traditions

What We Read This Week (27/09/2025)

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

You know when kids just get on a roll with a book? That’s all they want to read or have read to them. For three days. Or for a week. Or for, you know, 3 months. Not that I minded reading Ruby Red Shoes every night for 3 months when C was 2, but it is a memorable part of my ‘reading to children’ history. 

I feel we are in the same situation here now. Possibly. Frozen (aka “The Big Elsa Book”) has been going strong now for well over a month. The push-pull Snow White book (aka “E’s Snow White Book”) is enjoying a similar level of popularity. In fact, we went away for a couple of days this week and when I asked girls to pack one book each, those were the choices from S and E. C picked a Dragon Girls book. I don’t think she read any of hers, but the other two had a bit of Frozen while traveling, and E and S both had quiet moment of resetting with their favourite books.

S has also been asking a lot for We’re Going On A Bear Hunt. We will sometimes even be suddenly in a game of this while on the way to daycare. I will notice that her walk changes from just walking or just running or being Elsa to the pantomime of hunting and obstacles and I’ll hear her sweet voice in a sing-song of “We’re going on a bear hunt, I got my rinoculass”. Very cute. And when we join in, she is over the moon.

Another book that has found new favour is The Princess and the Wizard (Princess Eliza), a Julia Donaldson book but not illustrated by Axel Scheffler. Rather, Lydia Monks has done the illustrations and so it feels like it’s in a different world. C will read this one to the younger two, as well, doing all the voices to squeals of laughter. It has to be managed, shall we say, at bedtime. I might start a collection of Books That Are Only Allowed To Be Read Once, Maximum Twice, At Bedtime. So far: Princess Eliza, Pig the Fibber. On the Never At All At Bedtime Under Any Circumstances: The Book Without Words.

I am loving reading Anne of Green Gables to C. It was one of my favourite books when I was young. Admittedly, I was much older than C when I read it but I was reading it myself. I hadn’t realised what a slow start it was, but that is proving useful for setting up a scene for C. I see many similarities between my C and Anne. I think C has realised this, too, and loves having a character similar to herself but also is very thankful that she is not at all in the same situation in which Anne started. Side note, this particular copy is riddled with typos. I am not a book-mangler or noter, but I think I will be going through and correcting this one for future. I don’t know much about how publishing works, but come on. This is a classic. Anyway, two nights in a row now I have read a bit (or a lot) and C has been asleep within 5 minutes. Rare but welcome.

What We Have Been Reading (13/09/2025)

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

The eagle-eyed among you, or the regular readers, may note a different title than usual. But you may have noticed I haven’t posted much for a little while, either, so that explains the former. Life has been busy – good busy, which really means I have had lots of work to do when children are sleeping, which cuts down on my writing time. (I have noticed, though, what a difference this writing makes to my life. The combination of alone-time without 15 ‘mummy’s a second, a cup of sanity tea, and the process of expressing myself and often working through problems as I write, just helps life.)

Books have featured heavily in our lives lately. There was Book Week. Which meant there was a lead-up to Book Week, too, with lots of reading. Last week had a pupil-free day and so my parents came down to see the girls and took them book shopping. C has been off school all this week and one of her screen-free activities was reading. Another was helping to tidy the girls’ room. C is a kid who needs very precise instructions, as well as a different take on things. “Tidying” doesn’t go down so well. I get the rolled eyes and body flop of “This is the worst, most boring thing in the world that you have asked me to do and I protest”. Ask her to make an area look nice, though, and she excels. If there are too many things in that – like, put the books away AND fold the blankets AND stack the cushions AND put all the little things that accumulate and drive me nuts and why do we even have them – those things in the pouches on the door, well, that’s just too much. Stick to one thing at a time and it works.

At the bookstore with my parents, S got right into it. Like we were at a library with no limits on loans. The stroller very quickly had a stack of books in it, then she sat down and had my dad read Peppa Pig stories to her for the rest of our time there. Which meant, unfortunately, that I put all her choices back and we got home to “Where’s my fish book?” – oops. Mum bought her Mr Archimedes’ Bath by Pamela Allen, and she has listened to it but not asked for again. E quite enjoyed it, though. Mum had a particular book in mind for C, a chapter book by David Walliams. Mum worried that it was too big for her. I raised an eyebrow and told her that the Penny books (Penny Draws A Best Friend and that series) that mum gave her the first one of, you know those really thick chapter books, C will read one of them in a weekend. Sure enough, C started her new book that afternoon and read it at every opportunity, finishing it before we left for a birthday party at 8.45am Saturday. She loved it.

