reflection

Change Is Afoot

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In the midst of children just not sleeping, and behaviour going all which ways, and my girls just seeming to be not themselves, I finally, after nearly eight years of parenting, remembered to think about the bigger picture. What was going on here?

Well, lots, as it turns out.

Before Christmas, Glenn had some time off his day job in order to play two shows. What was really five straight days of rehearsals and performances felt like two weeks. The girls, being young and adaptable, were quickly in the zone of “Where’s daddy?” “PLAYING A SHOW”. Even though I am the bedtime parent, he is an important part of bedtime for goodnights and cuddles and playfulness and any Doctor Daddy that arises. And, lately, Drawing Daddy. He is excellent at drawing and when I’m not around to print out endless colouring in pages, Glenn will draw a garden or a space scene or a rhino beetle for colouring in. 

Christmas is always an excitement, too, with lots of different around. Decorations. Traditions. Music. Anticipation. The weirdness of me not working over Christmas and New Year. Christmas is also school holiday time, so I haven’t been baking as much (or, as I’m telling myself, making sure we get through what’s in the freezer so we have a fresh start).

E is starting school in a few weeks (eek!) so she finished daycare/preschool on Christmas Eve. That’s a huge change for her. She started when she was 9 months old so we’re talking four years of this routine and these carers and this environment.

E stopping daycare means that C has gone from being the only one around when I’m working or just during the day (so plenty of opportunity for quiet time) to having to be around someone else. Someone else who is acting out their starting school anxiety and their change unsettledness and their different routine unsettledness. E is loud and out there. C doesn’t like loud or sudden or out there. I am finding this tricky.

C stopping daycare means that S is now the only one going to daycare. Thank goodness we had the prep transition days for E so S could also get used to being the only one going in at daycare. Yes. I am getting a bit emotional over this. How did you know? It really pulls at my heartstrings to see only one child running up to the outside door and leaning out and waving hello to her friends. Only one child to sign in. Only one child not with me during the day. It feels like I miss S now that it’s just her at daycare much more than I ever missed C or E. Is that because she’s the youngest? Is that because I’m realising it won’t feel like long before she, too, is a big girl going to big school? Is it because, even though having three girls all around is TOUGH and it feels like they just bicker and physically hurt each other the entire time, it also needs to be three of them to feel whole?

All this change has meant jangled. All this change has meant changes, especially at bedtime. It used to be dinner then a merry-go-round of girls doing toilet, bath, teeth, goodnight with daddy, into bed. Except C wouldn’t go straight to bed. She would be allowed to do Duolingo and then, if other girls were still awake (so, most nights), certain iPad games. C would get to bed and have some reading with me once E was asleep. 

But from Christmas Day onwards, C has been actually tired. Like, falling asleep at dinnertime kind of tired. So it’s been usually a three sister bath (specially requested every night by S) then all out and doing teeth and saying goodnight to daddy then their preferred method of getting to the bedroom and into bed. Preferred methods are piggy-back or horsey ride or high jumps, where I hold onto their hands and they face forward and I help them jump as high as possible while being told “Higher! HIGHER!” For nearly a week, this worked, and I would have S asleep fairly quickly and I would read a bible story to E and C then maybe another story which was usually a Ruby Red Shoes book and then it wouldn’t be long before E was asleep and also C was asleep. 

Of course, such a winning bedtime routine couldn’t last. As I said, about a week. Now we have the first elements – tired, three sister bath, teeth, goodnight… and then E goes nuts. Any time I am trying to settle S, or paying any attention to anybody who isn’t E, E is rolling around or murmuring “Ma-ma”, or deliberately rolling out of her bunk, or taking selfies on my phone, or opening her new music box, or telling me hilarious jokes. Not. Helpful.

