I was so proud of our kids today. I was so convinced that today would be a complete debacle, that when it turned out to be the opposite I was delighted! There was a very special assembly on at the school where Christian and I teach, and I really wanted to be there. Of course, it was on during Period 1 which meant I had to have all three kids out the door by 7.30am (taking into account a stop for a drive-through coffee!) Incredibly, we were all fed, dressed and in the car on time, a feat I am sure was only possible because Maisie woke up at 5am for a feed. It was absolutely pouring with rain too, so I took my time driving very carefully. I had to pull over at one point, as Maisie did such an explosive sneeze that it required a three-tissue mop-up. Jack thought I was very funny, stopping the car on the side of the road, putting on the hazard lights, and climbing over the seats into the back just to wipe Maisie's face - I was not getting out of that car, I can tell you now! When she did it for a second time ten minutes down the road, I'm afraid I let the mess run down her chin - there wasn't anywhere to pull over!
It was still raining when we arrived at school but light enough to scramble inside. It was lovely to see some of my students (and a few also gave the distinct impression that I could stay on maternity leave for as long as I liked...the longer the better!), and we all sat in the Activities Room for the assembly. Whether it was my threats about behaving properly or just a lucky day, I'm not sure, but our three kids were impeccable. Maisie was alternately cuddled by the lovely Aunty Bec or Mummy, or lay kicking on the floor with her beloved piece of track; Jack had a Hot Wheels car and a box of sultanas to keep him happy; and Phoebe had her dolly (Miss Polly), a box of tarnies and the perpetual game of "Where's My Daddy?". (Halfway through, Phoebe told me with a little smirk that she'd done a poo...my look of alarm must have been hilarious because she dissolved into laughter and admitted that she hadn't...little turkey). After sitting all the way through the assembly and (finally) seeing Daddy, they also went for morning tea with the Principal. Despite my anxiety, no one was shy or rude, no one spilled their drink, and no one made impolite smells. It was a miracle!!!
I was so relieved to have escaped unscathed that I took them to a local play centre as a reward (after all the angst it was still only 10am!). Maisie ate her apple, had a little feed and fell asleep in her pram amongst the hysteria that is a weekday play centre. Jack and Phoebe stopped briefly for lunch but were having far too much fun together to think about food. They're very cute at those big places, they stay very close together and I often see them fly past holding hands. There was only one moment when I couldn't see Phoebe, and when Jack and I found her she was sitting in the Daytona arcade game, driving like a pro! "Look Mummy, I driving fast!!" They ran and ran and ran their little hearts out, and when the legs began to slow, I packed them all up into the car and came home. When we arrived back at the house just after 1pm, I felt as though it should have been dinner time. We had a really cruisy afternoon watching a DVD (or a TVTV as Phoebs calls them), and I bathed them at 3 o'clock. I think I was dreaming though, if I expected an early night for the terrible two - obviously they were pretty hyped after their big day, because even though they were in their jarmies and fed before 5.30, we had an awful time getting them to bed tonight! Maisie is currently practising her rolling over on the floor, but I can hear her getting tired. Cross your fingers she feeds and settles well tonight, or it will be my sixth night in a row to be up for a night feed. (Actually, I've been taking the lazy way out - I take her into bed and doze...not the most restful night but it's warm!)
I really enjoyed today, and I should give my kids kudos for being brilliant. However, I am ever so slightly concerned that I may have used up all of my allocated "good behaviour" cards for the week - tomorrow we are off to the photographers to have some portraits taken. When you consider the mix of three small children, bright lights, music and a flashing camera, so many things could go wrong...wish me luck!!
Friday, September 10, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Visiting Argie
My beautiful grandmother always welcomes the kids and I for a visit with open arms. I try and get down to her once a week, although with all of our coughs and colds lately I haven't liked to go there laden with germs! We have always called her 'Narnie', and when Jack arrived I wanted my mum to be a Narnie too, so there was great debate over what my Narnie should be re-named! We went with Great Narnie, which morphed into Narnie G, until Jack settled the debate by mangling this into Argie. I think she loves her new name, especially as Jack came up with it. Anyway, today was a lovely day for visiting Argie, and the kids were excited. I love the fact that not only do I get to indulge in some adult conversation when we visit her, but the kids have developed a very close relationship with their great-grandmother - a luxury not many kids have.
