early years

What We Read This Week (25/05/2025)

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Those bedtimes. Those bedtimes I go into as a fool, with the thought, “Well, she’s so tired she’s sure to sleep soon”. HA. Never. Ever. Happens. And you would think I would know this now, as I have been doing this mum-doing-bedtime-with-at-least-one-child thing for over seven years. But apparently I just don’t learn. The only time I have that thought and the child DOES fall asleep quickly is when I get the child to the bed and have to leave for some small thing and when I return, they are in dreamland already.

But that is rare. And not a guarantee, so I’m unlikely to change up the bedtime patterns for that. I digress. This week has seen a lot of the initial above thought. She’s so tired… She’s not that well so even though she napped at daycare, it was the ideal nap – early and short – so that shouldn’t affect things, should it? It does, of course. E and C have needed all of the help to get to sleep this week, and after the initial phase – into bed, do you need this, do you want that, okay off to sleep now – one of them has asked or insisted on a story. 

S is still into “my piggy book” – Pig Out – with it’s cut-out middle and squishy snout and funny-coloured animals and a hairdryer. It seems to have overtaken the Never Pop a Penguin contender for now. Yesterday she also found the “Baa baa book” – another sensory book with fluffy animals in it, the name of which escapes me and she has taken it somewhere special, I see, because it is not where I thought.

E has been really loving – again – The Very Hungry Caterpillar. In fact, loving it so much that on Friday, she put it into her “supercase” (suitcase) with her most treasured possessions – her new chew necklaces and three of daddy’s bandannas. Little Red Riding Hood has also been a favourite, and she will give tremendous spoilers on every page, as well as describe the wolf in great detail every time he is in a picture, and give running commentary on how Little Red Riding Hood’s mother must feel after various events. Honestly, it’s like she’s been to a combination pantomime audience class and spoiler academy. Her other choice this week has been Ruby Red Shoes, which is one of the best choices for bedtime for my girls. It calms them AND me. Today, as I was baking and girls were keeping themselves occupied, I heard her ask C to read it to her. C did not (cubby building was underway) so E did her best to read the story, based on her memory of it and the pictures. Absolutely delightful.

C has been independently reading everything she can, it seems, as the Premier’s Reading Cup challenge is on again. Plus, she is taking this opportunity to read all of the books we have, it seems, to her big ted, Gus. She and I are still reading The Secret Garden. This week C really started to be invested in the story, and if I dare to end a chapter and say that’s it for the night, she gets really upset to the point of a tantrum. She has definitely moved on from the stage of listening with curiosity to this story set in a strange time in a strange world, to being very much in that world and making predictions of what might be coming next and dreaming about what it is like in the garden. 

The Table

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[Trumpet fanfare]Dooo doo doo DOOOO! As mentioned in the Mother’s Day post, the cloth tablecloth has been reinstated, and placemats introduced.

Thank you.

You may be perceptive enough to realise that this is a big deal for me. For a few years, we have used plastic tablecloths and only an occasional placemat. Plastic tablecloths are fantastic. Spray and wipe clean. Ready craft area. Ready craft material, too, apparently. Girls drawing on the tablecloth? Cool, look at that pattern – and did you just draw a letter? Wow! Girls practising their scissor skills on the tablecloth? Meh, it’s fine. Gee, this tablecloth is looking a bit terrible – that’s okay, let’s chuck it out and buy a new one. 

The environmental impact of us using plastic tablecloths was outweighed by the reduction in my stress levels. It was on the same level as using silicone plates and bowls for small children, and having my hot drink in a metal insulated cup instead of a grownup lovely ceramic cup. Things change when you have kids around. They can change back, but there is a time of life when you want to be surrounded by non-breakable, wipe-clean stuff.

Given the amount of craft and colouring and especially cutting that happens at our table on any given day, it didn’t seem to be such a good idea to move away from the plastic. But. Plastic can only be cleaned so much. It starts to wear out. Cleaning the area near where S sits was getting – well, impossible to clean. And it feels like she is nearly always at least a little bit unwell. Plus, plastic tablecloths are not circular, so the tablecloth would often be pushed around as C would try to get the dangling corner to stop tickling her legs (which I totally understand).

About a month ago, I made the decision. No more. It was time for us to progress – or regress? To ditch the plastic and go back to cloth. Ahhhhh. And I wanted placemats for everyone, to have at least a little protection for the tablecloth. I could have bought some. I could have made boring rectangular ones. But I have this pattern for leaf blankets which comes in different northern European leaf shapes and different sizes. I have made a leaf blanket for each girl, and I thought doing tiny sizes would be a fun placemat idea.

I was right. 

