reflection

Linguistic Quirks

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The main reason I started this blog was to document the now for our family. The big things like dropping naps and sleeping through and starting school, but also the little things, like the differences in how my children go to sleep or the way they like their food.

We are currently in a linguistic phase that I love. I know I should be doing gentle reminders of the way it should be, but honestly, my linguistic training taught me that that will come without me interfering anyway, probably. But the double past tense is here in E and I love it. And there are a few things that have disappeared that I knew would disappear but … small sob. I miss them.

Double past tense gems, that are probably really just gems for Glenn and me, but things like “gotted”. “I gotted some more popcorn but then I spilleded it”. “I slepted all night in my own bed”.  “I forgotted what I wanted to say”. “I wented downstairs without my shoes on and I gotted a prickle”.

Farewell to little turns of phrase that still are with me, like “by my own”. “I did it by my own” will likely remain with me for years to come. “The balloon has blown down” is one that actually will probably never leave us. When C started saying it as a toddler, my natural instinct was to correct, but what do you correct it to? She was perfectly correct. I have to really think about it to work out how to say “The balloon has shrunk” as what I would have said pre-C. “Another one more” has been like a little wisp of smoke that I can’t catch, but hearing “May you please give me another one more cookie”, for example, is a phrase that just melts my heart.

And there are little things that are just little things but make me smile every time. Like hearing E or S say – not putting it on, this is just how they say it – “Aww that is so adawable” – I mean, the way they say it is so adorable. Hearing E or S announce, “That is so hilarious”, or S declaring, “That’s wild”. When they think about it or are corrected, E and S will say “hotel” (or more accurately, hotail), but left to their own brains, it’s “fairytale”. “When we stayed at the white fairytale”. I have lots of “crickles”, which is what S says for freckles despite numerous attempts at correction. Which is fine for me, but when she says with a big smile to another dance mum, “You have crickles just like my mummy” and the dance mum thinks she means wrinkles and is not smiling quite so much anymore… quick explanation and she was back to smiling but oof.

When E started dancing towards the end of last year, she had ballet (or ballaig, as S calls it) then, according to class schedules, jazz and tap. Not for E. Jasmine tap. Which she totally adored, and even picked a jasmine flower to give to her teacher the next week. It took a few goes, but she (sigh) now does jazz and tap, very carefully, after ballet.

I didn’t notice it until daycare staff mentioned it in January, but they’re right – kids don’t use words they haven’t heard. So if a kid is saying multisyllabic words, it means they’re hearing them somewhere. Hopefully from parents and not so much from screens. The conversation with the staff then had me noticing all the times E will say something like, “It’s so soopendously hot”. It sure is, kid. It sure is.

S still comes in for cuggles. E still has huggles. All girls have BFF neckerlaces. Bracerlets are precious and definitely owned by their owner and returned to their owner if ever found in a random place. The last few days we haven’t needed sun scream because of the rain. S likes the ghosters at Halloween. I tell you all of this on Valentimes Day, when growmups did smoochy kisses and dinner was love heart pasta with parsley pesto and cherries and drizzled in olib oyal … or is it oller boil? So hard to distinguish. 

I know I have missed some. I know they will disappear, at least mostly. But my goodness me, I love these elements of language and childhood, so fleeting and precious.

When It Gets Real

/ annamurray / 2 Comments

Week 1 of school is a bit unreal. Everyone is getting used to everything. Activities haven’t started just yet. Kids are shellshocked as they adjust to this whole school thing. Parents are shellshocked as they adjust to this whole school thing. Teachers are smiling and hopeful and being calm beacons in the sea of new. 

Week 2 can hit hard. The shine has come off. Heads down. Meal prep queen on board. Routines. Canva printables for said routines. Pictures, gotta have pictures. Rules. Blowback on said rules. Here’s a snapshot of our mornings this week so when you feel like asking any family with school-aged kids how the adjustment to school is going, you can be prepared for, you know, likely answers.

Monday.

No screens before breakfast. I am the worst mother in the WORLD. C set up a garden for us with felt pieces I’ve cut out recently. I let them watch ABC Kids at breakfast. After breakfast, S decided to do colouring in instead of getting ready. C was busy reading on her bunk and definitely not getting ready for school.

E: What are we doing today?

