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.

What We Read This Week (09/02/25)

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I have read so many stories this week. Stories to girls who are wanting to go to sleep but their sleep train has been delayed so they ask for a story instead. Stories when S is stuck in one of those dreaded 2-hour overnight wakes which you just have to ride out with no amount of anything that will speed up the process it’s just done when it’s done and you’re asleep and you only know you’re asleep when you’re being woken up by the next child needing you. S still suffers these, and as part of her Overnight Wake Routine she will inevitably ask for a story and whether or not I agree, she will manage to bend her arm into the bookshelf next to her cot and retrieve books and books and books. Her favourites right now seem to be Flood (Jackie French and Bruce Whatley), Never Touch a Grumpy Unicorn (right up her sensory-seeking alley), and The Boy Who Ate Everything, which seems to be a firm favourite for all my girls.

We had a trip to the library yesterday, mostly to return bags and bags of books but also to borrow some. C borrowed her usual Geronimo Stilton fare but branched out to Thea Stilton as well as a Pixie book, which prompted Playing Families (Pixie Land Edition) to be the game all afternoon. At the library, E was desperate to explore but also desperate to borrow some books, but also also desperate to borrow chapter books like C, so for the first time ever she borrowed some chapter books. Two books in the Little Ash (Ash Barty) series, and it was her first real experience of me stopping reading at a totally logical point, having read enough of a story for her to have been read to, but not having finished a book and having to wait until tomorrow night for the next bit.

I am pleased to report that, not quite within the 4-week borrowing time set by the library, and not quite within the confines of a calendar month, but nonetheless I am about to finish The Last Family In England. Mere pages to go. I have loved reading this book. I have loved being in this world inside this book. I have loved reading this author, who I came across by chance on Twitter years and years ago, and he struck a chord for all sorts of reasons, and I had wanted to read a book of his for such a long time. I have also been conscious that this is modelling a behaviour that I want to see in my girls. We read. We read for necessity, like to find out what signs mean and how to get somewhere and what the news is. We also read on our devices, for necessity and for pleasure. We also read actual, physical books that have been written by a person and published and printed and are a thing you can hold and smell and get right into. Reading a book on my phone is something I do, too, but it’s not the same, either for me or for my girls’ experience of my reading. Real books are in order.  

Baking the Best Ever Chocolate Chip Cookies

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Are you ready to make the best chocolate chip cookies you have ever made? Of course you are. Here we go.

Start this recipe as far in advance as you can. “Ready in less than an hour” does not apply here.

Gather your supplies. You will need:

2 cups of wholemeal plain flour (white plain flour works fine here too)

1 teaspoon baking powder

3/4 teaspoon bicarb soda

1 1/4 cups chocolate chips – vegan if necessary 

2/3 cup coconut sugar (or 1/2 cup packed brown sugar)

1/2 cup granulated or caster sugar

1/2 cup plus 1 teaspoon olive oil or coconut oil

1/4 cup plus 1 teaspoon water

Plus: 2 mixing bowls – 1 medium and 1 large; and measuring cups and spoons.

As you gather your supplies, children gather nearby, realising that baking is imminent. They clamour for the ladder which is allocated on a first come, first served basis. Second child gets to fetch the step stool from the bathroom. Third child is reminded how tall they are and actually don’t really need height assistance.

Start measuring your 2 cups of wholemeal flour into a medium bowl. A child will insist on doing this with you. The pride you feel when they tell you any of the numbers they see on the measuring cups is soon overridden by the spray of flour as they tip it only partially into the bowl. 

Don’t stress it. Somehow this process makes it better. I don’t know how.

A teaspoon of baking powder and a very approximate 3/4 teaspoon of bicarb soda go in too. Children take turns to stir, sometimes remembering to hold the bowl. Some more flour mix may be launched out of the bowl. This is fine. We are fine.

