What a magnificent day it was today. We had a lovely morning just lolling around in our jarmies - I'm afraid I was a little slow off the mark this morning, as Maisie Mouse had given me a battle royale going to sleep last night! Poor little girl has been very unwell for so long, but there comes a point when all babies need to go to sleep, and all mummies have reached cracking point in terms of sleep deprivation! I have slept so many nights lately with a little girly tucked under my arm, and as much as I love the cuddles, and understand that she just needs her mummy, I am not functioning during the daytime anymore. So I insisted that she went to sleep in her own cot last night, and it took a while to convince her that she would be ok. As a result of this, the team and I weren't that concerned about getting dressed this morning. The big kids watched Play School (or Circle, as we call it) and played intricate imaginary games. I put on several loads of washing and pottered around in my nightie...the poor neighbours might start needing therapy soon! Phoebe took great pride in doing wees in the potty every five minutes or so, and would then spend the time in between wees trying to put her shorts back on again. Maisie eventually rolled out of bed and had a little play, before going back for another nap! Little witch.
When we eventually got around to donning clothes, the kids played outside in the sunshine while I pegged out the multitudes of washing and Maisie rolled on a blanket on the grass. We had lunch, Phoebs had a little catnap, I folded washing. We ventured out of the house only once, for a trip to the chemist to get eyedrops for Maisie's conjunctivitis (ask a three year old to pronouce that one!) It was a lovely, lazy day, and do you know why? Because we didn't need to do anything, or be anywhere, and days like that are numbered for our little team. It only dawned on me recently that with Jack starting Prep next year, we will no longer have days that start slowly. Even when I am not dashing madly off to work in the mornings, and the girls do not have to run into daycare, we will still have to be up to take Jack to school. As I plan to be completely dressed at the school gate (well, most of the time, anyway!), we won't be able to cruise gently through our mornings as we generally have on the days when I don't work. I realise this probably makes me look like a complete sloth...but I suppose it's just a lovely little bonus of being a stay-at-home mum. Some of my favourite times with my kids have involved just hanging around in our pjs, fuzzy bedhair in abundance, snuggles on the couch with stories, and a relaxed atmosphere that only comes from a completely empty schedule. When Jack starts school in February, even a completely blank calendar will have the school run written on it.
Don't worry, I know there's a silver lining - if I am up, dressed and in the car every morning by 8.15, I'll be more likely to get organised in terms of housework, grocery shopping, bill paying...
Gee, I'm going to miss our pyjama mornings.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Perspective
What a weekend! I'm afraid blogging moved a fair way down the list of priorities during the last two days, but that doesn't mean I wasn't thinking about you...
On Friday night, Christian and I went up to the city for the 3rd Annual Gala Ball held by the Warwick Foundation. We had been invited by the divine Anna and her gorgeous husband Adam - otherwise known as the custodians of mad roosters (update: the nasty rooster is now chasing people in the big chicken coop in the sky...I can't say I'm devastated...) to attend this swanky do, and you all know how excited I was. I managed to get the house organised, finish the washing, wangle my way through a hairdresser's appointment with the two girlies in the pram, and get gussied up in time to leave with Christian on Friday arvo. When I was dressed and had put on makeup and some beautiful (borrowed) bling, Phoebe gasped and said, "Mummy! You look like a lady!" (Funny that. I always thought that's what I was...) Jack looked me up and down, and remarked, "Oh, Mumma, you look beautiful. I really like your black eyes." Apparently, that's what my eyeshadow looked like! Let's just say my children don't see me tricked up in posh gear and lipstick very often.
The Warwick Foundation is a fundraising organisation for young people with cancer, so as well as a dinner there was a silent auction and various other fundraising activities on the night. It's incredible, really, the prevalence of cancer in our society, and the majority of us have been touched by it in our families at least once. But the day-to-day nuts and bolts of living with, and dealing with cancer are usually glossed over to prevent causing offence or upset. I was blown away by the honesty and bravery of this room full of people, both the people fighting cancer and the carers, family and friends who support them. To be perfectly truthful, I felt a bit useless sitting there, as I wanted to jump up and DO something to help...but I had no idea what I could do. My grandfather was not a young man when he died of cancer, but he certainly looked at the world through a young man's eyes. I thought about what he would have suggested I do, given the fact I am a humble teacher and not a top oncologist. Pa was 76 when he died, and I know for a fact it was nowhere near enough time for him. I also know that even though I have nothing in my experience to compare with cancer, if Christian had waited an hour to call the ambulance, or if there had been some other delay, I would have run out of time at the age of 33 when I contracted post-natal septicaemia. And so, in a room full of young people all courageously facing the battle of their lives, what could I do? What would they suggest to those fortunate enough to have their health?
I'm sure that both my Pa, and all of those facing this horrific disease would tell me to take life by the horns, regret nothing, and be grateful for that which has been graciously bestowed upon me. I did a bit of a blog-trawl this morning before we went out for the day, and funnily enough there were many mummies out there in blog-land today describing the things they are most grateful for. And so I decided to make a list of the things that I am grateful for at this point in my life, in honour of those who bravely shared their life experiences with me on Friday night.
* I am grateful for having a wonderful man to love, who is a fantastic husband and a beautiful father, and who has shared my life for nearly 8 years. I consider every anniversary a bonus, and the only reason I tell him I love him every day is because I mean it, and I don't want him to ever wonder how I feel about him.
