With only a couple of weeks until the big man in scarlet arrives, our house seems to be perpetually in a state of anticipation. I'm sure yours is much the same! I have always loved Christmas, but I can't ever remember enjoying it so much as I am now, with my three little cherubs in tow. Our house is draped in tinsel (cheap and relatively unbreakable!) and homemade baubles, we have a (tiny) Christmas tree perched on top of the TV cabinet that Maisie cannot reach...yet...and we have watched The Polar Express more times than is decent. Jack and Phoebe sing all the carols they know with gusto (never mind the fact their lyrics are a fair bit different to the correct ones!), which is very cute especially when they are also doing a nudey run...
We have visited Santa and sat on his knee for the obligatory cheesy-grinned photo; we have told him breathlessly what we would like to find in our stockings; we have even received personalised video messages from Santa which prompted the cutest little responses from our babes (and by the way, I highly recommend this, especially for naughty spouses: http://www.portablenorthpole.tv/home) Tonight, Maisie was entranced by the toy train running around the bottom of Grandma and Grandpa's Christmas tree (and she actually managed to get one of the glass baubles off before her evil plans were thwarted). It seems as though for the last month, everything we do is tinged with red, green and glitter of some sort...and it has led to a tiny, weeny little problem.
This whole business of the "naughty and nice" list held in the hot little hand of Kris Kringle has caused a fair few issues of late for Team O'Toole. Now I'll admit my kids are predominantly well-behaved, with a healthy dose of tantrum thrown into the mix on a regular basis. Unless they are exceptionally tired or overwrought, for the most part they are pretty sunny little people. I can usually get around a bad mood through a stint in the naughty spot, a nap or a distraction. Lately, however, end-of-year tiredness and a near-constant state of excitement about Christmas has rendered my big kids a little more difficult than usual. It's not that they have earned a permanent spot on the naughty list, more along the lines of temporarily hopping onto its' fringes. And of course, they are very aware that Santa does not come to children who misbehave, and so the question remains: how naughty is too naughty?
Who decides how far Santa can be pushed? Where is the line in the sand as far as your position on the naughty/nice list? Phoebe is so worried about missing out on her pink scooter that she keeps checking: "Are you happy at me, Mummy?" (in other words, is Santa still going to come?) Jack, on the other hand, appears to be intrigued about how far he can push the boundaries...he's careful to err on the side of caution, because after all, he wouldn't want Santa to give his Toy Story Lego to another little boy...but I reckon there's a tiny part of my son that's curious to see if Santa's calling his bluff.
I for one can't wait for Christmas morning - it's Maisie Mouse's first Christmas, and with three kids under the age of five, the magic in the air will be tangible. It will be absolutely gorgeous to watch their little faces light up when they see those bulging pillowcases under the tree, and just imagine Mais when she gets amongst the wrapping paper... But on top of the magic of Christmas morning, and the delicious (and calorie free!) lunch with my family that awaits, do you know what I'm looking forward to? Not having to weigh up every little misdemeanour that my children are involved in and worry that I might have to threaten them with going on the naughty list! What on earth would I do if they actually did something heinous? I don't think I could bear it if Santa bypassed our house! Oh Santa, hurry up and get here soon...
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Let the wild rumpus start
We have never been one of those families with babies who walk early. Somewhere along the way I heard that children either walk early, or talk early. All three members of Team O'Toole would apparently be early talkers. Now, anyone who knows my lovely husband and I would hardly be surprised by this news! I acknowledge that I am a Mrs. Have-a-chat, and Christian is not shy, either. Both of us are teachers. Enough said.
When Jack was about 10 months old, I remember sitting at a mothers' group morning tea and watching all the other little boys run or stagger around madly, while my blonde little cherub sat placidly beside my chair (I was exceptionally seedy with morning sickness at this point in time, so I was pretty grateful that I didn't have to chase anybody anywhere!) Being my first baby, I'll admit I was a little worried that my boy was the only child not dashing wildly about. Jack's lack of mobility was commented on by the other mums, especially the fact that he wasn't even crawling at the ripe old age of 10 months. I just smiled and shrugged, but inside I was a tad concerned that Jack would sit still forever (a completely unfounded concern - he hasn't sat still since June 2007...) Jack eventually crawled backwards (after a very long time of lying on his tummy and flapping his arms and legs wildly), crawled forwards for only a few weeks, and then got up one day and walked across the room when he was 14 months old. What I didn't particularly notice as being unusual at the time was that at 10 or 11 months, my son was already using recognisable words, and that his vocabulary was developing at an astonishing rate. It wasn't until Jack entered daycare that I realised that he spoke much more than the other two year olds, and that he was understood by most adults. Sure, he had never been a climber or one to run away from me, but to be truthful I was a bit relieved about that!