Me: We’re dropping off S at daycare, then you get to go to big school—

E: aGAIN?!

Me: —and then after school, Auntie J picks you up and brings you home, then we’re taking C to Irish—

E: I HATE DAYS LIKE THIS

I had a big shout at my children who were so not cooperating with getting ready. On the way to school, I pointed out how it had been not such a nice morning and we had screens so this is why we don’t do screens at breakfast.

Tuesday.

No screens before breakfast. No not even a little bit. C told me she was going on strike. No talking to me and no listening to me. I was annoyingly unbothered. She broke the strike to explain that she would not be doing anything I asked her to. I said, that’s fine. I don’t have to order anything from the book catalogue you were so desperate for me to order. 

I think I won that round.

As everyone was actually eating breakfast well before 7, silly me relented and allowed two (2) episodes of Bluey that were my choice to avoid fights or watching for far too long so everyone gets a turn. It. Took. Forever. To. Get. Ready.

Then, bonus, E and C were both missing a school shoe. We had one (1) E shoe and one (1) C shoe. I was gobsmacked and furious and feeling like such a useless, hopeless mum. C wore her running shoes. E refused to wear her running shoes. I managed to get them on her feet, but she kept kicking me to get them off and after a while I just gave up. She walked to daycare in socks.

When at daycare, one of her last year preschool friends was dropping off his little brother. They are not doing so well being in different places during the day (heart melt!) so their mum has done little “hug” notes. Adorable! 

Other mum: How’s E settling in at school?

Me: Well… she walked here in socks because she refused to wear her shoes, if that gives you any idea of how we’re going.

Of course, E stepped in something squishy and smelly so relented in putting on her shoes but insisted on taking off the yucky sock. So she wore one sock and two shoes all day. My head is shaking just thinking about it. When I finally got home, I found one (1) E shoe and one (1) C shoe on S’s chair. Sabotage.

Wednesday.

No screens before breakfast. Again. Yes. I’m serious.

I had three very grumpy girls who were grumpy and bickering all morning. I had another big shout. It still really gets to me that even when we start the getting ready after breakfast phase at 7.10 we still may only be out the door at 8.05. 8.05 is too late. We haven’t actually been late to school yet but it is a near thing.

Halfway up the hill that the school is on – it’s a steep one and I find the Bluey trick of playing wind-up helps greatly – I heard a leaving the house kerfuffle and then a kid calling out “E! E! Hi, E! E’s IN MY CLASS! HI E DO YOU WANT TO RACE UP THE HILL” so his dad and I watched them running up a steep hill and now I know another boy and his dad.

Thursday.

No screens before breakfast. Again. Yes. I’m serious. Like, this is the rule now and how we do life and seeing as you seem to be having trouble understanding, you get a mummy daddy story from when we were young back in the dark ages of pre-internet last century. When my brothers and I were only allowed to watch 30 minutes of TV after school. One TV. One choice. Two older brothers made sure I grew up not getting to watch what I want and, bonus I realised later, also receiving the message that my choices are less valid than other people’s. I didn’t share that last tidbit, but the girls were horrified that I would have had to watch big boy shows or miss out entirely.

Everyone had shoes. I couldn’t find E’s hat. I had bought extras when I saw them in January, but this still really got to me. I did lots of deep breathing and told the girls why I was frustrated. Glenn found E’s hat exactly where it was meant to be. We made it to school only just on time.

Friday.

Fridays are always more relaxed because we don’t have to do the daycare drop-off as well. Of course, we are nearly always late on Fridays. This morning, S was awake early enough that I hadn’t left for my walk so she came with me. By the time we returned, C and E were awake and still needing reminding that we don’t do screens before school. They are starting to get the idea, though, and E and S asked for some colouring in and C started doing acro practice. More colouring happened after breakfast while I had some coffee and before I knew it, we were running late. I did a Mr Bean on E, getting her undies on her while she washed her hands, pulling on her skort while she brushed her teeth. 

For the first day all week, I was relaxed. No shouting. No deep breaths. A bit panicked at the end, but we were not late. 