Yes, I am losing my mind. Yes, this really really really depletes my Me Time, which is absolutely crucial to me being able to parent and not hate myself. So we are changing bedtime. Two nights in, so far, where I have let E do colouring in while S settles and so far I am not convinced. I will give it maybe two more nights then try to find a new plan. Sigh. It is such a fine balance trying to accommodate all of them, each with their own needs. Will I ever get into a good zone? Who knows. Right now I am just trying to remember that we are going through big changes, and big changes can be tough and be felt deeper than you expect, and try try try try try try to be curious first. 

2025 Review

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It’s that time of year, isn’t it? In all the haze of Christmas that follows fast on the heels of the end of school year frenzy, there is that week of limbo when most things slow down or stop and there is time to reflect and time to consider and plan and contemplate. What just happened here. Is that who I am. How do I want my life to be, or my self to be, or my family to be, or my anything. 

When I look back at a year ago, I am amazed at how far we have come, how far I have come, how my family has changed. It is so satisfying looking at what my aims were for this year and seeing what was achieved and how it made an impact. Here are a few.

On a family level, we went from one girl in school and two in daycare to about to be two girls in school and one in daycare. I also finished paying off my massive childcare debt which was immensely satisfying and empowering. There was so much pre-school for E but we managed it all and she is so prepared for big school. 

We went from having three girls doing swimming lessons and one doing Irish dancing, to no girls doing swimming lessons (officially), one doing Irish dancing (and danced in her first competition), and one doing ballet and jazz and tap (and danced in her first concert). Next year, all girls will have at least one dance class a week and I am a bit gobsmacked that I must now be a Dance Mum. By the end of term 1, I anticipate we will have two pairs of Irish dancing shoes, two pairs of ballet shoes, one pair of tap shoes, and maybe some barefoot dancing going on, too. This was unexpected.

We went from two girls in nappies overnight to, quite suddenly, no girls in nappies overnight. Except when an accident happens, but they all start off without. We went from plastic tablecloths that got ratty and disgusting and cut up and spilled on and drawn on, to cloth tablecloths … that get picked at and spilled on and drawn on and washed. It’s a big improvement. 

C can now roller-skate up and down the garden path. She is learning to ride a bike. She reads well beyond her age and is still doing maths things when she can on the iPad. E can write her name and all the letters and numbers and can tell me basic addition and also tell me two numbers and what it is – like, a house number that is 4, 2, so forty-two. S can write some letters and tell me most of them. She is still so little but also comes out with sentences that amaze me from their use of vocabulary as well as the emotional intelligence behind it.

We went from mostly daily grocery shopping to the occasional in-person top-up, but mostly delivered. One Funky Food box a fortnight with gloriously wacky fruit and veg, and two grocery shop deliveries a week. My stress is greatly reduced (and I mean, by a huge amount), as is our food bill. We don’t waste as much food as we used to, either.

For me, this blog has been so, so good to get back to. And not all that I write for it gets posted. There are many, many posts just written and not shared, but they have helped me by writing it. My brain has been reminded of how useful it is to get words out. My inner child has been reminded of its dream of being a writer. Maybe this year, even more will come of this.

Speaking of this year and goals, I have a few. I’m not a big one for sharing them, but hey. Why not. These are my dreams and aspirations and ideas, and unlike my usual way of getting to about 9.30pm on 31 December and thinking, oh, I should probably think of a goal for the new year, this year I actually started putting these in my notes on Boxing Day. Waaaaay ahead of schedule. So. 

Get back to starting the day with 10 sit ups, 10 push ups, 10 something else (mix it up!). Use the kettle bell at least twice a week. Be able to do the monkey bars at the gym park (that’s a big one for me to do for my girls). Get back to eating mostly vegetarian and whole foods. Use the freezer more wisely. More consistent/regular blogging. Profitable side business. Make a small doll. Embroider more. Try to sew something – as in, finish something – each week. Write. Bake something from Baking Across America (a Christmas present that I am devouring by reading before devouring by eating) at least once a month. Remove the baby things from the household. Teach the girls to swim.