Next come the chocolate chips, and relief. 1 1/4 cups of chocolate chips need to go into the flour mix. This is more than a standard pack of chocolate chips so don’t be complacent. Your helpers are at the height of helpfulness when testing of the chocolate chips is underway. Often this is their cue to leave you to yourself to get on with things, if they score enough of a batch to test for quality. Or to see if they prefer milk or dark. This is all important. Embrace it.

Next, bring out the large mixing bowl. Put the medium bowl out of reach of children. The chocolate chips are still visible in this mix so are at risk of further testing.

Into this bowl you will need 2/3 cup of coconut sugar (or 1/2 cup packed brown sugar which will end up thoroughly tested and quite spilled and therefore further tested); 1/2 cup of caster sugar; 1/2 cup plus an extra teaspoon of olive oil (or coconut oil but I personally can’t stand the scent so steer clear); and 1/4 cup plus 1 teaspoon of water. Mix this vigorously. I prefer using a fork for this but I realise most people are fancy and use a whisk. 

When the mix is, you know, mixed, add the flour mix to the wet mix and stir with a wooden spoon. Mix just enough for there to be no more clumps of unmixed flour. 

If you are baking these anywhere from October to April in Brisbane, you will probably need to put the bowl in the fridge now otherwise your cookies will become one. 15 minutes or so should do it, or as long as you need to deal with having a cheeky nap or changing a toddler nappy or putting out washing or if you just forget. It’s fine. 

Get 2 baking trays and line them as you usually line them. Bring out the cookie dough and, if you’re feeling generous, let the helpers know you’re up to the next stage. Clean hands. Rings off. I make a line across the middle of the dough so I can keep track of how much for each tray, and then scoop a spoonful of dough into my hands to roll into a ball then onto a tray. Depending on the capabilities of the helper, they may need some guidance in the amount of dough to use, but I find if they have enough play dough experience they will catch on pretty quickly and not need help in rolling it into a ball. No need to stress if they taste test the dough. No egg, no worries. Winning. This batch makes 26 cookies which suits my preferred layout of 3-2-3-2-3 on each tray. Do a little squish on each dough ball, using cute little helping fingers or a fork. 

Chill time is essential. If you can find room in your freezer for these two trays, good for you. Whack them in for 30 minutes. Otherwise, into the fridge for … some time. Like, at least four hours. I usually leave them until the next morning, but whatever works. When you remember them, turn on your oven to 175C. If you get your cookies out when you turn on your oven or if you leave them in the fridge or freezer until the oven is ready is up to you, it just affects the baking time. When the oven is hot, put the trays into the oven and bake for 10 minutes. If they are not looking like your preferred cookie consistency, keep them in for another 2-5 minutes. They should be a little bit golden brown. 

Get your helpers out of the kitchen so you can open the oven and remove the trays. We put ours on our stovetop, with oven mitts on the sides closest to the front. Remind your helpers these are HOT and they are to keep their hands off. They will likely repeat this information to you, possibly while reaching out to touch the hot thing if they are a very sensory-seeking child like my 2yo. Keep those little fingers safe.

The next stage is, honestly, my favourite: sprinkling sea salt flakes over the baked cookies. Note that this is not the same as grinding salt over it so make sure your independent oldest child is aware of this and doesn’t accidentally grind pepper over your freshly-baked cookies. Sea. Salt. Flakes. Sprinkle them over, as sparingly or liberally as you wish. Leave the trays there while you deal with children wanting to do painting or needing morning tea or breakfast or whatever you’re up to, then transfer to a wire rack.

In our family, I will put aside a container of these for my husband (usually getting about 8 in a container) so that he actually gets to have some. Whatever remains on the tray after this and children wanting a cookie and then another and maybe a third, goes into our cookie jar. And even though these are, you know, chocolate chip cookies and not known for their health benefits, because they use wholemeal flour and coconut sugar and olive oil, these are cookies I can say “Yes” to when a child wants one for breakfast or in the afternoon and know that it won’t make them any more crazy cuckoo bananas than they would have been otherwise. That’s always nice.