E’s choice in the bookstore was a Snow White book. We already have two Snow White stories, one in the Ultimate Princess book and one as an early reader. I said no. The one E wanted was a simple board book version. I said no. E refused all other suggestions. I figured this was not a battle I needed. I relented. Guess which book has been the most-read, most-loved, taken-to-daycare (and home again) book. Yup. All the girls love it. It’s one of those board books with push/pull/slide, and the story words rhyme, and I put in extra bits for the action parts. E can’t read yet but knows all the words, and when she or C read it, they put in all the action parts, too. S has had screaming tantrums at bedtime because she wants E’s Snow White book. I have read it while sitting next to her. I have read it while sitting next to E. I have read it while sitting next to E and holding it up so C can see it from her bunk. I think… I think it was a good choice of book.

E has lately started ‘needing’ a story so she can sleep. Wait, after two stories she’ll be able to sleep. Yes, two stories and then she will sleep. Wait, because she is four now… After four stories, she promises she will go to sleep. And apparently, reading Pig the Fibber (one of the Pig the Pug stories that has recently come back into the limelight and has my girls squealing with laughter) four times doesn’t count as four. Humph. 

S is still obsessed with The Big Frozen Book and because C put all the books away I haven’t been able to find (yet) The Small Elsa Book. The Bluey Summer Treasury has also been pored over lately, as has The Very Hungry Caterpillar. C has been reading Geronimo Stilton as well as all the Roald Dahl collection. Also, C and I finished Little Women – apparently the last two chapters were booorrriinnggggg but I get that that was boring for a 7-year-old who has little experience of the world. I loved that it had several elements pertinent to our family, though, like the part where the girls decided to have a break from their chores and then their mother let them have it and it was chaos. Rather pertinent to our weekend, actually, as we have an inspection on Monday so my days are spent picking up Disney coins and hair bows and tissues and pencils and no you can’t do painting today because nobody cleans up afterwards and also could you please just this weekend please leave your quilts and pillows on your beds and maybe somebody could help me make this place just a tiny bit nicer so I can actually clean it before we have a total stranger coming in to take photos of our mess to send to the owners and WHO EMPTIED THE ACTIVITY TUB and OH MY WORD WHO PAINTED THIS ON THE WALL. Humph. Fortunately, even though C is the leader of “Don’t give away our toys”, she also really appreciates and relishes a calm/uncluttered/clear space, so when I put everything on her bunk into two (that’s right, TWO) large garbage bags to be stored FOR NOW in the wardrobe, she was ecstatic. 

Bonus of clearing spaces – girls can stretch out on the floor to read and choose books. Love. C and I are now reading Anne of Green Gables, which we started a while back but didn’t get very far. We are loving it this time around, though. It was always a favourite of mine and it is really something special to share a much-loved book with the next generation of readers.

Book Week 2025

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

In my Catching Up post I promised a more expansive recounting of Book Week 2025, so here it is. First up I will mention that this only covers the younger two, as C’s school does the parade in fourth term, and I love that the school has recognised that Book Week is big and also when it falls – in the middle of term 3, right after Science Week and the Brisbane show holiday which is around when the school fair also happens, plus it’s the end of winter – might overload some kids or make Book Week and the love of reading just another thing to tick off the list in the middle of a busy term. 

Last year, I was probing Book Week ideas from about May. E was, after all, wanting Room on the Broom every single night from about then. She didn’t waver, and I made her a skirt and a cape for her to be the witch. Which, happily, doubled up for her Halloween costume later in the year. Win. S was tricky last year, but she did have a tendency to pick the Bob Bilby book, so having made beautiful items for E, I hemmed a length of light purple (lavender? Lilac?) material, cut a hole for the head, attached a pink panel, and sewed up a bit of each side while C helped me put bilby ears on a head band. Very simple and quick and didn’t quite make it through the day but that’s ok.

This year, I only started thinking about this in late June, early July. Just a question here or there when I’ve read the same story multiple times AND can see how I might manage a costume for a character. This year, I was sure I would be sending a princess along. E’s choice for a little while was Belle from Beauty and The Beast. The village Belle? (Which I can totally manage, no problem). No. Yellow Belle. The ballgown Belle. Ah. Not so simple. Pausing on that idea. Then I started asking S. Are you Slinky Malinki? NO, I’M S! Are you a princess? NO, I’M S! (Put that on repeat for maybe another five characters). Are you… Anna? (Pause, in which I see her straighten her back and feel E change next to me). YES I’M ANNA! E: mummy?    Mummy? I’ve changed my mind I want to be Elsa.