Now we have English Ivy leaves adorning our table. I have used fabric from the extensive stash, including using shorts that Glenn has worn that didn’t last. I am annoyed the shorts didn’t last but I’m so glad I can sew and save the material. Because my plan is to definitely definitely on Sunday evening clear the table and bundle up the tablecloth and the placemats, I knew I needed a second tablecloth and placemat set. Another set of stash-busting ivy leaves were made (slightly differently this time because they’re placemats not actual blankets). A little detail that makes me smile (and C absolutely loves) is that for the first set, I machine-embroidered EAT on the leaf stalks, and on the second set I put MANGE, as C and I are learning French. For the second tablecloth, though, I chose not to get out our lovely linen handprinted wedding present tablecloth. Instead, I bought a checked rectangular tablecloth from Kmart for $10, measured the diameter of our round table, added a bit for overhang and a bit more for hemming, and cut a circle out of the cloth. Bonus: I will be able to cut another circle to fit our table out of this cloth. 

My Sunday evening plan worked. Table cleared. Floor swept. Tablecloth and placemats bundled up and into the laundry for Monday morning washing. New tablecloth and placemats on the table. Monday morning, cereal and hot chocolates with marshmallows for girls… and of course, seeing S about to knock over her hot chocolate, my brain said, “Save the hot chocolate!” Yes. I spilt the hot chocolate all over the fresh everything. Sigh. Everything was washed and dried that day, though, so now we have slightly crumpled ivy leaves on a slightly crumpled, fraying-because-I-haven’t-hemmed-it yet-checked tablecloth. 

abThis has actually been almost ready to post since the middle of the week. I really wanted to take at least one nice photo, but haven’t managed to catch any nice photos of either set. I’m going to put that in the Too Hard (for now) Basket, and promise to share them here as well as on instagram as soon as there are some ready to share. Promise.

What We Read This Week (18/05/2025)

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In a big cleaning up effort this week, all the books that were strewn around the floor in the girls’ bedroom were put away. Every time I think about it, I let out some tension. I have never been good at tidying, and that is carrying over to my girls. But when we (I, mostly) can do something to make the place nicer, then I feel the benefits so strongly. So. All the books back onto the bookshelf. Next I will work on teaching them to have the books upright if possible, and spines facing out. Baby steps. (Side note, I had to explain the phrase “baby steps” to C the other day as she was hugely offended that I had apparently called her a baby.)

Books will still be sought, and I love it when there is a book that they know they want. Love it, until I can’t find it. Shoving way under the cot seems to be the new “put it away” solution but I will work on that. Thankfully, the piggy book (“Pig Out) was requested just after dawn and not in the middle of the night. It has been quite popular this week. S will point out the crazy colours of the animals, or how crazy it is that an animal is using a hairdryer. Never Pop a Penguin has continued to keep its place at the top of the popular books list. I have read it in the dark. I have read it standing up. I have read it very slow. I have read it very fast. It might be time for some Dr Seuss again soon, I think. 

The other top request for girls – mostly E – this week has been Bard’s Rhyme Time. I find this to be a very annoying book. The “story” words rhyme, but the lines don’t scan very well, so putting some rhythm into it is always an effort and just not always possible. For a book that is from a brain development company (I assume – the name suggests that) one would think that this would have been ironed out before printing. And asked EVERY time the flap is lifted, is WHY IS THERE A STAR NEXT TO THE CAR that makes absolutely no sense what’s it doing there?

When E has been in one of her can’t go to sleep so asks for a story episodes this week, I have reached for the nearest book. Then tried again to make it the nearest that wasn’t a chapter book. Little Red Riding Hood (the First Readers edition) has been the closest to hand. The first time I read it, I omitted to do the wolf trying on a granny voice. I was informed of my error and given a second chance. I’m not forgetting that one again. And every time we hear the mother giving instructions, E notes that the wolf is a stranger AND that Little Red Riding Hood is going to talk to him. I never miss an opportunity to dig in with “Just look what happens when you don’t listen to your mother”, or words along those lines. Ahem. Further in the lesson of illustrations are important, this one has a page with three rather surprised-looking creatures. One of these is an owl. Why is the owl awake? Aren’t owls nocturnal? Why is the owl awake during the day when it is nocturnal and therefore should be sleeping during the day? Why does it look so surprised?

Speaking of surprised, E has also been asking for The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which was her absolute favourite book as a baby. Tonight she insisted on “eating” her way through the book, and reading all the food on the Saturday page. And tonight she also wanted to know (again) why the butterfly looks SO surprised?! Well wouldn’t you if you went to sleep as a caterpillar and woke up as a butterfly!

C and I are still reading The Secret Garden, another classic that I remember reading as a child. We have therefore also learned a bit about different accents, and cholera, and moors, and grand houses, and the class system in England in earlier times. I will find some time to watch a bit of Pride and Prejudice with her. The good one, thank you very much. Girl’s got to get an education somehow.

Mother’s Day 2025

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We’ve just had How Was Your Easter. How was your Mother’s Day is really the next event that has a question posed that expects a positive and glowing rundown.  And while Easter has an expectation that the whole family or friendship group has worked together to make it an amazing four days, Mother’s Day … well, it’s different. How was your Mother’s Day expects pampering; expects sweet cards and pictures; expects the whole family to make mum feel special; chocolates and flowers and fluffy slippers and breakfast in bed.