* I am grateful for being blessed with three children who are healthy enough to eat me out of house and home, have brains that work well enough for them to be cheeky and hatch cunning plans, and who love their family fiercely enough to have no inhibitions whatsoever in terms of their behaviour! (By the by, the hairdresser on Friday asked if I'd had them close together to "get it over and done with". Ah, no, as a matter of fact I was lucky to have any of them at all...and I'm trying to make every moment last, not hurry their childhoods up and out of the way!)
* I am grateful for an amazing collection of family and friends who are always there to support me, laugh with me, cry with me, share with me, give me reality-checks when necessary, and go shopping with me for shoes when things get really tough.
* I am grateful for having a job I enjoy, a safe roof over my children's heads, pets I can love and nurture, and to live in a place where I can simply enjoy a normal day, being a housewife...ahem...domestic goddess.
Sitting at the dinner table on Friday night, I realised in a moment of clarity that tomorrow is not promised. Regardless of health, wealth, age or gender, none of us can take the chance that we have all the time we would like. The time to be happy is now. I will not necessarily be happier when I am getting more sleep, or I am earning more money, or when I have lost all my baby weight. I will not feel more contented if I find the bottom of the ironing basket, or completely de-cluttered the house. I refuse to be stressed over delays in the construction of our new house, as we have a perfectly functional roof to live under in the meantime. At this particular point in time, I have a husband, children, parents, siblings, grandparents, cousins, aunties, uncles, parents-in-law, brothers-in-law, and an entire extended family overseas, and many wonderful friends to love. I have much to be grateful for. So tomorrow, when I get up after a night of broken sleep breastfeeding a sick baby, with a persistent cough myself, and the kids are squabbling, and Christian is at work for another 13 hour day, and I have housework coming out of my ears, and I end up wearing an absurdedly long t-shirt in an attempt to cover my mummy-tummy, I will smile, and be grateful. Because how sad would I be if any of these elements were missing from my life? One thing is for sure - I don't want to miss a moment, and I'm going to enjoy every single one.
On Friday night, Christian and I went up to the city for the 3rd Annual Gala Ball held by the Warwick Foundation. We had been invited by the divine Anna and her gorgeous husband Adam - otherwise known as the custodians of mad roosters (update: the nasty rooster is now chasing people in the big chicken coop in the sky...I can't say I'm devastated...) to attend this swanky do, and you all know how excited I was. I managed to get the house organised, finish the washing, wangle my way through a hairdresser's appointment with the two girlies in the pram, and get gussied up in time to leave with Christian on Friday arvo. When I was dressed and had put on makeup and some beautiful (borrowed) bling, Phoebe gasped and said, "Mummy! You look like a lady!" (Funny that. I always thought that's what I was...) Jack looked me up and down, and remarked, "Oh, Mumma, you look beautiful. I really like your black eyes." Apparently, that's what my eyeshadow looked like! Let's just say my children don't see me tricked up in posh gear and lipstick very often.
The Warwick Foundation is a fundraising organisation for young people with cancer, so as well as a dinner there was a silent auction and various other fundraising activities on the night. It's incredible, really, the prevalence of cancer in our society, and the majority of us have been touched by it in our families at least once. But the day-to-day nuts and bolts of living with, and dealing with cancer are usually glossed over to prevent causing offence or upset. I was blown away by the honesty and bravery of this room full of people, both the people fighting cancer and the carers, family and friends who support them. To be perfectly truthful, I felt a bit useless sitting there, as I wanted to jump up and DO something to help...but I had no idea what I could do. My grandfather was not a young man when he died of cancer, but he certainly looked at the world through a young man's eyes. I thought about what he would have suggested I do, given the fact I am a humble teacher and not a top oncologist. Pa was 76 when he died, and I know for a fact it was nowhere near enough time for him. I also know that even though I have nothing in my experience to compare with cancer, if Christian had waited an hour to call the ambulance, or if there had been some other delay, I would have run out of time at the age of 33 when I contracted post-natal septicaemia. And so, in a room full of young people all courageously facing the battle of their lives, what could I do? What would they suggest to those fortunate enough to have their health?
I'm sure that both my Pa, and all of those facing this horrific disease would tell me to take life by the horns, regret nothing, and be grateful for that which has been graciously bestowed upon me. I did a bit of a blog-trawl this morning before we went out for the day, and funnily enough there were many mummies out there in blog-land today describing the things they are most grateful for. And so I decided to make a list of the things that I am grateful for at this point in my life, in honour of those who bravely shared their life experiences with me on Friday night.
* I am grateful for having a wonderful man to love, who is a fantastic husband and a beautiful father, and who has shared my life for nearly 8 years. I consider every anniversary a bonus, and the only reason I tell him I love him every day is because I mean it, and I don't want him to ever wonder how I feel about him.
* I am grateful for being blessed with three children who are healthy enough to eat me out of house and home, have brains that work well enough for them to be cheeky and hatch cunning plans, and who love their family fiercely enough to have no inhibitions whatsoever in terms of their behaviour! (By the by, the hairdresser on Friday asked if I'd had them close together to "get it over and done with". Ah, no, as a matter of fact I was lucky to have any of them at all...and I'm trying to make every moment last, not hurry their childhoods up and out of the way!)
* I am grateful for an amazing collection of family and friends who are always there to support me, laugh with me, cry with me, share with me, give me reality-checks when necessary, and go shopping with me for shoes when things get really tough.
