I haven't written for three weeks - partly for lack of time, but mostly for my time and thoughts being occupied with my daughters - mainly The Eldest, who is going through a bit of a troubling time. So it has been hard to find time and inspiration to write.
Four years ago today, my life changed forever with her arrival, and so, this week, I am writing for her, to her.
To my darling baby girl,
Four years ago Daddy and I's life changed and became the best of lives that we could have asked for. You were six days overdue and irrationally, I was worried that you didn't want to come out and meet me - now I know that you approach a lot of things in life with gentleness, some reservation, a need to know that we are not far away and that everything is going to be ok.
Right from the time we brought you home from hospital, you loved to be held, to snuggle and thrived on affection. You would sleep for hours in the arms of your Mummy and Daddy and other members of your family. You were much happier being held to sleep than anything else. I loved lying in bed with you in my arms, breathing in your beautiful baby smell. I loved the little snuffles and sounds that you made. After a while you loved to snuggle up with Bear Bear, Di Doo and Josey, and wouldn't sleep without them. I love that you still love Bear Bear so much that you still can't sleep without him. I know that he will be your beloved childhood toy, just like my pink puppy is still mine - even if you do think his lack of an ear, crazy stitches and threadbare belly makes him a strange toy for Mumma to love. I love that you still love my cuddles, tell me you love me a hundred times a day and need snuggles every night before you go to bed. I love the feel of your little arms around my neck, the smell of your hair, and the feel of your breath on my neck. I know these snuggles won't last forever, so I love every single one you give me. They are more precious than gold.
I love that everyday you make me cups of tea, endless servings of toast, cake, chicken dinners, all lovingly prepared in your kitchen, served with a great deal of enthusiasm and that you watch me to make sure I consume all that you have prepared. I love that you take my order with a pen and notepad, so that you don't forget what I want.
I love that you are often transformed into the Mummy, that I am transformed into the child care teachers and that I have to look after your 'darlings' as you go off to work. Your imagination is a wonderful thing to behold and I am astounded by how much of your everyday life you enjoy role playing, the concepts you explore and the worlds you create.
I love that when you were two, you would refer to yourself in the third person as 'Honey'. Honey is tired. Honey wants a bottle. Honey wants Bear Bears. That's Honey's. And I love that you think of the children people have as 'The Darlings'. That you have taken our words of affection for you, and transferred them to the world is general, to me is delightful.
I love that you believe the moon loves you, which is why it follows you wherever you go. I am sorry that I cannot explain to you in words you can understand, about the revolution of the earth and it's relationship to the moon. I understand it myself, but I still think it would be better if you asked your father.
I love that your memory is so amazing. Your ability to recall the events of your life, minor, random moments, is something This tired old Mumma wishes she could tap into. You keep us on our toes, and I am learning not to make random promises, as you are developing the knack of reminding me about them, long after I have forgotten the conversation ever took place.
I love that you still are not happy about having to wait until you are 17 to be able to drive. I will never forgot those mornings when you had just turned 3, and you sobbed because I wouldn't let you drive the car. Now you recognise L plates and P plates, and are still unhappy about having to wait so long. But honey, I'm pretty sure I will blink and all of a sudden you'll be behind the wheel and I'll wonder where all of that time went.
I love watching the relationship grow between you and your sister. It was the most endearing of moments this morning, when your sister was hurt and all she wanted was you to comfort her. Watching you take care of you sister when she is upset or hurt, melts my heart. You are a sensitive, caring little girl and I hope you never lose that beautiful part of you.
You are growing up so fast! It is hard to believe that four years has slipped by as fast as it has. I delight in watching you grow - your intelligence, insatiable curiosity, tenderness, gentleness and beauty. I love the new steps forward you make every day.You are the greatest thing I have ever done in my life. I am proud of the little girl you are growing up to be.
I love you to the moon and back my gorgeous, amazing precious girl.
Happy Birthday,
Love Mumma xxx
Friday 31 May 2013
Saturday 4 May 2013
What I thought I would be better at by now....
For the inaugural link up at The Lounge. The theme: What did you think you would be better at by now?
What did I think I would be better at by now?