We have been visiting Argie since Jack was a newborn, so the kids are all very familiar with her house and where the toys are located! We always go down and have lunch together, which Jack and Phoebe love because they get to sit at the 'grown-ups' table. Typically, Argie and I attempt to have a conversation while the wild things run rampant. Argie's toy box holds all the wooden blocks, cars and books that my siblings and cousins all played with, and now they are being loved by my children too. Argie has always been one of my best friends, and she is incredibly easy to talk to. No matter what my children have thrown at me (literally and figuratively!), she always has good advice and an ear ready to listen. Not only that, but usually she can relate with a story about her own four children! Every single time I visit Argie, she tells at least one story about a time when her children were little (and most of them I have heard a few times over...). Argie had four children under the age of five (including twins), which in anyone's language is hard work. Given that she raised her family in a time before washing machines, tumble dryers or disposable nappies, I could never compare my workload to hers!!
Today we sat and chatted while she knitted Phoebe a cardigan, and the kids played on the floor around us. I was listening to her tell a story about my mum, and it occurred to me that regardless of how hard it had been, or how little sleep she got, the years when her kids were little were the best of her life. It never matters what the story is about, but talking about her babies brings happiness to her face (never mind that her babies are all grown up and have grandchildren themselves!). The love that she has poured into her family is so evident, simply by watching her speak about her children and remember details from 50 years ago. And as a result of this love, Argie has four children, three sons-in-law and one daughter-in-law, nine grandchildren and three great-grandchildren who would walk over hot coals for her. What an amazing legacy for a mother's hard work, to have a large and loving family who love each other, seek each other's company, take pleasure in other's successes, and comfort each other when there's sadness. She has always been an inspiring woman to me, but today a new reason for inspiration occurred to me. I know that if she were given the chance, Argie would jump at being able to live my life with young children, even for just one day. Even this week, when Maisie has slept in my arms for three nights in a row (screaming if I even think about putting her down), and I have driven all over the countryside taking small people to appointments and kinder and the supermarket, and the rain has stopped any washing from drying, and my husband has been at work every hour God sends, I know Argie would love to be back in the thick of it. And I also know that one day, when my children are grown, when the house is quiet, when I'm not needed every minute of every hour, I will wish for all of this lovely chaos again. And so my lovely grandmother has inspired me to pour all of my love and energy into my children, and cherish every second of the noise and inability to stop moving (and jumping and hopping and skipping). Hopefully, if I am very lucky, one day I too will have children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren who will visit me and bring the chaos I crave, when the house is quiet except for my memories.
We have been visiting Argie since Jack was a newborn, so the kids are all very familiar with her house and where the toys are located! We always go down and have lunch together, which Jack and Phoebe love because they get to sit at the 'grown-ups' table. Typically, Argie and I attempt to have a conversation while the wild things run rampant. Argie's toy box holds all the wooden blocks, cars and books that my siblings and cousins all played with, and now they are being loved by my children too. Argie has always been one of my best friends, and she is incredibly easy to talk to. No matter what my children have thrown at me (literally and figuratively!), she always has good advice and an ear ready to listen. Not only that, but usually she can relate with a story about her own four children! Every single time I visit Argie, she tells at least one story about a time when her children were little (and most of them I have heard a few times over...). Argie had four children under the age of five (including twins), which in anyone's language is hard work. Given that she raised her family in a time before washing machines, tumble dryers or disposable nappies, I could never compare my workload to hers!!
Today we sat and chatted while she knitted Phoebe a cardigan, and the kids played on the floor around us. I was listening to her tell a story about my mum, and it occurred to me that regardless of how hard it had been, or how little sleep she got, the years when her kids were little were the best of her life. It never matters what the story is about, but talking about her babies brings happiness to her face (never mind that her babies are all grown up and have grandchildren themselves!). The love that she has poured into her family is so evident, simply by watching her speak about her children and remember details from 50 years ago. And as a result of this love, Argie has four children, three sons-in-law and one daughter-in-law, nine grandchildren and three great-grandchildren who would walk over hot coals for her. What an amazing legacy for a mother's hard work, to have a large and loving family who love each other, seek each other's company, take pleasure in other's successes, and comfort each other when there's sadness. She has always been an inspiring woman to me, but today a new reason for inspiration occurred to me. I know that if she were given the chance, Argie would jump at being able to live my life with young children, even for just one day. Even this week, when Maisie has slept in my arms for three nights in a row (screaming if I even think about putting her down), and I have driven all over the countryside taking small people to appointments and kinder and the supermarket, and the rain has stopped any washing from drying, and my husband has been at work every hour God sends, I know Argie would love to be back in the thick of it. And I also know that one day, when my children are grown, when the house is quiet, when I'm not needed every minute of every hour, I will wish for all of this lovely chaos again. And so my lovely grandmother has inspired me to pour all of my love and energy into my children, and cherish every second of the noise and inability to stop moving (and jumping and hopping and skipping). Hopefully, if I am very lucky, one day I too will have children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren who will visit me and bring the chaos I crave, when the house is quiet except for my memories.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Traipsing with Maisie
Wasn't it a glorious day today? Even though it was still quite cool, there was a hint of warmth in the breeze that made me want to crack open the summer wardrobe! Perhaps I'd better think about doing a bit of D.I.Y on the legs before the hemlines get raised...
