reflection

She’s Only One

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

Is it possible? Surely not. E turns two in less than two weeks. This small person, who takes up so much space in our lives and our hearts, who is showing so much development and growth on new levels every day, who is so capable of so so much – she’s only one.

This small person, who loves drawing and painting but not so much on paper, who will maybe draw a little bit on a scrap of paper before scrunching it up and, preferably, dipping it in any nearby spilled water before sliding it to the floor then dropping all the pencils to the floor while saying ‘uh-oh’ as she watches each one hit the floor. Who will tell me each colour as she chooses it, or asks for it, or hands me the pot or the tube saying ‘blue, lid, o? Peeeeese’ with fists up and out and elbows in. Who consistently goes straight to mixing blue and red then tells me, when I ask, that her favourite colour is pur-pur. 

This small person, who is turning babble and nonsense syllables into understandable sentences. Who has evolved from the very sincere, very dramatic, totally unintelligible streams of sound. Who will now say ‘nigh nigh, wub youuuuu’ or ‘she you layer, love you’ and totally and utterly melt my heart. Who will go to the step ladder and hold its side and say, with a Please Face to rival Bluey, ‘mih?’ (mix), hoping that I will consent to some baking. Who will be dancing at the kitchen entrance, be asked to take C’s water bottle to her, have it handed to her from the freezer, and toddle – that particular toddler movement that is faster than a walk but not quite a run – look down at the bottle in her hands and exclaim ‘ooh, fweezy col!’ Who will spend a good 10 minutes of a post-school-drop-off walk singing out ‘daddyyyyy…. Where are youuuu?’ Or tell me, pointing at daddy’s sofa, ‘daddy were’ (daddy work). Or go to where she thinks I am, exclaim ‘huh!’ when I’m not there and then call ‘mummy…. Where ARE you???’

This small person, who will see that daddy has snacks in the kitchen and she will run away down the hallway to the bedroom while saying, almost to herself, ‘co’ (cot’), coming back to a slightly mystified daddy to put on that Please Face again for some chippies please as she has just put her dummy in the cot, where it belongs. A pant of excitement, ‘dadyou’ (thank you), and toddling off with her cracker or chip or blueberry to sit on one of the child-sized chairs to eat her prize. Who will hand you her finished yoghurt pouch saying ‘hinny’ (finished’) or just go to the kitchen and put it in the bin herself. Who will amaze her daycare teachers by clearing her plate and cup after eating. Who will ask, repeatedly, day after day after day, for ‘ah, ah, oooh?’ Which is, of course, an ice cube? And she will often make sure she has her bowl (‘bo’) for us to fill with ice cubes.

This small person, who will climb onto our bed, or remove a lid, or reach something we thought was out of reach, and exclaim ‘I did it!’ Who will be in the bath and lean out and point to toys and when I get it wrong will say ‘no-no’ and keep pointing to what she wants without getting frustrated until I get it right and she nods excitedly and takes it saying thank you. Who will be holding something and say ‘ready, deddy, gooooo’ and you just have to be aware that she is about to throw and she can really throw and although she often throws down the hallway she sometimes just throws a plastic play picnic plate across the living room to clock you on the nose. 

This small person, who loves loves loves singing and dancing. Who will hear the start of the Encanto! soundtrack and seize up in excitement, shake her hands in front, and sing and dance along to the music. Who will scream GOOOOOOOOOOO!! like a banshee at the same point, every time, in Let It Go. Who will sing, in tune, the last word or two in most of the songs from a handful of Disney movies. Who will sing the last word or two or three of every phrase in her favourite tv show tunes.