* I am grateful for having a job I enjoy, a safe roof over my children's heads, pets I can love and nurture, and to live in a place where I can simply enjoy a normal day, being a housewife...ahem...domestic goddess.
Sitting at the dinner table on Friday night, I realised in a moment of clarity that tomorrow is not promised. Regardless of health, wealth, age or gender, none of us can take the chance that we have all the time we would like. The time to be happy is now. I will not necessarily be happier when I am getting more sleep, or I am earning more money, or when I have lost all my baby weight. I will not feel more contented if I find the bottom of the ironing basket, or completely de-cluttered the house. I refuse to be stressed over delays in the construction of our new house, as we have a perfectly functional roof to live under in the meantime. At this particular point in time, I have a husband, children, parents, siblings, grandparents, cousins, aunties, uncles, parents-in-law, brothers-in-law, and an entire extended family overseas, and many wonderful friends to love. I have much to be grateful for. So tomorrow, when I get up after a night of broken sleep breastfeeding a sick baby, with a persistent cough myself, and the kids are squabbling, and Christian is at work for another 13 hour day, and I have housework coming out of my ears, and I end up wearing an absurdedly long t-shirt in an attempt to cover my mummy-tummy, I will smile, and be grateful. Because how sad would I be if any of these elements were missing from my life? One thing is for sure - I don't want to miss a moment, and I'm going to enjoy every single one.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Speed humps and champagne
Tonight's the night - Mummy and Daddy are leaving Team O'Toole in the capable hands of Grandma and Grandpa and heading out with...wait for it....grown-up friends!!!!! As I'm sure you already know, I have been dealing with a rotten, stinking cold since Tuesday. However I am determined not to let that ruin my night (and besides, it's been so long since I had an alcoholic beverage I reckon I might be a Cadbury's chick tonight...). So the preparations for this evening's festivities have not yet gone quite to plan...I was supposed to deal with a few body-maintenance issues last night but a little lady who woke early for her night feed put paid to that. It did not help that she woke again at 1am and called for room service, leaving me wide awake at 2am!! Why do head colds always feel so much worse at 2am?
So here I am, mid-afternoon, Team O'Toole all fast asleep in their beds. And what have I achieved so far today?
* A shower (excellent start!)
*Clean hair and shaved legs (already waaaay ahead of expectations)
* Folded three baskets of washing, put on two loads of washing (not related to night out, but still necessary!)
* Put Phoebe on the toilet for wees approximately 32 times (why, oh why did I start toilet training yesterday??)
* Cleaned up one accidental poo in the undies (enough said)
* Breastfed Maisie twice (thought I'd top her up before the big separation)
* Cleaned the kitchen after breakfast, morning tea, and lunch (and you probably can't tell anyway)
* Blown my nose approximately 196 times
* Put kids in the naughty spot three times
And now I'm sitting here with an hour and a half before my blow-wave appointment (yes, I'm going all-out tonight!!!!) thinking about all the things I need to do, such as:
*Put away folded washing before Team O'Toole wake up and destroy it
* Hang up wet washing before it dries in the basket and smells funny
* Brush washed hair before going to hairdresser's
* Clean kitchen after afternoon tea
* Breastfeed Maisie again
* Potentially put Phoebe on the toilet for wees every five minutes after she wakes up and remembers the joys of toilet paper
* Blow my nose every three minutes until I have had two champagnes and forget to do it anymore
The question is, will I get through my list this afternoon? Will I go to the ball minus one glass slipper? Will I care about any of this after a few glasses of bubbly? The answers to all these questions and more, coming your way tomorrow. And now - I hear a little voice coming from the nursery...and the voices in my head are getting louder in their clamouring for champagne......
So here I am, mid-afternoon, Team O'Toole all fast asleep in their beds. And what have I achieved so far today?
* A shower (excellent start!)
*Clean hair and shaved legs (already waaaay ahead of expectations)
* Folded three baskets of washing, put on two loads of washing (not related to night out, but still necessary!)
* Put Phoebe on the toilet for wees approximately 32 times (why, oh why did I start toilet training yesterday??)
* Cleaned up one accidental poo in the undies (enough said)
* Breastfed Maisie twice (thought I'd top her up before the big separation)
* Cleaned the kitchen after breakfast, morning tea, and lunch (and you probably can't tell anyway)
* Blown my nose approximately 196 times
* Put kids in the naughty spot three times
And now I'm sitting here with an hour and a half before my blow-wave appointment (yes, I'm going all-out tonight!!!!) thinking about all the things I need to do, such as:
*Put away folded washing before Team O'Toole wake up and destroy it
* Hang up wet washing before it dries in the basket and smells funny
* Brush washed hair before going to hairdresser's
* Clean kitchen after afternoon tea
* Breastfeed Maisie again
* Potentially put Phoebe on the toilet for wees every five minutes after she wakes up and remembers the joys of toilet paper
* Blow my nose every three minutes until I have had two champagnes and forget to do it anymore
The question is, will I get through my list this afternoon? Will I go to the ball minus one glass slipper? Will I care about any of this after a few glasses of bubbly? The answers to all these questions and more, coming your way tomorrow. And now - I hear a little voice coming from the nursery...and the voices in my head are getting louder in their clamouring for champagne......
