We are back to having a pile of books on my sofa. They are mostly E choices as C joins in for E’s story time and then usually asks for another story when she’s in bed.
Bob Bilby is a very popular choice. Board books just take one element of juggling away. Usually E is clambering all over me, trying to reach things behind me on the back of the sofa or craning to see what daddy is up to in the kitchen or playing with a washer or bath toy and then dropping it and lurching as far over the sofa arm as she can to see it. Not having to worry about her tearing book pages is just a relief. And she loves turning these pages herself and trying to pull off the pictures that look like they’ve been stuck on.
That said… she is learning gentle hands for page turning. Several paper-page books have been explored without any ripping so maybe we are out of that phase. Well, maybe not. But we are on the way though, definitely. So we have been able to read Hairy Maclary from Donaldson’s Dairy (Lynley Dodd); This and That (a favourite, by Mem Fox and Judy Horacek); Goldilocks (the First Readers version); and The Wonky Donkey (Craig Smith and Katz Cowley).
For a few months, I would play The Wonky Donkey on my phone on the way to daycare (thank you Apple Music). We’ve had a break on that for a while, and had a break on reading the story for a while, but it came out again this week and E’s face lights up every time.
This week has been tough. And I mean, really, really, really, tough. But when I was thinking about how tough it has been, a little voice popped into my head with ‘oh but there was also -‘ so I want to remember those things too, preferably more than the other, less positive things.
Out with the tough things. I always prefer bad news first. (Although, there wasn’t really any bad news.)
We are back to screeching baby. Not AS much in the wee small hours but that is largely because I made her a quiet activity box. It took all of my Tuesday evening. And she does play with it, just mostly by picking it up and looking up into it and flapping the flaps. (I know she will work it out a bit more over time so Second Time Mum me isn’t too disheartened.)
Screeching baby is also occurring frequently at food times. Right into my ears. She is very very loud. I am not ok. It is easier if I give her food to feed herself but she is also a fan of dropping something just for fun and then watching where it falls and I’m just not that much a fan of cleaning.
C has been continuing to need me to be with her while she falls asleep. I am ok with this – and I know I will miss it when she tells me she doesn’t need me anymore – but only up to a point. That point is about 8pm. Wednesday she didn’t fall asleep until 9pm, Thursday somewhere around 9:15. Tonight, after I was in my starting-to-get-frustrated zone especially knowing she was so down on her sleep, I resorted to patting her bottom like I did when she was a baby and toddler while singing the rainbow chameleon song. Asleep 8:15, but I was so spent it felt like 9:15 at least.
Of course, when one or both girls requires my attention for hours at night, it cuts into my Me Time. And I need my Me Time. Not just to check social media or to watch a show, but to do my craft or crochet or write. I really feel it when I don’t get to be Anna at all and have to be Mummy until exhausted and spent.
However, there were some definite delights this week.
This morning, E crawled (and she is speedy) from the play zone at one end of our place, past the books and the sofa shortcut and blocks table and tempting cords and kitchen, all the way down the hallway and into C’s room and onto her bed to wake her up. Thankfully C was happy to see her.
Riding on daddy’s shoulders has become E’s new favourite thing to do. And when up there she often does little two-tone sing-song sighs that I remember C doing as well. A sign of contentment that makes my heart happy.
Wednesday was the Australia Day public holiday. Although we’re not happy with our national day being this date, we took it as an opportunity to educate our girls in some of our culture. We did wattle paintings. We did a southern cross painting. Breakfast was like a camping big breakfast: sausage, grilled mushrooms with cheese, egg on a redback. C had her first fairy bread. We had lamingtons with jam and cream. We had sausage rolls with coleslaw and sweet potato fries for dinner.
C has been wanting the lullaby from Frozen 2 in the evenings so guess what I’ve been learning… but so has she. And it turns out she has a great memory for melody and lyrics.
The girls had their first proper bath together. Total chaos with splashing and laughter on repeat. It was only marred by E getting her scream on because she was obviously very tired and needing to be in bed but also loving splashing in a bath with C.