This recipe is from Katie’s Amazing Kitchen and you can find the original recipe here. I have tweaked it only very slightly to suit Australian measurements and our weather and our lunchbox compartment sizes.

A Snippet of Mornings

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When C started at daycare, one of her first friends was a girl, M, who was a week older than C. Just after the girls turned one, M became a big sister. When they were about to turn 3, M scored another little sister just before E was born. At one of the birthday parties (of a different daycare kid), I remember looking at the mum and thinking, wow, supermum. I asked her, “How do you ever get out the door in the morning?” And she kind of shook it off with a “Oh, we manage”, and then told me they frequently don’t get out the door in time for anything and have daycare calling them asking if they’re actually coming in today? That made my experiences of getting only 2 girls fed and dressed and out the door in what felt like 17 hours feel just a little bit more valid. 

Then that happened to us. We became a family with 3 young girls and C started school and I started a job and suddenly we were having to feed 3 independent girls and clean teeth of 3 independent girls and get clothes onto 3 independent girls who had ideas about what they were going to wear thank you very much and then get shoes onto them brush hair apply sunscreen and hats and bags and shoes and water bottles and are we ever leaving we need to do an emergency nappy change and am I actually dressed myself and can we go yet make sure you close the door behind you. And I understood what M’s mum was on about. You manage.

You manage. You find out with experience just how early everyone needs to be up to be out the door in time. You find out with even more experience what time everyone needs to be getting on with the next task. You find out with experience how to make that next task happen – well, experience, and following as many parenting accounts as possible to provide you with ideas and comprehension and solidarity. 

Those parenting accounts help enormously. Cleaning teeth! How are we getting there? Frog jumps? Kangaroo bounces? Rolling along the wall? Yes you need clean teeth. You are heading to a royal ball. A princess mermaid with breakfast in her teeth might not be allowed in.

Not to say that I don’t lose it… I mean, this happens way more than I would like. But I am getting better at staving that off. Still, it can often feel like being in the surf for just a few minutes. Here is an example.

Me: Okay girls. It’s 7.20. Time to clean teeth!

E: But I not finished yet! 

E slurps milk from her bowl while S gets off her chair holding her not-quite-empty bowl and spills a bit but takes her bowl and spoon to the sink and throws them in with such force that I worry for anything breakable that was in there. C slowly, like a sloth slowly, gets up from her chair and moves past the other girls.

Me: C, are you doing toilet first or teeth first?

C: I don’t need the toilet!

Me: You have to go to the toilet before we leave. Teeth?

C, cross: I’M ABOUT TO DO MY TEETH.

E gets up from the table and goes to daddy on the sofa who is trying to read the news. S has run down the hallway and straight onto E’s bunk.

Me: E – never mind. (I walk down the hallway.) S. S? Where are you? Oh.

S: I sleeping! (Naughty laugh followed by fake snores).

Me: That’s E’s bunk. Out you come. (E rushes down the hallway as she realises invasion of her territory).

E: S! S (drawing out a one-syllable name to be four) that’s MY BUNK.

Me: E, nappy off. Toilet.

E: But S is on my bunk!

Me: Yes, she is. How about you do the right thing for me – C, great. Getting dressed now.

E rips off her nappy, dumps it on the bedroom floor and then is happily cleaning her teeth. I take her nappy to the bin in the bathroom and C opens the wardrobe door. I go back to the bedroom.  S dive bomb corkscrews herself behind the bunk ladder (where I can’t reach her), burying her face in the pillow. I see that C is jumping to get her school dress down from the wardrobe rail so I get the dress down for her and pick out socks for her while I’m there. I hand her the dress and put the socks on her bunk rail. C holds the dress and stays still. I grab an ankle of S and drag her to the edge of the bunk.

Me: Teeth. Now.

S runs into the bathroom and doesn’t stop before barrelling into E on the step at the basin. Seeing an imminent “I was here” fight, I pick up S and move her over for a nappy change. E finishes doing her teeth, dries her hands and face and tummy, and walks out of the bathroom.

Me: E, your clothes are in mummy and daddy’s bedroom.