Phoebe was also a very placid baby, taking her sweet time to roll over and sit up. I wasn't particularly concerned about her progress, as Jack had taught me that it all happens eventually, so I relaxed a fair bit with Phoebs. Just like Jack, she showed no inclination to go anywhere until around 10 months, at which point she turned her little nose up at traditional crawling and began bum-shuffling. She was remarkably fast, and used her legs, knees and little tushie to wriggle across the floor. She eventually learned to crawl, but I think the fact she could see everything whilst sitting up and shuffling along on her cherries meant that this was her preferred method of movement. Phoebalina also went from crawling to walking in a very short period of time, and was staggering around the room at 14 months, just like Jack. Unlike her big brother, Phoebalicious started speaking understandable words at 8 months...and no, she hasn't stopped yet!
Miss Maisie Mouse has already defied expectations - after two 'easy' babies, I was warned I was in for a screamer third time around. She rarely cried. After two 'good' sleepers, I was warned she'd never sleep. She slept through at 5 weeks. Now, of course during her little lifetime, Maisie has both cried and had bad nights where she wouldn't sleep. But on the whole, when she's not teething or sick, she is happy and contented and so, so easy. And to be honest, life is so busy with three kidlets that I have not had time to think about Maisie's developmental milestones. She's eating, putting on weight, and laughs. What's to worry about?
Generally speaking, Maisie is turning out just like her big brother and sister, with her own little twist on the popular theme. Early talking? Check. Since 6 months old we have been hearing little words like Dad-dad, Mum-mum, hello, and other baby-words that she uses for food (na-na) and Jack (Ja!) When she started rolling, I just assumed that she would start crawling or bum-shuffling around 10 months like the others. But no. Maisie is still rolling (rapidly, with cunning and gusto) and I have given up explaining to people that no, she's not walking yet (or even close to looking like it), but since she won't shut up we haven't really had time to worry about it (and mind your own beeswax, thank you very much!) Imagine our excitement this morning, when the Mouse saw a ball she REALLY wanted, and the knees went up, and she reached out, and......smack down on her tummy again. This time, however, instead of rolling away, she commando-crawled in the most uncoordinated way I have ever witnessed, and SHE GOT THE BALL!!!!!! Woohoo for Maisie!!!! Now, I want you to understand that I really don't care when or if Miss Mouse crawls. It's hectic enough around here without more movement!! (remember, two bedroom unit, three kids, one broken husband, two cats, one dog...) But I was absolutely delighted for my baby, as she has for some time now watched the other two run past her with a wild look of envy in her beautiful blue eyes.
I realise that, in the next few days or weeks, when she does get up on all fours and crawl triumphantly towards the nearest dangerous object, that I will need to go into baby-proofing overload. As it is, things around here are already looking a little bare as we put more and more things up out of reach. But isn't it exciting when they learn how to join in on the action? I love a crawling baby - there's something about that wiggly little bum in the air that makes me want to grab it and kiss it!!! And then it won't belong before she works out how to walk, and sprint...and then I'll just have to follow the stream of chatter that flows behind my baby as she runs wildly with the other kids. Go Maisie Mouse, go!
When Jack was about 10 months old, I remember sitting at a mothers' group morning tea and watching all the other little boys run or stagger around madly, while my blonde little cherub sat placidly beside my chair (I was exceptionally seedy with morning sickness at this point in time, so I was pretty grateful that I didn't have to chase anybody anywhere!) Being my first baby, I'll admit I was a little worried that my boy was the only child not dashing wildly about. Jack's lack of mobility was commented on by the other mums, especially the fact that he wasn't even crawling at the ripe old age of 10 months. I just smiled and shrugged, but inside I was a tad concerned that Jack would sit still forever (a completely unfounded concern - he hasn't sat still since June 2007...) Jack eventually crawled backwards (after a very long time of lying on his tummy and flapping his arms and legs wildly), crawled forwards for only a few weeks, and then got up one day and walked across the room when he was 14 months old. What I didn't particularly notice as being unusual at the time was that at 10 or 11 months, my son was already using recognisable words, and that his vocabulary was developing at an astonishing rate. It wasn't until Jack entered daycare that I realised that he spoke much more than the other two year olds, and that he was understood by most adults. Sure, he had never been a climber or one to run away from me, but to be truthful I was a bit relieved about that!