After teething for months (it felt) with one bottom tooth popping up unexpectedly early on and four top teeth playing peekaboo, all four top teeth are through. Phew.
Perhaps the highlight of my week was E starting to clap properly. C started this at 7 months and although I think I’ve been fairly good in not comparing them, this was starting to worry me. E would put her hands together but then move them up and down, or take them apart and hit the table. Until yesterday, when real and proper clapping started. I am SO relieved. And E is obviously pretty happy with herself too.
The last exciting thing is we are starting to plan E’s first birthday party. I love planning parties and working out cake and decorations and snacks and the theme and invitations. Plus, a first birthday is such an achievement. It feels especially so with E.
The best game we have been playing this week has been what I think of as Construction/Destruction. C loves to build amazing towers with blocks. E is in the pull everything apart stage. So we race. C and I try to build up as fast as we can and E pulls the blocks off and then apart. It is crazy and chaotic but loads of fun.
So here’s to a quieter weekend with easier sleep but still some fun chaos. Please.
Having a second child is such a gamble. Will they get on? Will they fight? Will they support each other? Will they play together nicely?
From the moment we told C she was going to be a big sister, I haven’t had to worry too much. Her reaction was along the lines of ‘yeah, I knew this was going to happen’ and pretending to play (beautifully) with her imaginary little sister for the next few months until her actual real life little sister came home from the hospital. And that was next level beautiful.
One of my most treasured memories of that first morning at home is having the bassinet next to the dining table, E probably sleeping inside it, C sitting on her chair ‘reading’ Goldilocks to her, very quietly, while the adults all flurried around them.
Yes, there are times – some days many more than others – when I worry, really worry, about how they are getting on and if we’ll be having an accident or an injured baby or hair pulling or head kicks or something swallowed.
But then there are other times, and I delight in them and their sisterhood.
Like when C asks if she can please feed E. And does, often far more successfully than I do. She makes sure to alternate food with water. She reciprocates raspberries when E gets happy and starts blowing them. C picks up the dropped spoons and cups and toys, over and over. E has started to do things to make C laugh, like dribbling out water instead of swallowing it and then chuckling.
Or when C sings Twinkle, or Baa Baa Black Sheep, or Wheels on the Bus. And E has started singing back to her or us which is making our musician souls so happy.
Or when I wake up in the morning to giggles and squeak laughs, finding C playing while E is still in the cot. Peekaboo is the best, and passing a squishy mango around, or hanging a sparkly monkey by its tail on the cot rails.
Or when C does a fake sneeze and E starts belly laughing. Repeat for 10+ minutes. (This has been the funniest thing all year for us. It was a new laugh for E, full-bodied and uncontrolled and finding these fake sneezes the funniest thing ever in her life so far.)
And there are other, smaller things. C saying that, actually, E is her best friend. E perking up when she hears C coming up the stairs. C telling me she is loving, really loving, having E doing full days at daycare now. E looking adoringly at C as she sucks down a feed. C getting excited to have a bath with E. E throwing each bath toy in the bath to C and both of them giggling as the fun of bubbles is discovered.
I know there are likely tough teenage years ahead. And it’s not always easy now, especially as E is still fascinated by C’s hair and each is likely to kick the other in the head accidentally. But there is so much in the way they are together that fills me with such joy and delight. I love the way they are being sisters to each other.
Last week, I watched Encanto with C during one of E’s lunch naps (the movie was a big hit). And then C got into the habit of wanting to watch a movie every time E was having a lunch nap. We watched Toy Story 2. Then she wanted to watch Frozen. And the next day, also Frozen. And the next day… She hasn’t watched it every single day but it was 3 or 4 days in a row. In the evenings, she would tell me her favourite bits while she was meant to be going to sleep and she would giggle and squeal as she acted them out for me as well.
A few months ago, having bought something for E that she actually needed, I thought there might be sibling strife if I didn’t find something for C as well, and came across the Frozen book. It is short and simple, giving the briefest of plot synopses from Elsa’s point of view. C, in her recent Frozen obsession, asked me to read it while I was feeding E her dinner. And again. And then at bedtime. And then every night, once or twice or sometimes more.