I think it must be that way only in magazines and dysfunctional families. Not the classic dysfunctional family of split parents or addiction abuse. No, the dysfunctional family of a parent being overwhelmingly controlling to the point that everyone does what they say no matter what.

What a start to a post about Mother’s Day. Sorry. What I mean is, there’s what society puts forward as what should happen, and social media presents as amazing, and then there’s the reality of Family Life. One of my new favourite Instagram accounts shared a video to this effect. Paraphrasing a small part: Breakfast in bed, made by the kids, is meant to make me relax? Thanks, but I will be on high alert as you carry hot liquids up the stairs as I have not known you to go anywhere without spilling anything.

A lot of media brings out the old trope of mums can’t relax because they have to still clean everything because the kids and husband are useless and incapable. That’s getting so old and, quite frankly, offensive. I grew up surrounded by males – a dad, two older brothers and a younger brother. Various levels of weight was pulled at different times for all sorts of reasons, but we all are capable of cooking, cleaning and washing. Modelling is important, and this is not just thanks, mum but also thanks, dad. And I married someone later in life who was so used to doing his own cooking, cleaning and washing that both of us were a bit surprised when I moved in that someone else had done the washing or the cooking or the cleaning. We soon settled into our preferred roles within that, but I knew that when I went into hospital to have babies or because of Covid or because of an explosive postpartum infection that he would be able to keep the place and the children together.

But on a deeper level, that old mum can’t relax because the dad is useless thing just – well, yes. I accept that for some or even many relationships it’s like that. Expectations are important, and mental load for each party is important and not talked about enough. I am getting so sidetracked here. The point is, good relationships are built on love. If I love someone, I will do what I can to help them. If someone loves me, they will do what they can to help me. So yes. On Mother’s Day, I may have the option of putting my feet up a bit more, but I’m not going to be happy lounging around all day while everyone else serves me. 

Also in the real world, more and more people can’t have the whole day as a big family unit. Glenn works in retail. The retail world rarely pauses, and Glenn was working on Sunday. A relaxed breakfast would have had to have started at (doing some quick mental calculations here) um maybe 6am or so, and would not have been at all relaxing for him and therefore me if he had had girls helping him. They’re each becoming quite capable and definitely enthusiastic kitchen helpers but all at once – I know from chaotic experience that that is not going to be a relaxing start to anyone’s day. And Glenn doesn’t need any extra stress in his life, and definitely not when he’s trying to make my day a nice day and definitely definitely not before he has to go to work. Instead, he bought my favourite celebration breakfast (croissants) the day before and I organised the heating up and the cups of tea and the hot chocolates while Glenn and E organised the bandanna-wrapping of my presents.

I’m not sure if everyone is aware of just how sweet young kids can be when giving a present to someone. They are bursting out of their skin with excitement, especially if they are unaware of what’s inside, and also very much so if they DO know what’s inside. Little hands holding a gift up to your nose and saying “Happy Mother’s Day”, or in the case of S, “Happy birthday, mummy” is one of life’s sweet pleasures that I know won’t be forever. Glenn had taken the girls shopping on Saturday afternoon and apparently they were not only beautifully behaved, but also very thoughtful when choosing gifts for me. The big joke was that they would give me a hairdryer. S is in a very black and white phase right now. (“Are you a cheeky chops?” “NO! I’M S!”) After they had shopped, Glenn asked her, “Did we buy mummy a hairdryer?” And she looked at him, utterly bewildered, and shook her head. What planet was he on?! “Is it a nice pink hairdryer for Mother’s Day?” Vigorous shaking of the head. No hairdryer for me, but a number of pampering items as well as crafty things and soft slippers. This is one happy mummy.

We are finally in an era where C is old enough and capable enough and thoughtful enough to pamper me. She was rather fixated in her mind about what was going to happen, and I had to steer/direct her away from having all of us doing day spas with our feet in water in the (carpeted) living room, but we could come around to agreement. She and I stuck our fingers in little dipping pots and our feet in bowls of water on towels in the girls’ room and scrubbed and brushed to our heart’s content while having mummy-daughter chats. This is going to happen more. E came in and did a bit of wild 4yo joining in, and S came in for a cuddle. Later on, S did her own personal day spa in the bedroom and was not quite so careful with the water.

C and E helped me make the red velvet mug cake which we then had for morning tea. Girls watched movies and shows and did jigsaw puzzles and water painting and craft and the day travelled along nicely. We had a FaceTime with my mum (and dad) in which girls were lovely, and didn’t get into mischief in the background, and didn’t bicker in the background, and didn’t go crazy, but engaged in conversation with my parents and were their actual delightful selves and no-one jumped on anyone else’s head this time. 