This small person, who knows her way around an iPad. Who will say, with that killer Please Face, Bluey? to ask if she can watch shows. Who will ask to get out of the cot when it is still too early for anything, give me a cuddle, ask to get down, pick up the iPad from the chair, try to pull my charging cord from my phone but allow me to do that so I can plug it in to the iPad then unlock it and launch ABC Kids. Who is only allowed to use an iPad for ABC Kids and can pause an episode and press the X to exit that episode and press the arrow to go back to a different selection of shows. Who apparently has favourite episodes of certain shows, and regularly picks (saying the correct name) ‘Dark’ for Bing, ‘Rain’ for Bluey, ‘The Dentist’ for Peppa Pig. Who is actually only allowed to use it for ABC Kids but has been known to leave that app and launch all sorts of other apps including, her favourite, the Music app when she sees the Bluey icon up there but will get upset because she actually really wants to keep watching Bluey and not just listen to the music. Who has been known to get the split screen happening. Who will quite confidently get onto the YouTube app and start scrolling through Cocomelon and Wiggles and Laurie Berkner and Super Simple Songs and Frozen and Frozen II and Moana and Encanto! 

This small person, who mostly likes to just wear a nappy because the weather is hot, but can take off that nappy and say ‘toi, lee?’ and then goes through all the steps of going to the toilet before running away from any fresh nappy, squeak-laughing with mischief all the way. Who can half get her own clothes off and on. Who gets herself in and out of the bath with ease, whether or not it’s what she actually wants. (I know. Toddlers.) Who replies with utter mischief and cheekiness. Hm? Whaaaat?! Lear-lee! (Really!)

This small person. She’s only one. 

In a Rare Spell of Calm

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How is it … July… already?

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

I started this blog post in May. May, which already feels forever ago. I’ve been thinking to myself, I need to write a blog post… but first I just need to… and so now it is no longer May, not even June, but July. It’s been a big year. Here’s a quick update.

February and March saw a lot of cake. 3 of our family’s birthdays happen within 5 weeks and there was cake for those actual days and cake for parties and cake for daycare as well as cake for St Patrick’s Day and it was just so much cake. Glenn and I are not big cake eaters but I love decorating them. Actually, neither of our girls is a big cake eater either really but they are very keen helpers.

In order:

E’s birthday party (a Very Hungry Caterpillar cake)

E’s daycare birthday (cake pops)

E’s actual birthday evening at home

Glenn’s birthday

St Patrick’s Day

C’s daycare birthday cupcakes (Baby Yoda)

C’s actual birthday evening at home

C’s birthday party (Frozen themed – this one didn’t really turn out as planned but it still garnered oohs and ahhs from her friends).

Much to C’s disappointment, we have to wait until August – which seems further away than Christmas to her – for my birthday.

Which brings me to the next piece of news: we are expecting another baby girl in August! C especially is over the moon. Lately she has started singing a goodnight song to my tummy, followed by a goodnight kiss, then asking me if she’s settled down to sleep yet? Adorable. Thoughts on this pregnancy will be getting their own post soon.

And the last piece of news, which was very exciting and took up a LOT of my brain and time: my brother got married at the end of June. A wonderful, wonderful day, and we are so happy for the newlyweds. In a way, nothing much has changed though – his wife has been Auntie Alys to my girls for more than a year, and very, VERY much loved and adored by all of us. What took up so much of my time was C being a flower girl, and I ended up making the dress for her. This required a practice dress for fit and style options, then there were daycare photos sprung on us so a quick dress made for E to coordinate, then the actual dress for C, plus stockings and shoes and hair, then making a dress for myself. That one was thankfully very quick – I cut the pieces at lunchtime the day before and sewed it up that night. 

I had planned on posting this earlier (much, much earlier), but in my search for photos this evening I MAY have come across photos of when the girls were born and my goodness me. I have turned into a blubbering mess. So you see here some photos of some cakes from this year, and a promise of more of the stuff of our life to come soon. Promise.

One Year Ago

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

[Trigger Warning: infant trauma]

I haven’t been able to write for a while. The stuff of our life was just too much for a bit. I’m hoping to get back into it, but I couldn’t let today pass without writing something.

One year ago, I had an accident with E. She was 2 months old, just shy of 9 weeks. I was out walking with her in a carrier, down a street in which I used to live, and tripped. I fell on her, breaking her femur.