Thank goodness it is a quick read.
E is always gravitating to the Very Hungry Caterpillar but is also really getting into Bob Bilby. Even if she’s more interested in climbing over my shoulder or over the arm of the sofa, when we get to the fireworks at the end, she is back and paying full attention and touching the pictures and opening and closing the book. We’ve got a winner here.
It has been a little niggle. Like a worry that you worry but don’t really have to do anything about but you know it is there, worrying. Sometimes it flares up, when it all gets closer to home. The same state, the same city, the same suburbs, the same shops.
But with an attitude of ‘we can fix this, let’s all be sensible’, we have been part of a cohort of people who adhere to our short, sharp lockdowns. Stay home. Physically distance. Wear a mask. Sanitise hands. Numbers reduce, restrictions ease, the worry calms.
Like many global things that Australians watch but don’t experience, we have seen the news from across the world. Italy. Iran. Spain. The USA. India. We have been horrified, amazed at the spread of this disease that could so often be prevented. Prevention that can be easy to achieve in first world countries but is so much harder in poorer areas. Prevention that can so easily occur if people work together, thinking of others and listening to experts.
I have thought time and time again, thank goodness we don’t live there. Usually, thank goodness we don’t live in the USA, where I see accounts on Twitter of masks not being mandatory, children having to go back to school in person despite soaring case numbers, people not isolating and not vaccinating and not being able to take time off work and not being able to work from home.
Yet with all that we could have learned over the last two years, we are here. The worrying niggle is much more present, less of a niggle and more of a prominent worry. A worry that has me wondering if we’re doing the right thing, sending two girls too young to be vaccinated off to daycare. Worrying that a supermarket trip will come home with disease. Worrying that a supermarket trip won’t provide enough food due to the food shortages due to truck drivers being off work due to illness. Worrying that we might have a small accident that might require a trip to a hospital that can’t take us because they are suddenly full. Worrying that any sneeze or cough is not just a sneeze or cough but a sign of COVID. Worrying that if I accept offers of help from older people we might unwittingly give them COVID and the repercussions for them would be far greater than for others. Worrying that we’d have a notification from daycare about a case there.
Monday that last worry was realised. A case. A child in C’s class, there on one of the same days she is. Then email after email notifying us of further cases. The worry about each case. Will it be mild? Will they be ok? When will we see them again? What about their household? The worry about the new government policies. Childcare centres are no longer considered close contact but does anyone understand what babies and toddlers and preschoolers are like? Physical distancing is impossible. And if they’re told they can still attend, most parents will still send their kids because they don’t have a choice.
Thankfully, the staff were instructed to test and isolate regardless of government regulations. Thankfully, we have the capacity to keep the girls home this week. Thankfully, we are free from symptoms so don’t need to test. Or worry quite so much.
But there is still that worry. That worry that has me in sudden tears as I try to settle E for sleep. That worry that has me asking for extra cuddles from C. That worry that is supremely relieved that Glenn no longer works in retail. That worry that has me checking my phone frequently to see if my parents’ recent tests were negative. And if they’re positive, what then? Will they make it? Will I have to say goodbye? Explain to the girls what is happening? Have them say goodbye? All the accounts of what happens at the end for COVID patients, how could I bear it happening to someone I love?
I wonder, then, how parents have coped in areas that have been hit harder than us. How do you continue with relentless worry? For days, weeks, months, years? Knowing that you are doing all that you can to stop this but not everyone is and still, still it can creep in and then your baby or your elderly parents or your immunocompromised partner is at such high risk? How do you continue keeping everyone safe, knowing that it might not be enough?
This week’s books have all been more of the Christmas books. And I am very happy about this.
E has been having lots of Bob Bilby, and The Very Noisy Baby. C is also loving hearing these books. Whenever we get to the page in Bob Bilby with the fireworks, C’s face lights up and, every time, she says ‘just like the fireworks WE saw!’ (It helps that we live in Brisbane just like Bluey and Bingo.) C is loving lifting the flaps in the Noisy Baby and reading the bonus bits, like ‘the OWL! So speck-eld and BLUE!’
