A Teaser Letter

Dear New Mum of 7 Years Ago,

Would you like a little teaser? See what this beautiful baby of yours is like at 7 years of age? Yeah, I know. It’s wild. 7! So those times coming up when you will just randomly wake up and check that she is breathing – I mean, still do that, but she makes it to 7. 

What’s she like? Amazing. Mind blowing. Ohhhh there’s so much but she also pushes your buttons like it’s her super power. Let’s see.

You are soon to discover sleep (the absence of). She will be a feed-to-sleep baby and, just like the professionals say, this is linked to making it tricky for her to go to sleep. Don’t change anything, of course. That’s not the point of this letter. More like, heads up. Sleep and naps will be a battle until she is almost 2, when she drops her lunchtime nap entirely and you will have a couple of glorious months before she adapts and then you are back to sleep struggles. The light at the end of the tunnel is that she does eventually sleep through. After the age of 3. But by then you will have another bub waking you up and then another so when she turns 7 you still don’t sleep through the night most nights. Also, one of the few things she inherits from you is the inability to fall asleep. Oops. Once she can read chapter books, she MIGHT be asleep before 9… or it might be approaching 11. Yes. 11pm for a newly-7-year-old to go to sleep on a school night after she has been at school and Irish dancing. 

Sadly, Glenn’s mum is not much longer for this world. She will have nearly a year with C, and see her personality developing and watch her being a cheeky monkey around her bed and see enough of C that you know that she knows her. Sioban’s presence will still be felt and she will not be at all forgotten. In fact, after C stops looking quite so much like Glenn, she starts to look like Sioban before starting – at about 2 weeks before she turns 7 – to show glimmers of you. 

At 7, C is tall (about the 80th percentile) and skinny (about 25th… 20th percentile). She is strong, and keen on healthy food – especially after your GP wanted to check her iron levels which involved a blood test and the screams oh my but it showed she was on the lower end of iron levels – but if she is sick, whether by actual gastro or by anxiety, then she gets to that gaunt stage. She is just losing the chin that you will come to adore soon, that little baby element you notice when her head is tilted back and apparently unrelated to her jaw or neck. Her nose is like yours, at least for now, and her eyes are light green like Nana Sioban and your Grandma Ruth. Her hair has gone from dark to light with reddish cradle cap, making you think she would be a redhead. It darkens as she ages and there is no more hint of red in C. Unlike many blondes, she loves that her hair is darkening and she would much rather you say she had brown – dark brown – hair that is nearly black, even though it is a long way from being black. There are curly phases, and it is on the sparse side when she is a toddler, but normalises by the start of school. At 7, she has a pixie cut that you did yourself and is growing but maybe will get a trim in the next holidays.

She is usually wanting friends to play with. If other kids rock up at the park, she is overjoyed and usually approaching them within a minute to see if they want to play. Some of your best mum friends have come from C wanting to play with a new-to-her kid at the park. At home, she will sometimes play with her sisters. Although there are games they play together, like cubbies that take over the entire living room, and families where all the roles are reversed, and kittens and mermaids and fairies and the list goes on, usually she wants to be on her own at home. You still live in the same space – a 2-bedroom apartment – with the now-5 of you. As C is very much against throwing away ANYTHING, it is starting to feel a bit crowded, to say the least, and you are trying to find ways to ditch things that won’t devastate her. We’re talking, you know, not just toys that she hasn’t played with in about 5 years, but also the rolled-up flyer from a birthday party that she says is a magic wand and an empty tissue box that you must not touch because THAT is the one that actually is a fairy house even though it … just looks like a tissue box.

C loves art, and will spend hours mixing paint to get just the right shade of peach skin tone. She also loves crafts – which you must NEVER throw away – and is an enthusiastic recycler of packaging and scraps and whatever she can imagine a use for. She spends hours reading, mostly at night when she is trying to go to sleep. She wasn’t so keen on maths at the start of prep, but by the second half of that year was starting to excel. That has continued, and she even asked for a plus sign for her birthday cake this year. Skip counting is one of her favourite things, and it will come in handy for calming her in stressful situations.

Free time is spent on the iPad when you let her. She might sing along to the theme tune – although she doesn’t always sing so well in tune, this still warms your heart – and sometimes E will sing along, too. Sometimes they have a blast singing theme songs together, and sometimes C will growl – yes, she growls – at E to stop. Fairies have overtaken unicorns and mermaids as the magical creatures of choice. Dragons are a thing from a series of chapter books about dragon girls, so you have made a set of cardboard dragon wings for her, too. Go, you crafty mum.

She is a fiddler. A fidgeter. Fidget toys soon become something you are aware of and then … they’re everywhere. She gets distracted by anything very easily. And if you take away all distractions so, for example, she can eat a meal, then she will manage to fiddle with whatever is left, like the tablecloth or the curtain. It is infuriating. But fidgets also help her brain to calm down. She is excellent at describing things, too, and seems to be unusually perceptive about emotions. C does NOT like being tickled and will usually do the St Vitus Dance if anything just brushes her and sets her off. She also does not like loud sounds and can get very overwhelmed with too much volume. 