When it happened I was sure I must have damaged her grossly and irreparably, that she would have damaged organs and broken ribs and internal bleeding. And because she was so little, it was so hard at the hospital to work out the extent of the damage. No way to know what was sore, where to check first. But the staff – what felt like a huge cohort of staff but was actually probably more than usual but not the dozens my emotional memory remembers – the staff were wonderful. Calm and thorough and reassuring. In our emergency bed area, E was checked over thoroughly and I was asked questions and they narrowed it down to a broken leg. Which still leaves me gobsmacked, that what felt like the whole of me including excess pregnancy weight fell on a tiny baby and all that happened was a broken leg. A very fixable injury. I stayed with her in the hospital from the Monday until the Thursday morning when she underwent non-invasive surgery to have a double leg hip spica cast put on. It stayed on for just under 4 weeks and now we just have checkups every 6 months. That’s it.

And, as we moved through the horror and fog and new reality of those few days, we came to realise that although it was horrible that it had happened to such a tiny and helpless baby, it was much better for it to have happened to her at that stage of development instead of later. She was still in the sleepy newborn stage so I wasn’t battling naps or trying to tire her out so she would sleep. She hadn’t started walking or crawling or even rolling so there was nothing to try to control there. She was still so little that hoiking her around with the cast on wasn’t such an effort.

So, there was much that turned out for the best. The best, considering the initial moment that began the whole thing and was an accident and unavoidable but still something we would rather not have had to go through.

But, my goodness. So much in my head of the memories of that time and the horror and the panic and the pain and the relief. 

The relief that I had delayed her 6 week checkup due to a lockdown and she’d had it at 8 weeks instead, so she was still up-to-date with her vaccinations but we also had a recent weight for her.

The relief and gratitude we felt that, unlike C as a baby, E took a dummy and she took formula in a bottle and she didn’t need to be held or fed or rocked to sleep and she was much more of an on-schedule baby.

The relief and gratitude we felt for the kindness of the staff. Volunteers like the one who came around calmly with a Medicare form and only asked for Glenn’s name and date of birth and then took care of all the rest. Or the daily parade of volunteers offering to be with E if I needed a break when the last thing I wanted to do was leave her but they were so kind nonetheless. The nurse who took care of C in the emergency department, making sure she was fed and entertained and cared for. The succession of emergency department staff asking if I was ok and should I have an X-ray myself, actually? The different women who had to ask me on subsequent days how I was, or what happened, seeing my uncontrollable tears and put an arm around me and helped me feel like a person who had had a terrible accident and not just an auxiliary person attached to a baby in traction. The night nurses who didn’t wake me when E needed a feed but fed her themselves from the stash of expressed breastmilk or formula.

The confusion – which persists – as to how I fell on my right side but somehow still managed to break E’s right leg. The horror and panic and relief, all mixed in and simultaneous and hasn’t gone away yet, when the triage nurse asked about E’s head, had I protected it, held it as I fell, landed on it or did it hit the ground, what sort of surface was it that we landed on.

The physical pain, like the sting of hand sanitiser being my first indicator that I too had fallen, or, hours later, finding the mud all down my side where I’d taken the fall, or growing numb in my forearm as I held E still for nearly 4 hours while everything was sorted out like finding traction weights small enough.

The panic, like wondering what number to call to make a hospital appointment in an emergency. Or forgetting E’s date of birth or middle names.

The horror of putting a newborn in such pain. A shaky cup of tea that I nearly spilled all over myself as Glenn took C to the Starlight Room and the staff applied a nerve block to E and I was finally alone with myself for the first time all day and the enormity of what had happened kicked in: I went for a walk and nearly killed my newborn.

And then, how to tell people? ‘Nothing to worry about’… no. ‘Everyone’s ok’… no. Not really. ‘Please don’t worry, but’… Everything I tried was hard and wrong.