Phoebe was also a very placid baby, taking her sweet time to roll over and sit up. I wasn't particularly concerned about her progress, as Jack had taught me that it all happens eventually, so I relaxed a fair bit with Phoebs. Just like Jack, she showed no inclination to go anywhere until around 10 months, at which point she turned her little nose up at traditional crawling and began bum-shuffling. She was remarkably fast, and used her legs, knees and little tushie to wriggle across the floor. She eventually learned to crawl, but I think the fact she could see everything whilst sitting up and shuffling along on her cherries meant that this was her preferred method of movement. Phoebalina also went from crawling to walking in a very short period of time, and was staggering around the room at 14 months, just like Jack. Unlike her big brother, Phoebalicious started speaking understandable words at 8 months...and no, she hasn't stopped yet!
Miss Maisie Mouse has already defied expectations - after two 'easy' babies, I was warned I was in for a screamer third time around. She rarely cried. After two 'good' sleepers, I was warned she'd never sleep. She slept through at 5 weeks. Now, of course during her little lifetime, Maisie has both cried and had bad nights where she wouldn't sleep. But on the whole, when she's not teething or sick, she is happy and contented and so, so easy. And to be honest, life is so busy with three kidlets that I have not had time to think about Maisie's developmental milestones. She's eating, putting on weight, and laughs. What's to worry about?
Generally speaking, Maisie is turning out just like her big brother and sister, with her own little twist on the popular theme. Early talking? Check. Since 6 months old we have been hearing little words like Dad-dad, Mum-mum, hello, and other baby-words that she uses for food (na-na) and Jack (Ja!) When she started rolling, I just assumed that she would start crawling or bum-shuffling around 10 months like the others. But no. Maisie is still rolling (rapidly, with cunning and gusto) and I have given up explaining to people that no, she's not walking yet (or even close to looking like it), but since she won't shut up we haven't really had time to worry about it (and mind your own beeswax, thank you very much!) Imagine our excitement this morning, when the Mouse saw a ball she REALLY wanted, and the knees went up, and she reached out, and......smack down on her tummy again. This time, however, instead of rolling away, she commando-crawled in the most uncoordinated way I have ever witnessed, and SHE GOT THE BALL!!!!!! Woohoo for Maisie!!!! Now, I want you to understand that I really don't care when or if Miss Mouse crawls. It's hectic enough around here without more movement!! (remember, two bedroom unit, three kids, one broken husband, two cats, one dog...) But I was absolutely delighted for my baby, as she has for some time now watched the other two run past her with a wild look of envy in her beautiful blue eyes.
I realise that, in the next few days or weeks, when she does get up on all fours and crawl triumphantly towards the nearest dangerous object, that I will need to go into baby-proofing overload. As it is, things around here are already looking a little bare as we put more and more things up out of reach. But isn't it exciting when they learn how to join in on the action? I love a crawling baby - there's something about that wiggly little bum in the air that makes me want to grab it and kiss it!!! And then it won't belong before she works out how to walk, and sprint...and then I'll just have to follow the stream of chatter that flows behind my baby as she runs wildly with the other kids. Go Maisie Mouse, go!
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Getting big
Phoebalina Ballerina is on my lap. You know how usually confident, sassy three-year-olds can occasionally fall in a little puddle of clinginess? That's my Phoebe today. She's sitting on my lap asking if she can press the buttons. Here is my indulgence of this little whim:
gtuuhjhjjkjkjkjkjjjjjjjkljklxxcvbvffccvccbvcfhvghhbbbbvcvcvx. Ah, it's a great game. She wants to know if it's her turn again after I have my turn. I want to know if it's my turn to go to bed at 6.30pm.