Phoebalina went off to daycare with Daddy early, so Jack, Maisie and I had a little snuggle in bed before the kinder rush began. Maisie had a check-up with the doctor this morning, so after we dropped Jack off at kinder, we had a leisurely stroll through the supermarket, saw the doctor (Maisie almost certainly has asthma...that's another blog!!) and it was still only 10am. How lovely was this? We strolled through a couple of baby shops looking at clothes we didn't need, had a chat with the local hairdresser, smiled at the greengrocer, grabbed a decaf soy latte, and basically acted as though we were ladies of leisure with not a care in the world! (To look at us, you'd never guess at the horrific scenes of domestic destruction we had left behind us this morning!)
Around 11am, Maisie decided she was ready for her midday refreshments, so we tootled off home. While she slept, I ran around like a madwoman folding washing and putting it away (there was absolutely no dignity involved, I assure you!). By the time Maisie woke up to a clean house (magic, isn't it?? Everyone goes off for their day at work or school or kinder, and comes back to a clean house and a full fridge...those housework fairies are amazing!!) it was time to head out again. After a quick visit to the lovely Holly, my naturopath extraordinaire, we dashed back over to pick up Jack and got him to the hairdresser just in time for his appointment. It was well and truly worth the mad dash in the traffic to get him there, as Whitney our hair stylist snipped her way around Jack's bushy head until he looked absolutely gorgeous. With only two children in tow, I felt positively calm about the whole dinner-bath-bed scenario tonight (but don't mention tomorrow night - I'll be a work widow then!). We came home, whacked some dinner in the oven, watched a bit of 'Horses and Vomit' (that's Wallace and Gromit in Jack-speak) and were in our pyjamas before Daddy and Phoebe arrived home.
Isn't it funny how a day in which nothing really happened got so crazily busy, and yet felt like a relaxing day anyway? I had three appointments today which I potentially could have been very late for, and yet I wasn't...I had a shedload of washing that potentially could have been left draped all over the house, and yet it wasn't...I dragged a baby from pillar to post who potentially could have been very tired and grumpy, and yet she wasn't...ask me what I remember about today, and it would be traipsing around the shops, coffee in hand, baby in pram, sun shining. It doesn't get any better than that!!!
Phoebalina went off to daycare with Daddy early, so Jack, Maisie and I had a little snuggle in bed before the kinder rush began. Maisie had a check-up with the doctor this morning, so after we dropped Jack off at kinder, we had a leisurely stroll through the supermarket, saw the doctor (Maisie almost certainly has asthma...that's another blog!!) and it was still only 10am. How lovely was this? We strolled through a couple of baby shops looking at clothes we didn't need, had a chat with the local hairdresser, smiled at the greengrocer, grabbed a decaf soy latte, and basically acted as though we were ladies of leisure with not a care in the world! (To look at us, you'd never guess at the horrific scenes of domestic destruction we had left behind us this morning!)
Around 11am, Maisie decided she was ready for her midday refreshments, so we tootled off home. While she slept, I ran around like a madwoman folding washing and putting it away (there was absolutely no dignity involved, I assure you!). By the time Maisie woke up to a clean house (magic, isn't it?? Everyone goes off for their day at work or school or kinder, and comes back to a clean house and a full fridge...those housework fairies are amazing!!) it was time to head out again. After a quick visit to the lovely Holly, my naturopath extraordinaire, we dashed back over to pick up Jack and got him to the hairdresser just in time for his appointment. It was well and truly worth the mad dash in the traffic to get him there, as Whitney our hair stylist snipped her way around Jack's bushy head until he looked absolutely gorgeous. With only two children in tow, I felt positively calm about the whole dinner-bath-bed scenario tonight (but don't mention tomorrow night - I'll be a work widow then!). We came home, whacked some dinner in the oven, watched a bit of 'Horses and Vomit' (that's Wallace and Gromit in Jack-speak) and were in our pyjamas before Daddy and Phoebe arrived home.
