life

What We Read This Week (18/10/2025)

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Is this a 4-year-old thing? I don’t remember C doing it, so I am not convinced. Child is almost – almost – asleep. There have been several long  slow eye blinks. Then, “Mummy. Two makes me fall asleep. I promise.” Oh. You’re not asleep. So you read two books, then, “Mummy? Actually, five makes me fall asleep. This one first”, holding out Fox in Socks, or Wish for a Fish, or anything that is not at all short and actually gives my mouth a workout to be able to read it. Where did that sleep train go? Was there an announcement or did it just sail right on by?

It’s been a week like that. Consequently, there was a hefty stack of books to be cleared near the bed. Never Pop a Penguin. Wish for a Fish. Letters from Felix. Pig Out. Easter Bunny Egg Hunt. Let’s Go Home, Baby Bee. The Little Mermaid. Plus library books. The girls chose a good selection this week. A Very Wiggly Christmas, and I am told each time who is who and what is what as soon as possible. Dreaming, which is a beautiful example of Aboriginal culture and Dreamtime and passing knowledge and culture to the next generation, as well as being a dreamy book for bedtime. Ten Minutes To Bed, Little Koala, which still has all the flaps and has a lovely sleepy koala at the end. Robin Robin, which is a book version of the Netflix movie by the same creators as Wallace and Gromit. C liked that one so much she had snuck it onto her bunk for the week.

And, my new all-time favourite book, Sleeping Handsome and the Princess Engineer. I have not read it every day, but that is because it is just too funny for bedtime. I have, though, read it several times at bedtime, anyway. It’s just that good. As the title suggests, it’s Sleeping Beauty with a few twists, and my feminist, raising strong and resilient girls mind loves it. 

C has branched out a bit this week. She is still loving all the Geronimo and Thea Stilton books she can get her hands on, but at her school library borrowing session last week, she picked up a graphic novel in the Amulet series and got into it. At the library, she found one and that was her afternoon sorted. Every morning this week, instead of asking to play a game on the iPad, she has just started reading in bed. Her Where’s Wally Now prize book, and now Kiki Kallira, a hefty chapter book by Sangu Mandanna, which is very exciting. Whenever I go in to let her know breakfast is on the table, she will tell me in as much depth as I will allow what the latest exciting development is.

We are still reading Anne of Green Gables and thoroughly enjoying it. The only problem is that C wants to change her hair colour and length to match Anne. I was not expecting this.

Weekend Rundown

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When I started this blog (over 4 years ago now! Wild), I had a plan. Of course I had a plan. I was aiming for 3-4 posts a week. A craft that we’d done, something that we’d made in the kitchen, what we had been reading, and hopefully a little reflection of something that had been going on, like a collection of funny things the girls had said, or new milestones like when someone learns to walk or make their own sandwiches. Things evolve, of course. I mean, for starters, the two girls of the blog beginnings have turned into three girls. Reading took a hit for a while. Crafts have also been sporadic. Weekend food prep felt important recently. Work has grown considerably from actually fairly unemployed to working about 40 hours a week. 

Recently, books have come back to be a big part of our lives. To the Me of three years ago with a baby who couldn’t snuggle in for a bedtime story at all and who feared said baby would be well behind when she reached school because she hadn’t had daily stories from you, just chill. Don’t try to force it and she’ll come around. Girls have been having way (I mean, WAAAAYY) too much screen time but that is in the process of being cut considerably, which is going to get its own post soon. This is a big area of life that I am working on. Games and crafts the girls are doing are getting more traction. Snack and some meal element prep is also becoming more of a thing, as work and school and healthy eating are more predominant in our lives. So I thought I might do a weekend rundown post, sharing what has happened when I have 2-3 girls at home with me for 3 days.

So. This weekend felt Big. E had her first proper dancing lessons on Saturday morning, and so I had the first time of taking all three girls for one girl to do dancing. I brought snacks and activities so all was well. The brand new ballet shoes I bought for E at 7.57 for an 8am lesson, though, made it through ballet and the jazz part of jazz and tap but were nicked, for want of a better word, by another girl when they all changed into tap shoes. I am working up to my Private School Mum persona to sort this out. Girls did painting during the day, and watched TV during the middle of the day while I baked, and then we went off to the library. As mentioned in the last books post, C read an entire graphic novel over the course of the afternoon.