The saddest memory I have though is not being able to hold her. She was already a snuggly baby, and the natural instinct when a child is hurt is to hold them, but there was none of that. At most, we could hold her hand, but the traction and then the cast made anything else difficult. And I longed to hold her close to me, feel that heavy weight of a sleeping newborn and heal us both.

We both healed, of course. I had marks on my hands for a time where the scabs had been but I can no longer see them. Because E was a baby, all her body was doing was growing and building so she was cast-free within a month and then doing all the normal baby things. The last few months she has started climbing everything she can, and has started walking in the last few weeks. It’s amazing what can happen in a year.

Remember the Positive

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

This week has been tough. And I mean, really, really, really, tough. But when I was thinking about how tough it has been, a little voice popped into my head with ‘oh but there was also -‘ so I want to remember those things too, preferably more than the other, less positive things.

Out with the tough things. I always prefer bad news first. (Although, there wasn’t really any bad news.)

We are back to screeching baby. Not AS much in the wee small hours but that is largely because I made her a quiet activity box. It took all of my Tuesday evening. And she does play with it, just mostly by picking it up and looking up into it and flapping the flaps. (I know she will work it out a bit more over time so Second Time Mum me isn’t too disheartened.)

Screeching baby is also occurring frequently at food times. Right into my ears. She is very very loud. I am not ok. It is easier if I give her food to feed herself but she is also a fan of dropping something just for fun and then watching where it falls and I’m just not that much a fan of cleaning.

C has been continuing to need me to be with her while she falls asleep. I am ok with this – and I know I will miss it when she tells me she doesn’t need me anymore – but only up to a point. That point is about 8pm. Wednesday she didn’t fall asleep until 9pm, Thursday somewhere around 9:15. Tonight, after I was in my starting-to-get-frustrated zone especially knowing she was so down on her sleep, I resorted to patting her bottom like I did when she was a baby and toddler while singing the rainbow chameleon song. Asleep 8:15, but I was so spent it felt like 9:15 at least.

Of course, when one or both girls requires my attention for hours at night, it cuts into my Me Time. And I need my Me Time. Not just to check social media or to watch a show, but to do my craft or crochet or write. I really feel it when I don’t get to be Anna at all and have to be Mummy until exhausted and spent.

However, there were some definite delights this week.

This morning, E crawled (and she is speedy) from the play zone at one end of our place, past the books and the sofa shortcut and blocks table and tempting cords and kitchen, all the way down the hallway and into C’s room and onto her bed to wake her up. Thankfully C was happy to see her.

Riding on daddy’s shoulders has become E’s new favourite thing to do. And when up there she often does little two-tone sing-song sighs that I remember C doing as well. A sign of contentment that makes my heart happy.

Wednesday was the Australia Day public holiday. Although we’re not happy with our national day being this date, we took it as an opportunity to educate our girls in some of our culture. We did wattle paintings. We did a southern cross painting. Breakfast was like a camping big breakfast: sausage, grilled mushrooms with cheese, egg on a redback. C had her first fairy bread. We had lamingtons with jam and cream. We had sausage rolls with coleslaw and sweet potato fries for dinner. 

C has been wanting the lullaby from Frozen 2 in the evenings so guess what I’ve been learning… but so has she. And it turns out she has a great memory for melody and lyrics.

The girls had their first proper bath together. Total chaos with splashing and laughter on repeat. It was only marred by E getting her scream on because she was obviously very tired and needing to be in bed but also loving splashing in a bath with C. 

After teething for months (it felt) with one bottom tooth popping up unexpectedly early on and four top teeth playing peekaboo, all four top teeth are through. Phew.

Perhaps the highlight of my week was E starting to clap properly. C started this at 7 months and although I think I’ve been fairly good in not comparing them, this was starting to worry me. E would put her hands together but then move them up and down, or take them apart and hit the table. Until yesterday, when real and proper clapping started. I am SO relieved. And E is obviously pretty happy with herself too.

The last exciting thing is we are starting to plan E’s first birthday party. I love planning parties and working out cake and decorations and snacks and the theme and invitations. Plus, a first birthday is such an achievement. It feels especially so with E.