Isn't it funny how a day in which nothing really happened got so crazily busy, and yet felt like a relaxing day anyway? I had three appointments today which I potentially could have been very late for, and yet I wasn't...I had a shedload of washing that potentially could have been left draped all over the house, and yet it wasn't...I dragged a baby from pillar to post who potentially could have been very tired and grumpy, and yet she wasn't...ask me what I remember about today, and it would be traipsing around the shops, coffee in hand, baby in pram, sun shining. It doesn't get any better than that!!!
Monday, September 6, 2010
Passing judgement
It's really easy, as a mum, to judge yourself on every aspect of motherhood. I know that I began watching other mums when I was pregnant in an attempt to gauge if I was doing the rights things - was I gaining too much weight, was I taking the right vitamins, would my baby be adversely affected by over-consumption of 80's music? When Jack arrived, I continued to measure Jack's and my progress by others - was Jack gaining enough weight, was I losing enough weight, were his developmental milestones being affected by watching too many 80's movies with Mummy? The judgements continued with every aspect of babyhood and childhood: did I introduce solids too early? Should I have encouraged him to roll over / crawl / walk earlier than he did? Did I stimulate his early vocabulary enough? Would having a baby sister born only 17 months after him affect either of them? Have I ruined my children by going back to work and putting them in childcare part time? How much television is too much? Should a two year old be able to recognise a DVD simply by looking at the spine of the cover? This is only a tiny fraction of the questions I have asked myself over the last four and a half years (and I do realise that my neuroticism is only too evident!)
If this isn't bad enough, I know that many mothers judge other mothers in a negative way. It's one thing to look at your own behaviour and try to be the best you can be; it's a totally different ball-game to observe a snapshot of another person and make a (derogatory) decision about their parenting skills. How many times have you heard a judgement passed in a mothers' group about breastfeeding versus bottle feeding? Or heard someone discuss another mother's disciplinary action (or lack thereof!) Or seen children's physical prowess compared (oh, so little Johnny isn't sitting up yet? Are you worried?? Epponnee Rae has been sitting up since she was four months old!) I know that I time my visits to the supermarket to minimise the chance of a tanty (from the kids, not me!) because I know the raised eyebrows will be worse that the tantrum itself. People already feel free to express their opinions on my small brood (gosh, you must be a busy lady! What's the age gap? Were they all planned?) and I regularly find myself defending not only my parenting, but my decision to have my children close together! Seriously, who are these people - the reproductive police?
Although I make a conscious effort to recognise and praise good behaviour in my children (as opposed to continuously jumping on the screaming / fighting / snatching / whining / flinging during day-to-day business), I rarely stop and think that I might not be completely screwing these kids up. Today, a lovely stranger made me realise that mothers judge other mothers too, but in a positive way. We had been to the doctor for Maisie (yes, again!!), and I decided to brave Safeway as we had no milk in the house whatsoever. I had Mais in the pram, Phoebe 'helping' me push the pram, and Jack trailing along beside. Jack and Phoebs had both decided to go out in their dress-ups today, so a lot of people were commenting on Superman and Tinkerbell. A lovely lady in her 70's stopped me in the bread aisle, and said "What beautiful children. I had three in three years, you know, just like you I imagine. You're doing a marvellous job, dear." And with that, she made my whole day brighter. Admittedly, she caught my children at a point in the day when they were (relatively) clean, quiet, and occupied in a task, so they must have looked happy and well-behaved. But what a difference she made to my mental health. Not only did she make me realise that for the most part, I'm doing ok, but that she survived, and so will I!
So next time my children are losing the plot in the fruit and veges section of Safeway, I will just smile serenely at the other mothers around me. I will not panic and think wild thoughts about the judgements being made about my lack of discipline. Rather, I will wait for the tantrum to subside, look one of the other mothers dead in the eye, and think, "Ha. It'll be your kids' turn tomorrow!"
If this isn't bad enough, I know that many mothers judge other mothers in a negative way. It's one thing to look at your own behaviour and try to be the best you can be; it's a totally different ball-game to observe a snapshot of another person and make a (derogatory) decision about their parenting skills. How many times have you heard a judgement passed in a mothers' group about breastfeeding versus bottle feeding? Or heard someone discuss another mother's disciplinary action (or lack thereof!) Or seen children's physical prowess compared (oh, so little Johnny isn't sitting up yet? Are you worried?? Epponnee Rae has been sitting up since she was four months old!) I know that I time my visits to the supermarket to minimise the chance of a tanty (from the kids, not me!) because I know the raised eyebrows will be worse that the tantrum itself. People already feel free to express their opinions on my small brood (gosh, you must be a busy lady! What's the age gap? Were they all planned?) and I regularly find myself defending not only my parenting, but my decision to have my children close together! Seriously, who are these people - the reproductive police?