Sunday was church, where C learned how to plait yarn and I think I might have a new mum friend maybe. Then, as it was on our way home anyway, we went to the Celtic Festival. It was hot. It was sunny. It was dry. It was pretty, with all the jacarandas in bloom around the place, but I wish they picked a different time of year for this festival. We watched some Irish dancing. We were not there for any highland dancing, which I am starting to really want to start to learn, or have maybe S start. I think it would really suit her. I digress. We had iced teas and the girls turned back to lovely from the cranky pantses they were becoming. I took them home for lunch and the promised ice cream, then back again for the costume competition (very strangely run) and playing in the playground. Needless to say, they were suitably worn out and we had an early dinner. 

Clear blue sky with a swoop of jacaranda trees in purple flowering glory. There are less-glorious trees in the background. A festival is on, with a purple tent top next to the jacarandas as well as other tents and vans, and people milling about.

In all of this, E had found a partially-coloured in dragonfly picture of C’s. I printed her out a different one, which she has been steadily and carefully working on since Sunday evening. It will be a welcome back present for her favourite preschool teacher who had been gone for ages (4 weeks and it has been a long 4 weeks) and was finally back today. I am incredibly impressed with E’s care and skill here, not to mention her commitment to quality. She isn’t speeding it up and doing a rush job or a messy job or an incomplete job. She is working to make this a wonderful picture, no matter how long it takes. It’s beautiful.

How Lucky Am I

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E starts big school next year and had her ‘get to know you’ meeting earlier this month and I can’t help thinking how lucky am I. 

How lucky am I that my girls can be educated. Not just can be, but are expected to be educated. How lucky am I that there is a valid option of free (mostly free) education here. Not just the free of a school that you use as a threat while you do what you have to and scrounge to send your kid to the not-horrible private school, but a state school that you don’t want to move away from, a state school that people move countries to be able to send their kids to. That’s our local. How lucky are we?!

This school has such a smooth entry into prep that my very anxious, only did daycare and preschool 2 days a week, did I mention very anxious? – C just sailed right on in without any dramas. Phew. E had a lovely getting to know you meeting with the guidance counsellor who has known us for, you know, well over two years and who has seen E grow from being two years old and strapped in a pram to being able to say she is four and a half and her favourite story (right now) from the Ultimate Disney Princess Treasury that she made me lug in as her favourite book is Aurora and Aurora’s story is at the back and here she’s getting a smoochy kiss from the prince to wake her up and she was asleep because she didn’t know what a spinning wheel looked like and it hurt her finger and Maleficent (said very clearly and carefully) was the bad fairy and there she is. 

As lovely as this interview was, I was also calmed by knowing that this was not an interview to see if they would consider E as a student. I didn’t have to promote her or coach her beforehand or direct her. There was a box of things in front of her, and she played with the doll a bit then attached building structures together and lined up and sorted little figurines then went to play with the blocks that were set up where she joined all the blue together and kept skipping back to check in and take off her sparkly shoes and pick up the doll again. Meanwhile, the grownups talked openly about neurodiversity and support options and brains and development and stimming. I’m fairly sure at least one, maybe five, members of our family fall into the neurodiverse brain category. Being able to talk about the way E is, not knowing where her brain lies in this, and be offered support and avenues and all with the hue of the more we know, the more we can help/accommodate/support a child, was a relief. A blessing. A comfort. How lucky am I that this didn’t come with any negativity or judgment or pursed lips or we need a diagnosis before anything or sorry. Just acceptance with a view to making it work out the best for everyone. 

How lucky am I that I can look forward to the start of school for her knowing that she will have supportive teachers. Knowing that she will know a few kids – kids from daycare who are also coming, kids from the park – and her best (same age) friend will be with her. How lucky am I that she has been practising with her lunchbox since last summer and that she has a big sister who is VERY keen for her to be with her at school and is telling her all about bits of school like playgrounds and classroom expectations and assembly. 

How lucky am I that I can send her off to school every day from next year knowing that I will see her again in the afternoon. How lucky am I that I can work without fear of a news broadcast while my children are at school. How lucky am I that I will worry, yes, and probably quite a bit, too, about all sorts of things with my E starting school, about behaviour and friends and regulation and friends and following rules and friends and playground dangers but none of those things at all ends with me running to school with no shoes on in fear of what I will find. None of those things ends with me crying with relief that it wasn’t my child or with devastation and heartbreak that it was my child. None of those things ends with me breaking devastating news to anyone, or holding one or more of my children close as we grieve together. None of those things.