Rewind a few years, to C’s first Book Week at daycare, aged about 17 months, I guess. A parade of movie characters had me rolling my eyes and internally raging against dress up events and reading losing its meaning, yada yada yada. My kid would always go as a real book character. I’ll pause while you have a good chuckle.

In my defence, we already had a very simple Frozen book, “I Am Elsa”, but I had a look in Kmart for any others. “The big Frozen book”, as it’s called in our family, was found and bought and has been read most days. Yes, Anna and Elsa are movie characters. But also yes, they are also in books that are thoroughly enjoyed by my girls so who’s to get snooty about it? Ahem. 

In any event, before I had started any sewing, E did another “Mummy, wait. I changed my mind. I want to be a ballerina for Book Week”. Okay… we’ll have to find a book with a ballerina in it, then. “Yes. Can you write me one please”. Hahahahahahaha no. As we already had ballet costumes ready to go, this choice was a relief. We’ve borrowed books from the library with ballerinas in them so I wasn’t going to argue or fight over this one.

Last Friday, armed with a screenshot of a Frozen cake topper, I took E and S to Spotlight to find fabrics. They were quite wonderful in finding material to match the colours of the skirt, the bodice, the bag – wait. The bag? Anna has a bag in that cake topper so mummy can make a bag for the costume. We also found a ribbon to edge the bodice and pom pom trim for the cape. Exciting. Extra information, I had been allocated more than my stated capacity for extra work (you know, in my paid job), and taking on definitely one sewing project, maybe two or three rather heightened my stress level but also my organisational level but also entirely reduced my capacity to do basic household tasks like sorting washing. 

Daycare does two dress-up days for Book Week, as not every kid is enrolled every day. This year, dressing up could be, if they wished, Wednesday or Thursday. With the sewing I was doing, Thursday. Just Thursday. Thursday was great. Tuesday evening, E gets home and tells me with a very serious face – the sort of face I imagine she’ll have when I mess up the school calendar and think the science project is due next week instead of tomorrow – that they had to dress up tomorrow. Wednesday. Noooo. You can dress up Wednesday OR Thursday. OUR TEACHERS TOLD US TOMORROW. Thankfully, the Little Red Riding Hood costume I had bought for C when she was this age – the week that S was born and I caved and bought something instead of making but thank goodness it gets a lot of wear – was clean and wearable and still fitting E. Also thankfully, S didn’t insist on wearing a costume that day, too. Also, I love that we have two Little Red Riding Hood books.

Wednesday night, I finished sewing on the bodice ribbon and sewing the cape together and adding trim and doing buttons. (If you’ve been paying attention, I did not have time to make the bag.) I went to bed just before midnight, thoroughly happy with myself and my creation, and itching to see S’s reaction and wearing it in the morning. First thing in the morning I said, “It’s Book Week dress up today!” S: “I go as Mickey Mouse”. No. Noyoudon’t. When S saw the Anna outfit though, she did a gasp and “Is that my Anna?” One. Happy. Mummy. Getting dressed, and E got into her ballet costume fairly easily on her own while I put S’s dress over her head. S saw E. I tried to do up the snaps on the Anna dress. She refused to let me. “I WANT TO WEAR MY BALLET!” But you’ve been wanting to be Anna for ages! I knew I was tired and more invested in a dress than perhaps I should be so I walked out to take some deep breaths. Glenn came in to save the day with early birthday presents (dinosaur heads with a lollipop inside) and S was then more than happy to wear her Anna dress and cape and look at the love hearts and pockets and IT’S GOT POM POM POM POMS! 

I am happy to report that she was in character for much of our trip to daycare. I managed to get some lovely action-in-nature shots of her. We opened the door to her daycare room and were met with a sea of colourful polyester and I felt even better. One of her birthday presents was a purchased Elsa tutu dress which she wore all of Friday and Sunday but then Sunday evening it came off and she wanted her Anna dress on. And the cape has been worn several times – I mean, who wouldn’t want to wear a pom-pom trimmed cape?! 

There have been many articles this year about Book Week and is it losing its meaning and is it too much stress on parents and kids. In those years when I wasn’t aware when it would be, I always got a surprise – but then managed a costume with what we had around. Looking ahead and finding out when it will be and planning costumes, though, is part of the happiness of parenting for me. One thing I absolutely love about Book Week is talking about books with my girls for weeks or months beforehand, and finding out more about THEM. What style of book are they into. How do they imagine an outfit for this character will look. If we were in that world, what would they have around them. I absolutely love this insight into the brain of each of my girls. Thank you, Book Week.