The best game we have been playing this week has been what I think of as Construction/Destruction. C loves to build amazing towers with blocks. E is in the pull everything apart stage. So we race. C and I try to build up as fast as we can and E pulls the blocks off and then apart. It is crazy and chaotic but loads of fun.

So here’s to a quieter weekend with easier sleep but still some fun chaos. Please.

Sisters

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

Having a second child is such a gamble. Will they get on? Will they fight? Will they support each other? Will they play together nicely? 

From the moment we told C she was going to be a big sister, I haven’t had to worry too much. Her reaction was along the lines of ‘yeah, I knew this was going to happen’ and pretending to play (beautifully) with her imaginary little sister for the next few months until her actual real life little sister came home from the hospital. And that was next level beautiful.

One of my most treasured memories of that first morning at home is having the bassinet next to the dining table, E probably sleeping inside it, C sitting on her chair ‘reading’ Goldilocks to her, very quietly, while the adults all flurried around them. 

Yes, there are times – some days many more than others – when I worry, really worry, about how they are getting on and if we’ll be having an accident or an injured baby or hair pulling or head kicks or something swallowed. 

But then there are other times, and I delight in them and their sisterhood.

Like when C asks if she can please feed E. And does, often far more successfully than I do. She makes sure to alternate food with water. She reciprocates raspberries when E gets happy and starts blowing them. C picks up the dropped spoons and cups and toys, over and over. E has started to do things to make C laugh, like dribbling out water instead of swallowing it and then chuckling.

Or when C sings Twinkle, or Baa Baa Black Sheep, or Wheels on the Bus. And E has started singing back to her or us which is making our musician souls so happy.

Or when I wake up in the morning to giggles and squeak laughs, finding C playing while E is still in the cot. Peekaboo is the best, and passing a squishy mango around, or hanging a sparkly monkey by its tail on the cot rails.

Or when C does a fake sneeze and E starts belly laughing. Repeat for 10+ minutes. (This has been the funniest thing all year for us. It was a new laugh for E, full-bodied and uncontrolled and finding these fake sneezes the funniest thing ever in her life so far.)

And there are other, smaller things. C saying that, actually, E is her best friend. E perking up when she hears C coming up the stairs. C telling me she is loving, really loving, having E doing full days at daycare now. E looking adoringly at C as she sucks down a feed. C getting excited to have a bath with E. E throwing each bath toy in the bath to C and both of them giggling as the fun of bubbles is discovered.

I know there are likely tough teenage years ahead. And it’s not always easy now, especially as E is still fascinated by C’s hair and each is likely to kick the other in the head accidentally. But there is so much in the way they are together that fills me with such joy and delight. I love the way they are being sisters to each other.

Parenting in a Pandemic

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

It has been a little niggle. Like a worry that you worry but don’t really have to do anything about but you know it is there, worrying. Sometimes it flares up, when it all gets closer to home. The same state, the same city, the same suburbs, the same shops. 

But with an attitude of ‘we can fix this, let’s all be sensible’, we have been part of a cohort of people who adhere to our short, sharp lockdowns. Stay home. Physically distance. Wear a mask. Sanitise hands. Numbers reduce, restrictions ease, the worry calms.

Like many global things that Australians watch but don’t experience, we have seen the news from across the world. Italy. Iran. Spain. The USA. India. We have been horrified, amazed at the spread of this disease that could so often be prevented. Prevention that can be easy to achieve in first world countries but is so much harder in poorer areas. Prevention that can so easily occur if people work together, thinking of others and listening to experts.

I have thought time and time again, thank goodness we don’t live there. Usually, thank goodness we don’t live in the USA, where I see accounts on Twitter of masks not being mandatory, children having to go back to school in person despite soaring case numbers, people not isolating and not vaccinating and not being able to take time off work and not being able to work from home.