How lucky am I that I can hold E close at bedtime and mention that I think she might be a bit nervous about big school and find out, yes, she is, because of one boy in the playground last year who made a rude face at her. How lucky am I that all the problems I foresee – about roughhousing boys and picky girls and teacher expectations – are all things I can predict and talk about and plan around. How lucky am I that fire drills and lockdown drills are going to be “storybooked” for her first, and highly unlikely to happen for real life unless it’s a science experiment gone wrong or a bit of weather. 

There is so much for which I am thankful as we stand at the cusp of this new era. As I look at it as an outsider might, I am astonished – where did these three girls come from? Are they all – mine?! And one of them is already at school and the second one is about to start are you for real?!?! I am amazed and delighted, even though this also comes with a hefty dose of worn out, but I feel I can tell my 20- and 30-year-old selves that THIS is coming up. This chaotic joyful bubbliness that is this life. It happens. It’s here. It’s tremendously hard, yet it fills me to overflowing with happiness and gratitude and delight. 

Catching Up – July/August 2025 Edition

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I just counted, and I have seven posts begun but not posted. That is, begun recently and not posted. Writing has been hard to do. Checking what I’ve written before I post has been, apparently, very hard to do. I often have a crying S wanting me to give her bum pats from just after 4am, and even though she settles quickly, I am not allowed to *stop* giving her bum pats. Eventually, I am permitted to lie down on the little sofa – you know those little foam ones? – which is proving less and less comfortable. But I take what I can!

A brief highlights reel from the last month or so.

The girls all had haircuts. For S, this was her first time. E and C had previously asked for “Mummy cuts”, and E had been asking (at wildly inopportune times) for another cut for ages. Eventually one weekend we did it. S had been asking for a haircut, too, and as she had masses of curly hair – think Merida from Brave – then I thought it would be wise. Especially as brushing hair was her least favourite time of the day. So she had a haircut, too, and then looked at me reproachfully for a couple of days with “You cut my curly hair”. I can tell how untrained the haircuts are, but as one of their friend’s mums got in touch the other day to ask where we go, maybe they’re not so terrible after all.

I redid the girls’ bedroom. During the school holidays, C led the way in “making a big mess”, as S recounted over the next few weeks. All the clothes were pulled out of the shelving in the wardrobe and all the books brought into the room and all of it was all over the floor along with whatever toys they felt like adding to this mix and, after leaving the scene and doing some kettle bell work (that whole heavy work thing helps so much for me), came back and asked C WTF. I mean, sorry, WHYYYYY. And it turned out that she just didn’t like how they had their clothing in shelves in the wardrobe. As that had been a “We’ll see how we go with this” solution at the time, I agreed to sort out something new. Something new turned out to be the shelving in the wardrobe coming out and holding books in their bedroom, and a new set of drawers in between the bunk beds and the cot. Where my desk used to be. 

So, related, I no longer work in the girls’ room. I currently set myself up at the dining table and pack everything up into our bedroom when not working. No, this is not ideal. However, the payoff has been calmer girls. Their room is less crowded. E’s way of getting into bed is far easier. Having books in their room has meant I often walk past and see all girls reading quietly or playing library. Once one of them is ready in the morning they are more likely to pick books over fighting over the little annoying junky toys which I hate with a passion but keep somehow coming into our household to be fought over. They have a calmer room and they are calmer. It was a tradeoff in my working environment that is well worth it.

I had a birthday. It was absolutely lovely. I mean, it started abruptly at 4.12am with a vomiting S who then was AWAKE but that just meant more birthday to enjoy, right? I had cuddles and snuggles so, yes. I even managed a 15-minute nap on my own! That is to say, I was on my own in bed for about 12 and a half minutes before one girl after another came in and then it was just funny and my favourite photo of the day is one Glenn took of me with my three girls all in the bed together. Glenn made me fantastic food all day and took the girls to the shops for a whole hour and a half and it was bliss.