What We Read This Week (18/05/2025)

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

In a big cleaning up effort this week, all the books that were strewn around the floor in the girls’ bedroom were put away. Every time I think about it, I let out some tension. I have never been good at tidying, and that is carrying over to my girls. But when we (I, mostly) can do something to make the place nicer, then I feel the benefits so strongly. So. All the books back onto the bookshelf. Next I will work on teaching them to have the books upright if possible, and spines facing out. Baby steps. (Side note, I had to explain the phrase “baby steps” to C the other day as she was hugely offended that I had apparently called her a baby.)

Books will still be sought, and I love it when there is a book that they know they want. Love it, until I can’t find it. Shoving way under the cot seems to be the new “put it away” solution but I will work on that. Thankfully, the piggy book (“Pig Out) was requested just after dawn and not in the middle of the night. It has been quite popular this week. S will point out the crazy colours of the animals, or how crazy it is that an animal is using a hairdryer. Never Pop a Penguin has continued to keep its place at the top of the popular books list. I have read it in the dark. I have read it standing up. I have read it very slow. I have read it very fast. It might be time for some Dr Seuss again soon, I think. 

The other top request for girls – mostly E – this week has been Bard’s Rhyme Time. I find this to be a very annoying book. The “story” words rhyme, but the lines don’t scan very well, so putting some rhythm into it is always an effort and just not always possible. For a book that is from a brain development company (I assume – the name suggests that) one would think that this would have been ironed out before printing. And asked EVERY time the flap is lifted, is WHY IS THERE A STAR NEXT TO THE CAR that makes absolutely no sense what’s it doing there?

When E has been in one of her can’t go to sleep so asks for a story episodes this week, I have reached for the nearest book. Then tried again to make it the nearest that wasn’t a chapter book. Little Red Riding Hood (the First Readers edition) has been the closest to hand. The first time I read it, I omitted to do the wolf trying on a granny voice. I was informed of my error and given a second chance. I’m not forgetting that one again. And every time we hear the mother giving instructions, E notes that the wolf is a stranger AND that Little Red Riding Hood is going to talk to him. I never miss an opportunity to dig in with “Just look what happens when you don’t listen to your mother”, or words along those lines. Ahem. Further in the lesson of illustrations are important, this one has a page with three rather surprised-looking creatures. One of these is an owl. Why is the owl awake? Aren’t owls nocturnal? Why is the owl awake during the day when it is nocturnal and therefore should be sleeping during the day? Why does it look so surprised?

Speaking of surprised, E has also been asking for The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which was her absolute favourite book as a baby. Tonight she insisted on “eating” her way through the book, and reading all the food on the Saturday page. And tonight she also wanted to know (again) why the butterfly looks SO surprised?! Well wouldn’t you if you went to sleep as a caterpillar and woke up as a butterfly!

C and I are still reading The Secret Garden, another classic that I remember reading as a child. We have therefore also learned a bit about different accents, and cholera, and moors, and grand houses, and the class system in England in earlier times. I will find some time to watch a bit of Pride and Prejudice with her. The good one, thank you very much. Girl’s got to get an education somehow.

Mother’s Day 2025

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What We Read This Week (04/05/2025)

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

Christmas in May is a thing, isn’t it? I’m all for seasons of the year, and keeping some things to that season, but then girls will find a book and want it read on repeat and it just happens to be a Christmas book so what am I to do? Like, not read it or something? Crazy talk. (Same with Christmas clothing, honestly. If they want to wear the Christmas overalls I made C when she was two and has been worn randomly throughout the years and still going strong then who am I to complain??)

So. Bluey’s Twelve Days of Christmas has been flavour of the week. S and E have tried to get me to sing it every night which has its fun but really we get to the end and my tired voice mostly just says, “And a fruit bat in a mango tree” go to sleep now okay please sleep now goodnight! Which unfortunately just adds to the hilarity and they, crazily, don’t just go to sleep then and there. Weird. S then insists that the book goes to her, and she reads it backwards, usually. Nearly always like this:

S: Two! Mummy, I two!

Me: You sure are.

S: [counts to twelve] twelve guitars! So many!

Me: [clicking] Ah yes. Twelve guitars, and you saw the number two?

S: Yes, because I two! [turns pages, backwards and forwards] ribbit. Ribbit. Hehehe. [random page turning] mummy, what’s that?

Me: [knowing by now what she is looking at] yabbies.

S: snap snap. [more random page turns with the occasional ooh or aah or giggle] BLUEY/BIN CHICKEN. Mummy what’s that?