Bonus, this afternoon was a big step up from last Friday afternoon. Last Friday afternoon, it was a struggle to get E out of the tree next to her classroom and go home. Last Friday afternoon, there were tired tantrums from E and other kids in her class. Last Friday afternoon, E kicked and bit and pinched and punched me all the way home. It was not a pleasant trip. This afternoon, girls shoved cheese buddies in their mouths and didn’t take too much persuading to come home instead of running through the sprinklers on the oval (win!). They were allowed oaty chocolate chip cookies once we were on the way home. I was not hurt once AT ALL. There were stories shared and laughs shared and kindness and happiness and cooperation and it was SO NICE.

The Thing About Summer Holidays

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Dear parents of before,

I get it now. I’m sorry.

That is all. Except my remorseful self needs to vent and explain.

When I was a kid, I was quiet. Like, really quiet. The sort of quiet that always gets “She’s really quiet” and “When will you come out of your shell” comments. Holidays for me meant as much staying in my room and reading as possible. I remember getting all enthusiastic about violin practice, and would sometimes set a goal of learning a particular work over the holidays. I didn’t fight much with my brothers because I wasn’t interacting with them. We would usually go away somewhere for a week or so, which meant I just had a different place to read a book. There would be a day of stationery shopping and then the delight of covering books without any bubbles in the contact. In short, I don’t remember there being much happening that my parents had to be involved with and it was all pretty quiet.

Fast forward to being an adult and hearing the moaning about school holidays. Moaning about school holidays which would come hot on the heels of moaning about school terms and busyness. I was one of those child-free adults who wondered, don’t you like your kids? Isn’t it nice to have them around more and not having to worry about lunches and drop-offs and friendship struggles and homework and assignments and teachers and events and sports? Why do you complain about all those things when they’re on and then complain about the absence of all those things when they’re not? 

Fast forward some more to the summer just before C started school, where we screamed at each other I think every day in January. Only near the very end did I realise she was nervous about school, even though she was saying she was really excited. Once she’d started school, her summer holidays had a bit more sister time, as work is mostly suspended for me so I reduced the daycare days for E and S. It was stressful having them all around more because of the fighting and the bickering and the constant need to make sure they are active enough so that they don’t fight so much and so that they will sleep. Hahahahaha.

Fast forward to this summer. Deep breaths. It’s been a challenge. Thankfully, one for which I was marginally more prepared and financially better able to cope. That is a factor not at all to be underestimated. Money can’t buy you love, but it can buy craft supplies, and that’s priceless. This has been a summer that has brought me inspiration in the form of a desire to write a handbook for summer. Yes, mostly so that I can do better next time and also, crucially, have more skills for the following summer when S will be about to start school.

There were two main elements for this summer for us. One was that I felt I actually had to get ready for school. The other was all the up-in-the-air-ness and not-usual-ness and change of the situation of having E finishing daycare and starting school.

Getting ready for school didn’t mean just going stationery shopping and covering books. In fact, the school made that rather easy by having a supply levy for prep-2 and by sending a booklist for year 3 for us to do online ordering and then it was delivered and I had to stick name stickers (ordered last year) on and that was it. Other things that weren’t so obvious but necessary were things like actually delivering the stationery supplies to the school last week. Buying proper school shoes. Wearing in said school shoes. Practising wearing the uniform and hat. Haircuts. Getting a lower railing for the wardrobe so that uniforms can hang there and be accessible by girls. Reminding them of drop-off and pickup routines. Packing lunches – I mean, starting weeks ago – for lunchbox practice and also what on earth will E eat at school?! Baking. Trying new products to see if they work or don’t work for lunchboxes. Paying all the dancing fees. Practising morning routines and hairstyles. Naming all E’s things and all C’s new things.

Although a lot more involved than what I remembered from being a kid, that bit was easy. It had to be done. It was done. Yes, I was sticking name labels on lunch containers after 10pm Monday, but it was all done. My To Do List was nicely filled with green ticks.

Then there was the other side. The other side that had me going ohhhhh I get it now. The side that is dealing with two personalities. It’s not so much the two people thing, but two conflicting personalities. Needs quiet. Likes loud. Can sit on her bunk and imagine things for hours on end. Will lie on her bunk and delight in annoying her sister by pushing her toes up against the upper mattress. The side that is dealing with the emotions of however many children are at home and everything that is in the moment and therefore crucially important as well as everything that is to come and all the worries and fears and insecurities that brings. The side that feels the guilt for letting girls be on screens for hours on end so that I can do some work and earn some money. 