That seems like a lot. It also seems like a largely January plan, and if that’s what it turns out to be for the most part, I’m fine with that. 

Happy new year! 

Christmas 2025 Rundown

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Well. The big day is over, and I must say, a few tweaks to our Christmas this year made a big difference. I’m recording some of them here to remind myself for next year, in no particular order. I should say, this is not that Christmases past have been horrible or stressful or anything negative at all. This year, though, I really noticed some changes and I relished in them.

I started early. Like, September early. I was one of those people. Something for C caught my eye and I ordered it. I realised what S needed and ordered it. This place was having a spring sale and I bought something for each girl from there. I am so glad I did. I knew that this would make it less of a financial burden, but it also greatly reduced the mental burden of thinking and ordering and hoping something is in stock and then delivered on time. 

I was strict with myself. One big gift for each girl and one smaller gift. Glenn and I bought a big item (a much-needed Shark fan) as our present to each other. Santa delivered on undies/socks and something each girl was hoping for. However, as I had “had a chat with Santa” a few years ago, the No Toys Policy remained. I actually wavered on that, but as I was not keen to watch Peppa Pig to find out exactly what sort of bat and ball S thought she wanted, and unable to find a plastic talking ballerina toy with her own stage for E, and definitely unable to find an 8-10cm tall grownup doll for C’s dollhouse, it turned out that the No Toys Policy could stay firmly in place. 

Santa upped his game, however, and included food this year: a red and white candy cane as well as a rainbow candy cane, and a box of Smarties and a packet of popcorn. Any early risers or delay in breakfast could be fed by Santa. This was a Good Thing to do and I hope Santa does this in future. Santa also had a brainwave on Monday and included INKredible books – you know those mess-free activity books with a magic pen that you use to do the activities but the pen usually dries up about 3 pages from the end. This meant that while we sorted out breakfast (Baby Yoda eggs and sourdough toast), all girls were silently occupied. Win.

Glenn found gifts for the girls that really brought the fun factor in. Wind-up jellyfish. Friendship bracelet beading set. A Wicked cosmetics ball. Watercolour painting books that include the paint so you just need to add water. All these things bought good stretches of calm. I will be factoring this in to future Christmas gift considerations.

Not making things for Christmas made a big difference. I mean, I still did – I made a pocket to put on a bag for each of E’s preschool teachers, and I made blueberry jam for C’s Irish dancing teachers, and I made lip balm holder key rings for Glenn, and I had to sew a stocking for a girl on Christmas Eve night as we somehow lost 3 of ours (?!?!). But I wasn’t sewing coordinating dresses or bows or hot water bottle covers or soft toys or blankets for the girls. Phew. I learnt a few years ago that the Christmas Deadline creates way more stress than is good for me. When it’s made, it’s made, and they can enjoy it then. Plus, work carries on up until the week before Christmas and it is just too much to add on Christmas sewing. Summer sewing, however, is another prospect. As we are off to the ballet in January (squee!), girls may be in coordinating dresses by then.

Glenn’s dad sent Christmas money, and instead of spending it on more presents for the girls, we used this money for food and drink. Christmas treats are at least half the fun of Christmas, in my mind.

Not making things (much) as well as having shopped early meant that Christmas Eve was very relaxed. C helped me wrap presents in the afternoon as a storm raged outside and she helped me put them out well past her bedtime. I felt … calm. Excited and calm. And girls not sleeping very early at all (AT ALL) was not a problem this year thanks to all that preparation.

There were still some big emotions on the day. I also, apparently, ruined Christmas by not opening stockings on our bed “as we always do” (except for two years ago and possibly more but who’s counting), and not having Christmas crackers (Glenn and I legit forgot), and there’s another big and important factor that I was told off about today but I can’t remember what it is. Oh well. There’s always next year.