Isn't it funny how kids are so desperate to be grown up, and want to do everything Mummy and Daddy do? Personally, I'd give a lot to be 27 again (not any younger, though. It would pain me greatly to be a teenager again, and to be frank much of my early twenties was spent either at uni, the pub, or in angst over boys. If I could have my 23rd year again, travelling in the UK and US, backpacking and working at camp, that'd be great. Then I'd skip straight to 27...) 27 was an awesome age. I had a pretty good body (I just didn't realise it at the time!), I had a great job I loved, a gorgeous boyfriend (and before you get all fired up, Christian, it was you, ok?), and the most pressing commitment I had was my kitten, Ernie. The funny thing is, I knew I had it good then, so I made the most of it. And every year since then, it's just gotten better and better, to the point where I now have a scrumptious three year old daughter sitting on my lap, trying to press 'buttons' on my laptop and asking why we kiss, while giving me kisses. "I love you, Mum." "I love you too, Phoebe." "Mum, I really love you." "I really love you too, Phoebs." "Mum? I have boogers in my nose." Yes, Yes, you do.
Of course, every stage in life is about learning. Currently, I'm learning how to juggle three kidlets, a broken husband, imminent Christmas madness and the perks of unemployment. Christian is learning how to relax, allow his body to recuperate, and pay for the imminent Christmas madness while we have no salary. Jack is learning how to control his temper, and control his excitement and nervousness about starting Big School. Phoebe is learning that wiping your pooey bottom with your hands will make Mummy quite cross, especially if you do it twice in one day. Maisie is learning how to chase the cat (although she is trying to do this without crawling - I think she is trying to go straight from rolling to running...it's not working). Every age is interesting, and different, and difficult in some way or another. At this very moment, Phoebe is learning how loudly she can scream at us to show that she does not need to go to bed. This is proving to be a very difficult task for her, and considering the strain her voice is under, one that I do not envy! Christian and I are learning how to not laugh uproariously at Phoebe's temper. This is also proving to be quite a difficult task.
I remember my mum telling me not to wish my life away when I was a little girl. Like most kids I was desperate to be older - why, I don't know! Now my own kids are all trying to be bigger than they are - Phoebe even corrected Santa (oh so politely) when he kept calling her a little girl. "A big girl, Santa," she whispered continuously. Every little thing they learn, and every day we have makes us a little bit older. On the one hand I am grateful to have three kids who learn something new every day (and I am especially grateful that three pregnancies have not rendered my brain so completely useless that it is unable to learn!) On the other hand, I realise that every little trick or skill or piece of information that they learn takes them one step closer to being big. And as desperate as I am to retain my youthful 34 years, I am more desperate to retain my kidlets' childhoods...for a while, at least. Lord help me when they are teenagers and have learned absolutely everything!
gtuuhjhjjkjkjkjkjjjjjjjkljklxxcvbvffccvccbvcfhvghhbbbbvcvcvx. Ah, it's a great game. She wants to know if it's her turn again after I have my turn. I want to know if it's my turn to go to bed at 6.30pm.
Isn't it funny how kids are so desperate to be grown up, and want to do everything Mummy and Daddy do? Personally, I'd give a lot to be 27 again (not any younger, though. It would pain me greatly to be a teenager again, and to be frank much of my early twenties was spent either at uni, the pub, or in angst over boys. If I could have my 23rd year again, travelling in the UK and US, backpacking and working at camp, that'd be great. Then I'd skip straight to 27...) 27 was an awesome age. I had a pretty good body (I just didn't realise it at the time!), I had a great job I loved, a gorgeous boyfriend (and before you get all fired up, Christian, it was you, ok?), and the most pressing commitment I had was my kitten, Ernie. The funny thing is, I knew I had it good then, so I made the most of it. And every year since then, it's just gotten better and better, to the point where I now have a scrumptious three year old daughter sitting on my lap, trying to press 'buttons' on my laptop and asking why we kiss, while giving me kisses. "I love you, Mum." "I love you too, Phoebe." "Mum, I really love you." "I really love you too, Phoebs." "Mum? I have boogers in my nose." Yes, Yes, you do.