The side that, as the home parent, means no break not at all no none. This mental image of lazy summer days just is not true for the parent at home with the kids, the one doing all the upfront parenting. This might be possible in a few years but it decidedly is not the case just yet. And this miss, that expectation of relaxation and the possibility of doing other things that is then not realised, is so incredibly frustrating. Like watching the Relaxation Train go by. I really desperately want to be on it, and yet… there it goes, chugging away while I cradle a child on my lap to calm her after a sister fight or to talk through the what-ifs of school or as I work on what do I actually need to do this year in order for our family to function and try to declutter which also I can’t do because even though I want this immensely and our family needs this immensely I can’t seem to get to do it because children either play with what I’m trying to sort through or they kick off with yet another fight.

The side that is so draining that I am a blob at the end of each day, the “end” of each day really meaning when all three girls are all finally asleep, so sometimes 8.30, sometimes 10.30. So draining that I can’t muster energy to contact the people I love, the grownups and the support network who reach out even when they get nothing back. So draining that I can’t organise playdates or catchups or anything that will probably actually help the whole situation. So draining that the end of the day becomes precious, as I am determined to do something for me every evening, even if that means staying up past 11 cutting out bits of felt or material while watching snippets of a show that doesn’t require concentration on a plot line, sacrificing sleep for some insistence that I am still me and still deserve something for me.

I get it now, parents. I get it.

Corporal Musings

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You know how babies have a presence to them? Even though their body is small, they have a weight to them that is just heavy and comforting and endearing and so, so precious. I mean, they ARE supremely precious, and because we are often holding them, there is a presence that carries through the memory, a memory of a small being that is not heavy but heavy. And this baby body carries through toddlerhood and then at some point you notice that your little baby is much more of a child now, with knees sticking out and not such chubby fingers and a chin and jawline that are that of a child.

But when does this change take place? It slips over so silently, so sneakily, so unassumingly. One day you can pick up a child and carry her to the bathroom, and the next thing you know, picking up this same child is a feat of engineering as you try to hold her upper body as well as some part of her legs and then manoeuvre her down the hallway without knocking her head off on the wall or cracking a knee on the corner.

I am here to let you know that it is sometime between age nearly-three-and-a-half and nearly five. How do I know this? We have spent a good proportion of our summer at parks and playgrounds. My arms are far more toned because I have pushed children on swings for much of the time we have spent at the park. And helping a child onto a swing or up a climbing wall, you notice things. E, at nearly five, is now long and gangly and still a little bit of a little girl but also so very much a big girl. S still has this weight to her, this strong but chubby body that still recalls contact naps and sofa cuddles and being lifted into places. She is still a little girl, barrelling towards preschool yet still … not.

That said, as I mused on this, I recalled C at that age. Well, before that age. A really standout (in the sense of being a day that I recall the day and the date and the weather) time for us was just after E was born and I had the accident with her and we ended up in the world of the Children’s Hospital for a few days which felt like months, but was also, thankfully, not the actual real life months that the other people in the ward were living through. C was not even a month past her third birthday, and she was definitely not in the holding-onto-toddler-body zone. For her, I would say she still had that at just over two and a half, and excuse me while I check photos from that Christmas when she was two and three quarters and … yes. Just. Definitely in the looking like a grown up girl zone, but still with the chin and yes. I spotted elbow dimples. 

It goes so fast. It’s still hard to believe that E is still four. Just four. When she turns five in less than a month, that’s still only five. Hardly anything. It feels like S has lived an enormous amount already at not even three and a half. C is such a grownup girl at not even eight. If you told me she was eleven, I would believe that. Of course, I will most likely be musing on how grownup they feel in a year, and five years, and in ten years I will be lamenting the little girls they are now as they will really be on the cusp of adulthood. It really is a “big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey-wimey stuff”, as Doctor Who said. For now, I am leaning into the cuddles and the swing-pushing and the lifting and the strong chubby bodies. And trying not to lose my cool with all the demands and tantrums and shouting at me for things that they want that I cannot give them. Like tights that are in the winter clothing tub, never mind that it’s 35 degrees and ridiculously humid. Or going to the art gallery NOW when it is serving dinner time. It won’t be like this for long.

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.