C herself has insisted on a bonus story once she is in bed every night. I say in bed but I really mean, I’ve told her to get into bed and she has done a token sit down before saying ‘ooh, mummy, please may I have a Horton story please?’ Or ‘here mummy I’ll just turn the lamp on for you so you can read me Mrs Tiggy-winkle.’ Oh. Ok… We have read each of them enough now that she has her favourite lines that she delights in every time. Personally I am absolutely loving reading Mrs. Tiggy-winkle. I loved all of the Beatrix Potter stories when I was little and revisiting them brings such great pleasure.
How goodnight has changed over the years. A Facebook memory recently showed me what it was, when C was about 15 months. Our music class had shown us that songs are a useful transition tool, so ‘teddy bear, teddy bear’ was our ‘we are going to bed now and bed is where you sleep’ song. C does the actions just after the lines in the song, except at the end when, just before the last line, she takes off down the hallway with a cackling mischievous laugh.
Before I had children, I imagined bedtime to be a hopefully calm affair of dinner together and baths (together for young children) and bedtime stories and teeth cleaning and into bed and, magic, asleep. Laughable, I know, and also not really based on my own experience growing up with 3 brothers, but there you go. I had lofty ideas.
The reality right now is quite different. Coordinating dinners and baths and stories is quite a task, one that often leaves me wondering just how on earth do parents of 3 or more children manage it? Especially if one parent works late? And this is constantly changing according to how well E’s lunch nap has gone (and how hot it is and if she is teething like she is now).
But, a goodnight with daddy is holding fast and it is something that I absolutely love and treasure and will be so sad when they don’t happen anymore.
Goodnight with daddy has influenced how C says goodnight to E and, every time, it melts my heart. Sometimes when I ask her to say goodnight all E gets is a distracted ‘goodnight E…’ but usually C sings, just like daddy does. And it’s usually the tune of the Brahms lullaby, just like daddy does. And it’s usually different words, all relating to sleep, just like daddy does. And it often has one line at the end that just keeps going and going with all the instructions for a good sleep and the melody turns into a monotone and then, when you think it’s over, there’s a bonus phrase… And then there’s a kiss and cuddle that is growing to be more successful as E learns to put her arms around C instead of just pulling her hair, and not to kick her legs with overwhelming excitement, and sometimes even to hold her round cheek close enough and long enough for C to give her a little kiss.
Goodnight with daddy for E is the Brahms lullaby, with words approximately ‘go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep little baby, go to sleep now, go to sleep, and dream about green sheep’ and further words regarding sleeping and dreaming and catching the green sheep. (Yes, we love the Mem Fox book.) She is held up high and she often squeak-laughs and always has a smile splitting her face with delight
Goodnight with daddy for C is ‘rockabye baby’ so is often referred to as ‘time for a rockabye with daddy’. Glenn will pick her up and cradle her – all 105cm – and she puts her arms around his neck as he sings. His variations: ‘when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall – NO!’ And he holds her tight. ‘And down will come baby’ – and then all sorts of different things come in as well, influenced by what she’s been playing with or watching or eating or wearing that day, or looking forward to for the next day. ‘Down will come baby, spaghetti, sauce, Baby Yoda, scooter, baby and all’. He gives her a goodnight kiss, she wraps her hand around his neck and gives him a big smacker of a goodnight kiss, then asks to be chased down the hallway to her bedroom.
I know this won’t last, and as tough as all this coordination is and night after night when it feels like we won’t ever have two children asleep at the same time and the frustration when one of them needs me to be with them for an hour or more, I know I will miss it. Thank goodness for that video on Facebook, reminding me just how funny and cheeky C was and is, helping me look back on that time with a smile instead of just remembering the frustration of having a child who never, it felt, slept.
