sisters

What We Read This Week (22/06/2025)

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One of my favourite things from today was listening to C read to E, and listening to E be read to by C. It reminded me of the first day E was home from the hospital and, in the middle of the upheaval of a new person and visiting grandparents and new furniture to accommodate new person, I found C leaning over the side of the bassinet, “reading” (reciting as she knew it so well) Goldilocks quietly to E. This evening, E literally pulled up a chair to where C was, and C read The Book With No Pictures, and E let loose on her best laughs. They are loud, and joyful, and I will need to find better words to describe them but they are glorious. Then, as I nixed any further readings of THAT book as it was time for bath and bed and S was nearly asleep, C read a Rescue Princess book to E on the toilet. As you do. So S fell asleep listening to the calming sound of C reading quietly, which was rather nice, I must say. 

This week, I have also read (groan) Peppa Meets the Queen (groan) more times than I would like. Which, admittedly, means more than once or better yet, none, but still. Nightly seems to be the go. The book is nearly as annoying as the shows. So far E has remarked that the Queen is a person – which does actually seem odd in that animal universe – but has not yet commented on the placement of a fish tank on top of the TV. That gets me every time. Goldilocks has also been on high request rotation, and has been part of E’s calm down routine. Not the best-written version, but I can deal. 

I have also read Sleeping Beauty way more times than expected. Surprise! E seems to love this one. I love hearing my slightly-lispy 4-year-old have a crack at saying “Maleficent” multiple times in a 15-minute timeframe. This is one that I feel would not make it past the higher-ups these days. An arranged marriage plus waiting for a prince feels so old-fashioned. That said, every time it is mentioned that the princess is due to marry the prince on her 16th birthday, I comment about how young that is, and you never know. It might provoke some good conversations soon about child marriage and choices.

I have been steadily trying to make our place a bit nicer, and that resulted in a more obvious bookshelf. Seeing girls in front of it, contemplating, pulling out a book, sitting down and reading it, are all things that make my mummy heart happy. S spent rather a long time in the last few days just sitting and reading. Bluey books, mostly, so absolutely no complaints here.

C and I are sooo nearly finished The Secret Garden. I wasn’t expecting this when we started it, but it is helping us off screens. Not from the whole book reading instead of iPad time angle, but more from the content of the book, with children getting healthy from digging in the garden and spending their lives in the fresh air. 

Meanwhile, C’s preferred book to read before sleeping is (drumroll) … The Dictionary. For real. Which, honestly, is a great choice. No staying up to find out what happens next. No potentially scary plot points Just. Words. Best Christmas present ever, thank you very much.

A Snapshot of S Aged 2 Years and Nearly 5 Months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sisters

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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.

Goodnight with Daddy

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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

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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.

Of Balls and Paints and Bath Toys

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I sometimes get the urge to organise something for a girl to play with. Usually there is an agenda behind this, such as developing a skill or working towards a milestone or enhancing early literacy skills or just plain old wearing them out so that they sleep. The success rate is a bit meh. Often there is delayed success which is always nice in hindsight but a bit disappointing at the time.

However, being an ‘on’ mum all the time is just plain exhausting. And, thankfully, not so great for kids. Boredom is wonderful.

Hello, unstructured and child-led play. What a relief.

There have been a few winners lately, leading to oodles of squeak-laughs and mummy downtime.

Winner: seahorse ball. C was given this for her first birthday and it is played with every week. It is a pink beachball with a separately-inflated seahorse and seaweed inside it, so it rolls unpredictably. So much fun. When C was smaller she would bounce and roll around on it too, and it was the first ball she could catch. It is one of the few things that keeps E in the play zone for more than two minutes as she loves the back-and-forth nature of it. The girls have started playing to and fro with it – usually a reminder to C to be gentle followed by E trying to eat it then throwing it back to C, all accompanied by riotous laughter. Gold.

Winner: paints. Oh my. One of those ‘ooh Pinterest has shown me all the food-safe finger paints’ moments. One of those ‘ooh Pinterest has all these fingerprint and handprint crafts we should totally do some of them’ moments. One of those ‘yay look at all this mess… (this is good for them this is good for them this is good for them this is good for them)’ moments. Fingerpainting wasn’t a huge success in terms of prints. Fingerpainting was a success for sensory play and just getting messy then getting in the bath. Fingerpainting was also a success for reminding C that painting can be fun and doesn’t have to be done at the easel and we have other paints she can use and get paint alloverher and then get into a bath for loads of bath play.

Winner: bath toys. E is finally at the stage where she doesn’t just shove the toys in her eye so I can let her loose next to the box of bath toys and she will explore them and throw them and chase after them for ages. And C loves loves loves a ‘splash bath’. She will happily spend an hour or more playing in the bath, just as imaginative with her bath toys as she is with her soft toys. Because we have had such stinking hot humid weather lately this has been a very welcome activity.

So that’s where our unstructured play, boredom busters are at present. I have so many ideas for things to make for them but for now, this tired mummy is thankful for easy play. Phew.