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Social, sniffly Sal
I'm sure it's obvious to all and sundry by now that my social life is fairly quiet. Most likely there are some people out there who think I have entered the twilight years already, so infrequent are my forays into the realms of evening entertainment. So it was with giddy glee that I began to plan for a night out with some gorgeous friends of ours (Anna and Adam of mad-rooster fame, to be precise!). When Christian and I received our invitation, I realised that I had nothing to wear, so of course I would need to go shopping (and when I say "nothing to wear", this time I actually mean it. Unless I was to attend a cocktail function in jeans and a stained maternity t-shirt, or perhaps trackies?) Christian moaned and groaned and made all the usual noises about me being let loose in a shopping centre, and then smiled and said, "Go on, babe. Get something nice." What a sweetheart!!
I knew it would be no small feat to find an outfit that a) fitted, b) didn't make my breastfeeding boobies look more enormous than they already are, c) was comfortable, and d) was reasonably priced, so I decided to go shopping on Tuesday when I only had Maisie with me. I dropped the two big kids off at kinder and daycare (I always feel like the biggest hypocrite leaving Phoebe in daycare and then going shopping...even if it is only one day a week, I still feel like I'm cheating!) and after a quick appointment at the doctor to check Maisie's asthma, we headed off to the shops. Maisie always loves going shopping, as there's crowds of people she can shout at and watch, so she's always really good. I tried on lots of dresses, skirts and blouses, including the ones suggested by well-meaning shop assistants that made my chest look like the front of a battle ship. Surprisingly, I found a lovely outfit that was not ridiculously expensive and covered most of my lumps and bumps, so I was pretty chuffed. It was while I was looking for shoes that I began to sneeze, but I didn't think anything of it. Just before we left, I stopped to buy some water as my throat felt a bit sore, but the airconditioning in those joints always makes me feel stuffy. During the drive back to kinder to pick up the kids, I realised my head was becoming really hot, and my sneezing grew to the point I was driving through witches' hats in roadworks with my eyes closed for two or three sneezes at a time! (By the by, is it just me, or is there an epidemic of roadworks at the moment? You can't drive anywhere without doing 40kph on horrible bumpy gravel) I refused to acknowledge the obvious, and drove resolutely home with the kids in the back seat, sneezing every few minutes and feeling absolutely dreadful.
Yesterday I felt like death warmed up (and thus, no blog last night!). It is just a head cold, but unlike days of yore when I could either have a day in bed to knock it on the head, or go to bed early after work with a pharmacy of cold and flu drugs in my system, these days I have broken sleep, I cannot take anything to make me feel better because of the breastfeeding, and I can't find anybody to be a substitute Mummy while I am ill. Bleurgh. But because this will be our first completely child-free night out in almost a year (and a pretty swanky one at that!) I am determined to enjoy every minute! Today I still look absolutely dreadful with a streaming nose and a puffy Jabba-the-Hutt neck. (I am a glamourous creature, I know!) So to detract from my less-than-appealing physical attributes, I went hell for leather in the beauty department - something I haven't done in a long time.
Tonight I left my pyjama-clad children with Grandma and Grandpa, and scooted down the high street to get my eyebrows waxed. On my way home I stopped in at K-Mart and bought new mascara, a lippy and some nail polish. As soon as I get off this machine, I'm going to file my ragged nails, attempt to chainsaw the overgrowth on my legs, and wash the baby vomit from my hair (I'm telling you, I'm a glamour puss!!) Tomorrow I'm getting my jewellery cleaned, and I may even get a chance to paint my nails...but I'm not holding my breath. Once upon a time, this would have been the lead-up to any normal weekend. These days...well let's just say that Christian may not recognise the woman who goes up to the city with him tomorrow night - with any luck I'll have clean clothes on, washed hair, some semblance of makeup...that's about as much as I can hope for! And even if my stinking cold is still hanging around, I am going to have a ball, of that I am sure. It will be brilliant to spend a night with our friends without even having to think about unexplained tantrums or nappies. And I am definitely looking forward to spending time with my husband, whom I don't see nearly enough. I hope he knows how much I appreciate my new threads (and all the bits and bobs that were 'necessary' to complete the look!) And I know that when we arrive home after our night out, I will go straight to the nursery to check on my babies, to listen to them breath and inhale their baby scent, for I will have missed them terribly! Typical. And that is why, despite all the excitement and preparations and declarations that THIS time I will maintain a beauty routine, that my social life is so decrepit. Oh well. At least I know how pathetic I am! Bring on the bubbly!!
I knew it would be no small feat to find an outfit that a) fitted, b) didn't make my breastfeeding boobies look more enormous than they already are, c) was comfortable, and d) was reasonably priced, so I decided to go shopping on Tuesday when I only had Maisie with me. I dropped the two big kids off at kinder and daycare (I always feel like the biggest hypocrite leaving Phoebe in daycare and then going shopping...even if it is only one day a week, I still feel like I'm cheating!) and after a quick appointment at the doctor to check Maisie's asthma, we headed off to the shops. Maisie always loves going shopping, as there's crowds of people she can shout at and watch, so she's always really good. I tried on lots of dresses, skirts and blouses, including the ones suggested by well-meaning shop assistants that made my chest look like the front of a battle ship. Surprisingly, I found a lovely outfit that was not ridiculously expensive and covered most of my lumps and bumps, so I was pretty chuffed. It was while I was looking for shoes that I began to sneeze, but I didn't think anything of it. Just before we left, I stopped to buy some water as my throat felt a bit sore, but the airconditioning in those joints always makes me feel stuffy. During the drive back to kinder to pick up the kids, I realised my head was becoming really hot, and my sneezing grew to the point I was driving through witches' hats in roadworks with my eyes closed for two or three sneezes at a time! (By the by, is it just me, or is there an epidemic of roadworks at the moment? You can't drive anywhere without doing 40kph on horrible bumpy gravel) I refused to acknowledge the obvious, and drove resolutely home with the kids in the back seat, sneezing every few minutes and feeling absolutely dreadful.
