatpack swing – heaven. The little indoor tent with seats that, as soon as I saw it, I knew at least one of my girls would be in it already and sure enough, S was having a lovely sit and think.  Stumpfest. Sandpit (thank goodness, not real). Pedaly, two of them, with a granny in each. Bin chickens (thankfully, not real). Yoga ball. Bones.

(I admit, I also cried. Like, a lot. I often tear up or outright sob when watching Bluey so I really shouldn’t have been surprised but still. There was that bit with Chilli and I was suddenly overwhelmed.)

Elements like S being totally unphased by so many people and not being next to a parent the entire time. E being totally full of beans and cheeky and sassy the entire trip. C being totally overwhelmed with excitement but also anxiety about the ferry and where everyone was every step of the way and making sure E and S were within sight and then holding a hand and showing them something they may have missed.

Elements like the gift shop madness. By this stage, S was in the play area (where she played for a good 40 minutes with no need for parental intervention and was devastated when she was pulled off the play equipment when we really needed to start heading home). E and C were both adamant they wanted a Floppy plushie. I was adamant that that was not going to happen. In the wake of their very best Please Faces, I was able to remind C that they were $35 each, and I would have to buy one for each girl, and that means three of them (also internally thinking of the space taken up by three Floppy plushies), so how much money would that be? And a moment later, “$105! Oh I see”, and she was off on a mission to find less expensive toys. I felt we did well in Alfie’s gift store. Something for each of us, plus activity books for the girls to share, and it came in at a reasonable price that I had mentally budgeted for when planning the outing. The person before me at the register? More than three times that amount. Good for her, but I also had a mini panic and mental recalculation before approaching the register.

Needless to say, we were all absolutely knackered when we arrived home. I even made S get out of the stroller and walk a little to keep her from fully falling asleep. Did I think girls would sleep early? Yes. Did I decide to have dinner after they were asleep because I thought they would be asleep early? Also yes. Did girls go to sleep early? Of course not. I ate my dinner at about 8.45. Was it worth it? Absolutely.

How to do this

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Thinking I’ll get back to the blog this year is all very well, but how? How can I find time in my life to get my thoughts out and write about all the stuff of our life? I had thought that after children were asleep would be the go, but no. That is turning into grownup conversation time – you know, the chance to talk about the little things of our day or that we’ve come across while scrolling and not have small people wanting our attention or needing our help or screaming about whatever it is that they are screaming about now.  (It seems at least once a week I come across something on Instagram demonstrating how hard it is to talk with another adult when you have children around. It’s like watching a movie of our family). Plus, I’m often now falling asleep on the floor in the girls’ room so that they can all feel safe when they go to sleep. Amazing, sure, but it really cuts into Me Time.

So, how? Recently I have started to make changes in my life. I have been just a little bit overweight since just before becoming pregnant with E and nothing I was doing seemed to help. I started a course that is helping me lose weight but also helping with life. It is all about small habits that can stick and become just what you do. My big block to losing weight was exercise. I couldn’t exercise the way I wanted when I wanted because children were around and Glenn works random hours so I couldn’t get into an exercise habit. But I made myself work out how I could find time to exercise every day and realised that, actually, getting up at 5.30 and going for a walk is totally my thing so that’s what I do now. An extra habit to help this is to put my walking clothes in the bathroom the night before. The girls know now that if I’m not there, I’m walking, and they are fine with daddy and jigsaw puzzles and books and Bluey.

Over the weekend I thought of what I was wanting to write about next and felt stymied when I just couldn’t do it. So I had a think. How was this going to work? When am I going to find time to write? Well, before the exercise. I can definitely wake at 5 and make myself a cup of tea and enjoy a bit more Me Time before going for a walk. It has the same drawback as trying to do a home workout, in that in the last 15 minutes, for example, I have investigated E whimpering (needed the quilt back over her) and thought that S was waking up and would therefore need me and then be all delightful and excited to be up and going for a walk with me but I think her random cry of ‘I GET UUPPPP’ was actually the flipping around in the cot sound and she might be back asleep. I will check in a moment.

So there it is. New year, new habit. Will this last? I hope so. Do I feel excited about this? Definitely for real life sure as sure. Will I manage to go to bed earlier in order to counter the earlier wake? We’ll see.

Update: S was fast asleep. Plus, I was much more energetic on my walk because I had been awake for a bit already instead of stepping out, bleary-eyed, trying to wake up while I exercised. Winning.

Hello, 2025

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It’s probably an easy guess as to one of my goals for 2025. SO much happens which means that, also, SO much takes up my time which means that, also, SO much just happens and passes us by. Some stuff just happens or changes and it takes a little while to notice that, actually, we seem to be past that “I’m finished my food and even though I know how to say ‘I’m finished eating now’ I choose to fling the remains from my bowl to wherever I can thereby getting the message across as well as some handy throwing practice” stage. Thank goodness. Or the relatively sudden change from reading 15 picture books at night to reading a chapter book at night to reading 5 chapter books before being told to turn off the light because yes you really have to go to sleep it’s nearly 10pm. And there have been some big changes that deserve their own space. But I thought I would tell it how it is today.

First up, The Tired. The Tired that comes from Glenn playing the New Year’s Eve concerts so getting about 3 hours’ sleep. The Tired that comes from E waking up at 4.40 for the day. The Tired that comes from being ON from the first wake to the last asleep, for weeks and weeks. The Tired that comes from being “just a teeny weeny bit not very well” as E would say. The Tired that comes from not being able to sleep during the day thanks to children needing love and attention. Which is wonderful, of course, and I am loving all the huggles and cuggles coming my way, and even the cannonballs that are all the rage right now but with the *very* important rule that the person being jumped on MUST have their eyes open. Lesson learned. Ahem. Tired.

Other things I want to remember from today, this day of new beginnings and fresh starts. ABBA. S insisting on “Mummy Mia” repeatedly then dancing the joyful, carefree dance of a 2-year-old. E rocking out to Kiss with what I am coming to know as her performing face, which reminds me of a librarian caricature. C being very excited about an iPad game and about us learning French together and then reading a Fairy book and making connections, all while looking 12 or 17 with her new pixie haircut. Glenn making us a dinner that ticked (nearly) all the boxes of fancy but also not noticeably fancy so girls could eat it without worrying about “ficy” or boring, plus it was easy for tired girls to eat, plus it was sporting spinach and walnuts even though you wouldn’t know it. 

I made sure to do the things that I NEEDED to do to satisfy myself. I went for a walk in the morning. I did my skincare routine morning and evening (it has been a long, long while since that happened). I ate good, nutritious food. I baked some mini muffins. I started a list of areas to declutter. I decluttered one of those areas (the ironing board is visible once more). I repotted the 3 plants I had bought in the last week – sage, rosemary and… mint (with a bonus basil that had been hiding in the sage). I trimmed the opportunistic tomato plant. I took 2 minutes in the bedroom at dinnertime to breathe before getting onto the bath and bed routines. I gave all of my girls cuddles. I was mindful (in the receptive and thoughtful sense, not the careful sense) of how beautiful and delightful and smart and imaginative and creative and caring each of them is.

And, to demonstrate to myself that some things just don’t change – and they don’t have to, and that’s ok – I started thinking about my goals for 2025 this evening. At about 9.18pm. The main thing is, baby steps. Happy New Year!