family

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.

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.

A Snapshot of S Aged 2 Years and Nearly 5 Months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bluey’s World. For Real Life.

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

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

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

But Thursday was the day. Wackadoo!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Year Ago, When We Became Five

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Well, hi. It has been a long time. A very, very Long Time. And while I could go on about how things have changed, and all the things – both big and small – that have changed and happened since my last post, I won’t. I’ll get to that. You know, [waves hand] later.

What has really been on my mind lately has been a year ago. A year ago, our little family of five all met. Our littlest bub had just been born, and her big sisters came to meet her in the hospital the next day. For one chaotic and delightful and nerve-wracking half hour, we were all together in my little part of the hospital ward.

The photos from that brief visit show the chaos. C was standing by, sucking a yoghurt pouch, obviously quietly delighted and loving her newest sister, but also possibly a bit peeved that no-one was letting her actually hold the new baby. E flung herself backwards on the bed and nearly fell off the bed multiple times and tried to pull out all the cables and push all the buttons that are present in a hospital bed setting. And Glenn, who was trying so hard to be a good husband and good new dad and good established dad and make it out of there with the same children he went in with all in one piece.

But for all the chaos, and the first real need for parental octopus tentacles to prevent all the accidents that almost happened, my memory of this day makes my heart swell with happiness and love.

And it’s mostly because of E.

She was so little, really. Just 18 months. Still in the hardly-any-hair, maybe she’s a boy? stage. Hardly able to say anything much. And because she was so little and such a baby still, I hadn’t been able to talk with her in the months leading up to this time about what was going on. What was about to happen. What this big tummy meant.

Because she was so young, I had also worried about what having a third baby would do to our second baby. She was such a calm baby, such a good sleeper and eater, and I worried that changing things would change her. Middle child and all that.

I worried, because I had no idea what she would be like with another small child, let alone a baby. She’d been going to daycare for months by then but did she even know what a baby was? I had no idea. How would she react? I had no idea. How would I present her sister, very much loved, just as she was herself, just as her big sister was, and convey that they are all from us and all loved, equally and fully, by us? I had no idea.

But what happened in the hospital that day, happened, and could not have been planned or wished or orchestrated. E came around the bed, wide-eyed, pointed to the baby and said, slowly and with wonder, “Bebeh”, with her whole face lighting up. And all my worries vanished. 

I mean, they were replaced with a thousand more. Some rather pressing, like, will E fall off this bed or make me cough or pull a cord or remove the catheter bag. Some more what-if, like, will they fall over each other playing, or hit each other in the face before they learn gentle hands, or throw wooden blocks at each other when frustrated. Some more for me as their mum, like, will I be attending to one while the other runs to where they shouldn’t and then a car— or will I sow resentment by unwittingly favouring one child in some way over another, or will I have an accident with a carrier again while trying to keep another child safe… The list goes for an eternity, it seems.

But the joys – they are each treasured, and unexpected, and so delightful. 

Like the way S will break into a whole-body smile when she sees one of her sisters. Like the way E will look at me worriedly and say “Oh no, baby S crying” when she hears a nap-time cry. Like the way C will show S how to build a blocks tower. Or S will crawl speedily along the grass to play ball with the big girls. Or E will wrestle and snuggle while I’m feeding S and produce chuckles like I’ve never heard. Or C will read a book to S when I’m making a cup of tea in the morning. Or S will have a bath with either big sister and be so overjoyed all she can do is kick and splash for minutes on end to the point that the older one can’t take any more water in the face. E and S in the pram, facing opposite directions but holding hands. E stroking S’s hair and saying, “I luh you baby S”. 

There are more, and more, and more.  I will go on and on, but not now. Now is for remembering the day a year ago, when sisters met and made my heart sing.

Being Normal

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I am in the ocean. A wave will approach and I can see it approach and I can feel the inevitability of its arrival, the crash as it breaks over me, the busyness of the swirling water, the pull as it returns to the ocean only to be replaced by another after a brief spell of calm. It is glorious, delightful, exhausting. When the sand beneath my feet starts to crumble things begin to be unsteady. Move too far away from the shore and there is zero respite from the energy required, no breaks even when there is no crashing wave because just to stay alive means staying on top of everything, treading water or clawing back to the surface. 