Me: [checking out which page she’s on] that’s a fruit bat. Bluey’s hanging like a fruit bat.

S: [closes book, places it about halfway along the side of the cot, stands her water bottle on it. Tries to lie down which makes the bottle fall over] Oh MAN. Not again. [repeats the bottle stand up/lying down attempt a few times before remembering to put the bottle into the rails a bit more. Lies down. Sleeps.]

E’s bonus Christmas book has been We’re Going on an Elf Chase. Lift the flaps. Trace the path. Very E things. Like also finding her engrossed in the Pop-Up Punctuation book. She is so careful, and loves them so much. Not Christmassy, but her other choice with me this week has been Thelma the Unicorn. I so love all the questions E asks, revealing her consideration of the story and the pictures and the characters. 

Speaking of questions, C and I finished What Katy Did. This wasn’t Finished until I had asked her the questions that were in the back of the book and she had added her own. We have now started on The Secret Garden which meant discussions about cholera and death and transmission of diseases. What a fun end to my day. 

What We Read This Week (27/04/2025)

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

This week is brought to you by the letter “P”. 

When my lovely sister-in-law discovered the girls’ love for Each Peach Pear Plum, her eyes lit up and she asked “Do you have ‘Peepo’?” I had a vague recollection of it but nothing more. So the next time we saw them – a mere 10 days later, very exciting – they brought us some beautiful material (score!) and Peepo. I have read Peepo many times this week. 

One thing I love about reading to E is when I turn a page and she is suddenly, somehow in the book. “Wait, mummy. Go back”, and she turns the page back herself and asks me about something she saw on the previous page, or shows me a tiny detail that she’s noticed, or wants to check the visual on the words she’s just heard. Where’s the grandmother. Where are the sisters. See the birds in the sky. Why is the baby in the stroller. What’s a pushchair.

The other favourite – asked for time and again, turned to for comfort – was Never Pop a Penguin. One of those books with a fidget popper in the middle so each page you can pop the tummy of whichever creature is being discussed. E pushes a couple on each page, then finishes them all off at the end. S may push one on a page, with a look of pure mischief on her face. If I do that, though, she shouts NO at me and turns the book over to un-pop what I have done. Once it is read, she will pop them all and then turn it over to do it all again.

Even though this is a simple book, with only 5 pages that are all nearly the same, it has prompted much discussion. What actually is a narwhal and do they really have rainbow horns like unicorns. Why is the polar bear wearing pool slides. They’re skis? What are skis. Why is the marshmallow on fire. Do you see the cheeky seagull stealing the toasted marshmallow.

Unfortunately, P is also for… yeah. Poo. I saw about a month’s worth of it today. And every time poor E was on the toilet, she wanted me to watch her (as they all do most of the time), and – so that I wouldn’t be bored – read to her. Superworm has been read and read and read today. Note to self: dig out the mole book. 

Of course, once I had in my head that this week was seemingly brought to you by “P”, this evening a very tired S and a very very tired E just went for Christmas books. Bluey’s 12 Days of Christmas, which has E laughing more and more as I continue trying to fit too many syllables into a line and speed it up apparently hiLARiously, and S will half sing it, approximating the words, and comment on each page that has Bluey and/or Bingo on how many there are! And general chitchat about what’s on each page – ooh guitars! Glasses. Bingo is a froggy! Straight after that, We’re Going On An Elf Chase, in all its lift-the-flap glory.

C and I are getting close to the end of What Katy Did. My voice has been rather tired of late, and C has started taking over some of the reading. This is one of my favourite parts of the day. She reads so well! And I love love love it when she does voices. The best.

How Was Your Easter?

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

You always get that question, don’t you? “How was your Easter?” Asked with such enthusiasm and the questioner’s desire for the answer to be positive. I feel that acceptable answers are: “Lovely, thanks! We had a whole extended family camping trip out at Whoop Whoop so, you know, no reception so the kids couldn’t be on their phones the whole time. It was SO wonderful being with the whole family. The cousins just played out in nature all day long”. Or, “It was wonderful! We went to the dawn service and it was so, so special. Then we had family over and it was just such a special day”. Or, “Great, thanks! It was so nice having a four-day weekend, wasn’t it? So much time to spend with the family, just relaxing. The whole street put on an Easter egg hunt for all the kids and it was just so special”.

Variations on “It was amazing!” 

But what are you allowed to say if “amazing” was so far from your reality that you just… can’t?