C started an extra Irish dancing class a week, leading up to maybe doing a competition. Now I have to finish work early on a Monday and take her off to class, which I really enjoy. It makes it a bit tricky with work, but not overly so. Speaking of dancing, I have finally made inquiries about E (and realistically, S) starting ballet. Wow. That is such a big statement for so few words. They are both also really keen for Irish dancing, but logistically I just can’t make that work before they start going to school. E has been proving herself to be – for a long time, this is – a beautiful and enthusiastic dancer. Not just ballet, either, although about a year ago the daycare teachers were just assuming she was having lessons because of the way she would play. She will also just start dancing like she is onstage with a rock band or – yeah it’s usually rock for her, but one of my favourite E quotes from recent times was after C and I had asked Siri to play some Paris Combo. After a bit, E came to me in the kitchen and asked, “Mummy what IS this music? It’s making my bum want to dance”. So I am super hoping that she will be able to start ballet as well as jazz and tap.

This last week has been bonkers. Book Week. S’s birthday. School Fair. I have been feeling like SuperMum all week, which has been nice but also just a teeny bit stressful with getting everything done in order to fee like SuperMum. I was going to give a big Book Week rundown but might save that for another post. (I shared my sewing in my @annalikesmaking Instagram if you’re on the gram and want a peek). But, I sewed a dress and a cape for S to be Anna from Frozen, as well as doing an enormous amount of paid work, as well as S having a birthday (VERY lowkey), as well as baking a slice for the school fair, as well as restocking the freezer with baked oatmeal and brownies and muffins. Then taking the girls to the school fair ON MY OWN because Glenn had a gig for Friday and Saturday. Goodness me. I am finishing this on Sunday morning and I am very, very hopeful I can take the girls to church so they don’t bicker at home and I can get some time for me and talk to some grownups possibly about not-children and not-school and just BE in that space. Our whole family needs it.

How We Shop

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I think I have mentioned somewhere here that we live right next to the shops. As in, looking out the girls’ bedroom window, you can see into the carpark of the shopping centre. We live on the “wrong” side, though, as we are relegated to a single staircase for entry. No problem before we had kids. Very annoying problem when we used a pram, as we would either carry the pram and child and everything else up or down the stairs, or go the long way which is along the long bit of our street and down the busy road and crossing at the lights and past cafes and shops and around the corner and past all sorts of life and then into the shopping centre via the ramp. Then home again, which is then all uphill and sunny. Ugh. 

Now that we can do no pram and even sometimes no stroller, we can take the girls through the convenient staircase. This has been a wonderful development in our lives. The problem is coming home, though, when we are faced with a descent with minimal rails for holding. For smaller people, this is quite intimidating, and I am often suddenly dealing with a child frozen to a step, refusing to move anything for fear of tumbling down. The number of things I have carried down those steps! The number of kind people who have helped me carry things down those steps!

Then we are on a stretch of road with a wide footpath but girls tend to treat it as a place to fight. Which side of the stroller they are “meant” to be on. How fast they can race even though I’ve asked them not to. Who can scale the wall (the germs!!!) at all, or more than the others. Ugh. And there are just enough cracks and holes in the pavement for it to be necessary for younger ones to still hold onto my hand or a hand or the stroller because guaranteed there will be a trip from at least one child along there.

That’s, of course, after the actual shopping bit. The actual shopping bit has turned horrible lately. Maybe it always was but I could just bear it more easily. Maybe it is actually that girls’ behaviour is becoming more pronounced, more wilful, and more independent which is great, I know this, but I am also aware of other people and I am tired. I’m tired of asking kids to behave one way and being ignored. I’m tired of apologising to people because we are blocking the aisle or one kid is riding the basket and not looking where she’s going or pushing the basket along the floor at high speed. I’m tired of kids being insistent on what we buy and then wailing or screaming when we aren’t buying it. I’m tired of buying 10 yoghurt pouches even after the free fruit for kids because after the fruit girls then want yoghurt and then more yoghurt. I’m tired of being worried that the next person won’t be lovely, because they’re not always. 

A few weeks ago, when we had had an enforced shopping trip because we were out of milk – disaster – I had a think. C had definitely not wanted to go and I am determined to move away from “I’ll buy you x if you come”. S had been a bit on the snotty side so that’s another level of wariness when shopping. No girls had stopped when I asked them to stop. They had some sort of competition that I couldn’t work out but was getting them in the way of other shoppers and preventing them from listening to me at all. Nearly finished, and E was suddenly busting. Sigh. 