Oh gosh - pretty much everything.
But the one that springs into mind at the moment is that I thought I would be much better at not letting my children watch quite so much television.
I was one of those people ( you know the ones - you might have been one yourself) who formulated a lot of rules, goals, blanket statements about the type of parent I would be. I would never let my children....; my children will never be allowed to....; etc.
TV was one of those things. Until I had The Eldest and I discovered that newborns don't see the importance of you showering first thing in the day and will not obligingly lie quiet whilst you shower in a vain attempt to wake up, wash away the memory of being up to feed five times during the night and find some semblance of who you used to be in the zombie now walking around in your pyjamas. The Eldest had an objection to sleeping - at least while the sun was up. The Eldest did not to be left alone. The Eldest would only sleep during the day if she was in her pram being pushed around Lilyfield, Leichhardt, Rozelle or Balmain. Not a feat to be accomplished in ones pyjamas, bleary from lack of sleep and lack of shower. We lived away from our family, so there were no options for morning help.
And then I discovered Baby Einstein. For 20 minutes, The Eldest would happily sit in the rocker, watch the television while I did the 20 minute shower and dress dash. The television became my morning babysitter. I loved Baby Einstein. I said daily prayers of thanks for TV's, DVD players and a baby who loved to watch.
From Baby Einstein we moved onto In the Night Garden. The Eldest could be in a screaming frenzy - yet as soon as she heard the opening notes of the theme song, she would literally stop mid-scream. The calming down was instantaneous. Upsey Daisy, Iggle Piggle, Makka Pakka, The tombliboos. Instant new best friends - for me. I loved them. No matter that I often couldn't make heads nor tails of what was actually happening. I was after all a sleep deprived mum. So powerful was this show in calming down my child, I downloaded the In the Night CD onto my iphone. Screaming fits in the shops were a thing of the past. One press of the iphone and a half an hour of shopping bliss ensued. We bought the CD for the car and many of the journeys on the highway between Sydney and Canberra were done with the three of us listening to Upsey Daisy and Iggle piggle. Even now, on hearing the opening them song, my husband and I exchange glances. The Hume Highway. Only now, almost four years later, do we look back in nostalgia. At the time, I think we were close to going insane. But it was better (only just) than 3 hours of screaming.
We've been through many Tv fads now. Playschool, Hi-5, The wiggles, Giggle and Hoot, Sesame Street, Dora (bloody Dora - I swear this is the one that really gets me "I'm the map, I'm the Map, I'm the Map, I'm the map), Tinkerbell, Cinderella, Peppa Pig, Barbie.
I knew The Eldest loved TV. But it was the following conversation that hit me hard.
The Eldest: "Mummy - that's a hexagon"
Me (thrilled that my 3 year old recognised a 6 sided shape and knew it's name) "Who taught you that that's a hexagon?" (I knew I hadn't)
" Bubble Guppies"
Heart sinking moment.
And then there was the day. THE DAY. The Day I saw the terror in my children's faces when the TV was turned off - and WE WEREN'T EVEN LEAVING THE HOUSE. Crap.
So, yes. I thought I would be much better at limiting TV viewing. And I am improving. Now we love the CD player almost as much as the TV. Maybe one day we'll even get tot the point of no background noise in the house at all. Probably not though.
In the meantime, my children have developed active imaginations that they use in their play, they have learnt some stuff along the way - hexagons and even a smattering of spanish. They can spot Dora at a 100 paces so I know there is nothing wrong with their eyesight. My social capital is up with the 3-5 year old set as I know all the characters, plots and subplots - and can even sing out a theme song to two.
(I am trying to turn the TV off more than I used to).
Now, as The Youngest hands me a lemonade ice block first thing on a Sunday morning, I think I had best turn my attention to nutrition - cause I am sure I also vowed my children would never eat iceblocks for breakfast. Apparently I was wrong.
Jen x
What did I think I would be better at by now?
Oh gosh - pretty much everything.
But the one that springs into mind at the moment is that I thought I would be much better at not letting my children watch quite so much television.
I was one of those people ( you know the ones - you might have been one yourself) who formulated a lot of rules, goals, blanket statements about the type of parent I would be. I would never let my children....; my children will never be allowed to....; etc.