Yesterday I felt like death warmed up (and thus, no blog last night!). It is just a head cold, but unlike days of yore when I could either have a day in bed to knock it on the head, or go to bed early after work with a pharmacy of cold and flu drugs in my system, these days I have broken sleep, I cannot take anything to make me feel better because of the breastfeeding, and I can't find anybody to be a substitute Mummy while I am ill. Bleurgh. But because this will be our first completely child-free night out in almost a year (and a pretty swanky one at that!) I am determined to enjoy every minute! Today I still look absolutely dreadful with a streaming nose and a puffy Jabba-the-Hutt neck. (I am a glamourous creature, I know!) So to detract from my less-than-appealing physical attributes, I went hell for leather in the beauty department - something I haven't done in a long time.
Tonight I left my pyjama-clad children with Grandma and Grandpa, and scooted down the high street to get my eyebrows waxed. On my way home I stopped in at K-Mart and bought new mascara, a lippy and some nail polish. As soon as I get off this machine, I'm going to file my ragged nails, attempt to chainsaw the overgrowth on my legs, and wash the baby vomit from my hair (I'm telling you, I'm a glamour puss!!) Tomorrow I'm getting my jewellery cleaned, and I may even get a chance to paint my nails...but I'm not holding my breath. Once upon a time, this would have been the lead-up to any normal weekend. These days...well let's just say that Christian may not recognise the woman who goes up to the city with him tomorrow night - with any luck I'll have clean clothes on, washed hair, some semblance of makeup...that's about as much as I can hope for! And even if my stinking cold is still hanging around, I am going to have a ball, of that I am sure. It will be brilliant to spend a night with our friends without even having to think about unexplained tantrums or nappies. And I am definitely looking forward to spending time with my husband, whom I don't see nearly enough. I hope he knows how much I appreciate my new threads (and all the bits and bobs that were 'necessary' to complete the look!) And I know that when we arrive home after our night out, I will go straight to the nursery to check on my babies, to listen to them breath and inhale their baby scent, for I will have missed them terribly! Typical. And that is why, despite all the excitement and preparations and declarations that THIS time I will maintain a beauty routine, that my social life is so decrepit. Oh well. At least I know how pathetic I am! Bring on the bubbly!!
Monday, October 4, 2010
Therapy
Once again, it's rather late at night and I should be getting ready for bed...but I seem to be addicted to this blog! It's free therapy, I guess...and I know that if I don't put my thoughts into cyberspace I'll just lie in bed thinking them anyway, so why not make someone laugh at my misfortunes?!?
The kids and I were heading into the city with Grandma today (my MIL), so it was action stations. Being the first day of Term 4, Christian was off and away by about 6am. Maisie woke for an early feed and promptly fell asleep in my bed, which suited me fine. I was actually doing well for time (initially), as the big kids were fed, dressed and not killing each other by the time I went for a shower (one of the perks of living with the in-laws is the extra eyes when you need to do something tricky like shower, or go to the toilet without a toddler in tow). I was supposed to pick Grandma up from the shops at 9.15, but when Maisie was still asleep at 9am I knew we were in trouble. I wanted to phone my grandmother, Argie, as it was her 83rd birthday today. Even though we saw her yesterday for her birthday, I wanted to wish her a happy day, so I woke Maisie, dialled Argie's number, got Mais into the highchair and began shovelling Farex in her mouth. My mistake was allowing a jovial Jack to entertain his baby sister while she was having breakfast. Before I knew it, Maisie was laughing so hard she was spraying Farex and spit all over me, the highchair, and Jack. Brilliant. Just to seal the deal, she then sneezed violently so that a fine coating of cereal and opaque bodily fluids covered her little growsuit, meaning that I would definitely have to change her before our departure. At this point, Jack tripped over some unidentifiable object whilst standing perfectly still, and banged his elbow on the wooden table. His howls of pain brought Phoebe to the kitchen, and her mirth at seeing Jack's tears brought a fresh round of sobs. In his infinite wisdom, Jack then decided that a hug from Mummy would make him feel better, and wiped his tears and snot onto my blouse. I must say, I looked quite fetching with a veneer of Farex, sneeze particles (snot), tear drops and the products of a runny nose (more snot) covering my previously acceptable attire. (I don't know about you, but I usually chuck on something clean in the morning and hope that not many people see me. When I'm heading to the city, it's a lot harder...when you are simultaneously trying to hide a mummy tummy, and trying to breastfeed discreetly, blouse choice is critical!) Argie quite graciously let me get off the phone at this point (I think she was laughing pretty hard, to tell the truth!!) Somehow, I found another clean shirt, rubbed the wrinkles out with my hand, cleaned Maisie up, consoled Jack, made three Vegemite sandwiches, remembered to put the double pram in the car, strapped three kids in, and went to pick up Grandma, all the time wondering if it was beer o'clock yet. (It hasn't been beer o'clock for oh, about 5 years now, but the drought's gotta break sometime, doesn't it?)