Floating is not an option.

This is parenthood, family life for us right now. There are things I would love to do but even getting everyone to the shops (a 10 minute walk) is momentous these days. And although I love love love this ocean, it is hard to contemplate swimming farther afield. Swimming farther afield involves carrying, to varying degrees, children. I was never great at towing people when lifesaving.

A few weeks ago, Glenn applied for a few days off work. We could go on a holiday! Take the girls to the Gold Coast and let the younger two experience the beach for the first time! Or, ok, maybe not as far as the Gold Coast but maybe the Wynnum and Manly foreshore. Or, yeah, being more realistic, maybe South Bank? And its fake beach? Yeah. 

In the end, while feeling like it may involve a mammoth amount of organisation, I didn’t prep anything at all beforehand. No hours the night before prepping snacks, nappy bag, towels, sunscreen, spare clothes, hats, drinks. We managed to do all of that in the morning – and still leave in the morning. Amazing.

When there, we were part of a crowd. Not so much of a crowd that it was unbearable, more like the size of crowd that makes you feel like you are part of the story, some of a whole lot of people doing the same thing at the same time at the same place. A family outing to South Bank on a hot and humid and sunny Sunday summer morning, for some beach time and water experience and ice cream. It felt like we were being … normal.

Did the girls enjoy themselves? Oh. My. Goodness. Did they ever. 

C knew what was coming and was excited in anticipation then just loving, absolutely loving, the whole experience of beach with sand and water and splashing and water and playing and water, then crazy fountains with unpredictable water, then ice cream, ICE CREAM!!! She was allowed to have rainbow ice cream, with sprinkles, in a cone, and what’s this? You can eat the cone? And it’s delicious?! Wow! 

E had no idea what hit her. A first beach experience. She must have thought this was the greatest bath ever. The screams of anguish as I pulled her out and dragged her over the hot sand onto the hot path were nixed when we arrived at the crazy fountains. The rollercoaster of emotions is such a toddler thing. Total and utter delight when the water worked. Total and utter sorrow when the water stopped. Repeat. Then, annoyance at being contained in the pram again but ooh what’s this? Rainbow ice cream in a cup? With sprinkles? I will eat three mouthfuls. That is all. Thank you but no more. 

S was very much S. Fell asleep just before we arrived at the beach, so… no beach for her. Woke when we were at the fountains. Stayed very chill. I held her for a bit and she checked out the trees and the water… and the trees again… (I’m not sure if it’s a normal third child thing, but I didn’t take any – ANY – photos of her. At all. Thankfully, Glenn took some of me holding her. )

Did our girls sleep well that night? Er…. No. I thought C would be worn out, thoroughly exhausted, but still she didn’t sleep until around 8:30. E missed her nap so actually fell asleep in her high chair after dinner, stayed asleep as I picked her out and changed her nappy and put her in pyjamas and got her into the cot but then she was coughing and coughing and waking frequently until after 10pm.

Did we find it hard? Yes and no. It was in some ways, mostly because it was new and different and uncharted territory for us, but we also just got in and did it. No major disasters, or anything crucial left behind at either end, or inexplicable tantrums, or injuries or disappearances or even sunburn. In the post-outing rundown, it seems we did ok.

Did we feel proud of ourselves? Why yes. Yes we did. Our first big family outing, purely for pleasure, to a busy place with lots of people and two potential runners. And, most of all, we made our way to a different spot in our ocean. It was tough, it was different, it required both of us being totally switched on and on board, but it was also really satisfying. We did something that families DO. We made memories. We took fantastic photos. We got out of our comfort zone. Still glorious and delightful and exhausting but so, so worthwhile. 

Early Starts and New Starts

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There have been so many starts. Consequently, so much of the stuff of our life has been missed here. 