Of course, every stage in life is about learning. Currently, I'm learning how to juggle three kidlets, a broken husband, imminent Christmas madness and the perks of unemployment. Christian is learning how to relax, allow his body to recuperate, and pay for the imminent Christmas madness while we have no salary. Jack is learning how to control his temper, and control his excitement and nervousness about starting Big School. Phoebe is learning that wiping your pooey bottom with your hands will make Mummy quite cross, especially if you do it twice in one day. Maisie is learning how to chase the cat (although she is trying to do this without crawling - I think she is trying to go straight from rolling to running...it's not working). Every age is interesting, and different, and difficult in some way or another. At this very moment, Phoebe is learning how loudly she can scream at us to show that she does not need to go to bed. This is proving to be a very difficult task for her, and considering the strain her voice is under, one that I do not envy! Christian and I are learning how to not laugh uproariously at Phoebe's temper. This is also proving to be quite a difficult task.
I remember my mum telling me not to wish my life away when I was a little girl. Like most kids I was desperate to be older - why, I don't know! Now my own kids are all trying to be bigger than they are - Phoebe even corrected Santa (oh so politely) when he kept calling her a little girl. "A big girl, Santa," she whispered continuously. Every little thing they learn, and every day we have makes us a little bit older. On the one hand I am grateful to have three kids who learn something new every day (and I am especially grateful that three pregnancies have not rendered my brain so completely useless that it is unable to learn!) On the other hand, I realise that every little trick or skill or piece of information that they learn takes them one step closer to being big. And as desperate as I am to retain my youthful 34 years, I am more desperate to retain my kidlets' childhoods...for a while, at least. Lord help me when they are teenagers and have learned absolutely everything!
Monday, December 6, 2010
The cute factor
Motherhood is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get. Lately, I've been getting an equal mix of the cute and the revolting. Tonight, I'm feeling so flat that I need to cheer myself up - I may as well give you a laugh at my expense!
Cute factor: Last night at the dinner table, Jack said, "I was wondering if when I'm bigger, like a lot bigger, could I make dinner for you and Daddy and Phoebe and Maisie? And you could all sit at the table and I would cook and then you would eat it." Oh, be still my maternal heart. Anyone who offers to make dinner for me is automatically classified as an angel in my book, but if it's my four year old son who offers?? I tell you, I melted into a puddle.
Not-so-cute factor: In the last 24 hours, Jack has thrown two enormous temper tantrums, complete with kicking, screaming and insults. For example, Daddy is a "stupid bum-bum head" and I am a "silly dumb Mumma". I know that these obscenities will seem hilarious when he is 15, but at the moment I just want my quiet little boy back! It's just end-of-year tiredness, but Mummy's tired too. Sigh.
Cute factor: Phoebalicious has morphed into a sassy, sweet little spunkrat who isn't afraid to shake her booty. At the Wiggles concert on Saturday, she jived madly to every song, wiggling her little hips and flapping her hands. Last year, when she had just turned two, she sat wide-eyed on my lap (admittedly, there wasn't much lap to be sat on, given that Maisie was less than 4 weeks away!). Although she loved it, she would not budge off my knee for the entire concert. This year, our confident little girl danced to the beat of the Wiggles' drum, and she was utterly wonderful to watch.
Not-so-cute factor: As proud as we are of Phoebe's graduation to being an 'undie-wearer' with not a pull-up in sight, I am getting a little tired of hanging out in the toilet to observe each and every poo. I know I should be rejoicing in the fact that she hasn't had an accident in a week, but we have visited toilets in shopping centres, other peoples' houses, Rod Laver Arena...we even had to leave Eastlink the other day and drive through endless paddocks to find somewhere, anywhere with a toilet for Phoebe. (And a big shout-out to the lovely people of Patterson River Tennis Club, who kindly allowed my daughter to sample their facilities...we snuck in, Phoebe did the smallest wee known to womankind, and snuck out again...yep, the girl knows how to make her mother sweat) I am delighted that she is so excited about being a big girl and going to the toilet, I just don't need to watch every single production. Is that being a bad mother?
Cute factor: Maisie has discovered the delights of interacting with her big brother and sister. She knows it is hilarious to shake her head to say "no", and has the uncanny ability to blow raspberries in response to silly questions. She joins in with raucous laughter whenever they are sharing a joke, and leans in as if to say, "Oh yes, I'm a big kid too! Isn't life funny?" She still only has two teeth, and has long sticky-uppy tufty hair which curls at the ends around the nape of her neck. On a good day, she is fluffy and adorable with a white-blonde mohawk...on a bad day, her hair sits flat on her head with a centre part, and she looks like a professor. If she bares her teeth in a cheesy grin, the effect can be quite startling!