TV was one of those things. Until I had The Eldest and I discovered that newborns don't see the importance of you showering first thing in the day and will not obligingly lie quiet whilst you shower in a vain attempt to wake up, wash away the memory of being up to feed five times during the night and find some semblance of who you used to be in the zombie now walking around in your pyjamas. The Eldest had an objection to sleeping - at least while the sun was up. The Eldest did not to be left alone. The Eldest would only sleep during the day if she was in her pram being pushed around Lilyfield, Leichhardt, Rozelle or Balmain. Not a feat to be accomplished in ones pyjamas, bleary from lack of sleep and lack of shower. We lived away from our family, so there were no options for morning help.
And then I discovered Baby Einstein. For 20 minutes, The Eldest would happily sit in the rocker, watch the television while I did the 20 minute shower and dress dash. The television became my morning babysitter. I loved Baby Einstein. I said daily prayers of thanks for TV's, DVD players and a baby who loved to watch.
From Baby Einstein we moved onto In the Night Garden. The Eldest could be in a screaming frenzy - yet as soon as she heard the opening notes of the theme song, she would literally stop mid-scream. The calming down was instantaneous. Upsey Daisy, Iggle Piggle, Makka Pakka, The tombliboos. Instant new best friends - for me. I loved them. No matter that I often couldn't make heads nor tails of what was actually happening. I was after all a sleep deprived mum. So powerful was this show in calming down my child, I downloaded the In the Night CD onto my iphone. Screaming fits in the shops were a thing of the past. One press of the iphone and a half an hour of shopping bliss ensued. We bought the CD for the car and many of the journeys on the highway between Sydney and Canberra were done with the three of us listening to Upsey Daisy and Iggle piggle. Even now, on hearing the opening them song, my husband and I exchange glances. The Hume Highway. Only now, almost four years later, do we look back in nostalgia. At the time, I think we were close to going insane. But it was better (only just) than 3 hours of screaming.
We've been through many Tv fads now. Playschool, Hi-5, The wiggles, Giggle and Hoot, Sesame Street, Dora (bloody Dora - I swear this is the one that really gets me "I'm the map, I'm the Map, I'm the Map, I'm the map), Tinkerbell, Cinderella, Peppa Pig, Barbie.
I knew The Eldest loved TV. But it was the following conversation that hit me hard.
The Eldest: "Mummy - that's a hexagon"
Me (thrilled that my 3 year old recognised a 6 sided shape and knew it's name) "Who taught you that that's a hexagon?" (I knew I hadn't)
" Bubble Guppies"
Heart sinking moment.
And then there was the day. THE DAY. The Day I saw the terror in my children's faces when the TV was turned off - and WE WEREN'T EVEN LEAVING THE HOUSE. Crap.
So, yes. I thought I would be much better at limiting TV viewing. And I am improving. Now we love the CD player almost as much as the TV. Maybe one day we'll even get tot the point of no background noise in the house at all. Probably not though.
In the meantime, my children have developed active imaginations that they use in their play, they have learnt some stuff along the way - hexagons and even a smattering of spanish. They can spot Dora at a 100 paces so I know there is nothing wrong with their eyesight. My social capital is up with the 3-5 year old set as I know all the characters, plots and subplots - and can even sing out a theme song to two.
(I am trying to turn the TV off more than I used to).
Now, as The Youngest hands me a lemonade ice block first thing on a Sunday morning, I think I had best turn my attention to nutrition - cause I am sure I also vowed my children would never eat iceblocks for breakfast. Apparently I was wrong.
Jen x
I would not normally...
This week has been somewhat of challenge for a variety of reasons. Emotionally, I am on some sort of rollercoaster, rocketing from one emotional extreme to another often without much warning.