Glenn didn’t have a whole day at work, and after prepping dinner for me, he had a rest while girls played together (I know!) and, it turns out, independently, as S turned on the water filter with no cup underneath the spout and just watched the water and listened to the sound of the water hitting the tiles until the kitchen floor was mostly covered in water before E went in and I heard “S! What are you DOING!” So yay for responsible big sisters and just enough towels in the cupboard to soak up the flood. This is why you can’t go to the toilet or do ANYTHING with a toddler around. Still, once that was dealt with, I could do some quick sewing (I know!). I was going to gush about the sewing project but it is honestly enough for its own post so suffice it to say that I made a set of placemats and we are back to using a cloth tablecloth. I brought out my special chair so we could all eat together at the table for dinner. My special chair was made by my grandfather, who was a carpenter, and it is beautiful. I explained to the girls (who hadn’t really seen or noticed it before) that it was special for me, and that my grandfather made it. At least three times a day since then, S has relayed to me that my grandpa made it for me. This brings happy tears to my eyes every time, especially as she looks most like his wife, my grandma.

So. Was I brought breakfast in bed and pampered and showered in flowers and able to relax on the sofa all day with beautifully behaved children and surrounded by beautiful extended family all celebrating motherhood? No. Would I ever want that? No. My life is not a magazine photo shoot, or a cartoon, or so self-centred that I want everyone to serve me and coddle me while I have no thought to anyone else’s comfort or wellbeing or mental state or their life at all. That’s not what motherhood is about, so a day where that is what it is made to be is simply hypocrisy. I know that next year or the year after, C will most likely have formed the idea that she must make me breakfast in bed and she must have her sisters help her, but it will be a far less stressful experience for everyone then and the idea of working together will be more important than making the day like a magazine shoot. In the long run, what do we want to remember? The stress of hearing everyone fighting over making your life perfect, or running around after you while they get stressed? No. A kitchen flood brought on by a 2yo experiencing something sensory? Yes, please. A gift that “wasn’t good enough”? Absolutely not, not ever. Cards made with love, unprompted, by children for you that you can keep forever? Oh my goodness me all of the yes. 

As a side note, I am about five days late in posting this. Not that I have a deadline or a real schedule, but there is a limit on how much after Mother’s Day one can post about Mother’s Day. The last few weeks have been wild, with at least three sick people in the family on any given day. I had hardly any voice on Saturday and absolutely none on Sunday. Nights have been unsettled, and dealing with sick children at 2am, 3.40am, 4.08am, 4.26am and 4.58am usually means I don’t wake up in time to do anything before exercising, or that I don’t even wake up to exercise before girls need breakfast. I feel a little bit smashed but here’s to getting back on track, at least for a few days.

What We Read This Week (04/05/2025)

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Christmas in May is a thing, isn’t it? I’m all for seasons of the year, and keeping some things to that season, but then girls will find a book and want it read on repeat and it just happens to be a Christmas book so what am I to do? Like, not read it or something? Crazy talk. (Same with Christmas clothing, honestly. If they want to wear the Christmas overalls I made C when she was two and has been worn randomly throughout the years and still going strong then who am I to complain??)

So. Bluey’s Twelve Days of Christmas has been flavour of the week. S and E have tried to get me to sing it every night which has its fun but really we get to the end and my tired voice mostly just says, “And a fruit bat in a mango tree” go to sleep now okay please sleep now goodnight! Which unfortunately just adds to the hilarity and they, crazily, don’t just go to sleep then and there. Weird. S then insists that the book goes to her, and she reads it backwards, usually. Nearly always like this:

S: Two! Mummy, I two!

Me: You sure are.

S: [counts to twelve] twelve guitars! So many!

Me: [clicking] Ah yes. Twelve guitars, and you saw the number two?

S: Yes, because I two! [turns pages, backwards and forwards] ribbit. Ribbit. Hehehe. [random page turning] mummy, what’s that?

Me: [knowing by now what she is looking at] yabbies.

S: snap snap. [more random page turns with the occasional ooh or aah or giggle] BLUEY/BIN CHICKEN. Mummy what’s that?

Me: [checking out which page she’s on] that’s a fruit bat. Bluey’s hanging like a fruit bat.

S: [closes book, places it about halfway along the side of the cot, stands her water bottle on it. Tries to lie down which makes the bottle fall over] Oh MAN. Not again. [repeats the bottle stand up/lying down attempt a few times before remembering to put the bottle into the rails a bit more. Lies down. Sleeps.]

E’s bonus Christmas book has been We’re Going on an Elf Chase. Lift the flaps. Trace the path. Very E things. Like also finding her engrossed in the Pop-Up Punctuation book. She is so careful, and loves them so much. Not Christmassy, but her other choice with me this week has been Thelma the Unicorn. I so love all the questions E asks, revealing her consideration of the story and the pictures and the characters. 

Speaking of questions, C and I finished What Katy Did. This wasn’t Finished until I had asked her the questions that were in the back of the book and she had added her own. We have now started on The Secret Garden which meant discussions about cholera and death and transmission of diseases. What a fun end to my day. 