In fact, especially just writing it all out here which makes it seem really obvious, just before Christmas when she is 6, you have a ping of realisation that she is neurodivergent. By 7, she is seeing a psychologist who is helping enormously. You still feel like a terrible mum most of the time, but now there is a little glimmer of maybe it’s not all you being a terrible mum and partly it’s that you have an exceptional child with needs outside of the standard operating procedure. Fortunately, some of those quirks – like not being able to eat anything else in her lunchbox until she has finished her sandwich – you recognise very clearly from yourself, and that makes it much, much easier to understand and love.

As I said at the start, she is excellent at pushing your buttons. Try to remember that a lot of this, as one of her prep teachers reminded you (they are the most excellent prep teachers, by the way – absolute gems and the best start for school that you could hope for) – this button pushing and doing the meltdowns for you while being an angel for everyone else – is because YOU are her safe person. This is often hard to take, but try to remember that. You are her safe person.

And your child is amazing.

With love,

You in 7 years

In Praise of the Starlight Room

Tuesday was huge: E was due for a checkup at the hospital. I love the Queensland Children’s Hospital. I mean, I’d rather not have to go there ever again, but as we have had to go and will continue to need to go, I love it.

Not just for its proximity, or the quality of staff, or the abundance of volunteers ready to help you out at the first furrowed brow of confusion or eyes glazed in shock.

My favourite thing about the QCH is the Starlight Room. Without it, our trips to the hospital would be diabolical. 

This is a room that recognises that children still need to play. That they need to have the normality of toys, of a big window to see the world, a room with lady birds and bumble bees to ride on, and shopping trolleys to push and pretend to play shops with, and cars and dolls and hula hoops, and tables with craft and colouring in and drawing.

This is a room that recognises that children need a break from hospital beds and hospital staff and the gravity of a situation that lands a child in hospital. A room that recognises that not all children at the hospital are patients, and siblings need just as much care and attention. 

This is a room that recognises that parents need a break, or time to focus on the child who is the patient and not worry about where any other child is and if it’s bad that they’re plugged into a tablet or trying to play with all the cords they can see.

This is a room that recognises that there’s a lot of waiting at hospitals. And although you may *know* that there’s the possibility of a 2-3 hour wait for the appointment, no one ever thinks it will really take that long so only prepares a trip for a 9-month-old and a 3-and-a-half-year-old involving maybe a half hour wait. Helloooooo, Starlight Room.

I admit, several times throughout this year I have used the Starlight Room as an incentive. C needs to be well in order to be allowed in, so a good sleep is in order. Even if I’m pushing for that sleep to happen a few months in advance. You can’t convince us you need to stay home from daycare then be expected to have a visit to the Starlight Room.

Tuesday was a bit different. Instead of me saying we’re off to the hospital and C responding with ‘yay that means I go to Starlight Room!’ this time she wasn’t so sure. A bit nervous. We reassured her that she didn’t have to go, she could stay with us in the waiting area. And she did, for a bit. She sat on my lap and we read stories while Glenn walked E around. But after about 30 minutes of this she said maybe she’d changed her mind. Ugh.

So I checked with the receptionist who was really sorry about the wait until I told her this was perfect. With the promise of a phone call when E’s time was approaching, off we went to the Starlight Room. Instead of leaving her be as we have in the past, this time we stayed with C a bit. A relaxing sit as E looked at all these other children and had some lunch. An interesting experience watching C playing in this kind of environment, needing to share with other children who maybe don’t have the social skills she has, but also in an environment in which all children are a little or a lot not their usual self. I let E have a little wander and she enjoyed the bumble bee (well, eating the little knob that is a handle) then crawling on a new surface, and finally some sensory play. 

By the time we decided we needed to go back downstairs to see how much longer we may need to wait (it was now past her nap time and E gets *cranky*), C was definitely settled in. I tried to tell her we were going and I think she heard me but she was wearing a tiara with a veil and trying to get a remote control car to work so there was little response. And I’m pretty sure the only reason she came with us when we collected her later was the promise of pizza. Win.

I’m thinking we need to make a donation to the Starlight Foundation. The amount of craft that we have around our place from her various visits – a ‘cake’, a collage, a feathery jellyfish creation – is one thing (and so much appreciated by our craft-loving girl), but the very existence of this oasis in the hospital is so very wonderful. It has made our hospital trips and our life so, so much easier.

Recent Sewing, Pink Spot Edition

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

Me: ooh, your hat is looking very small.

C: no it’s not!

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

C: I LIKE IT LIKE THIS!!!

Me: I’m going to make you a new hat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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