E looks like she is moving to the main bedroom. I take S’s pyjama pants and nappy off. As I am putting the nappy in the nappy bag, she is off down the hallway with a machine-gun naughty laugh to launch herself onto daddy. I get a nappy but then hear C growling at E in their bedroom.

Me: Girls! What’s going – C, keep getting dressed. Dress. On.

I start down the hallway with a nappy for S.

C: But she’s IN here.

Me, from the living room: It’s her room, too!

C, getting very upset: I can’t get dressed when someone else is in here!

More growling from the bedroom accompanied by naughty laughs from E. I hand the nappy to daddy and he puts it on S while I head back to the war zone.

C: She won’t move! I can’t get dressed!

Me: E, mummy and daddy’s bedroom. C, you can’t be that particular. Three of you share this bedroom. The other two have just as much right to – hello S – be here as – (S is jumping bumping her body into my legs) – you do just please put your clothes on. S, teeth.

I pick up S and take her to the bathroom basin. As I am putting toothpaste on her toothbrush, E lets out a growl-cry of frustration. I start brushing S’s teeth and call out.

Me: E, are you ok? What’s up?

E: I don’t. Want to. Wear. THIS!

Me: What DO you want to wear?

E: Idon’twanttowearthis.

Me: Yes, I – come in here.

E stomps the 2 metres or so from the main bedroom to the bathroom and looks at me with the lowest and grumpiest eyebrows she can manage. 

E: I. DON’T. WANT. TO. WEAR. THIS.

Me: Yep, got that. S, spit out. 

I wash S’s face while she does a long sound to hear the change in sound as my hand moves the water around her, then she gets the hand towel to dry her face and top.

Me: What do you want to wear then?

S runs into the main bedroom and flops her body against the side of the bed.

E: Rainbow top.

Me, running through all her tops and coming up blank: Rainbow top? Do you mean your rainbow skirt?

E: RAINBOW TOP! WITH THE SPARKLES!

I keep thinking as I go into the main bedroom to get S dressed. S does a speed climb onto the bed and I start wrangling her into undies and shorts while she tries to launch herself as quickly as possible to the other side of the bed.

Me: Ohhhhhh that one that now fits S because it’s 3 sizes too—

E: But I want to wear the rainbow top!

Me: I hear you. It’s such a nice top, isn’t it? Daycare won’t let you wear that one, though, because it doesn’t have sleeves.

E: Oh okay.

Me: How about your love heart dress?

E, doing her Sad Bingo Impression: Ohhhhkaaaay.

I finish getting S dressed in her t-shirt and hand her a pair of socks to put on herself. I get undies on E and hand her a pair of socks to put on, then I head to the girls’ room to find E’s love heart dress. C is sitting on the floor with a dress on but not done up, reading a book.

Me: C, thanks for getting your dress on. Do you need help with the zip?

C: Where are my socks?

Me: On the bunk. Do you need – stand up.

While C stands, I get her socks off the bunk then zip her dress. E starts yowling again from the bedroom.

E: I. CAN’T. DO THIS!!!

Me: Just wait, I can come and help. C, socks. (To E) Just a moment. I’m finding your (S appears)

S: I did it my byself!

Me: Well done, S. Living room for hair. C, socks on.

I collect E’s dress and take it to the main bedroom, where she is on her back and struggling as if she is getting into the world’s tightest jeans. I fix her socks for her then she pretends to be a baby as I get her into her dress.

You see? That wasn’t much, was it? Making sure everyone actually has socks on and hair brushed and hair tied back if it’s long enough and has been to the toilet if they don’t wear a nappy feels like a breeze in comparison. I mean, it’s not, but you get the idea.