Once we were home and unpacked and girls were eating again, I had a think. Why is this so hard? I’m making them do something boring. Even with behaviour expectation reminders, that doesn’t make them suddenly want to do this. Their behaviour is telling me they don’t want to do this so they will do their best to make it fun in their own way which happens to be tricky for me to navigate around unknown entities. Right. How can we change this.

Home delivery. 

I used to think home delivery was for rich people, or rich sick people, or rich lazy people. So. Wrong. (I’m sorry! A thousand apologies!) Yes, it costs us a little bit more to shop this way. But no, not nearly as much as I feared it would be. And I am so willing to pay that small amount to be able to shop this way. From home. Without the dramas of children. 

Said children, by the way, love this. They love having deliveries. They love having a knock at the door. They love looking in a bag and finding something – anything – that I’ve ordered. Apples! Juice boxes! Tissues! CHEESE! And it is much easier to find a willing helper to put something – anything – away. In fact, I usually find myself with helpers before I have even asked. And if not, well, it’s really not hard to put it away myself. Our place is notatall big.

Shopping in an app also brings online only specials and app-only specials. I can see boosted items more easily without trying to work out if the extra points for buying that item instead of another that is cheaper per 100g is worth it while also trying to stop a 2yo from pulling out all the items with green labels or listening to the pleading for something from a 7yo that is being copied by a 4yo then finding the 2yo has dropped half her free banana on the floor and is picking up bits to put in her mouth before I notice. I can add items to the cart whenever. Sudden brain cell just before I go to sleep – ooh, add it to cart. Conversation with Glenn after E and S are asleep – I’ll just find that now and there they are, in the cart. Waiting for files to show up at work – get onto that shopping. 

Another bonus, which I was hoping for but, you know, “home delivery is for rich people” got in the way: limits and saving money. Having shops right next to us has meant convenient shopping. We’re out of milk? Okay, better get some more and also while we’re there… Or, today I feel like sausages for dinner – okay, get over there and buy what you need. When we are well stocked at home, though, this is a luxury in which we have indulged. Now we are getting much more into the zone of, we’re not getting a delivery until Friday and today is Wednesday so what are we going to feed children for dinner? We still have this and this so why don’t we make that into this? Perfect! No more of that popcorn that was only bought because it was a half price special? Oh well. We’ll see if it’s on special next week and then I might (or might not) buy some more. Have a piece of fruit instead if you’re hungry. 

And yes, this has reduced our grocery bill. I didn’t do any official calculations before we started home delivery, but it was around the $350 mark I think, sometimes considerably more if it was a week of buying laundry detergents and olive oil. Now it is hovering around $250-300, a number I like much, much more.

Now, I love a good list, as you may well know. Keeping one on the fridge is no longer an option – our girls are tall and artistic – but we have Apple. We’ve had a “children quotes” shared note for some time now, and I made a shared note for shopping. I call it our master shopping list. Everything we buy, vaguely sorted in sections, goes on the list. If we are running low on something, one of us puts an emoji next to it on the list and when I am doing a shopping order, I look for it. Some things can definitely wait until they are on special so have had an emoji for a couple of weeks now, but some other things make it onto the top-up shop that I order for Monday or Tuesday, depending on when Glenn is working. 

Now please excuse me. I have to finalise a delivery order.

What We Read This Week 05/07/2025

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What a week of reading it has been! It’s been the first week of winter holidays for C and, unlike previous holidays where I have been working and she has done *some* craft/painting/colouring in, mostly while watching shows, this time I put my foot down a bit more. Admittedly, it really helped that Glenn had days off coinciding with some of those days so they did things together and she still had a fair bit of iPad time but really not so much as she used to. She has read quite a few books. I mean, chapter books like the Penny Draws series. One of those takes her a couple of days, but other books like the Ella at Eden series seem to be finished within a day.

E is really, really into reading right now, too. She’s at the level of interest of wanting me to point to each word as I read it, and of being picky about which Beauty and the Beast or Snow White story I read to her. C also read The Book With No Pictures to her, so there’s another bedtime battle for you. If that is a new one for you, another way to say that is it is far too hilarious to be read at bedtime. On account of all the scream laughing and sudden toilet requirements. That said, hearing C reading it to E was fantastic.

S has been found several times in front of the bookshelf, silently turning pages of books. Or insisting on taking The Ugly Duckling to read in the stroller on the way to the park. E and S are both insistent I tell them the name of the ugly duckling so any appropriate duckling/cygnet names welcome. One of my favourite things right now is hearing S reading a story. It is incredibly sweet and heartwarming, so much so that I have even had a braincell wake up and I’ve videoed it a couple of times.