Like C finishing preschool and 4 years of childcare and going to prep transition mornings and finding out her big school class and teachers and starting to get uniforms. Like E moving from kisses being sometimes a little peck but sometimes ‘wahwah’ to always a little peck, moving up to the toddler room and now to pre-kindy, knowing all the actions to songs, singing the last word or two at the end of every phrase in songs from Frozen and Frozen II and Encanto! and Moana. Like S being fascinated by her hands and rolling both ways and revealing herself to be a definite redhead and smelling deliciously of burnt biscuit. Like the huge event of me taking girls to church, for the first time in 3 years, so that people keep getting confused about which girl is which as E is the age most people last saw C.

Like, Christmas. The joy of making things for everyone. The spiritual calm that comes with going to church in the lead up to Christmas so that the day is not just about getting things and eating food and hoping girls sleep on Christmas Eve so that mischief can happen.

Like, New Year’s Eve. Glenn only playing one concert so being home in time for us to be together at midnight for the first time in 5 years. But also C staying up painting with glitter glue so that she could watch the fireworks and running down the hallway shouting I’m so excited!!! then being rather disappointed at the skimpy view available from her bedroom. And E going to sleep relatively easily but then having a very unsettled night because of those 4 teeth still working their way through and then the bonus of loud, very loud, louder than they’ve ever been here, fireworks startling her and keeping her awake. And S, who normally sleeps through once she’s had a feed after her bath, waking at 10:30 and just not going back to sleep until well after midnight. What a fun start to the year.

And, why? Why have there been so many starts but no completions? Mostly E. Partly me.

E has taken to waking early. A couple of times in the last few months she has woken after 6 but usually she is awake before 5:30. Sometimes – like this morning, yay – way before 5. This morning she was awake just after 3, then S woke and wouldn’t resettle (teething, groan) and E kept looking out for her then was just… awake. And just after 4am C woke and wanted to come into our bed and suddenly the whole family is awake and there are yelps of you’re touching my leg and screams because someone is in the (perceived) wrong spot. Eventually, every morning, E gets to a point where she gets my iPad and hands it to me so I can set up ABC Kids and she watches shows and scrolls to other shows and occasionally leaves the app and gets into stocks or mail and will say ‘uh ohhhh’ repeatedly until I fix it and take her back to shows.

And I have been keeping my sanity through all this crazy time by making things. Staying up very very late and making things. Crochet. Craft. Sewing. I love it. I love creating something, especially if it is made from something that would have otherwise been discarded. Especially if it is made with love for someone I love. It is great for my sanity and self esteem. It is less great for the sleep or writing. But, new year and new plans… we’ll see. Here goes!

And, if you are keen to support me in making things do check out my sites:

Redbubble: annagraphica.redbubble.com

Madeit: madeit.com.au/cassiannacraft

Instagram: @annalikesmaking and @cassiannacraft

In a Rare Spell of Calm

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

These days are hard, you know? As I write this I am enjoying a rare spell of calm: big girls are watching ABC Kids on my iPad and not getting in each other’s way, I’m brewing a cup of tea and have just had the most delightful cuddle coo and smile session with my littlest. I am also permanently tired, yesterday finished at 11pm(ish), there was a toddler feed just after midnight, today started at 4:10am, I have a good whack of baby vomit on my shoulder and toddler snot on my skirt and smears of peanut butter here and there and very little patience for the rude behaviour that my biggest girl is exhibiting I think in anticipatory nerves about big school next year. Yikes. 

There has been so much in our life in the last few months. Much of it medical, some of it wonderful and some… not so wonderful. But it all makes a life, all makes our life. 

There has been Covid and associated hospitalisation and worry and never-ending coughing and rivers of snot. There has been the birth of our new baby, still very new, still amazement in my head that she is here and we are now a family of 5 but also that feeling that she was always meant to be here and now she is. There has been post-surgical infection with hospitalisation and worry and intense pain and weeks and weeks of nurse visits and reinfection and more pain and more antibiotics and being attached to a machine that flashes and buzzes and cannot get wet. There has been brain fog, intense brain fog that wasn’t really apparent until it started to lift. The sort that had me finally filling in the enrolment form for C for next year and stopping at the very first item – Name – and not being able to work out which name to put there. The sort that has me unable to do the simplest of crochet rounds. I no longer take for granted the ability to think things through and remember to respond to people and do more than one thing in a day.