Anyway, we had a lovely day in the city, with only one meltdown between the three of them! Is that some sort of record? They all took it in turns to have a little nap in the pram, Mais had a go at shouting at strangers from the Baby Bjorn, I bought some lovely new measuring cups in the shape of Matriouska dolls, and I didn't have to clean the floor after our lunch. Score! What made this day golden was the fact that when we arrived home, tired and footsore (or raring to go and full of pep after a nap in the car, take your pick), Daddy took Mummy out for Thai, leaving the three musketeers with Grandma and Grandpa. So I didn't have to clean the floor after dinner, either!!! Now that's what I call a good day!!!
The kids and I were heading into the city with Grandma today (my MIL), so it was action stations. Being the first day of Term 4, Christian was off and away by about 6am. Maisie woke for an early feed and promptly fell asleep in my bed, which suited me fine. I was actually doing well for time (initially), as the big kids were fed, dressed and not killing each other by the time I went for a shower (one of the perks of living with the in-laws is the extra eyes when you need to do something tricky like shower, or go to the toilet without a toddler in tow). I was supposed to pick Grandma up from the shops at 9.15, but when Maisie was still asleep at 9am I knew we were in trouble. I wanted to phone my grandmother, Argie, as it was her 83rd birthday today. Even though we saw her yesterday for her birthday, I wanted to wish her a happy day, so I woke Maisie, dialled Argie's number, got Mais into the highchair and began shovelling Farex in her mouth. My mistake was allowing a jovial Jack to entertain his baby sister while she was having breakfast. Before I knew it, Maisie was laughing so hard she was spraying Farex and spit all over me, the highchair, and Jack. Brilliant. Just to seal the deal, she then sneezed violently so that a fine coating of cereal and opaque bodily fluids covered her little growsuit, meaning that I would definitely have to change her before our departure. At this point, Jack tripped over some unidentifiable object whilst standing perfectly still, and banged his elbow on the wooden table. His howls of pain brought Phoebe to the kitchen, and her mirth at seeing Jack's tears brought a fresh round of sobs. In his infinite wisdom, Jack then decided that a hug from Mummy would make him feel better, and wiped his tears and snot onto my blouse. I must say, I looked quite fetching with a veneer of Farex, sneeze particles (snot), tear drops and the products of a runny nose (more snot) covering my previously acceptable attire. (I don't know about you, but I usually chuck on something clean in the morning and hope that not many people see me. When I'm heading to the city, it's a lot harder...when you are simultaneously trying to hide a mummy tummy, and trying to breastfeed discreetly, blouse choice is critical!) Argie quite graciously let me get off the phone at this point (I think she was laughing pretty hard, to tell the truth!!) Somehow, I found another clean shirt, rubbed the wrinkles out with my hand, cleaned Maisie up, consoled Jack, made three Vegemite sandwiches, remembered to put the double pram in the car, strapped three kids in, and went to pick up Grandma, all the time wondering if it was beer o'clock yet. (It hasn't been beer o'clock for oh, about 5 years now, but the drought's gotta break sometime, doesn't it?)
Anyway, we had a lovely day in the city, with only one meltdown between the three of them! Is that some sort of record? They all took it in turns to have a little nap in the pram, Mais had a go at shouting at strangers from the Baby Bjorn, I bought some lovely new measuring cups in the shape of Matriouska dolls, and I didn't have to clean the floor after our lunch. Score! What made this day golden was the fact that when we arrived home, tired and footsore (or raring to go and full of pep after a nap in the car, take your pick), Daddy took Mummy out for Thai, leaving the three musketeers with Grandma and Grandpa. So I didn't have to clean the floor after dinner, either!!! Now that's what I call a good day!!!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Girlfriends
I miss my friends. If I had my way, I would see every single one of my friends, every single day. It would be ridiculously busy (but imagine the girly catch-up sessions!) and impossible to schedule, but a girl can dream, can't she? Regardless of whether I see my girlfriends on a weekly basis, or throw quick emails back and forth every year or so, each and every one of them has played a valuable part in my life, and continues to do so. I am fortunate enough to have friends I went to primary school with; friends I lounged around with at good old Hastings High; friends who shared Year 12 with me at Braemar College; friends I lived with like sisters while at uni; friends I went to Melbourne Uni with; friends from the days of working at David Jones; friends from Indian Head summer camp; friends from backpacking across Europe; friends from living in London; friends from Deakin Uni; friends from teaching at Rosebud SC; friends from antenatal classes; friends from playgroups and kinders; friends from teaching at ICA Casey, and friends who happen to also be my family. So many wonderful people who have given me so much love and support, and whom I don't speak to often enough.
Let's face it, life happens when you're having fun. And s$%t happens when you're having children! I know that everyone is busy - we have jobs, partners, hobbies, sports, pets, passions, illnesses, endless, endless washing...and the truth of it is, more often than not I don't actually know where my days go. Certainly next year, when I am back at work, there may be a fair few days of sending the kids out to school or daycare in unironed clothes...with unwashed hair...with lunch orders because there's nothing in the pantry...and teaching by the seat of my pants...simply because there aren't enough hours in the day. And as a result of this, my tenuous links with my beautiful girlfriends suffer terribly. So today I decided to write a special message to all of you, simply to let you know that I think of each and every one of you often, that I miss you, and I am sending love, kisses, and glasses of the good stuff out through the airwaves. I can only apologise for neglecting to contact my favourite people more often... and please know that I am sorry. As disorganised as I am, as scatterbrained and preoccupied as I can be, one thing is certain: I am very aware of how lucky I am to be surrounded by gorgeous friends, and I love you all very much.