If the sneezes of S on the way to the children’s service on Good Friday – I should elaborate, the 12 sneezes in quick succession – were followed by a day of her wiping her snot on you and you realised that, yep, we’re not going anywhere this weekend. If E suddenly has a nasty sounding cough that is just a cough and isn’t accompanied by any other symptoms of unwellness but oof it doesn’t sound good and … and … you yourself recognise the signs of sickness in yourself.

If the children’s service on Good Friday turns out to be a), a wonderful experience for children and explains all of Holy Week within about 45 minutes, and b), a demonstration on the part of your girls of how much they get into experiencing things , and c), a demonstration on the part of your girls of how much they ignore instructions from you about things like “Please stop hitting the rocks on the cathedral floor even though I recognise it is a new sound experience for you” or “Please stop waving the palm leaves so vigorously as you are hitting other people and even though they’re really nice about it, you just scratched me in the eye so I know they’re just being polite as this really hurts”.

If a basic shopping trip is filled with “I’m bored”, “I don’t want any fruit but can I have a yoghurt pouch instead”, “I’m so huuuuuungrrryyyy” and then girls going wild in the Easter section as you chose one (1) Easter treat for your husband and when you have chosen it you discover your – yes, your – kids have pulled out half a dozen bunny ear headbands and E is dancing with a ginormous and quite lovely bunny dressed up including ballet slippers but you are not letting any more soft toys into your place and C has found all sorts of things that she jumps around telling you about and asking you for all at once.

If taking girls outside to get them doing something other than bickering inside and watching shows means major shouting and screaming and fighting and crying over little things, looked at the situations from the perspective of grownup eyes, but clearly mean the world to the person feeling wronged. If taking them outside makes you doubt your ability to parent at all.

If you feel ignored and disobeyed all weekend.

What do you do with that? How do you avoid saying in response to an enthusiastic “How was your Easter?”, well, actually, it was horrible and I was so glad when Tuesday arrived. I was upset and cross with girls all weekend and they were ignoring any request or instruction from me all weekend and I was so frustrated I wanted to claw my face off several times.

You have to dig deep and find those kernels of joy and loveliness and delight. Bring them to the top. Polish them. Display them. Cherish those gems and make sure that’s what you tell people and especially your children about. After all, deep in your heart you know that your reasons for grumpiness – initially, anyway – had nothing to do with your girls. You know that none of them was trying to be naughty or to push your buttons or seeing if they actually land themselves in hospital to find out if the Easter Bunny actually does visit kids in hospital. You know that two of them were also unwell and that brings irritability. You know that all three of them were excited for Sunday. You are coming to learn that C will have in her mind how she wants the day to go – wants, thinks, imagines, plans – and the more excited she is about that, the more fixated she will be on having only those things happen and other things that pop up like me needing to give S a cuddle or E wanting a hand held will derail her plans and that affects her, big time.

So instead of all the grr of the weekend, I am going to focus on these things. 

I am going to focus on how wonderful it is that the girls feel so comfortable expressing themselves, and that they feel so comfortable at church, in a space that is also incredibly awe-inspiring. 

I am going to focus on the three rainbow-eared bunnies I brought home with me from the shops, each with their own new breakfast set of bowl, cup and spoon. 

I am going to focus on the calm that settled in when we took to painting the Easter eggs. The fun they had painting themselves, as they nearly always do, after the eggs were painted. 

I am going to focus on the way S and E sat on my lap in turn while I did little bits of sewing, each quietly playing with pins and only occasionally pressing buttons on my machine, and then only by request. 

I am going to remember that C roller skated down the small hill and past the bend in the path all by herself for the first time. I am going to remember E scooting so confidently now, with her unicorn helmet and princess dress and C’s long socks and her sparkly pink jelly sandals. I am going to remember S just cruising along on her flamingo tricycle, holding up the impatient traffic, then doing melodramatic dives to copy any stacks that the older two did for real, complete with token wailing.

I am going to remember that there was a Bluey-worthy Easter egg hunt on Sunday morning. An Easter egg hunt so wonderful that this is the first thing the girls share about their Easter. There were clues, just like Bluey and Bingo had! A picture and a magnet creation and plants and blocks in the wrong spot and a doctor kit item in the wrong box and then it could have just been something else on the floor but the doctor knife pointed to the table and the Easter Bunny hid the Easter eggs under daddy’s bandanna!!! I hope you read that in a voice that became higher and faster and louder as it went through.

I am going to remember that kids see things differently. They don’t bring all this history and awareness and “Should” to the table. They just want to enjoy it and learn to get along, however loudly that might happen. 

Did I mention the Easter egg hunt? Sorry. It was kind of a big deal.