I would not normally yell at the young manager at target. Normally, I would have expected him to honour the "buy 2 shirt, get one free" sign that stood in pride of place above 5 shelves of identical t-shirts. I just would not normally have shouted (very loudly and tearfully) about it. I normally would not have accused him of thinking I was stupid. But I did. My rational self did not go shopping that day. My fragile, hurt self, went shopping. So, I would not normally have then walked aimlessly through the shopping centre, in tears, wondering who the person was that yelled at that poor young man. I sincerely hope that when he finished his shift, he went straight to the bottle shop, bought a six pack (or something stronger) and took it home to drink in honour of the crazy woman who yelled at him. He deserved that much. But just in case he didn't, I drank a very large glass of red that night in his honour, as my way of saying sorry.
I would not normally still be in bed when Hubby goes off to work in the morning. Normally I too would be getting ready for work, and dashing out the door. But I am not. I am still in bed, trying to find a way to drag myself out of bed. Maybe next week I will be up when he leaves. Maybe not, but I'll try.
I would not normally ignore the "out to lunch. Back at 2:30" sign on anyone's door. But I had driven 45 minutes out to the uni to hand in some paperwork. Perhaps if the students had actually been eating lunch, I might not have barged in. But, as they were playing waste bin basketball, and my not-so-normal self was looking through the window in the door, I interrupted their lunch break. Let's face it, their lunch breaks are normally 4 hours anyway. I remember. My normal self went to uni once. Or maybe they should have locked the door. Anyway, I am mostly sorry that I cried when I interrupted them. Would have been way cooler if my mature - normal self had faced them totally composed and apologetic. I am quite sure those two students would have ended up at the Dickson Tradies later that afternoon, drinking in honour of the crazy woman who interrupted lunch. But then maybe they wouldn't have needed the crazy lady as an excuse to be at the tradies anyway...
I would not normally cry when ordering coffee from my local cafe, who know me quite well by now, but perhaps not well enough for tears when ordering.
I would not normally completely ruin dinner. I know, that over cooking pasta creates inedible mush. That is why one does not add the pasta into a slow cook bolognaise. But I did. I probably won't ever do that again. Which is why it is a good thing we live in a society where fast food is on offer. We would not normally eat a 3 piece chicken feed from KFC each. But we did. (And just quietly - I thoroughly enjoyed it.)
I would not normally be at home all by myself for hours on end. It is quiet. Very very quiet. And I can hear myself think too easily. So I have spent the week being occupied in other ways. Walking. Being with my Mum. Drinking coffee. Organising stuff. Maybe this week, I will spend more time at home. Hubby's ban of me watching ER should have expired by now and I have about 10 episodes to catch up on...
And although this week has been a challenge, there have been some bright and wonderful moments.
I would not normally have taken the girls to the Carousel in the city. But last Sunday we did, and the look on their faces, their excitement, made the trip out there more than worthwhile.
I would not normally have had the time to sort through my clothing - and although I didn't get through all of my drawers / shelves, I was successful in taking 25 (yes! 25!!) tops to Vinnies. It helped that I had the time to try them all on. It helps that I have a warped mirror in the bathroom that over accentuates how ill fitting my clothing is. Now I only have 3 more shelves, the hanging rails and 7 drawers, the front cupboard and 2 kids rooms to go. Still, it is a start.
I would not normally by a 500g tub of maltezers from Costco. I would not normally consume it within 3 days. (Hubby helped , but deep down I know, it was mainly me). But then, I would not normally sit on the couch crying either. But this week I have. And Hubby would not normally have to ask which particular thing I am crying about. But I did and he did and wonderful man that he is, he supported me completely, by the providing of mountains loads of chocolate and lots of tea. The maltezers are all gone, but the container was then filled up with easter chocolate (yes, I had some left). I was a little panicked about what will happen when the container is empty - until I found three large blocks of Cadbury chocolate in the bar fridge....
So, as the weekend rolls on through, I find myself starting a knitting project, mopping floors, playing with my children and going for walks with my hubby. Maybe next week, I'll be a little less crazy - at least in public. Or not. Hopefully though Vinnies will have more of my wardrobe, there will still be chocolate in my house, I'll have watched those episodes of ER and maybe drunk a few more large glasses of red wine...