What We Read This Week (2/2/25)

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This was almost going to be a one-book week. Tabby McTat was the favourite book, the go-to, the maybe it’s the only book we own anymore book. And honestly, I am so totally ok with that. My girls do look at me strangely when I get to the song, as I haven’t paid enough attention to the song when they watch the adaptation on ABC Kids. (Side note, how beautiful are the screen adaptations of all of these books?! My girls are always always always allowed to watch these.) My girls will look through the illustrations of McTat and point out allllll of the things, including references to other Donaldson/Scheffler books, which I absolutely love. E asks SO many questions. Why did he go there? Why does she look sad? Why does he have a loud voice? What are the names of the girls? For a kid who had zero interest in this whole reading stories business for a long time, she certainly has upped her interest level remarkably.

Tonight, as Zog and the Flying Doctors was requested but denied as it was in the girls’ bedroom and S was going to sleep, I was instructed to “Come with me” by E and she led me to the red bookshelf and chose Bears in a Band while C chose Ping. Having read the bears to C when she was a baby many, many times, it was a really nice experience to read it to her again with so much more knowledge in her head. Would it be better with an abbreviated option? No, it needs this many syllables. Oh, so it can be a song! And also getting zero reaction from the line that used to always make her scream-laugh (“with a small ka-boom”). 

Ping holds a special place in my heart, as it was one I remember from my childhood. In fact, I am fairly sure our copy IS the one from my childhood. It is certainly not new, and come to think of it, it has an initial inside it in my mum’s writing. The story is written in a different voice from most children’s books, having very long sentences which are like a lullaby or the lapping waters of the Yangtze River. Beautiful.

I, too, have continued my Reading For Me, and am approaching the end of my book. The Last Family in England is at a point for me where I want to finish it in one go, but also, I don’t want to devour it because then it will be finished and there is that place for readers, I’m sure, where you want it to keep going forever. Perhaps there is a German or Japanese word for this. Suffice to say, I am not rushing it. 

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. 

What We Read This Week (26/1/25)

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Friday this week was hot. I mean, it was HOT. Our place is not air conditioned at all. It is usually a few degrees warmer inside than out. Girls are normally prone to bickering regardless of the weather. Thankfully, my husband reminded me that the nearest large shopping centre has air conditioning, and I remembered that my oldest brother had given the girls book vouchers. Off we went.

The girls had a blast choosing their books. I said absolutely no to any Peppa Pig books. Choosing between all the Bluey books was tough, but the girls fought so much over the Magic Xylophone book that it was easily ruled out. (I know. It’s like they haven’t even seen that episode, like, ever. Eye roll).

C had her eyes peeled for the next in the Penny Draws a Best Friend series. We didn’t find the next but a next next, as well as another in the Pearl the Flying Unicorn series. All girls were very keen for the I Love My Family book from Bluey, as well as Let’s Go Home, Baby Bee, which has a little creature to slide around the pages with a finger. I have read the Bluey book maybe five or six times in three days so that was a definite good buy, and the Baby Bee book is just mesmerising, reminding me of calm-down methods used by psychologists and the like.

We are all huge fans of Julia Donaldson so I looked for some more to add to our collection. Tiddler was top of the wish list but not found in the store. Zog and the Flying Doctors, and Tabby McTat, however, were so are now residing on the living room table and being looked through and read by all girls whenever they wish. 

So Friday’s excursion was fruitful. Aside from the book shopping, girls played in the play areas for hours before we came home. And when we eventually did, the inevitable “Can I watch something?” could be met with, “We *just* bought books. How about you read some of them?” And they did. Score.

What We Read This Week (19/1/25)

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There was not as much reading at home this week as there was last week. It was one of those weeks where a few books were read, and a few bedtimes included a story request or 3, but it was not a book-heavy week. 

Actually, this is the sort of week that Old Me used to worry about. “Read to your child every day” can carry a lot of guilt with it if, say, your child thinks it’s hilarious to run as fast as she can away from you, or if you try to start reading them the story that they have picked out and *asked you to read to them* but about three words into the first sentence you are told, quite firmly, to shush. No. No reading. The Old Me used to stress about this until I realised that they actually get a fair bit of reading exposure without me sitting them down after a bath to do Story Time. There is reading throughout the day. They have reading at daycare. More and more, the younger two are seeing C and me doing reading. The New Me has realised that forcing things on toddlers and preschoolers is a futile and frustrating course of action that has the opposite effect than that which is intended.