Yet with all that we could have learned over the last two years, we are here. The worrying niggle is much more present, less of a niggle and more of a prominent worry. A worry that has me wondering if we’re doing the right thing, sending two girls too young to be vaccinated off to daycare. Worrying that a supermarket trip will come home with disease. Worrying that a supermarket trip won’t provide enough food due to the food shortages due to truck drivers being off work due to illness. Worrying that we might have a small accident that might require a trip to a hospital that can’t take us because they are suddenly full. Worrying that any sneeze or cough is not just a sneeze or cough but a sign of COVID. Worrying that if I accept offers of help from older people we might unwittingly give them COVID and the repercussions for them would be far greater than for others. Worrying that we’d have a notification from daycare about a case there.

Monday that last worry was realised. A case. A child in C’s class, there on one of the same days she is. Then email after email notifying us of further cases. The worry about each case. Will it be mild? Will they be ok? When will we see them again? What about their household? The worry about the new government policies. Childcare centres are no longer considered close contact but does anyone understand what babies and toddlers and preschoolers are like? Physical distancing is impossible. And if they’re told they can still attend, most parents will still send their kids because they don’t have a choice.

Thankfully, the staff were instructed to test and isolate regardless of government regulations.  Thankfully, we have the capacity to keep the girls home this week. Thankfully, we are free from symptoms so don’t need to test. Or worry quite so much.

But there is still that worry. That worry that has me in sudden tears as I try to settle E for sleep. That worry that has me asking for extra cuddles from C. That worry that is supremely relieved that Glenn no longer works in retail. That worry that has me checking my phone frequently to see if my parents’ recent tests were negative. And if they’re positive, what then? Will they make it? Will I have to say goodbye? Explain to the girls what is happening? Have them say goodbye? All the accounts of what happens at the end for COVID patients, how could I bear it happening to someone I love?

I wonder, then, how parents have coped in areas that have been hit harder than us. How do you continue with relentless worry? For days, weeks, months, years? Knowing that you are doing all that you can to stop this but not everyone is and still, still it can creep in and then your baby or your elderly parents or your immunocompromised partner is at such high risk? How do you continue keeping everyone safe, knowing that it might not be enough? 

Worry is exhausting.

Goodnight with Daddy

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

How goodnight has changed over the years. A Facebook memory recently showed me what it was, when C was about 15 months. Our music class had shown us that songs are a useful transition tool, so ‘teddy bear, teddy bear’ was our ‘we are going to bed now and bed is where you sleep’ song. C does the actions just after the lines in the song, except at the end when, just before the last line, she takes off down the hallway with a cackling mischievous laugh.

Before I had children, I imagined bedtime to be a hopefully calm affair of dinner together and baths (together for young children) and bedtime stories and teeth cleaning and into bed and, magic, asleep. Laughable, I know, and also not really based on my own experience growing up with 3 brothers, but there you go. I had lofty ideas.

The reality right now is quite different. Coordinating dinners and baths and stories is quite a task, one that often leaves me wondering just how on earth do parents of 3 or more children manage it? Especially if one parent works late? And this is constantly changing according to how well E’s lunch nap has gone (and how hot it is and if she is teething like she is now).

But, a goodnight with daddy is holding fast and it is something that I absolutely love and treasure and will be so sad when they don’t happen anymore. 

Goodnight with daddy has influenced how C says goodnight to E and, every time, it melts my heart. Sometimes when I ask her to say goodnight all E gets is a distracted ‘goodnight E…’ but usually C sings, just like daddy does. And it’s usually the tune of the Brahms lullaby, just like daddy does. And it’s usually different words, all relating to sleep, just like daddy does. And it often has one line at the end that just keeps going and going with all the instructions for a good sleep and the melody turns into a monotone and then, when you think it’s over, there’s a bonus phrase… And then there’s a kiss and cuddle that is growing to be more successful as E learns to put her arms around C instead of just pulling her hair, and not to kick her legs with overwhelming excitement, and sometimes even to hold her round cheek close enough and long enough for C to give her a little kiss.