Actually, today’s video of S “reading” Elepop out loud – yes, sure, describing the pictures but with the inflection of story and the occasional speech element – was taken just after I took a picture of all three girls. This is one of those photos that speaks volumes to me, and most people will be fairly meh about. My girls have loved watching iPad. I have let them watch way more iPad than is good for them. This is changing. I am changing. They are changing. So to catch a photo of all three of them in their room before lunch, before I had managed to put fresh sheets on beds, with E waiting on C to finish her book for the library game that suddenly sprang up, is special. 

Yesterday, we also had my brother and sister-in-law over for a play and dinner. They are big fans of reading, and while I gave S a bath and got her to sleep, books were read. I had to go out to them twice to calm it down because The Diary of a Wombat is hilarious, as is The Book With No Pictures. 

They were also delighted to hear about what C and I have been reading, and very impressed that we are reading Little Women. Every time C mentions this to someone, Beth toasting a shoe gets a mention because C thinks this is the funniest thing in the world. We now have a policy though, that when C doesn’t understand something, she puts up her hand and I explain it to her. Every few pages I will be needing to explain something, which isn’t too bad, I think, but does demonstrate that maybe we need to start maybe watching some of the good Pride and Prejudice. Just maybe.

Fish

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It’s been a long time coming, but we are finally a pet-owning family. Three little fishies now swim happily in a fish tank next to the dining table/craft area. I keep watching them now as I write this. Now that they have survived for two weeks with us, as well as meeting Auntie Jackie and (via Facetime) my parents, it’s time. Meet our fish. C’s is the black one, E has the golden one, and S’s is spotty.

How did we get here? I’m glad you asked. When C was 4, we started talking about maybe getting a fish for her. Responsibility. Staving off those Can I have a cat/dog/guinea pig/pony questions. It was always in the pile of Soon. Soon, we will email the real estate to see if we’re allowed. Soon, we will have some space in which to have a tank. Then C’s class had pets this term. Ducklings, and hermit crabs, and pinhead crickets. Asking for fish was a multiple-times-a-day occurrence. Eventually, one afternoon I handed her my phone and asked her to write what she would write to the real estate. It was … rather blunt, which is fair enough as she is 7 and has zero experience of this. I greased it up a bit, checked it with Glenn, and sent it off. A reply came within hours: “Of course you can have a fish!” C, as you might imagine, was over the moon.

An aquarium was purchased. Glenn did allllllll the heavy lifting on this. We followed instructions, had a family trip to buy fishies, and came home with 3 fish – Mei, Goldie, and Fish Tank which was renamed Flowy – and three off-the-walls-with-excitment girls. The next night, Mei (C’s) was…. You know. By midday the day after that, Goldie (E’s) and Flowy had also … you know. The girls were sad, but took it fairly well. We researched, and figured we had put fish in too soon, despite instructions. We had another family trip, this time with water for testing. Water testing showed that no way could we have fish survive in that. C had already by now picked out her next fish so that was a tough trip home. Thankfully, the pet store person put a sign up that her pick of fish was on hold.

For the next two – maybe three? – weeks, Glenn was diligent in putting the drops of stuff into the water. On the second visit after that, we were given the all clear. Phew. He came home with three lovely fishies.

C named hers Grace. S has a spotty fish so, in true literal S fashion, hers is Spotty. E started calling her golden fish Goldie but that apparently didn’t feel right, so suddenly she informed us that her fish is called – wait for it – Fish-A-Pond. For real life.

Turns are taken to feed the fish. Glenn cleans the tank once a week on a day off. The excitement of the changing lights in the aquarium has, thankfully, lessened now so we don’t have girls clamouring to touch buttons for a light show. The greatest part of Wednesday for C was helping Glenn clean the tank.

Nearly every feed, S will watch with utter delight as the fish swim as fast as they can to get some food, and then declare “Spotty’s going for it! Fish-A-Pond got one! Grace is going for it!” It’s like she’s commentating a sporting event. C will pull up a chair and watch them after her bath. E will walk by and chat with them. 

There you have it. Three happy fishies. Three happy girls. Two happy parents. Hopefully there won’t be a “then there were …” post anytime soon.