What We Read This Week (27/04/2025)

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This week is brought to you by the letter “P”. 

When my lovely sister-in-law discovered the girls’ love for Each Peach Pear Plum, her eyes lit up and she asked “Do you have ‘Peepo’?” I had a vague recollection of it but nothing more. So the next time we saw them – a mere 10 days later, very exciting – they brought us some beautiful material (score!) and Peepo. I have read Peepo many times this week. 

One thing I love about reading to E is when I turn a page and she is suddenly, somehow in the book. “Wait, mummy. Go back”, and she turns the page back herself and asks me about something she saw on the previous page, or shows me a tiny detail that she’s noticed, or wants to check the visual on the words she’s just heard. Where’s the grandmother. Where are the sisters. See the birds in the sky. Why is the baby in the stroller. What’s a pushchair.

The other favourite – asked for time and again, turned to for comfort – was Never Pop a Penguin. One of those books with a fidget popper in the middle so each page you can pop the tummy of whichever creature is being discussed. E pushes a couple on each page, then finishes them all off at the end. S may push one on a page, with a look of pure mischief on her face. If I do that, though, she shouts NO at me and turns the book over to un-pop what I have done. Once it is read, she will pop them all and then turn it over to do it all again.

Even though this is a simple book, with only 5 pages that are all nearly the same, it has prompted much discussion. What actually is a narwhal and do they really have rainbow horns like unicorns. Why is the polar bear wearing pool slides. They’re skis? What are skis. Why is the marshmallow on fire. Do you see the cheeky seagull stealing the toasted marshmallow.

Unfortunately, P is also for… yeah. Poo. I saw about a month’s worth of it today. And every time poor E was on the toilet, she wanted me to watch her (as they all do most of the time), and – so that I wouldn’t be bored – read to her. Superworm has been read and read and read today. Note to self: dig out the mole book. 

Of course, once I had in my head that this week was seemingly brought to you by “P”, this evening a very tired S and a very very tired E just went for Christmas books. Bluey’s 12 Days of Christmas, which has E laughing more and more as I continue trying to fit too many syllables into a line and speed it up apparently hiLARiously, and S will half sing it, approximating the words, and comment on each page that has Bluey and/or Bingo on how many there are! And general chitchat about what’s on each page – ooh guitars! Glasses. Bingo is a froggy! Straight after that, We’re Going On An Elf Chase, in all its lift-the-flap glory.

C and I are getting close to the end of What Katy Did. My voice has been rather tired of late, and C has started taking over some of the reading. This is one of my favourite parts of the day. She reads so well! And I love love love it when she does voices. The best.

How Was Your Easter?

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You always get that question, don’t you? “How was your Easter?” Asked with such enthusiasm and the questioner’s desire for the answer to be positive. I feel that acceptable answers are: “Lovely, thanks! We had a whole extended family camping trip out at Whoop Whoop so, you know, no reception so the kids couldn’t be on their phones the whole time. It was SO wonderful being with the whole family. The cousins just played out in nature all day long”. Or, “It was wonderful! We went to the dawn service and it was so, so special. Then we had family over and it was just such a special day”. Or, “Great, thanks! It was so nice having a four-day weekend, wasn’t it? So much time to spend with the family, just relaxing. The whole street put on an Easter egg hunt for all the kids and it was just so special”.

Variations on “It was amazing!” 

But what are you allowed to say if “amazing” was so far from your reality that you just… can’t?

If the sneezes of S on the way to the children’s service on Good Friday – I should elaborate, the 12 sneezes in quick succession – were followed by a day of her wiping her snot on you and you realised that, yep, we’re not going anywhere this weekend. If E suddenly has a nasty sounding cough that is just a cough and isn’t accompanied by any other symptoms of unwellness but oof it doesn’t sound good and … and … you yourself recognise the signs of sickness in yourself.

If the children’s service on Good Friday turns out to be a), a wonderful experience for children and explains all of Holy Week within about 45 minutes, and b), a demonstration on the part of your girls of how much they get into experiencing things , and c), a demonstration on the part of your girls of how much they ignore instructions from you about things like “Please stop hitting the rocks on the cathedral floor even though I recognise it is a new sound experience for you” or “Please stop waving the palm leaves so vigorously as you are hitting other people and even though they’re really nice about it, you just scratched me in the eye so I know they’re just being polite as this really hurts”.

If a basic shopping trip is filled with “I’m bored”, “I don’t want any fruit but can I have a yoghurt pouch instead”, “I’m so huuuuuungrrryyyy” and then girls going wild in the Easter section as you chose one (1) Easter treat for your husband and when you have chosen it you discover your – yes, your – kids have pulled out half a dozen bunny ear headbands and E is dancing with a ginormous and quite lovely bunny dressed up including ballet slippers but you are not letting any more soft toys into your place and C has found all sorts of things that she jumps around telling you about and asking you for all at once.