When we move into our rental home in a few weeks, it will be too tiny for a massive party (and for those of you who knew Christian and I before Team O'Toole included Jack - yes, we are moving back into our old unit!! The two-bedroom one!!) But given the year we have had, and the fact that since living in our current digs I have not ventured very far, very often, I am more than ready for a season of socialising. If you are willing to endure the combined charms of my three sprogs for a short period of time, let me know! I am sure there is a playcentre / park / pub able to cater for the children's energy and any beverage-requirements we may have. Better still, I'm sure a few girls' nights out could be arranged...just let me know, one way or another, and I will be there. Hand on my heart. Because that's where you are xxx
Let's face it, life happens when you're having fun. And s$%t happens when you're having children! I know that everyone is busy - we have jobs, partners, hobbies, sports, pets, passions, illnesses, endless, endless washing...and the truth of it is, more often than not I don't actually know where my days go. Certainly next year, when I am back at work, there may be a fair few days of sending the kids out to school or daycare in unironed clothes...with unwashed hair...with lunch orders because there's nothing in the pantry...and teaching by the seat of my pants...simply because there aren't enough hours in the day. And as a result of this, my tenuous links with my beautiful girlfriends suffer terribly. So today I decided to write a special message to all of you, simply to let you know that I think of each and every one of you often, that I miss you, and I am sending love, kisses, and glasses of the good stuff out through the airwaves. I can only apologise for neglecting to contact my favourite people more often... and please know that I am sorry. As disorganised as I am, as scatterbrained and preoccupied as I can be, one thing is certain: I am very aware of how lucky I am to be surrounded by gorgeous friends, and I love you all very much.
When we move into our rental home in a few weeks, it will be too tiny for a massive party (and for those of you who knew Christian and I before Team O'Toole included Jack - yes, we are moving back into our old unit!! The two-bedroom one!!) But given the year we have had, and the fact that since living in our current digs I have not ventured very far, very often, I am more than ready for a season of socialising. If you are willing to endure the combined charms of my three sprogs for a short period of time, let me know! I am sure there is a playcentre / park / pub able to cater for the children's energy and any beverage-requirements we may have. Better still, I'm sure a few girls' nights out could be arranged...just let me know, one way or another, and I will be there. Hand on my heart. Because that's where you are xxx
Friday, October 1, 2010
Letting go
Do you ever have days when the only thing that keeps you going is your kids? Even on their grumpiest, stickiest, naughtiest days, my kids still manage to make me smile...most of the time. This morning, one very short phone call made me exceptionally upset, and I am working very hard to lift my mood even now. Without going into gruesome detail, in February this year we experienced a frightening home invasion. There were weapons involved, and Jack witnessed things a three-year-old shouldn't see. The police did not respond appropriately and the men involved were still in our local community, so we sold our house and moved, simply to feel safe again. I have spent a great deal of time this year feeling angry about being displaced from my home, and all of the changes that were forced upon us as a result of leaving a town we had lived in for nearly three years. Looking on the positive side of life, we will eventually (when the builders decide to finish a 6-month-long smoko) have a house in a beautiful area, somewhere we have always dreamed of living. We have graduated from counselling, the nightmares have subsided, and my children remind me every day of what is truly important. Most significantly, I have wonderful family and friends who have kept me focused and grounded, and I know that this will one day be a blip in an otherwise very fortunate life.
To be perfectly honest, the only times I get jumpy these days is when I hear men shouting in the street, so I thought I had recovered pretty well from the whole incident. However, this morning we were told by our lawyer that as far as the police were concerned, no offence had occurred at our home (other than a broken pot plant) and therefore we were not eligible to be considered as 'victims of crime'. I'm sorry, but what exactly constitutes a victim of crime? Was it not enough to have our home forcibly entered and be witnesses to acts of violence? Was is not enough that my child needed therapy to recover from the actions of these stupid men? Should we have been hurt more extensively? I was never concerned about receiving financial compensation, but rather I wanted the police who failed to protect and support us to be held accountable. So today's phone call shook me considerably because it suddenly became very apparent that our experience was to be swept under the rug. Although I am still upset by this news, I realise how lucky my family to have walked away from this situation. So I spent some time today thinking about all that I have to be thankful for, and as usual my children provided me with a lesson or two!
Due to Jack's ordeal in February, he has developed an extraordinary repertoire of stories about getting rid of "baddies". After several sessions with our lovely psychologist, Jack learned some coping mechanisms to deal with the nightmares he was having. He can now make up the most fabulous tales about how he fought the bad men, and won - usually accompanied by the contruction of some magic sword or another. I love the fact that his sense of humour has won out, and that he has shown incredible strength of character in the face of a pretty awful situation. From Jack, I have learned that all I need to do is envisage myself as the strong person in the scenario and the battle will be mine. I suppose I could win any stoush if it meant defending my children!
Phoebe slept through that night, and was relatively unaffected by it all. But she still had to cope with stressed parents and moving away from the only home she'd ever known. Thankfully, she is a happy and funny little girl who manages to make us laugh every day. Simply by putting her shoes on every morning she manages to make me smile - she always, without fail, puts her shoes on the wrong feet. I never correct her, as it is one of the tiny things she does that makes her Phoebe. She also makes up little songs throughout the day, usually without a tune, or any rhythm, but always with a sweet little message about someone she loves. From Phoebe, I have learned to live in the moment, and simply enjoy the company of my family without worrying about what tomorrow may bring.