Busy

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I have been busy. Things I have wanted to maintain have slipped a little. I have five or six posts begun but not continued. Sometimes they are begun and then I don’t get to the checking it stage before it really is too late to post it. Sometimes they are begun and I just don’t get to continue.

There has been a lot more work. This is good. This is also maybe slightly less good. Good because it reduces the financial stress considerably. Pay for me is dependent on how many words I type, so this work is not necessarily necessary but it definitely helps a lot. Pay rate for me is also assessed and reevaluated every four months, and word count is a part of that. As I only work four days, the extra work I’m getting kind of equates to an almost extra day and so bumps up my ranking. 

Extra work is maybe slightly less good, though, because I am now working a lot. C taking foorrrreeevvvvvveerrrrr to go to bed at night makes it harder, and I don’t want to keep saying “I have work to do” for her to be convinced to go to bed. Not that what I want or need makes any difference to her willingness to go to bed, of course, but language is important, and I don’t want the soundtrack of her childhood to be “I have to work”. I’m not keen for “We can’t afford that”, either, but I’ll work on phrases. More work also means less time to think and to write for this blog and to sew and to crochet. Right now the balance is in favour of work in order to relieve the financial stress but it is on the cusp.

Another big factor in reduction of my writing is children. Yes. Children. I wake at 5 for this (or work). S has been waking often just after 4 and insisting I sleep on the floor in their room which is fine but then I wake just before 5 and want to be in my bed for a bit and then I sleep right through the 5am alarm and then there’s the 5.30 alarm and E is then wanting me to hold her hand and then we’re kind of at 6am and I might have made my cup of tea by then but now E is up and wanting to either be on me and help or wanting to watch something which is lovely but distracting and often S is needing something around this time too so I am left with a full cold cup of tea and needing to go on a walk but it now has to be a short walk and should I even bother or should I try for a kettlebell workout later on. If work is due or if I have a lot of it to do, then that will win over any writing or exercise. 

Still, there is always hope. The last two weeks I have not really done any work Thursday night or Friday or Saturday and then Sunday night has been the first for some extra work and then I have slogged it out until Thursday morning. This week will be different. Small portions creates more balance. I plan on having some time not working – Thursday night was free, and Friday morning and most likely Friday night. The weekend, though, will have just a little bit in the mornings and evenings in order to keep this as a bit instead of taking over my life for four days. That’s the hope. 

Right. Where’s that kettlebell.

Mother’s Day 2025

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

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.

On Movement and Monsters and Music

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

There have been a few things happening lately that do not seem at all newsworthy. By that I mean, they are not newsworthy. They are not the kind of thing to do a Facebook post about or shout from the balconies or make a note in the diary. The sort of thing, though, that I will tell my mum about. The sort of thing that I will chat about with Glenn in the microseconds of conversation we get these days. The sort of thing that makes up the stuff of our life, that we will look back on in a few months and a few years and many years and reminisce.

Recently, my girls stopped walking. Not entirely, of course, but if they are not keen on something, their feet stop and all their core muscles fail and they are suddenly slumped on my sofa like a Dali painting. This would occur for getting dressed, or being told to go to the toilet for a tactical wee before we head out to do something fun, or having a bath. Fortunately, I also discovered at this time the power of the piggyback and horsey rides and cuddle walks.

Cuddle walks had been around for a while – since C was a toddler, I guess – but she had started to request to be carried like she was a kitten or like she was a baby or like she was a baby bird or like she was a baby unicorn cuddling a mermaid and it was getting wild. And she expected me to remember what every one of these holding positions was. I would have a blank in the heat of the moment. She would get upset with me for doing the bird hold instead of the kitten hold. Bedtime would be ruined. 

I can remember how to do a piggyback each time, though. Once the younger two saw me doing piggybacks for C, they wanted in too. It is much easier doing piggybacks for them. They are more like koalas on my back, warm and compact and solid, and they are not as daredevil so they hang on for dear life as I “go faster” by doing lots of little steps down our rather short hallway to the toilet. S loves having a piggyback to the bath after dinner, which means climbing onto my sofa then climbing onto my back so I can transport her down the hallway to the toilet. Pre-bath wee, bath, get dried and dressed and teeth done, then she will announce in my face “I WANT A PIGGYBACK” and screamlaugh running back down the hallway to the Piggyback Station (formerly known as my sofa arm but here we are) to climb up and onto my back so I can do little steps back along the hallway to her bedroom which is just opposite the bathroom. 