If taking girls outside to get them doing something other than bickering inside and watching shows means major shouting and screaming and fighting and crying over little things, looked at the situations from the perspective of grownup eyes, but clearly mean the world to the person feeling wronged. If taking them outside makes you doubt your ability to parent at all.

If you feel ignored and disobeyed all weekend.

What do you do with that? How do you avoid saying in response to an enthusiastic “How was your Easter?”, well, actually, it was horrible and I was so glad when Tuesday arrived. I was upset and cross with girls all weekend and they were ignoring any request or instruction from me all weekend and I was so frustrated I wanted to claw my face off several times.

You have to dig deep and find those kernels of joy and loveliness and delight. Bring them to the top. Polish them. Display them. Cherish those gems and make sure that’s what you tell people and especially your children about. After all, deep in your heart you know that your reasons for grumpiness – initially, anyway – had nothing to do with your girls. You know that none of them was trying to be naughty or to push your buttons or seeing if they actually land themselves in hospital to find out if the Easter Bunny actually does visit kids in hospital. You know that two of them were also unwell and that brings irritability. You know that all three of them were excited for Sunday. You are coming to learn that C will have in her mind how she wants the day to go – wants, thinks, imagines, plans – and the more excited she is about that, the more fixated she will be on having only those things happen and other things that pop up like me needing to give S a cuddle or E wanting a hand held will derail her plans and that affects her, big time.

So instead of all the grr of the weekend, I am going to focus on these things. 

I am going to focus on how wonderful it is that the girls feel so comfortable expressing themselves, and that they feel so comfortable at church, in a space that is also incredibly awe-inspiring. 

I am going to focus on the three rainbow-eared bunnies I brought home with me from the shops, each with their own new breakfast set of bowl, cup and spoon. 

I am going to focus on the calm that settled in when we took to painting the Easter eggs. The fun they had painting themselves, as they nearly always do, after the eggs were painted. 

I am going to focus on the way S and E sat on my lap in turn while I did little bits of sewing, each quietly playing with pins and only occasionally pressing buttons on my machine, and then only by request. 

I am going to remember that C roller skated down the small hill and past the bend in the path all by herself for the first time. I am going to remember E scooting so confidently now, with her unicorn helmet and princess dress and C’s long socks and her sparkly pink jelly sandals. I am going to remember S just cruising along on her flamingo tricycle, holding up the impatient traffic, then doing melodramatic dives to copy any stacks that the older two did for real, complete with token wailing.

I am going to remember that there was a Bluey-worthy Easter egg hunt on Sunday morning. An Easter egg hunt so wonderful that this is the first thing the girls share about their Easter. There were clues, just like Bluey and Bingo had! A picture and a magnet creation and plants and blocks in the wrong spot and a doctor kit item in the wrong box and then it could have just been something else on the floor but the doctor knife pointed to the table and the Easter Bunny hid the Easter eggs under daddy’s bandanna!!! I hope you read that in a voice that became higher and faster and louder as it went through.

I am going to remember that kids see things differently. They don’t bring all this history and awareness and “Should” to the table. They just want to enjoy it and learn to get along, however loudly that might happen. 

Did I mention the Easter egg hunt? Sorry. It was kind of a big deal.

How was my Easter? Kind of amazing, really.

What We Read This Week (20/04/2025)

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You may recall that the last two weeks have featured Each Peach Pear Plum. A book I remember from my childhood. A book I loved in my childhood. A book the Christmas Eve Book Fairy gave to S, much to my delight (ahem). Last Sunday, I had been asked to recite it on the way home from church. Monday, I was asked again on the way to daycare drop-off… and C learnt it herself on the way home.

Having not really heard it all that much (she is allowed to do Mathletics or Procreate or Patterned, or read in our bedroom away from tired and trying-to-sleep younger girls), I was quite impressed that just a few hearings embedded it in her brain. She then suddenly had a new favourite thing to do, and this was recited – let’s just say, a number of times – over the next few days. And evenings. I had to limit it a bit, and ask her not to say it at certain times when S might start to think she was being put to sleep, which would result at the time in either major tantrums because “IT’S NOT NIGHTTIME”, or S actually falling asleep during the day which would be an absolute disaster in the evening. 

But do you know how I know it was really embedded in her brain? Wednesday night. S was having an overnight wake. Needing me in their room, sleeping on the floor. Wanting a bottle (“with milk. Warm milk”, like she’s maybe had it other ways and like she’s a feisty little Jane Bond). Then C started talking in her sleep. “Each peach pear plum, Tom Thumb – no he’s not there!” Giggles. S, thankfully, was in the almost asleep again phase and just let the words wash over her. About five minutes later, “Robin Hood over the – no. Wicked Witch over the wood. LEAVE ME ALONE. [giggles]”. And that was that. I was amused, and very glad I had been asked to sleep on the floor. When I told her in the morning, C found it hilarious.