Goodnight with daddy for E is the Brahms lullaby, with words approximately ‘go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep little baby, go to sleep now, go to sleep, and dream about green sheep’ and further words regarding sleeping and dreaming and catching the green sheep. (Yes, we love the Mem Fox book.) She is held up high and she often squeak-laughs and always has a smile splitting her face with delight 

Goodnight with daddy for C is ‘rockabye baby’ so is often referred to as ‘time for a rockabye with daddy’. Glenn will pick her up and cradle her – all 105cm – and she puts her arms around his neck as he sings. His variations: ‘when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall – NO!’ And he holds her tight. ‘And down will come baby’ – and then all sorts of different things come in as well, influenced by what she’s been playing with or watching or eating or wearing that day, or looking forward to for the next day. ‘Down will come baby, spaghetti, sauce, Baby Yoda, scooter, baby and all’. He gives her a goodnight kiss, she wraps her hand around his neck and gives him a big smacker of a goodnight kiss, then asks to be chased down the hallway to her bedroom. 

I know this won’t last, and as tough as all this coordination is and night after night when it feels like we won’t ever have two children asleep at the same time and the frustration when one of them needs me to be with them for an hour or more, I know I will miss it. Thank goodness for that video on Facebook, reminding me just how funny and cheeky C was and is, helping me look back on that time with a smile instead of just remembering the frustration of having a child who never, it felt, slept.

The Stuff of Our 2021

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

This year has had it all. Some was expected, some not. And some aspects (yes, I’m talking about the pandemic here) that we hoped would be over just kept coming back in different forms.

Here is our 2021 in numbers, result compared to expectation.

Most exciting: new baby (1/1). The best. 

Most horrible: accident with new baby. Never expected. One horrible accident, and one that turned out to be not so bad but was still nerve-wracking when it happened. (2/0). 

Concerts: (3/? Thanks to COVID we never knew what to expect). 3, that is, that I was brave enough to attend with the girls (Glenn has performed more than that). Each has been a learning experience and I feel tonight’s NYE Pops concert I did the best. Naps, food, sleep, all worked out fairly well. Anxiety level for me was very very high but I’m so glad we went. And both girls behaved beautifully.

New appliances: ooh there were so many. It was really the year of the new. We knew we would be buying a new mattress – the old one had deep troughs on either side from years of use (and, let’s face it, pregnancy). We were not expecting to replace the toaster, kettle, microwave, vacuum cleaner battery, printer, laptop, or fridge. (So, numbers… how many is that, 8? 8/1.) It has been an expensive year. I would like it to stop now. 

Sickness: there has been some, of course – hello daycare. There was the Gastro Experience of September. There has been the No It’s Not Covid Cough of December. There have been other sniffles that have gone away after a week of resting at home, just like doctors and mothers say they will. Amazing.

And then there are the things of life that cannot be numbered. The joy in seeing each girl grow to be more themselves every day. The frustration of adult-young child communication. The immense delight seeing the love between our girls, and between all of us. The worry – oh the worry. Worries. When C is ‘just a bit nervous’ going to daycare. When E doesn’t reach a milestone as early as C did. When there’s a lockdown due to a cluster of Covid cases in our area. When I can’t give either girl the attention she needs. When C doesn’t pick up small objects or sharp objects and doesn’t understand the danger they pose to E. 

This year has certainly held surprises. Some delightful, some not. Some scary, some not. I feel we’ve handled it the best we could and have definitely grown through all these experiences. Like everyone, I am hoping for more of the good stuff next year, and less of the not-so-nice surprises. Please and thank you.

Christmas 2021: Hope vs Kids

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

Now that it is the fifth day of Christmas… I finally have a moment to write about the Christmas that was Christmas 2021. 

There is always such hope surrounding Christmas. Hope for good things in the world, for blessings for those we love, for peace and joy and love to prevail. Hope for the things that we care about, that make our Christmases what we want them to be, to be able to happen. The food, the decorations, the excitement, the surprises.