We had a wonderfully bookish Christmas. When C was a baby, I learned of the Icelandic tradition of giving books on Christmas Eve so you get to read books all night. This was (I think) the first tradition that I introduced to our family that was from somewhere else. The night before Christmas Eve, the book fairy comes and leaves books for you to find in the morning. This year, C received ‘Where’s Bluey?’ (a hide and seek book!) and ‘The Painted Ponies’ by Alison Lester. E received ‘Hairy Maclary’s Hat Tricks’ (Lynley Dodd) and ‘The Very Noisy Baby’ (Alison Lester).
C was set on giving E the Bob Bilby book from Bluey for Christmas (partly because it’s a board book, and partly – I suspect – because C loves this story herself), and E also received Verandah Santa (another Bluey book) from some cousins. Both girls were given a Beatrix Potter book, The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, and a book of three Horton stories by Dr. Seuss, by Uncle Alex and Aunty Alys.
Adding to this the ‘book from Santa’ (The River Riddle, daycare Christmas present), and there has been a delightful expansion of reading repertoire in our family. C will happily look for all of the things in the Bluey hide and seek book when we need her to do something quiet. One of my favourite moments recently was, having just read both girls Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and then starting the nap process with E, spotting C in her fluffy tutu dress, carefully ‘reading’ it to her toys on her bed.
Our very own very noisy baby is rather enthusiastic in lifting the flaps of the very noisy baby book. She’s not so much into the longer, wordier stories just yet, but Bob Bilby is receiving daily attention. Extra delight with this one right now is that it has fireworks – just like we saw on New Year’s Eve. Ooooohhhhh….. Oh, and C won’t go to sleep unless I read her a Horton story in her bedroom. She snuggles up and gets rather sleepy until we get to a bit that she just can’t help laughing at and then when she’s recovered we keep going and she gets sleepier and sleepier and when it’s done she is far more ready for sleep. Books are wonderful.
This year has had it all. Some was expected, some not. And some aspects (yes, I’m talking about the pandemic here) that we hoped would be over just kept coming back in different forms.
Here is our 2021 in numbers, result compared to expectation.
Most exciting: new baby (1/1). The best.
Most horrible: accident with new baby. Never expected. One horrible accident, and one that turned out to be not so bad but was still nerve-wracking when it happened. (2/0).
Concerts: (3/? Thanks to COVID we never knew what to expect). 3, that is, that I was brave enough to attend with the girls (Glenn has performed more than that). Each has been a learning experience and I feel tonight’s NYE Pops concert I did the best. Naps, food, sleep, all worked out fairly well. Anxiety level for me was very very high but I’m so glad we went. And both girls behaved beautifully.
New appliances: ooh there were so many. It was really the year of the new. We knew we would be buying a new mattress – the old one had deep troughs on either side from years of use (and, let’s face it, pregnancy). We were not expecting to replace the toaster, kettle, microwave, vacuum cleaner battery, printer, laptop, or fridge. (So, numbers… how many is that, 8? 8/1.) It has been an expensive year. I would like it to stop now.
Sickness: there has been some, of course – hello daycare. There was the Gastro Experience of September. There has been the No It’s Not Covid Cough of December. There have been other sniffles that have gone away after a week of resting at home, just like doctors and mothers say they will. Amazing.
And then there are the things of life that cannot be numbered. The joy in seeing each girl grow to be more themselves every day. The frustration of adult-young child communication. The immense delight seeing the love between our girls, and between all of us. The worry – oh the worry. Worries. When C is ‘just a bit nervous’ going to daycare. When E doesn’t reach a milestone as early as C did. When there’s a lockdown due to a cluster of Covid cases in our area. When I can’t give either girl the attention she needs. When C doesn’t pick up small objects or sharp objects and doesn’t understand the danger they pose to E.
This year has certainly held surprises. Some delightful, some not. Some scary, some not. I feel we’ve handled it the best we could and have definitely grown through all these experiences. Like everyone, I am hoping for more of the good stuff next year, and less of the not-so-nice surprises. Please and thank you.
Now that it is the fifth day of Christmas… I finally have a moment to write about the Christmas that was Christmas 2021.
There is always such hope surrounding Christmas. Hope for good things in the world, for blessings for those we love, for peace and joy and love to prevail. Hope for the things that we care about, that make our Christmases what we want them to be, to be able to happen. The food, the decorations, the excitement, the surprises.