Meanwhile, S has been in a bit of a phase – well it’s been like this for a while, really, where she picks a book off the shelf and has it in her cot as she goes to sleep. Sometimes it’s just in the cot, as in, within the bars of the cot but nowhere near her. Sometimes it’s propped up against the bars like she’s been reading it. Sometimes it is wedged what looks like rather uncomfortably poking into a part of her, usually a leg or her tummy. This week, the book of choice has been Timeless (by Kate Canby), and I have been asked to read it before she goes to sleep with it under her head like a pillow. 

E picked another book from childhood this week, but by this one being “from my childhood”, I mean, the actual physical book that I remember from my childhood that my parents brought over at some point in the last year. “Bible Stories For Children” is a large book with several of the Old and New Testament stories in it, with usually just a double page for each story. This is perfect for bedtime. Before she asked me to read any to her, though, E had clearly had a look through herself because I was asked to read the “one with a man falling out of the ship”. So what followed was me turning over every single page to find the RIGHT story involving a ship. That one has been requested a few times (it’s the one of Jesus calming the Sea of Galilee and nobody actually falls off a ship but the picture is misleading thanks very much illustrator). 

Her other favourite is the rainbow story. I absolutely loved the experience of reading this one to her for the first time. It involves her name. There is a rainbow (she loves loves loves rainbows). And I could tell her about the morning that she was born, when my parents were looking after C and they went onto the balcony and saw a rainbow. And I can remind her what her name means and how she embodies that every single day. 

True to their style, no actual Easter books were read this week. They will probably be in high demand around October, I’m guessing. Sigh.

Tradition!

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In the last few months, we have started doing “Favourite Thing” at the start of dinner. This started because of about 70% wanting to delay the “Can we watch something?”, and 30% wanting to hear more about their days and what they remembered about good things. Well, those are very vague percentages because while writing this I also remembered that part of it was to get them to start going back over their days and pick out positive things. A bit like practising gratitude. Note to self:  introduce a gratitude element.

Sunday night, before Favourite Thing, I reminded them of what had happened that day. It had been huge. It was Glenn’s first day back at work after some leave, and I had already decided train to church for us because of potential traffic delays and sitting practically still on a bus when you can literally see your destination but can’t get out of the bus at all and you have three girls who just want to be off the bus and seeing their friends or doing anything other than just sitting moderately quietly on a bus is not an experience I would like to revisit thank you very much. So we all caught the train in to the city. Then church itself was very different because it was Palm Sunday, which meant very much out of the ordinary and I’ll get to it later. Once home, the girls had edamame (“enamummy”, “emadahmah”, “enadummy”) for lunch which is their second favourite food, plus I let them watch Despicable Me 2 while eating. Outside later in the afternoon, C did roller skating all by herself for the first time outside while the other two played this and that and climbed on the wall and played ice cream shop at the letter boxes. So. Much. Happened.

C’s favourite thing was catching the train with daddy in the morning. E’s favourite thing was seeing her favourite person at church. S’s favourite thing was catching the train holding on the stroller. Glenn’s favourite thing was catching the train with all of his girls. 

My favourite thing was being part of, and having my girls be part of, the Palm Sunday traditions and experience. Religious ceremony that is centuries old. Religious traditions that happen every year, all around the world, in some way or another, that people have been doing, repeating, for hundreds of years, and my girls are now able to live that and be part of something much, much bigger than themselves. All of those elements are, I think, very important. They are important to me – for my soul, for my being, for my mental health – and as someone tasked with raising children, I see it as an important element to have as part of their lives. 

The words that keep coming to me are words like “duty” and “due diligence” and “responsibility”. These words are close but wrong. Those are the words that I hear in court cases and hearings and so forth. Those are the words that come when love isn’t enough. 

I love my girls. I want, and need, them growing up in as many circles of love and care as possible. I want them to have places to turn that are safe, places and people who are safe and comfort and love, who love them because they exist and not for what they can do or what they look like or what they say. Extracurricular activities help with that, as well as practising those resilience muscles and persistence and practice and determination skills. School is also providing an extra circle of care and a wide variety of backgrounds and culture and language. All those are good to have, and I am conscious that we are so, so fortunate to have great (such an understatement there) daycare and an excellent school, as well as the funds to have the girls do swimming for now and for C to do Irish dancing. Church, which often feels like an added extra and sometimes just too much, is just as vital to their wellbeing. And honestly, when E asks “Where are we going when we wake up?” – as she does every single day, sometimes as early as morning tea – if the answer is “Church, so long as everyone is well”, it gets the biggest cheer.

There is a whole mountain of reasons why church – the building, the people, the ceremony – is important. Why I was determined to get the girls to church when we could from when S was three months old. Trying to organise the reasons in my head and new reasons keep emerging. I will try, and I will try to keep it organised so this isn’t a flood. (Posting this later than I wanted because clearly that was harder than I anticipated!)