How was my Easter? Kind of amazing, really.

What We Read This Week (20/04/2025)

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

You may recall that the last two weeks have featured Each Peach Pear Plum. A book I remember from my childhood. A book I loved in my childhood. A book the Christmas Eve Book Fairy gave to S, much to my delight (ahem). Last Sunday, I had been asked to recite it on the way home from church. Monday, I was asked again on the way to daycare drop-off… and C learnt it herself on the way home.

Having not really heard it all that much (she is allowed to do Mathletics or Procreate or Patterned, or read in our bedroom away from tired and trying-to-sleep younger girls), I was quite impressed that just a few hearings embedded it in her brain. She then suddenly had a new favourite thing to do, and this was recited – let’s just say, a number of times – over the next few days. And evenings. I had to limit it a bit, and ask her not to say it at certain times when S might start to think she was being put to sleep, which would result at the time in either major tantrums because “IT’S NOT NIGHTTIME”, or S actually falling asleep during the day which would be an absolute disaster in the evening. 

But do you know how I know it was really embedded in her brain? Wednesday night. S was having an overnight wake. Needing me in their room, sleeping on the floor. Wanting a bottle (“with milk. Warm milk”, like she’s maybe had it other ways and like she’s a feisty little Jane Bond). Then C started talking in her sleep. “Each peach pear plum, Tom Thumb – no he’s not there!” Giggles. S, thankfully, was in the almost asleep again phase and just let the words wash over her. About five minutes later, “Robin Hood over the – no. Wicked Witch over the wood. LEAVE ME ALONE. [giggles]”. And that was that. I was amused, and very glad I had been asked to sleep on the floor. When I told her in the morning, C found it hilarious.

Meanwhile, S has been in a bit of a phase – well it’s been like this for a while, really, where she picks a book off the shelf and has it in her cot as she goes to sleep. Sometimes it’s just in the cot, as in, within the bars of the cot but nowhere near her. Sometimes it’s propped up against the bars like she’s been reading it. Sometimes it is wedged what looks like rather uncomfortably poking into a part of her, usually a leg or her tummy. This week, the book of choice has been Timeless (by Kate Canby), and I have been asked to read it before she goes to sleep with it under her head like a pillow. 

E picked another book from childhood this week, but by this one being “from my childhood”, I mean, the actual physical book that I remember from my childhood that my parents brought over at some point in the last year. “Bible Stories For Children” is a large book with several of the Old and New Testament stories in it, with usually just a double page for each story. This is perfect for bedtime. Before she asked me to read any to her, though, E had clearly had a look through herself because I was asked to read the “one with a man falling out of the ship”. So what followed was me turning over every single page to find the RIGHT story involving a ship. That one has been requested a few times (it’s the one of Jesus calming the Sea of Galilee and nobody actually falls off a ship but the picture is misleading thanks very much illustrator). 

Her other favourite is the rainbow story. I absolutely loved the experience of reading this one to her for the first time. It involves her name. There is a rainbow (she loves loves loves rainbows). And I could tell her about the morning that she was born, when my parents were looking after C and they went onto the balcony and saw a rainbow. And I can remind her what her name means and how she embodies that every single day. 

True to their style, no actual Easter books were read this week. They will probably be in high demand around October, I’m guessing. Sigh.

Tradition!

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

In the last few months, we have started doing “Favourite Thing” at the start of dinner. This started because of about 70% wanting to delay the “Can we watch something?”, and 30% wanting to hear more about their days and what they remembered about good things. Well, those are very vague percentages because while writing this I also remembered that part of it was to get them to start going back over their days and pick out positive things. A bit like practising gratitude. Note to self:  introduce a gratitude element.

Sunday night, before Favourite Thing, I reminded them of what had happened that day. It had been huge. It was Glenn’s first day back at work after some leave, and I had already decided train to church for us because of potential traffic delays and sitting practically still on a bus when you can literally see your destination but can’t get out of the bus at all and you have three girls who just want to be off the bus and seeing their friends or doing anything other than just sitting moderately quietly on a bus is not an experience I would like to revisit thank you very much. So we all caught the train in to the city. Then church itself was very different because it was Palm Sunday, which meant very much out of the ordinary and I’ll get to it later. Once home, the girls had edamame (“enamummy”, “emadahmah”, “enadummy”) for lunch which is their second favourite food, plus I let them watch Despicable Me 2 while eating. Outside later in the afternoon, C did roller skating all by herself for the first time outside while the other two played this and that and climbed on the wall and played ice cream shop at the letter boxes. So. Much. Happened.