This Christmas I was hoping to do so much for Glenn and the girls, and for my parents and Glenn’s dad and his family in Ireland. I had hopes for Christmas crafts, decorations throughout our home, a clean and tidy and organised place, Christmas baking. I planned to crochet a rug for E. Sew her a stuffed toy. Sew a stuffed toy for C. Make ornaments from clay and paper. Make thoughtful presents for C’s daycare teachers.
Buuuuut kids. 2022 Me needs to remember a few things. Learn from the experience of 2021 Me.
Just because you have a 3-year-old who LOVES craft and LOVES Christmas, doesn’t mean she will ‘be in the zone for that’ when you have opportunity to do things. Your visions of Pinterest-worthy garlands and wreaths and teacher gifts and decorations may well remain visions. The paddle-pop stick with cotton wool balls and pipe cleaners and googly eyes that you made into a snowman might, however, become a treasured toy. Go figure.
Just because you suddenly have both girls in daycare for a couple of days a week in the lead-up to Christmas – well, remember the whole daycare immunity thing? Surely it’s a law of physics or biology or something that kids in daycare will be sick, too sick to go anywhere at all, at some point in December. At the most inconvenient time. And, probably, share it around so you end up feeling atrocious yourself. Too exhausted for anything, just barely making it through the days and hoping you have a skerrick of energy somewhere to do the things that absolutely must be done before Christmas to make Christmas still Christmas for two little girls.
Just because you have grand ideas to sew beautiful, coordinating clothes for your children, or sew hair bands, or stuffed toys, or the shirt you’ve been promising your husband for 6 months, or even the dress you’ve been hoping to sew for yourself, doesn’t mean you will have a moment to yourself in the evenings to contemplate the sewing machine. 2022 Me could maybe just try to make those things as we go and not put so much pressure on Christmas.
Speaking of which, 2022 Me needs to remember the ‘be kind to yourself’ mantra that was Christmas 2021. Yes, it’s nice to have a clean and tidy and organised home but if you’re barely able to stay awake, go for the more important things. Like wrapping the Christmas presents. (Ahem – wrap the presents earlier. Like you used to. Remember? Attach notes securely. This year was just too stressful and late.) You may want to insist on baking Christmas goodies even if the weather is typically Brisbane summer steaminess but apparently Santa was quite happy with the ice cream you offered this year so maybe don’t stress too much about baking. And yes, 2021 Me feels quite smug about all the presents bought during the year and how much it reduced stress in December and 2022 Me could do well to remember this and yes, realise that you’ve turned into one of THOSE people.
2022 Me will hopefully also remember the absolute joy of children finding stockings that now have magical presents in them (underpants! A hat! A toothbrush! A FIDGET POPPER IT’S A RAINBOW UNICORN AND E HAS A MATCHING ONE HERS IS A BUTTERFLY THEY HAVE THESE AT DAYCARE I LOVE THEM!) And wondering at the magic of Santa and how he manages to get through our balcony door and just how does he know that C likes Frozen and unicorns and how does he know E likes bath toys? And dancing to Christmas music and eating yummy food and watching the Christmas lights blink and watching snow globes swirl and watching a Christmas movie up late as a huge treat. And finding gifts for special people that they delight in receiving as much as you delight in giving, and receiving beautiful and thoughtful gifts from others.
2022 Me will hopefully also make it to church. 2021 Me hasn’t made it, is still very anxious about taking children who are too young to be vaccinated anywhere, but is also really missing church and the community it brings and the spiritual food found therein. 2021 Me is quite aware how much the rhythm of life is influenced and guided by the rhythm of church life, and Christmas and Easter are far hollower, and harder to find joy in, without the religious basis for them.
2021 Me is also secretly hoping that the girls will be old enough to play by themselves (or together, without disaster) when Christmas 2022 is here. This was exhausting and I could have easily napped from about 10am. Yes, I am very impressed with myself for holding out until crashing into bed at 9:30pm but a nap would be nice next time, ok? Ok.
The Stuff of Our Life 