At the very surface, it is an outing. A Thing to Do. Something that gets us out, family energy out, and stops (or at the very least, reduces) bickering that happens from staying home. When public transport fares were at the past rates, sometimes this was just too expensive but 50c fares, with free travel for kids on weekends, make this much more available. Kids have a children’s area with space and toys and craft. Kids are part of the service, while not having to be too quiet or sit still or kneel or anything, or even be part of anything if they don’t want to. Kids are given a snack during the service because at some point, someone realised that the service really went through morning tea time for kids and 20 hangry kids is not something anybody wants in their life. 

Kids who are there because they have a parent or sibling or both or more involved in the service are just as welcome and included as kids who are there because their parents are there under slight duress to make a good appearance at the baptism of their niece or nephew when really their part of the family is atheist. Kids are welcome to listen to anything the person in charge talks about (this is the bit closest to the Sunday School of my childhood) and to participate in the relevant activity, but also if they just want to keep going building the most amazing train track they’ve ever built, that’s fine too. It is such a safe space for children.

A safe space for children, which means a space I can take them and then sit or stand by myself. I can watch them, with some space between us. I can watch them interacting with others. I can watch how and what and who they choose to play with. I can even now get a cup of coffee at morning tea and have a conversation with an adult – like, a real other grownup! – and not have children hanging off me to do so. Church is for me, too.

Church also provides that extra circle. Not that they are needing it now, but if we don’t do this now then when they do need it it will be much less strong. And this circle has so much variety. A big factor for me was to have them know as wide a variety of people as possible. They play with kids aged 1-11 and coo over any babies that are brought around to the children’s area. They play with kids of a variety of ethnicities, a range of neurotypes, a range of wealth, a range of family types. This is both normal for them, as well as developing their inclusion muscles and their flexibility muscles. It’s also, if I’m honest, developing my parenting skills. If one of my girls is rejected or slighted at the park, I can just whisk my girl away and have a few words about the situation, whatever it was. At church I am more inclined to see what the kids do to work it out themselves, and find out the why of the other kid’s behaviour. I won’t go into any of the “why’s” here, but it’s enough to stop any assumptions in their tracks and to practice kindness first.

Tradition. My tradition, of growing up with church. Remembering that often there was a feeling of “but why???” Knowing now that that questioning is healthy (as it was treated when I was young, too). Knowing now that sometimes the answer is too huge to explain but sometimes it is as small as being the tradition. Tradition is important. It gives a sense of security. It grounds us. The comfort and familiarity get me every time. Tradition!

What We Read This Week (13/04/2025)

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How many questions can a 4-year-old ask? Is there any end to them? How many times will the same question (or statement, for that matter) be repeated in the space of five minutes? By how much time will this extend the length of time it takes to read one (1) bedtime story to said 4-year-old? I know, I know. These are questions upon which philosophers have pondered for all eternity – well, at least since there were 4-year-olds. 

I do love all the questions from E. I especially love discovering what she has discovered and thought to question. I admit, I do get a bit frustrated when I have seen her eyes get droopy and her breathing is slowing and I make the stupid thought that she is nearly asleep so therefore I might have an earlier rather than later night myself with some time to do Anna Things and then the next thing I know I’m hearing “Can I have a story?” Sigh. Then of course the wide selection by her bed (Superworm, Easter Egg Hunt, Beauty and the Beast, countless others) are all met with “No, not that one” so she is now fully awake and out of bed to look on the bookshelf for The (Right) Bedtime Story. 

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is her most recent favourite choice, which is one of our First Reader books. The First Reader publications just have slightly simplified language, so some of the beautiful language of stories for younger readers is lost. This particular one bugs me with what the mirror replies to the queen, but anyway. Some of the questions I have fielded have been: why doesn’t the queen like Snow White; why is Snow White tired; why are the dwarfs all so small; which one is your favourite dwarf; why does the prince kiss Snow White; why does the prince want to marry Snow White; why does Snow White want to marry the prince; why don’t they invite the queen to the wedding. All great questions. Whenever a story gets to a chance encounter followed by an immediate proposal, I always make a great drama out of what a silly thing that is to do. This one is going to have a discussion about consent arising from it soon, too. Kissing Snow White while she is unconscious?! Such a big no-no.

Each Peach Pear Plum has continued to be THE Bedtime Story, so much so that E made a chance reference to a page while we were out today. C looked at me and repeated it with the biggest question mark of a face, so I explained E had just quoted some of the book. And then I managed to recite the entire book, so that’s another one in the repertoire. C was delighted by it when she realised it was ALL nursery rhyme characters all in the same story.

C and I have continued with What Katy Did, but C now gets to snuggle in MY bed for French and Katy. C loves being in our bed and the snuggle factor far outweighs that of the sofa so, with these slightly chilly (as in, no longer summer hot) evenings, that’s our new normal. All of Katy’s goings on still make us both chortle, and C is expanding her vocabulary even more. Wonderful.