Although I make a conscious effort to recognise and praise good behaviour in my children (as opposed to continuously jumping on the screaming / fighting / snatching / whining / flinging during day-to-day business), I rarely stop and think that I might not be completely screwing these kids up. Today, a lovely stranger made me realise that mothers judge other mothers too, but in a positive way. We had been to the doctor for Maisie (yes, again!!), and I decided to brave Safeway as we had no milk in the house whatsoever. I had Mais in the pram, Phoebe 'helping' me push the pram, and Jack trailing along beside. Jack and Phoebs had both decided to go out in their dress-ups today, so a lot of people were commenting on Superman and Tinkerbell. A lovely lady in her 70's stopped me in the bread aisle, and said "What beautiful children. I had three in three years, you know, just like you I imagine. You're doing a marvellous job, dear." And with that, she made my whole day brighter. Admittedly, she caught my children at a point in the day when they were (relatively) clean, quiet, and occupied in a task, so they must have looked happy and well-behaved. But what a difference she made to my mental health. Not only did she make me realise that for the most part, I'm doing ok, but that she survived, and so will I!
So next time my children are losing the plot in the fruit and veges section of Safeway, I will just smile serenely at the other mothers around me. I will not panic and think wild thoughts about the judgements being made about my lack of discipline. Rather, I will wait for the tantrum to subside, look one of the other mothers dead in the eye, and think, "Ha. It'll be your kids' turn tomorrow!"
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Happy Father's Day
Today was Christian's fifth Father's Day. Even though we don't go in for commercialised "days" that heavily, it's still nice to celebrate days like this together. It reminds us of what's important, and also reminds us to tell the special people in our life that they are indeed special. We usually see my Dad and Christian's Dad for a coffee or a little catch-up, but the dominant part of Father's Day for us simply means letting the kids hang out with their Daddy. All three kids wait desperately for the weekends, as that is when Daddy is home and ready to play. On Father's Day, when they have the chance to give Daddy presents and go out for meals in cafes, it's like a weekend on 'roids!
Our first Father's Day as a little family was when Jack was only five months old, so we have a few photos of baby Jack (complete with jowls) giving Daddy big cuddles. Our second Father's Day fell a few days before Phoebe made her big debut, so we went on a little picnic out near Emerald. The photos from that day capture 17 month old Jack toddling around a picnic ground, with a very pregnant Mummy in the background!! On Christian's third Father's Day, we had a pretty quiet day with Grandpa and Pa, as we were preparing for Phoebe's first birthday party. Last year, I had a cute little five month pregnant belly that was still comfortable to cart around, so we actually went out for dinner. And this year, Christian's first as a father of three, we have had a very busy, very fun day.
This morning the kids gave Christian an assortment of handmade and Southland-purchased gifts (including a card with Jack's first attempts at handwriting on it - bless!!) at an absurdly early hour (but still normal for a Sunday!) We went to our swimming lessons as usual (although Maisie was under doctor's instructions not to swim, and she was not impressed) and Phoebe had a ball splashing around in Daddy's arms. After swimming, we had lunch in a cafe, went shopping for a bike for Phoebe's birthday, and visited my Dad. At this very moment, Phoebe is curled up in her Daddy's lap, watching his new Tour de France DVD. Very soon, we will be taking three rather tired kids out for dinner with Christian's Dad.
When you think about it, both Father's Day and Mother's Day function fairly similarly to any normal day when you have small children. You still need to get up with them, regardless of the hour, to dispense Weetbix and break up squabbles. You still need to clean dirty bottoms, feed hungry children, and settle tired babies. You still need to pretend to eat pretend porridge (or coffee, or cakes, or whatever Phoebe's kitchen is cooking up), answer endless questions, and wash ridiculous amounts of dirty clothes. You also get to enjoy the spontaneous cuddles, listen to the made-up songs, receive Weetbixy kisses, hold warm sleeping babies, and enjoy the company of your children, for whom every day is Father's Day. Because all they know about Father's Day, is that it's day you tell Daddy you love him. They may not comprehend the hours that Daddy works just to pay the mortgage, but they do remember the hours that he spends playing with them, wrestling with them, reading stories with them, riding bikes with them. So thank you, both to my own Dad and my children's Dad, for the love, kindness, laughter, discipline, sharing, listening and time. Happy Father's Day, we love you.