This Christmas I was hoping to do so much for Glenn and the girls, and for my parents and Glenn’s dad and his family in Ireland. I had hopes for Christmas crafts, decorations throughout our home, a clean and tidy and organised place, Christmas baking. I planned to crochet a rug for E. Sew her a stuffed toy. Sew a stuffed toy for C. Make ornaments from clay and paper. Make thoughtful presents for C’s daycare teachers.

Buuuuut kids. 2022 Me needs to remember a few things. Learn from the experience of 2021 Me.

Just because you have a 3-year-old who LOVES craft and LOVES Christmas, doesn’t mean she will ‘be in the zone for that’ when you have opportunity to do things. Your visions of Pinterest-worthy garlands and wreaths and teacher gifts and decorations may well remain visions. The paddle-pop stick with cotton wool balls and pipe cleaners and googly eyes that you made into a snowman might, however, become a treasured toy. Go figure.

Just because you suddenly have both girls in daycare for a couple of days a week in the lead-up to Christmas – well, remember the whole daycare immunity thing? Surely it’s a law of physics or biology or something that kids in daycare will be sick, too sick to go anywhere at all, at some point in December. At the most inconvenient time. And, probably, share it around so you end up feeling atrocious yourself. Too exhausted for anything, just barely making it through the days and hoping you have a skerrick of energy somewhere to do the things that absolutely must be done before Christmas to make Christmas still Christmas for two little girls.

Just because you have grand ideas to sew beautiful, coordinating clothes for your children, or sew hair bands, or stuffed toys, or the shirt you’ve been promising your husband for 6 months, or even the dress you’ve been hoping to sew for yourself, doesn’t mean you will have a moment to yourself in the evenings to contemplate the sewing machine. 2022 Me could maybe just try to make those things as we go and not put so much pressure on Christmas.

Speaking of which, 2022 Me needs to remember the ‘be kind to yourself’ mantra that was Christmas 2021. Yes, it’s nice to have a clean and tidy and organised home but if you’re barely able to stay awake, go for the more important things. Like wrapping the Christmas presents. (Ahem – wrap the presents earlier. Like you used to. Remember? Attach notes securely. This year was just too stressful and late.) You may want to insist on baking Christmas goodies even if the weather is typically Brisbane summer steaminess but apparently Santa was quite happy with the ice cream you offered this year so maybe don’t stress too much about baking. And yes, 2021 Me feels quite smug about all the presents bought during the year and how much it reduced stress in December and 2022 Me could do well to remember this and yes, realise that you’ve turned into one of THOSE people. 

2022 Me will hopefully also remember the absolute joy of children finding stockings that now have magical presents in them (underpants! A hat! A toothbrush! A FIDGET POPPER IT’S A RAINBOW UNICORN AND E HAS A MATCHING ONE HERS IS A BUTTERFLY THEY HAVE THESE AT DAYCARE I LOVE THEM!) And wondering at the magic of Santa and how he manages to get through our balcony door and just how does he know that C likes Frozen and unicorns and how does he know E likes bath toys? And dancing to Christmas music and eating yummy food and watching the Christmas lights blink and watching snow globes swirl and watching a Christmas movie up late as a huge treat. And finding gifts for special people that they delight in receiving as much as you delight in giving, and receiving beautiful and thoughtful gifts from others.

2022 Me will hopefully also make it to church. 2021 Me hasn’t made it, is still very anxious about taking children who are too young to be vaccinated anywhere, but is also really missing church and the community it brings and the spiritual food found therein. 2021 Me is quite aware how much the rhythm of life is influenced and guided by the rhythm of church life, and Christmas and Easter are far hollower, and harder to find joy in, without the religious basis for them.

2021 Me is also secretly hoping that the girls will be old enough to play by themselves (or together, without disaster) when Christmas 2022 is here. This was exhausting and I could have easily napped from about 10am. Yes, I am very impressed with myself for holding out until crashing into bed at 9:30pm but a nap would be nice next time, ok? Ok.