Cold Turkey

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There’s been a change. A big change. My kids have been addicted – and I mean full-scale, outrageously, what have I done to my kids, addicted – to screens. It became our way of life, of coping, of persuading, of cajoling. And I hated it. I didn’t know my girls anymore, except for their tastes in shows. Our place is a mess and even more frustratingly so, is a giant mess of things that are not played with except in passing. Why bother having toys and activities for children who just stare at a screen all day? 

Behaviour, too, was becoming problematic. Some of it could be attributed to their ages and the normal developmental milestones that come with these particular ages. S, for example, is in a “First, no”, stage, where whatever you offer or ask is replied with a “NO”, even if it’s something she loves. Fun times. But behaviour which is demanding and needing something now and not being able to wait or focus or listen to real people or negotiate in play? Problematic, and causing my stress levels to escalate. 

I was doing lots of reading about the effects of screens on kids. I was seeing lots of helpful ways to ease them off screens. I was starting to work some of these things into our lives. It felt about as effective as watching grass grow. But all the advice was, ease them into it, remember they have to learn new skills and you have to learn new ways, too. Be kind to yourself and to them. 

Cool, cool.

Also, there’s the parenting advice of don’t make empty threats. Make a consequence (not punishment, we don’t use that word anymore do we) that fits the behaviour you’re wishing to change, and then make sure you follow through. Great.

Now. Let’s look at a few of weeks ago. S had napped at daycare. Groan. E and S were bouncing off the walls not going to sleep that night. I tried all sorts of things, pulling snippets from SO MANY posts I have read recently. Nothing worked. Even if something started to work with one of them, the other one would start giggling or playing and set off the one who was starting to settle. I couldn’t stay in the whole time. They were happy, for sure, and as I started to do some work I could hear “Next patient!” At nearly 8.30, I was back in their room and just lying on the floor crying while they stuffed around. Glenn came in and said very sternly, “No. More. IPad. Ever.” And walked out.

S lay down straightaway and was asleep within 3 minutes. E took a whole lot longer because she’d listened to the words. Like, just for tomorrow morning? Are we giving it away? Can we get a new one then? You mean – we can’t use the iPad??? Mostly in order to get her to sleep, I said they may be able to earn it back. I must admit, it’s been more than four weeks and I haven’t worked out an Earn Your iPad system yet…

Do my girls sleep better at night? Um, no. I haven’t been able to sew much for some time now. I feel worn out to the point of taking time off work yesterday in order to deal with the things I needed to do for E and then sleep. Do they still demand something right now? yesBUT I am pleased to report that I am more able to respond with a soon or a not now or a you’re next and that they are better able to accept it and wait. When the answer is actually no, C and E are much much better at responding with, “Oh, okay”, without pleading or whining or sulking about it.

Do my girls still want to be on the iPad first thing? Sigh. Yes. But not always. They know now that they won’t get to watch it during eating time, either, and I may have that question asked of me once a weekend. Maybe twice, but the response is never argued with.

Admittedly, this has not been the cold turkey change I had thought we were doing. C, not a perpetrator in the particular bedtime battle that started this, and also being a Big Girl who has homework that requires screen time, is allowed to use the iPad in the evenings. Also if girls are at daycare and she has done everything we ask of her. A few weeks ago, S was too sick for daycare so, in order for me to be able to work at least a little bit, she was allowed on during the day. I’m now, shall we say, adept at finding Christmas Elsa, Blue Elsa, Let It Go Elsa and Ice Elsa. Sometimes when girls have been awake super early (4am is now light so days start early) and I have really needed to get work done, I have relented and let the iPad come out. Generally, though, the iPad is not a Big Thing anymore.

Which has meant that I can watch a movie with them on the weekend and really enjoy it. All of us watching together, for the most part. Snuggles happen. Fast-forwarding of scary bits happen. More snuggles and cuddles and hand holding and hair stroking and just enjoying this experience. Screens are back to where they should be, as a treat and Sometimes Thing and not a right. I still feel like I need about eight times more Me Time in the day, but I have reduced the Mum Guilt by a LOT and I am enjoying being a mum soooo much more.