Our first Father's Day as a little family was when Jack was only five months old, so we have a few photos of baby Jack (complete with jowls) giving Daddy big cuddles. Our second Father's Day fell a few days before Phoebe made her big debut, so we went on a little picnic out near Emerald. The photos from that day capture 17 month old Jack toddling around a picnic ground, with a very pregnant Mummy in the background!! On Christian's third Father's Day, we had a pretty quiet day with Grandpa and Pa, as we were preparing for Phoebe's first birthday party. Last year, I had a cute little five month pregnant belly that was still comfortable to cart around, so we actually went out for dinner. And this year, Christian's first as a father of three, we have had a very busy, very fun day.
This morning the kids gave Christian an assortment of handmade and Southland-purchased gifts (including a card with Jack's first attempts at handwriting on it - bless!!) at an absurdly early hour (but still normal for a Sunday!) We went to our swimming lessons as usual (although Maisie was under doctor's instructions not to swim, and she was not impressed) and Phoebe had a ball splashing around in Daddy's arms. After swimming, we had lunch in a cafe, went shopping for a bike for Phoebe's birthday, and visited my Dad. At this very moment, Phoebe is curled up in her Daddy's lap, watching his new Tour de France DVD. Very soon, we will be taking three rather tired kids out for dinner with Christian's Dad.
When you think about it, both Father's Day and Mother's Day function fairly similarly to any normal day when you have small children. You still need to get up with them, regardless of the hour, to dispense Weetbix and break up squabbles. You still need to clean dirty bottoms, feed hungry children, and settle tired babies. You still need to pretend to eat pretend porridge (or coffee, or cakes, or whatever Phoebe's kitchen is cooking up), answer endless questions, and wash ridiculous amounts of dirty clothes. You also get to enjoy the spontaneous cuddles, listen to the made-up songs, receive Weetbixy kisses, hold warm sleeping babies, and enjoy the company of your children, for whom every day is Father's Day. Because all they know about Father's Day, is that it's day you tell Daddy you love him. They may not comprehend the hours that Daddy works just to pay the mortgage, but they do remember the hours that he spends playing with them, wrestling with them, reading stories with them, riding bikes with them. So thank you, both to my own Dad and my children's Dad, for the love, kindness, laughter, discipline, sharing, listening and time. Happy Father's Day, we love you.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Sumpin' else
As I have mentioned before, both my husband and I are teachers. I feel a bit sorry for our kids, as my "teacher voice" tends to come out quite often at home (and come to think of it, I have used it on teenagers on public transport more than once...). I know my students think I'm a bit tough on them, and I am, it's only because I've learned that high standards beget high standards! I suppose when you're dealing with other people's children all day, you learn pretty quickly how to manage rowdy groups...perhaps you could say I specialise in persuasive tactics and crowd control! Anyway, whereas at school I use rewards for students who finish all of their work, at home I use rewards for children who finish all of their dinner. Jack has always been a good eater, especially considering the limited diet he has to follow because of his allergies. We have had to be strict with him by necessity, and he is pretty good about understanding what he can and can't eat. Usually he finishes his lunch or dinner without a problem, and then receives "something else" like a soy yoghurt, some fruit or a biscuit. I don't know if it's because he's the eldest, but Jack has rarely demanded "something else" without finishing his veges.
Phoebe, on the other hand, has evolved "sumpin else" into an art form. The lure of the treat that follows the meal has always been Phoebs' main goal, as she definitely has a sweet tooth and would happily exist on cake alone. Phoebe regularly sits in front of her plate for up to an hour, singing, rearranging her food, pretty much anything except eating her meal. She's usually very sweet about it, and will let you feed her like a baby bird if you are so inclined. However, as I usually have Maisie on one hip and a basket of wet washing on the other, typically I let her shovel her dinner into her own mouth. Lately, Phoebe has become so fixated on the 'sumpin else' component of the meal that she asks for it before the first plate is on the table. For example, if I am cooking pasta, Phoebs will ask if she can have "sumpin else when I finish my noodles, Mummy?" I always reply "Let's just eat your dinner first, darling", to which she will swiftly chirp, "And then I can have sumpin else!"