Extra-cute factor: Let's face it, babies only have two settings - cute, and extra-cute! We had an air-conditioner installed today, so there were four very lovely tradies in our house working on the installation. They were really nice guys, and terrific with the kids. Maisie was in her highchair having a late lunch (another extra-cute factor - earlier she fell asleep with a piece of sourdough in her mouth...we caught her on video, drooling, snoring and fast asleep face-down on her highchair tray...teehee!!!), watching the guys at work. Whenever they would glance at her, she would smile coyly, wave a hand at them, and call out, "Dadda!" (I tried to explain to Christian that this was only because 'Dadda' is her word du jour, but he looked a little skeptical...) There was one she liked in particular, and he was offered a chewed, soggy piece of sourdough, which he gracefully declined. She just grinned at him winsomely (professor hair and all!)
Well, I'm starting to feel a whole lot better. It might also have something to do with the fact that all three team members are fast asleep and dreaming...and there's a box of chocolates calling my name. I'll just make sure and find out which flavours they are first!
Cute factor: Last night at the dinner table, Jack said, "I was wondering if when I'm bigger, like a lot bigger, could I make dinner for you and Daddy and Phoebe and Maisie? And you could all sit at the table and I would cook and then you would eat it." Oh, be still my maternal heart. Anyone who offers to make dinner for me is automatically classified as an angel in my book, but if it's my four year old son who offers?? I tell you, I melted into a puddle.
Not-so-cute factor: In the last 24 hours, Jack has thrown two enormous temper tantrums, complete with kicking, screaming and insults. For example, Daddy is a "stupid bum-bum head" and I am a "silly dumb Mumma". I know that these obscenities will seem hilarious when he is 15, but at the moment I just want my quiet little boy back! It's just end-of-year tiredness, but Mummy's tired too. Sigh.
Cute factor: Phoebalicious has morphed into a sassy, sweet little spunkrat who isn't afraid to shake her booty. At the Wiggles concert on Saturday, she jived madly to every song, wiggling her little hips and flapping her hands. Last year, when she had just turned two, she sat wide-eyed on my lap (admittedly, there wasn't much lap to be sat on, given that Maisie was less than 4 weeks away!). Although she loved it, she would not budge off my knee for the entire concert. This year, our confident little girl danced to the beat of the Wiggles' drum, and she was utterly wonderful to watch.
Not-so-cute factor: As proud as we are of Phoebe's graduation to being an 'undie-wearer' with not a pull-up in sight, I am getting a little tired of hanging out in the toilet to observe each and every poo. I know I should be rejoicing in the fact that she hasn't had an accident in a week, but we have visited toilets in shopping centres, other peoples' houses, Rod Laver Arena...we even had to leave Eastlink the other day and drive through endless paddocks to find somewhere, anywhere with a toilet for Phoebe. (And a big shout-out to the lovely people of Patterson River Tennis Club, who kindly allowed my daughter to sample their facilities...we snuck in, Phoebe did the smallest wee known to womankind, and snuck out again...yep, the girl knows how to make her mother sweat) I am delighted that she is so excited about being a big girl and going to the toilet, I just don't need to watch every single production. Is that being a bad mother?
Cute factor: Maisie has discovered the delights of interacting with her big brother and sister. She knows it is hilarious to shake her head to say "no", and has the uncanny ability to blow raspberries in response to silly questions. She joins in with raucous laughter whenever they are sharing a joke, and leans in as if to say, "Oh yes, I'm a big kid too! Isn't life funny?" She still only has two teeth, and has long sticky-uppy tufty hair which curls at the ends around the nape of her neck. On a good day, she is fluffy and adorable with a white-blonde mohawk...on a bad day, her hair sits flat on her head with a centre part, and she looks like a professor. If she bares her teeth in a cheesy grin, the effect can be quite startling!