C’s favourite thing was catching the train with daddy in the morning. E’s favourite thing was seeing her favourite person at church. S’s favourite thing was catching the train holding on the stroller. Glenn’s favourite thing was catching the train with all of his girls. 

My favourite thing was being part of, and having my girls be part of, the Palm Sunday traditions and experience. Religious ceremony that is centuries old. Religious traditions that happen every year, all around the world, in some way or another, that people have been doing, repeating, for hundreds of years, and my girls are now able to live that and be part of something much, much bigger than themselves. All of those elements are, I think, very important. They are important to me – for my soul, for my being, for my mental health – and as someone tasked with raising children, I see it as an important element to have as part of their lives. 

The words that keep coming to me are words like “duty” and “due diligence” and “responsibility”. These words are close but wrong. Those are the words that I hear in court cases and hearings and so forth. Those are the words that come when love isn’t enough. 

I love my girls. I want, and need, them growing up in as many circles of love and care as possible. I want them to have places to turn that are safe, places and people who are safe and comfort and love, who love them because they exist and not for what they can do or what they look like or what they say. Extracurricular activities help with that, as well as practising those resilience muscles and persistence and practice and determination skills. School is also providing an extra circle of care and a wide variety of backgrounds and culture and language. All those are good to have, and I am conscious that we are so, so fortunate to have great (such an understatement there) daycare and an excellent school, as well as the funds to have the girls do swimming for now and for C to do Irish dancing. Church, which often feels like an added extra and sometimes just too much, is just as vital to their wellbeing. And honestly, when E asks “Where are we going when we wake up?” – as she does every single day, sometimes as early as morning tea – if the answer is “Church, so long as everyone is well”, it gets the biggest cheer.

There is a whole mountain of reasons why church – the building, the people, the ceremony – is important. Why I was determined to get the girls to church when we could from when S was three months old. Trying to organise the reasons in my head and new reasons keep emerging. I will try, and I will try to keep it organised so this isn’t a flood. (Posting this later than I wanted because clearly that was harder than I anticipated!)

At the very surface, it is an outing. A Thing to Do. Something that gets us out, family energy out, and stops (or at the very least, reduces) bickering that happens from staying home. When public transport fares were at the past rates, sometimes this was just too expensive but 50c fares, with free travel for kids on weekends, make this much more available. Kids have a children’s area with space and toys and craft. Kids are part of the service, while not having to be too quiet or sit still or kneel or anything, or even be part of anything if they don’t want to. Kids are given a snack during the service because at some point, someone realised that the service really went through morning tea time for kids and 20 hangry kids is not something anybody wants in their life. 

Kids who are there because they have a parent or sibling or both or more involved in the service are just as welcome and included as kids who are there because their parents are there under slight duress to make a good appearance at the baptism of their niece or nephew when really their part of the family is atheist. Kids are welcome to listen to anything the person in charge talks about (this is the bit closest to the Sunday School of my childhood) and to participate in the relevant activity, but also if they just want to keep going building the most amazing train track they’ve ever built, that’s fine too. It is such a safe space for children.

A safe space for children, which means a space I can take them and then sit or stand by myself. I can watch them, with some space between us. I can watch them interacting with others. I can watch how and what and who they choose to play with. I can even now get a cup of coffee at morning tea and have a conversation with an adult – like, a real other grownup! – and not have children hanging off me to do so. Church is for me, too.

Church also provides that extra circle. Not that they are needing it now, but if we don’t do this now then when they do need it it will be much less strong. And this circle has so much variety. A big factor for me was to have them know as wide a variety of people as possible. They play with kids aged 1-11 and coo over any babies that are brought around to the children’s area. They play with kids of a variety of ethnicities, a range of neurotypes, a range of wealth, a range of family types. This is both normal for them, as well as developing their inclusion muscles and their flexibility muscles. It’s also, if I’m honest, developing my parenting skills. If one of my girls is rejected or slighted at the park, I can just whisk my girl away and have a few words about the situation, whatever it was. At church I am more inclined to see what the kids do to work it out themselves, and find out the why of the other kid’s behaviour. I won’t go into any of the “why’s” here, but it’s enough to stop any assumptions in their tracks and to practice kindness first.

Tradition. My tradition, of growing up with church. Remembering that often there was a feeling of “but why???” Knowing now that that questioning is healthy (as it was treated when I was young, too). Knowing now that sometimes the answer is too huge to explain but sometimes it is as small as being the tradition. Tradition is important. It gives a sense of security. It grounds us. The comfort and familiarity get me every time. Tradition!