Yesterday, we went from the sublime to the ridiculous. I was having "one of those days", in which you could practically hear the Benny Hill music in the background. Phoebe and Maisie were so patient sitting in the back seat of the car while I ran hither and yon, that I got the guilts. While I went through my favourite drive-thru coffee joint (for the obligatory decaf soy latte!!), I bought Phoebe a gingerbread man (she calls it a ninja man). Now, as far as treats go, this was up there in the realm of awesome. We typically don't have gingerbread men, simply because Jack can't eat them unless I make them (and when you're in a car, on the run...that's not going to happen!) So I thought the sheer awesomeness of this snack would keep Phoebe happy for a little while. With a huge smile, she ate his buttons (and told me all about it), bit his head off (and told me all about it), and then with a mouthful of gingerbread said, "Mummy, can I have sumpin else?" Are you serious? How can you want something else when you are in the process of eating something so yummy??
I'm not quite sure how far this trend will go but I think we need to nip it in the bud. When we went out for dinner with my mum tonight, we walked into the restaurant and Jack piped up, "Mum, after our dinner can we have gelati please?" We hadn't even sat down, let alone ordered! Talk about jumping the gun! I wonder what would happen if I turned 'sumpin else' into more veges? Or perhaps a glass of soy milk?? Possibly the only thing that might happen is it would make me the worst mother in the world...hmmm. Now there's a social experiment I could enjoy. What do you think?
Phoebe, on the other hand, has evolved "sumpin else" into an art form. The lure of the treat that follows the meal has always been Phoebs' main goal, as she definitely has a sweet tooth and would happily exist on cake alone. Phoebe regularly sits in front of her plate for up to an hour, singing, rearranging her food, pretty much anything except eating her meal. She's usually very sweet about it, and will let you feed her like a baby bird if you are so inclined. However, as I usually have Maisie on one hip and a basket of wet washing on the other, typically I let her shovel her dinner into her own mouth. Lately, Phoebe has become so fixated on the 'sumpin else' component of the meal that she asks for it before the first plate is on the table. For example, if I am cooking pasta, Phoebs will ask if she can have "sumpin else when I finish my noodles, Mummy?" I always reply "Let's just eat your dinner first, darling", to which she will swiftly chirp, "And then I can have sumpin else!"
Yesterday, we went from the sublime to the ridiculous. I was having "one of those days", in which you could practically hear the Benny Hill music in the background. Phoebe and Maisie were so patient sitting in the back seat of the car while I ran hither and yon, that I got the guilts. While I went through my favourite drive-thru coffee joint (for the obligatory decaf soy latte!!), I bought Phoebe a gingerbread man (she calls it a ninja man). Now, as far as treats go, this was up there in the realm of awesome. We typically don't have gingerbread men, simply because Jack can't eat them unless I make them (and when you're in a car, on the run...that's not going to happen!) So I thought the sheer awesomeness of this snack would keep Phoebe happy for a little while. With a huge smile, she ate his buttons (and told me all about it), bit his head off (and told me all about it), and then with a mouthful of gingerbread said, "Mummy, can I have sumpin else?" Are you serious? How can you want something else when you are in the process of eating something so yummy??
I'm not quite sure how far this trend will go but I think we need to nip it in the bud. When we went out for dinner with my mum tonight, we walked into the restaurant and Jack piped up, "Mum, after our dinner can we have gelati please?" We hadn't even sat down, let alone ordered! Talk about jumping the gun! I wonder what would happen if I turned 'sumpin else' into more veges? Or perhaps a glass of soy milk?? Possibly the only thing that might happen is it would make me the worst mother in the world...hmmm. Now there's a social experiment I could enjoy. What do you think?
Thursday, September 2, 2010
The umbilical link
Jack started at a new pre-school this week. We had kept him at his old kinder after we moved even though it was a long drive, as all his friends were there and he loved it. However, as the year has gone on the commute has become harder and harder on the little man. Initially, we reduced his days from three to two, but it still wasn't enough to alleviate the exhaustion from leaving home at 6.30 in the morning and returning with Daddy after work. We also realised that he would know absolutely no-one when he started school next year, which wouldn't be very fair on him. So we decided to find Jack a new kinder, close to the school he will attend in 2011 and a much shorter drive from home. And it would seem because of this move, half-way through Term Three, the emotional impact upon Jack's mummy has been considerable!