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. 

What We Read This Week (12/07/2025)

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E: Can you read me a story? Me: Okay, but it’s already really late, so see if you can just listen without asking lots of questions, okay? E: OKAY! Me: Right. Which story would you like? E: PrincessAuroraSleepingBOOOdy. Me: A long time ago, a king and queen held a party to celebrate the— E: What was the queen’s name? 

Yeah. That’s how well we do.

Now. I had a realisation this week. Wait, some history first. When I was a little kid, I loved princess stories and movies and outfits. I didn’t ever have those dresses or anything, and as I was #3 child with brothers all around, princess anything was usually overruled. When I was older, I shied away from the princess stuff. Waiting for your prince, having to have a prince come and save you from the dragon or the spell or whatever, was so at odds with the independent, feisty, women’s lib DIY person I was. I thought, if I ever have girls, they’re not getting to watch princess movies or read princess stories. No. Way. But then Frozen came along. Another “True love’s kiss” thing to save the poor princess – but wait! Sisterhood! Okay, Frozen is allowed. Then I watched Beauty and the Beast, and that was another without a damsel in distress being saved by the handsome prince. It’s allowed.

With this Ultimate Treasury of Princess Stories that is the current go-to book, there are five princess stories. I have been asked to read them A LOT over the last couple of months, and have come to a realisation. There is much in these stories that can prompt discussion, shall we say, about differences in how we live now, in this country, and also much to prompt relationship discussions. Now. Princess – or normal girl who marries a prince therefore becoming a princess – who lives her life true to herself and her values – tick. Princess who pines for her prince, wanting a man to come along and save her – babow. 

Let’s assess. Snow White. Victim of a psychopathic narcissist. Pines for a prince. Looks after the men. Kissed by a prince which breaks the spell and MARRIES HIM STRAIGHTAWAY. Not so keen on this one. 

The Little Mermaid. Controlling father. Always interested in humans. A bit of lovesick nonsense. She saves HIM. Victim of evil witch. Actually has different endings, depending on which version you read or see … it’s okay. 

Cinderella. Works hard. Finishes her work and still gets to go to the ball, where on her own merits she and the prince fall in love. Follows the rules and is home on time. Prince does some work to find her. Tick. 

Beauty and the Beast. Prince needs to get over himself. Belle loves reading and is firm on her morals. Sticks up for truth and justice. Prince and Belle spend time together and fall in love over time. Contrast with Gaston who doesn’t want Belle reading or doing things that make her who she is, just to be his wife. Beast does what’s right for Belle, not him. Belle sticks ups for the Beast in front of an angry village mob. Big tick. 

Sleeping Beauty. Arranged marriage. Set to be married as early as possible – I know times change and all that, but 16 is still super young, and when it’s arranged by the dads it just comes across as creepy. Keeping secrets from her about who she really is “for her own good”. Pines for a prince. A bit of teenage angst. Taken home to be married against her will. Goes off on her own anyway and nearly dies. Prince battles to get to her. Kisses her. She lives. They get married. Big no. (I’ve been thinking about this one a lot today. So many things could have changed to avoid this. Not impressed).

I still read them when requested, but I now add commentary – and just answer allllll the questions that are peppered throughout anyway – and the No’s score much, much more commentary. 

There have been other books this week, too. Yesterday, to be mischievous, C had them all taking every single book off the shelves in the living area and taking them to their bedroom. When I then couldn’t open the door, I told her to make sure all the books went back to the bookshelf. What she interpreted that as was to get all the clothes off E’s shelf in the wardrobe and throw them about the floor, too, then move the shelf to the hallway and put the books on that. I can see where she’s coming from aesthetically, despite the lack of practicality, but this turned into playing library, so as I was sorting washing I was hearing the quiet thud, thud, thud, of books being put on shelves, E reading quietly to herself and then saying, “Here you go. Next book please!”  – not at all quietly – and S reading picture books aloud before, “The end. Here you go. That one, please!” So for all that the room was diabolical and of course, no-one cleaned it up before bedtime so I had to do all of that before bathtime and then E got into bed later and wanted the elephant toy of all things and of course I didn’t know where it was… Hmph. Anyway – lots of books were “experienced”, as they say. 