Maisie was only five weeks old when all of this happened, and she worked exceptionally hard to bring my milk supply back when it almost dried up through stress. My darling baby girl has never known anything other than the gypsy lifestyle, as we had packed up and sold our home before she was 12 weeks old, and have been living out of boxes ever since. In the next few weeks we will move into a rental home, and will probably not be in our new house before Maisie turns 18 months old. Throughout all of this upheaval, the one constant Maisie requires to be happy is her mummy's arms. She is definitely a mumma's girl, and gives me delicious wet kisses by sucking on my face with glee, pulls back to laugh at me, and then lunges in again to suck the other cheek. At nearly nine months old, she is growing perfectly and learning more every day. Tonight, she learned how to kick both of her chubby little legs simultaneously, in order to create the biggest splash possible in the bath. From Maisie, I have learned that children do not need anything more than the love of their family. It does not matter whether the roof over your head is your own, or a rental, or your parents-in-law's; it does not matter if all your carefully-laid plans have to go out the window; all that is important is that your family is safe, and your children have the love and security of their parent's arms.
I need to thank my children for teaching me what is important. I want to thank my husband for doing whatever was necessary to make me feel safe. I hope to walk across the threshold of my new home sometime in the next twelve months, and forget that I was ever without a home to call my own. I need to let go of the feelings of anger and hopelessness that have engulfed me today, and embrace the strength, and happiness, and love that my children embody. And I hope that in return, I might be a source of comfort, warmth and security for my children and husband when they need it, wherever our multitudes of boxes and belongings may finally find a place to be unpacked.
To be perfectly honest, the only times I get jumpy these days is when I hear men shouting in the street, so I thought I had recovered pretty well from the whole incident. However, this morning we were told by our lawyer that as far as the police were concerned, no offence had occurred at our home (other than a broken pot plant) and therefore we were not eligible to be considered as 'victims of crime'. I'm sorry, but what exactly constitutes a victim of crime? Was it not enough to have our home forcibly entered and be witnesses to acts of violence? Was is not enough that my child needed therapy to recover from the actions of these stupid men? Should we have been hurt more extensively? I was never concerned about receiving financial compensation, but rather I wanted the police who failed to protect and support us to be held accountable. So today's phone call shook me considerably because it suddenly became very apparent that our experience was to be swept under the rug. Although I am still upset by this news, I realise how lucky my family to have walked away from this situation. So I spent some time today thinking about all that I have to be thankful for, and as usual my children provided me with a lesson or two!
Due to Jack's ordeal in February, he has developed an extraordinary repertoire of stories about getting rid of "baddies". After several sessions with our lovely psychologist, Jack learned some coping mechanisms to deal with the nightmares he was having. He can now make up the most fabulous tales about how he fought the bad men, and won - usually accompanied by the contruction of some magic sword or another. I love the fact that his sense of humour has won out, and that he has shown incredible strength of character in the face of a pretty awful situation. From Jack, I have learned that all I need to do is envisage myself as the strong person in the scenario and the battle will be mine. I suppose I could win any stoush if it meant defending my children!
Phoebe slept through that night, and was relatively unaffected by it all. But she still had to cope with stressed parents and moving away from the only home she'd ever known. Thankfully, she is a happy and funny little girl who manages to make us laugh every day. Simply by putting her shoes on every morning she manages to make me smile - she always, without fail, puts her shoes on the wrong feet. I never correct her, as it is one of the tiny things she does that makes her Phoebe. She also makes up little songs throughout the day, usually without a tune, or any rhythm, but always with a sweet little message about someone she loves. From Phoebe, I have learned to live in the moment, and simply enjoy the company of my family without worrying about what tomorrow may bring.
Maisie was only five weeks old when all of this happened, and she worked exceptionally hard to bring my milk supply back when it almost dried up through stress. My darling baby girl has never known anything other than the gypsy lifestyle, as we had packed up and sold our home before she was 12 weeks old, and have been living out of boxes ever since. In the next few weeks we will move into a rental home, and will probably not be in our new house before Maisie turns 18 months old. Throughout all of this upheaval, the one constant Maisie requires to be happy is her mummy's arms. She is definitely a mumma's girl, and gives me delicious wet kisses by sucking on my face with glee, pulls back to laugh at me, and then lunges in again to suck the other cheek. At nearly nine months old, she is growing perfectly and learning more every day. Tonight, she learned how to kick both of her chubby little legs simultaneously, in order to create the biggest splash possible in the bath. From Maisie, I have learned that children do not need anything more than the love of their family. It does not matter whether the roof over your head is your own, or a rental, or your parents-in-law's; it does not matter if all your carefully-laid plans have to go out the window; all that is important is that your family is safe, and your children have the love and security of their parent's arms.
I need to thank my children for teaching me what is important. I want to thank my husband for doing whatever was necessary to make me feel safe. I hope to walk across the threshold of my new home sometime in the next twelve months, and forget that I was ever without a home to call my own. I need to let go of the feelings of anger and hopelessness that have engulfed me today, and embrace the strength, and happiness, and love that my children embody. And I hope that in return, I might be a source of comfort, warmth and security for my children and husband when they need it, wherever our multitudes of boxes and belongings may finally find a place to be unpacked.
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