Have a good weekend,
Jen x
I would not normally yell at the young manager at target. Normally, I would have expected him to honour the "buy 2 shirt, get one free" sign that stood in pride of place above 5 shelves of identical t-shirts. I just would not normally have shouted (very loudly and tearfully) about it. I normally would not have accused him of thinking I was stupid. But I did. My rational self did not go shopping that day. My fragile, hurt self, went shopping. So, I would not normally have then walked aimlessly through the shopping centre, in tears, wondering who the person was that yelled at that poor young man. I sincerely hope that when he finished his shift, he went straight to the bottle shop, bought a six pack (or something stronger) and took it home to drink in honour of the crazy woman who yelled at him. He deserved that much. But just in case he didn't, I drank a very large glass of red that night in his honour, as my way of saying sorry.
I would not normally still be in bed when Hubby goes off to work in the morning. Normally I too would be getting ready for work, and dashing out the door. But I am not. I am still in bed, trying to find a way to drag myself out of bed. Maybe next week I will be up when he leaves. Maybe not, but I'll try.
I would not normally ignore the "out to lunch. Back at 2:30" sign on anyone's door. But I had driven 45 minutes out to the uni to hand in some paperwork. Perhaps if the students had actually been eating lunch, I might not have barged in. But, as they were playing waste bin basketball, and my not-so-normal self was looking through the window in the door, I interrupted their lunch break. Let's face it, their lunch breaks are normally 4 hours anyway. I remember. My normal self went to uni once. Or maybe they should have locked the door. Anyway, I am mostly sorry that I cried when I interrupted them. Would have been way cooler if my mature - normal self had faced them totally composed and apologetic. I am quite sure those two students would have ended up at the Dickson Tradies later that afternoon, drinking in honour of the crazy woman who interrupted lunch. But then maybe they wouldn't have needed the crazy lady as an excuse to be at the tradies anyway...
I would not normally cry when ordering coffee from my local cafe, who know me quite well by now, but perhaps not well enough for tears when ordering.
I would not normally completely ruin dinner. I know, that over cooking pasta creates inedible mush. That is why one does not add the pasta into a slow cook bolognaise. But I did. I probably won't ever do that again. Which is why it is a good thing we live in a society where fast food is on offer. We would not normally eat a 3 piece chicken feed from KFC each. But we did. (And just quietly - I thoroughly enjoyed it.)
I would not normally be at home all by myself for hours on end. It is quiet. Very very quiet. And I can hear myself think too easily. So I have spent the week being occupied in other ways. Walking. Being with my Mum. Drinking coffee. Organising stuff. Maybe this week, I will spend more time at home. Hubby's ban of me watching ER should have expired by now and I have about 10 episodes to catch up on...
And although this week has been a challenge, there have been some bright and wonderful moments.
I would not normally have taken the girls to the Carousel in the city. But last Sunday we did, and the look on their faces, their excitement, made the trip out there more than worthwhile.
I would not normally have had the time to sort through my clothing - and although I didn't get through all of my drawers / shelves, I was successful in taking 25 (yes! 25!!) tops to Vinnies. It helped that I had the time to try them all on. It helps that I have a warped mirror in the bathroom that over accentuates how ill fitting my clothing is. Now I only have 3 more shelves, the hanging rails and 7 drawers, the front cupboard and 2 kids rooms to go. Still, it is a start.
I would not normally by a 500g tub of maltezers from Costco. I would not normally consume it within 3 days. (Hubby helped , but deep down I know, it was mainly me). But then, I would not normally sit on the couch crying either. But this week I have. And Hubby would not normally have to ask which particular thing I am crying about. But I did and he did and wonderful man that he is, he supported me completely, by the providing of mountains loads of chocolate and lots of tea. The maltezers are all gone, but the container was then filled up with easter chocolate (yes, I had some left). I was a little panicked about what will happen when the container is empty - until I found three large blocks of Cadbury chocolate in the bar fridge....
So, as the weekend rolls on through, I find myself starting a knitting project, mopping floors, playing with my children and going for walks with my hubby. Maybe next week, I'll be a little less crazy - at least in public. Or not. Hopefully though Vinnies will have more of my wardrobe, there will still be chocolate in my house, I'll have watched those episodes of ER and maybe drunk a few more large glasses of red wine...
Have a good weekend,
Jen x
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