So this week there was not much, and that’s ok.  C read this chapter book today, which she seemed to enjoy.  “Pearl the Flying Unicorn” by Sally Dodgers and Adele K Thomas. E’s favourite book this week has been “The Moon Book”. Yeah, not its real name. “Goodnight Baby Moon” is NOT it, but the book she borrowed last weekend about Eid is. What a find. All the girls have also been loving a Japanese lift-the-flap type of book, about hatching animals. It makes me want to revise my Japanese characters!

S now has a bookcase next to her bed, with books she can access, so she has gone a little wild. She often falls asleep with a book under her cheek or pushing into her tummy, or being ruffled by her feet. Currently in her cot are the following: Hammerbarn (Bluey); Never Touch a Grumpy Unicorn; Where is Baby’s Belly Button; and an Ella at Eden chapter book. I am not allowed to read her any.

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.

What We Read This Week (12/1/25)

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Things have progressed somewhat since my last “What We Read This Week” post. My girls now all love books. Phew! 

C now reads voraciously. Mostly she now reads silently, but when she does read out loud I am very proud to hear her doing voices and expression. She is very engaging! 

E switched from being impossible to read to, to loving books. She doesn’t always ask for one at bedtime, but if she has missed a sleep train then “May you please read me a book?” comes out.

S. Hoo boy. What a journey it has been. They say it’s not a good idea to compare your kids, but really. C: lift the flaps and board books and paper books all fine from age dot. E: enthusiastic lifting of flaps as a baby means there are some that are no longer attached. S: all flaps removed; all board books pulled apart; now very careful and sincere with paper books.

All this, plus a developing ability for my girls to adhere to my “It’s time to go now” statements, have meant we have started visiting the local library again. Christmas was a very “book-y” Christmas, from us as well as from relatives. I am often pondering how to incorporate a reading nook for the girls and how to house the books and how to keep on top of library books.

So what we read this week is rather more wide-ranging than it used to be. Hallelujah! Instead of listing alllllllll of the books that have been collecting on the girls’ floor this week (and on my bedside table and on the sofa and on the rocking horse of all places), I picked a book the girls have each favoured reading this weekend, plus some that I found for them that I am loving, plus – gasp – a book for ME! Astonishing.

Whenever I need to take a breather in the bedroom, S comes in to help me feel better (that new doctor kit is getting a workout), and insists I read “Blossom Possum” as many times as she can wheedle out of me. I think it was a find at the school library’s culled book fair, and it is chock full of  Australianisms and rhymes. E found a book about Eid at the library and I read it to her 3 times at the library and another several times today. It is a beautiful book. C is on a mission to read every Geronimo Stilton book that the council library has to offer. I’m not sure how many there are. I’m not sure how many she has read. “Happy Birthday, Geronimo!” was the find yesterday, which was finished by the afternoon. 

“Be You” is one I feel every kid should have in their mind as early as possible. “What Feelings Do When No One’s Looking” is a very lovely approach to accepting our emotions, something I struggle with but am trying to overcome. And “My Name Is A Gift” is the one that makes me tear up. We thought long and hard about names for our girls; their names and meanings are so precious to us. “My Name Is A Gift” is a beautiful expression of the importance of a name and the importance of saying it correctly. 

Because C had finished her sole library book within a few hours, and I had cleared off my bedside table with its stack of her books, “What Katy Did” was floating around and, sure enough, C started reading it and just casually left it on my pillow. 

I actually started reading for me again recently. I have a large number of books on my phone, and I read a murder mystery last month, the kind of thing that I used to read all the time. When I started the second in the series, I got tired of it. I won’t blab on about why, but it reignited my desire to read good books. So at the library, I went on a hunt for books by an author I have followed on Twitter and Instagram for years but never read. Two books by Matt Haig were found; I borrowed one, “The Last Family In England”, and I have no regrets.