S has also been having a few wake ups from the cold, and if she is having trouble getting back to sleep, I am asked to read her a story. The Magic Beach, The Tale of Mrs Tiggy Winkle, and Never Pop a Penguin have all been quietly read in the dark by a mum who is falling asleep after every three words or so.

C and I are reading little bits of Little Women every night. It actually made me cry the other night, with the note from Mr Laurence to Beth with the piano. But that was followed by the gales of laughter from both of us over the limes and the girls’ reactions to the limes.

Meanwhile, S turns 3 soon, in the same week as Book Week. Asking for character ideas is tricky because E keeps telling me what she wants to be at Halloween. I’ll work on it.

Meal Prep Monday (30/06/2025)

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Last weekend, I felt like a kitchen superstar. I baked SO much. In fact, the whole weekend was so exhausting I didn’t manage to post about it so I have photos just sitting in my phone, reminding me of the achievements if I scroll through looking for something. Sleeping girls, girls outside, random short videos of the tablecloth, work info, girls in pinafores for daycare photo day, row after row of a child’s forehead – pretty sure it’s E – closeup pics of the corner of the sofa, food, food, girls outside, food.

This weekend, I was not a superstar. At all. In any sense. For anything. If you set the bar low – really low – then yay! I did some things. I had all 3 girls dressed and respectable to go to a birthday party on Saturday morning at a not-very-close park. They were well-behaved. There was a present, wrapped in paper coloured in by my girls. We got there and back safely. Pause here while I think. Um. Nope. That was pretty much my achievement. 

But wait. I made pizza on Friday night, with dough made by me. (C asked for this a few weeks ago and it is how I used to always do it and now it is her new favourite way of pizza). This pizza – one (1) pizza – has fed us Friday night, and was added to Saturday dinner, and was lunch today for C because we had no bread and neither of us wanted to go to the shops on the holidays, and there’s still a bit more.

But wait. I made a lemony chicken and vegetable tray bake for dinner for Saturday night, which all the girls ate, and leftovers were my lunch today as well as incorporated into dinner tonight and I think there’s still a bit left for a half-lunch tomorrow. 

But wait. I made pancakes for Sunday breakfast, and because when they were mostly cooked, E came in and scrunched her face and told me she did NOT want pancakes, she wants an eggy – no, TWO eggies – she scored eggs for breakfast and not all the pancakes were eaten so C and I had morning tea pancakes today. They were my favourite recipe (using the Greek yoghurt waffle recipe here), and cooked in the love heart fry pan. A bit of a whim purchase, that pan, but my goodness me it saves mealtimes. S helped me make these, and C had a go at turning them which is rather tricky, I must say, but she did wonderfully. And because there are four hearts and four of us (Glenn had an early, early start), I could cater to all requests prior to the pancake-refusal-in-favour-of-eggs. Plain. Chocolate chip. Blueberry. Blueberry AND chocolate chip. And E ate some after she had demolished her eggs, too, actually. 

To be fair, this week and next are school holidays. We have Anzac biscuits in the jar from last weekend. Still some Everything Balls (I still don’t know what to call them), which are also stopping me delving into chocolate stores in the evening. I mean, not an actual store full of chocolate, like a chocolate shop, or a cellar of chocolate, but … mmm. Wait. Chocolate supply. That’s a better word. We still have carrot oatmeal slice. We still have carrot sultana muffins in the freezer. We still have cottage cheese brownies in the freezer. Our freezer could do with being slightly less full. Ooh, and pizza muffins in there too. So you see, for all my not at all a kitchen superstar thoughts, it was enough. I have to remember that. Enough. 