I’m hoping that our medical life can go back to normal now. I’m hoping I don’t have to be at the doctor again until the 4 month checkup at Christmas. I’m hoping I can have more space to enjoy this time, hard as it is. 

Space to enjoy and marvel at the new life that has joined us. Such a new person, with hair and eyes and nose and chin and cheeks and amazing fingers and soft skin. Space to enjoy snuggles with a little bundle, plump tummy with relaxed floppy arms and legs bent, heavy head falling into my shoulder. The warmth of a little baby, so new and delicate, needing to be close. Space to discover little things like eyelashes and eyebrows and hair and eyes and fingernails and toenails and elbows and dimples and facial expressions.

Space to enjoy and delight in her big sisters being big sisters, stroking her hair and replacing a dummy and holding her hand and getting down on the floor with her in tummy time and feeding her a bottle and being excited to see her in the mornings and after daycare. 

Space to enjoy and be present in play. Taking all the girls outside or to the park, baby asleep in the carrier, big girls running around and dancing and scooting and walking along walls and picking leaves to give me ‘money’ or make me a ‘cake’ and doing ring-a-ring-a-rosie and removing sandals before standing on prickles then looking at me with a wobbly lip of betrayal. 

Even though today has been tough, I am sitting here writing while the baby sleeps in her bassinet nearby and the big girls are playing calmly together with blocks and I have tears in my eyes, happy tears that this is my life. How lucky am I?!

Linguistic Oddities of 3 and a Half

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The other night, I had the sad realisation that we had seen the end of nummy. The first time it happened, C had been saying ‘dee… LISH… usss’ which I finally put together as ‘delicious’. So, forever recording things, we tried to video it. Some milk with frozen raspberries in it (a favourite of hers), and ‘how is it?’ Speaking like a Michelin Star judge, instead of deeLISHuss, she pronounced her drink to be ‘nummy’. The way she said it – well, it still makes me laugh.

Sadly, when C was asked last week if her dinner was nummy, she said it was delicious. Can you tell daddy it’s nummy? It’s yummy, daddy! And only when she tried, really tried, could she tell him it was nummy. 

I find language development fascinating. I did a couple of linguistics subjects at university (as electives as part of my music degree) and have enjoyed watching babbling turn into detailed accounts of things that have happened in C’s life. 

There are the words that are guesses at words. She used to say ‘armbow’ for elbow and I miss it. Like many children, she will check for our ‘heart beep’ when playing doctor. And there are the mispronunciations like ‘hopsital’ or ‘hostipal’ or ‘aminal’ or ‘bonato’ or (my new favourite that happened on Tuesday) ‘Lemmie-un Falcon’ and ‘3CPO’.

There are the words that are right but wrong. For a while now we have been hearing ‘her’ instead of she. We have started correcting her a little bit – there’s only so long that something like this can be endearing before it becomes just wrong. But what really impressed me at the start of last week was when she ‘read’ Old Mother Hubbard and alllll of the ‘she’s were replaced with ‘her’. ‘Her went to the cobblers/ To buy him some shoes/ But when her got back/ He was reading the news’. Every. Single. One.

I’m not sure how common this is but she often swaps around double-barrelled words and phrases. For a long time she would ask to watch ‘cracker nut ballet’, or ‘Two Frozen’. Just this morning she told daddy to have ‘corn sweet’ on his toast.

But there are also the words and phrases that come about that turn into the vernacular of a family.

A word that C has taken and reinvented is jungle (verb). Over summer I was pregnant and huge and trying not to do any extra lifting. C would barrel into me or try to climb all over me or jump onto me after climbing onto the sofa. ‘Stop it! I’m not a jungle gym!’ was said multiple times. But daddy loves it… So C would climb all over Glenn when he was on the sofa, an activity that she still does. She hangs off his legs, pretends he is a horse, hides under his knees and pops up like a jack-in-the-box, pushes his back (he loves the back massage) and climbs onto his shoulders. Recently I asked what she was doing? ‘I’m jungle-ing on daddy!’ Perfect.