Extra-cute factor: Let's face it, babies only have two settings - cute, and extra-cute! We had an air-conditioner installed today, so there were four very lovely tradies in our house working on the installation. They were really nice guys, and terrific with the kids. Maisie was in her highchair having a late lunch (another extra-cute factor - earlier she fell asleep with a piece of sourdough in her mouth...we caught her on video, drooling, snoring and fast asleep face-down on her highchair tray...teehee!!!), watching the guys at work. Whenever they would glance at her, she would smile coyly, wave a hand at them, and call out, "Dadda!" (I tried to explain to Christian that this was only because 'Dadda' is her word du jour, but he looked a little skeptical...) There was one she liked in particular, and he was offered a chewed, soggy piece of sourdough, which he gracefully declined. She just grinned at him winsomely (professor hair and all!)
Well, I'm starting to feel a whole lot better. It might also have something to do with the fact that all three team members are fast asleep and dreaming...and there's a box of chocolates calling my name. I'll just make sure and find out which flavours they are first!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Cuddles
Team O'Toole was suffering a massive post-Wiggles hangover this morning. Oh baby, we were sooking and whinging and carrying on (and that was just Christian...just kidding!). The kids were so tired that every little thing became a squabble or a hassle. To make matters worse, Christian and I had been up with the Mouse until almost one in the morning after a coughing fit turned into a multicoloured yawn. It's so cute how she loves to hop into the shower with me, I just wish she wouldn't feel the need to yak all over me beforehand.
Anyway, after our massive day yesterday, I was surprised at how energetic the big kids were at their swimming lessons this morning. Poor old Maisie Mouse wasn't well enough to swim, so she just snuggled into my neck and slept through the chlorinated clamour. She woke up briefly to snack on some lunch, and then went back to sleep on my shoulder all through a visit to the local Christmas-tree-and-Santa-decoration shop. While Jack and Phoebs ooh-ed and aah-ed over the garish tinsel and flashing neon Christmas decorations, Mais snored softly on my arm, looking every inch the Christmas cherub. After seeing Santa and receiving a "candy can" (no, that's not a typo, that's what my children so endearingly call them), we took two delighted children and one tired, blurry little baby home.
I hate it when my babies are sick - I mean, come on, who doesn't? You want to stop them from feeling miserable, you wish you could help them sleep or at least just get comfortable. But I must admit I love the extra cuddles when my babies are feeling poorly (and before this is misconstrued, I don't want my babies to get sick so that I get more cuddles...but you know what I mean!) With the weather being so warm today, I was doing housework in a singlet and a pair of shorts. When Maisie woke from her nap and I stripped her off to cool her down, she snuggled into me and I realised - those skin-to-skin cuddles make me feel whole. It's as though when I pick her up, and her skin touches mine, I feel like the last piece of the puzzle is in place.
When your baby is inside of you, they are a part of you, literally and figuratively. I know when mine were born, the feeling of their little naked bodies on my chest was sheer bliss, because they were where they belonged. The skin-to-skin snuggles only last for a short while, because before you know it you've got a wriggly little person who is desperate to get down and into the action. Rather than having a tiny baby willing to be snuggled for the hours between feeds, you have someone who wants to squawk, and flap their hands, and roll around, and pull your hair, and suck on the remote. (or at least, that's what it's like here!) Today, my little girl wanted nothing more than to be in my arms while she slept and tried to feel better. And the feeling of her velvety skin on mine was so wonderful, I would have stayed like that all day if I could (except she now weighs about 9 kilos instead of 3, and I had two other tired little bodies to deal with...not to mention poor old Daddy!)
I wish those baby cuddles would last forever (and I think perpetually having babies in order to keep having those cuddles would eventually be unsustainable...) But I must say, three-year-old cuddles are delicious in a completely different, spontaneous, enthusiastic way, and four-year-old cuddles are very frequent, warm and affectionate. Cuddles from my kids are always gorgeous, and I suppose every single snuggle reminds me of the very first cuddle with each of them. I just need to make sure I stop to enjoy every single one, and the sensation of my skin being made whole by my children.
Anyway, after our massive day yesterday, I was surprised at how energetic the big kids were at their swimming lessons this morning. Poor old Maisie Mouse wasn't well enough to swim, so she just snuggled into my neck and slept through the chlorinated clamour. She woke up briefly to snack on some lunch, and then went back to sleep on my shoulder all through a visit to the local Christmas-tree-and-Santa-decoration shop. While Jack and Phoebs ooh-ed and aah-ed over the garish tinsel and flashing neon Christmas decorations, Mais snored softly on my arm, looking every inch the Christmas cherub. After seeing Santa and receiving a "candy can" (no, that's not a typo, that's what my children so endearingly call them), we took two delighted children and one tired, blurry little baby home.