What We Read This Week (01/06/2025)

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This week was a bit of magic. 

S’s choice to look at in her cot before sleep was (drumroll)… the dictionary. Yup. My First Dictionary that we gave to C for Christmas sits on the bookshelf next to S’s cot. One night S was clearly done with Pig Out (although, this was wasn’t Monday night so let’s add that one to the list again) and she pulled off the shelves and into her cot a bunch of C’s chapter books. They were all leafed through with the attitude of someone who has actually read these all before and they’re just looking for a favourite part or something, then she pulled down the dictionary. She was set. It has more pictures than a grownup dictionary, of course, but also no narrative contained within those pictures. Maybe she liked feeling like a big girl. Maybe seeing lots of words was soothing for her. Maybe the different feel of the pages and the sound they made when she turned them gave her a bit of a sensory hit. Whatever it was, that was her preferred nighttime reading. 

E’s top choice for the week was The Magic Beach by Alison Lester. Given to C a few years ago, it’s never made it to the favourite-story-please-read-it-every-night-for-two-months stage. I love it, though, and am delighted that E chose it one evening. And totally quizzed me over one of the imagination pictures and where are the mum and dad are they the king and queen where are they are they down there what are they doing down there are they drowning? These questions, of course, are asked for this particular page every single time now.

I also got it into my head yesterday that my three girls who all love mermaids hadn’t read Three Little Mermaids for a while. As Glenn had been using AI and technology to make the girls into mermaids and then messaged me the videos of each of them turning into a mermaid, my morning had a large chunk of it taken up by me playing said videos to girls. I started to look for the book, which meant a teensy bit of reorganisation of the kids’ bookshelf in the living area, which meant other books were rediscovered and read as I was searching. S had a bit of time looking and flinging books in my pile. E had a couple of moments of “Here it is!” So I also read her Good Night, Sleep Tight by Mem Fox and Judy Horacek – which was one of those above favourite category books for a while, and for good reason, and yesterday I read the horse riding part multiple times for E and an insistent S – as well as (groan) Peppa Pig Meets the Queen. Yes. We have a Peppa Pig book. Yes. I admit (cringe) that I even bought it for the family. Yes. The books are just as annoying as the show. No. I “forgot” to read it to her again at bedtime.

Then Three Little Mermaids was found and read and gathered around and oohed and ahhhhed over and “wait mummy go back” and “which mermaid is me” declared. Three Little Mermaids is in that special category of book. There’s rhyme – not forced rhyme, but lovely rhyme – and there’s repetition. There’s adventure. There’s a little bit of sea creature education. There’s the chance for grownups in the book to get frustrated at misbehaving children. There are – maybe I should have led with this – beautiful illustrations, that happen to be by someone Glenn knows. Whenever I come across a Lisa Stewart illustrated book, it’s an instant Yes for buying it. This one, however, Lisa sent to our girls specially with a beautiful inscription for them.

Further to the magic has been C reading Disney Princess Stories to E at bedtime tonight. So much magic in Disney! And Disney stories don’t skimp. If you are asked to read a Disney story, you are in for a lot of words. Which is great. And if the listener is familiar with the movie version, then don’t even think about skipping a few pages. It. Won’t. Work. Thankfully, C was happy reading stories to E tonight so I could do things like … type this. 

C and I are about halfway through The Secret Garden now, and C is in the stage of getting so excited about what happens in the story, and what is suggested might be coming soon, that she will kick her legs or jump like a frog or an excited kitten. We’ve also had a look at pictures of some fancy estates in England to give her an idea of the sort of neat and ordered garden is in this setting. As she is telling me how she is imagining some of the characters, I will be holding off on showing her any Pride and Prejudice until we have finished the book. I don’t want to ruin any magic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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