I think C has realised that she is more like a leggy giraffe than a koala and so she likes to do horsey rides on my back instead. Although I much prefer her sitting on my back, often wrapping her lower legs around my midsection and also not hanging on (work that core!), to having her do a piggyback where she doesn’t really hold on with her legs but wraps her arms around my neck. That said, my knees are copping it. I have a much closer view of the carpets. Even though we vacuum daily, it’s not enough. 

Speaking of C and of movement, C was given roller-skates for her birthday. I think they might be her most favourite thing ever in the history of the world. After several afternoons clomp-gliding down the hallway while I was working, punctuated by crashes that were always followed by “I’M OKAY”, on Friday afternoon she had a go outside for the first time. There have been a few more outside skating sessions since then, too, where I hold her hand for the most part and apparently twist her wrists when she is about to fall over and she is skating over my toes. She has a long way to go, but I am so, so impressed by her resilience and persistence. This is something that she is finding difficult to get going and it is not at all coming naturally to her, but her only pouts have been at me for walking too fast or too slow or (inadvertently) twisting an arm.

Moving on to monsters. I mentioned recently that S had had a scary episode one night. The next night, as well as me reading Ruby Red Shoes to her, Glenn gave S an LED tea light and showed her how to brandish it against any monsters. Very sweet voices were soon calling out, “Go away, monster!” These tea lights are perfect. S still uses a dummy – and by using the singular, I really mean she usually has only one in her mouth (sometimes two just to be funny), and preferably 1 or, better yet, 2 in each hand. The tea light is the same kind of size as a dummy and has an interesting feel thanks to the fake flame, so now S prefers one hand to be holding a tea light while she goes to sleep. C likes to have one in her new lantern. E likes to have one next to her on the floor or on the desk. We use a salt lamp in the girls’ bedroom but now we have little spots of extra warmth thanks to monster-repelling tea lights. 

Moving on to music. Glenn and I are both violinists. He still plays and has gigs here and there. I do not. There are so many of my former colleagues who have managed to have kids and still teach and perform and do gigs but it was just not possible for us. I mean, after C was born I went back to teaching and that was fine – “fine” as in, acceptable – but two big things shifted. One was that I just didn’t have the zest for teaching anymore. I am very firmly of the belief that teachers have to really want to be a teacher. If they don’t, they don’t teach as well and students don’t learn as well and then students don’t want to learn at all and teachers might as well drink tea and crochet. I lost the zest and I knew I should stop. The other big shift, when my just-7-year-old was about to be turning 2 – so five years ago – yup. Pandemic. Parenting in a pandemic was hard. Trying to teach in a pandemic was hard. Trying to teach while having a young child at daycare during a pandemic was super ultra hard. So when E was born, I didn’t go back to teaching. Even though I absolutely loved it when I was doing it, this was clearly the right choice as I do not miss it at all. 

Buuuuuut I had C start violin lessons last year, learning with my lovely sister-in-law, Alys. E soon started mini lessons, too. We went for a Saturday morning lesson time. Glenn was either working or getting ready for work or needing to cocoon himself from being at work, so violin lessons were always a mummy and three girl event.  This meant that if one was sick (or two or three or three plus me), then no lessons. This was a frequent situation. Sporadic lessons meant little progress, which meant little enthusiasm, which meant no practice and a frustrated mummy. When Alys and my brother moved to the other side of town, I decided not to keep our spot and just move on.

When we did have good practice weeks though towards the end of last year, I had switched gears. I stopped being a stand-off mum, letting C do the practice as if I knew nothing about violin. I did what I had said to myself at the start that I would not do and I got back into teacher mode. Violin practices turned into lessons. When I’m in violin teacher mode, I am a different person, and I had C laughing and doing what was needed and making progress until one of her sisters dared to come in.

This year had been quite light on in terms of practice. I just wasn’t going to force it. Then, out of the blue, E said that she wanted to play her violin again after dinner. We didn’t do after dinner but after lunch on Saturday. Then S wanted a go, clearly not wanting to miss out on this thing that she could tell that she would definitely be able to have a go at, and then C was really keen to get back into it, too. Violin happened on Saturday and Sunday, with the usual mayhem of three girls and two violins and one xylophone (surprise!). I’m still not sure how to get violin in during the week, but weekends seem to be a good start.