When Jack started four year old kinder at the beginning of the year, I had a three week old baby. To be honest, there was so much going on at that time (Phoebe had broken her nose; Christian had only just had heart surgery, and I was recovering from a near-fatal brush with septicaemia) that Jack's start at kinder was a very positive blip on the radar. I didn't really suffer from separation anxiety at the time, as he was so happy going off every day and I had so many other things to think about! (Bad mummy, bad mummy!!) I also haven't really thought much about the impending Prep year either, considering since February we have been enduring the aftermath of the home invasion, and the whole moving-house-building-house-renting-house debacle. So I suppose it came as a bit of a surprise this week that I became quite emotional about my baby boy all of a sudden becoming quite grown-up. (Me, emotional??? Who would have thunk it?) I took Jack into the pre-school room the other morning, and after perhaps 30 seconds of being a bit clingy, he launched into a game all by himself and told me I was ok to go. I looked at my boy, so independent, so confident, and all I could see was the tiny little baby they brought to me in hospital four years ago.
When I was pregnant with Jack, the realisation hit me that my body was taking tiny bits of itself to fashion another human body. That essentially, Jack's body was my body, and no one could tell when the division into two separate people occurred. I think most mothers would feel that you never feel completely separated from your children - certainly I still remember what each one of them felt like in my belly, how their distinct personalities shone through with their kicks and rolls. When they are sad, I feel it in my gut; when they are happy, my heart leaps with joy. When they are frightened, I want to take the source of fear away; when they are angry, I want to fight for them. This week, I have come to the abrupt realisation that Jack is about to take a tiny step away from me; fight his own battles, face his own fears, achieve his own triumphant successes. And of course, I will celebrate every moment with him, for it signifies the fact that he is growing into a happy, healthy, strong young man. In the meantime, I will cherish every second of little-boy sweetness...when he runs and grabs my legs for an impromptu cuddle...when he shares a little joke that makes no sense at all...when he crawls on top of Maisie and nearly squashes her in a hug / wrestle...when he wants to wear nothing but his Superman costume that makes his bottom look so little.
He will absolutely love school, of that I have no doubt whatsoever. When we get to the school gates in February next year, I know he will stride in with pride, excitement and confidence. And I will have a little cry (because I am a sook), and wait to pick him up at the end of the day, ready to hear all his stories. But a little part of me will go with him, always. And I will carry a piece of Jack in my heart.
When Jack started four year old kinder at the beginning of the year, I had a three week old baby. To be honest, there was so much going on at that time (Phoebe had broken her nose; Christian had only just had heart surgery, and I was recovering from a near-fatal brush with septicaemia) that Jack's start at kinder was a very positive blip on the radar. I didn't really suffer from separation anxiety at the time, as he was so happy going off every day and I had so many other things to think about! (Bad mummy, bad mummy!!) I also haven't really thought much about the impending Prep year either, considering since February we have been enduring the aftermath of the home invasion, and the whole moving-house-building-house-renting-house debacle. So I suppose it came as a bit of a surprise this week that I became quite emotional about my baby boy all of a sudden becoming quite grown-up. (Me, emotional??? Who would have thunk it?) I took Jack into the pre-school room the other morning, and after perhaps 30 seconds of being a bit clingy, he launched into a game all by himself and told me I was ok to go. I looked at my boy, so independent, so confident, and all I could see was the tiny little baby they brought to me in hospital four years ago.
When I was pregnant with Jack, the realisation hit me that my body was taking tiny bits of itself to fashion another human body. That essentially, Jack's body was my body, and no one could tell when the division into two separate people occurred. I think most mothers would feel that you never feel completely separated from your children - certainly I still remember what each one of them felt like in my belly, how their distinct personalities shone through with their kicks and rolls. When they are sad, I feel it in my gut; when they are happy, my heart leaps with joy. When they are frightened, I want to take the source of fear away; when they are angry, I want to fight for them. This week, I have come to the abrupt realisation that Jack is about to take a tiny step away from me; fight his own battles, face his own fears, achieve his own triumphant successes. And of course, I will celebrate every moment with him, for it signifies the fact that he is growing into a happy, healthy, strong young man. In the meantime, I will cherish every second of little-boy sweetness...when he runs and grabs my legs for an impromptu cuddle...when he shares a little joke that makes no sense at all...when he crawls on top of Maisie and nearly squashes her in a hug / wrestle...when he wants to wear nothing but his Superman costume that makes his bottom look so little.
He will absolutely love school, of that I have no doubt whatsoever. When we get to the school gates in February next year, I know he will stride in with pride, excitement and confidence. And I will have a little cry (because I am a sook), and wait to pick him up at the end of the day, ready to hear all his stories. But a little part of me will go with him, always. And I will carry a piece of Jack in my heart.
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