I hate it when my babies are sick - I mean, come on, who doesn't? You want to stop them from feeling miserable, you wish you could help them sleep or at least just get comfortable. But I must admit I love the extra cuddles when my babies are feeling poorly (and before this is misconstrued, I don't want my babies to get sick so that I get more cuddles...but you know what I mean!) With the weather being so warm today, I was doing housework in a singlet and a pair of shorts. When Maisie woke from her nap and I stripped her off to cool her down, she snuggled into me and I realised - those skin-to-skin cuddles make me feel whole. It's as though when I pick her up, and her skin touches mine, I feel like the last piece of the puzzle is in place.
When your baby is inside of you, they are a part of you, literally and figuratively. I know when mine were born, the feeling of their little naked bodies on my chest was sheer bliss, because they were where they belonged. The skin-to-skin snuggles only last for a short while, because before you know it you've got a wriggly little person who is desperate to get down and into the action. Rather than having a tiny baby willing to be snuggled for the hours between feeds, you have someone who wants to squawk, and flap their hands, and roll around, and pull your hair, and suck on the remote. (or at least, that's what it's like here!) Today, my little girl wanted nothing more than to be in my arms while she slept and tried to feel better. And the feeling of her velvety skin on mine was so wonderful, I would have stayed like that all day if I could (except she now weighs about 9 kilos instead of 3, and I had two other tired little bodies to deal with...not to mention poor old Daddy!)
I wish those baby cuddles would last forever (and I think perpetually having babies in order to keep having those cuddles would eventually be unsustainable...) But I must say, three-year-old cuddles are delicious in a completely different, spontaneous, enthusiastic way, and four-year-old cuddles are very frequent, warm and affectionate. Cuddles from my kids are always gorgeous, and I suppose every single snuggle reminds me of the very first cuddle with each of them. I just need to make sure I stop to enjoy every single one, and the sensation of my skin being made whole by my children.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Having a Wiggly good time
Oh my goodness me, what an emotional rollercoaster!! Yesterday I took Christian and the team to our old school for it's very last day. It was completely bizarre, seeing all of our friends, colleagues and students and knowing that when the school term starts next January, our beautiful school will stand empty. I was very brave, and only cried a little when one of our closest mates spoke at the assembly. Considering I was sitting at the front of the room cuddling Maisie, there were too many people facing me to really let go (I told you before, I'm a very ugly crier!). Jack and Phoebalina had an absolute ball, eating sausages at the sausage sizzle, dancing in front of the live band, and generally being cossetted by an adoring army of staff and students. Maisie was passed around like a little parcel, and loved every moment! It was such a fun day, and yet the tears were never very far away. Although I know that I will see the people I love again, it's hard to walk away from a school where the students were wonderful, the staff were amazing, and generally it felt a bit like a family.
To cheer ourselves up and reward our kids for behaving themselves in public (never a certainty!!), we took them out for an early dinner at a kid-friendly restaurant. Never mind the food - what was the most exciting thing for Miss Phoebe? Not only did the restaurant have a TOILET (yes, we are at the stage where we have to go to EVERY toilet we come across, sometimes several times over), but it was at the top of a flight of stairs. Well! Phoebalina made several trips to the toilet, proudly exhibiting her newly acquired status of "a big girl who wears undies", all the while stomping up and down the stairs. On one trip down the stairs I was acutely aware of the couple attempting to dine near my daughter's noisy footfalls, so I commented that she was like an elephant and asked her to step more quietly. Instead, she continued to step heavily down on each step, and began trumpeting loudly like an elephant with each stomp. Yes, she's such a delicate little flower.
Our lucky, lucky children were spoiled rotten by two people in particular yesterday, "Aunty Carol", our front desk receptionist, and Lesley, our cleaning lady. Every time the kids would visit Daddy at school, or come back to my office at the end of the day, Carol and Lesley would make a big fuss of them. As you can imagine, Jack and Phoebe never minded in the slightest. Yesterday, Carol was wearing jingly bells and a funny Santa hat, and Lesley was decked out like an elf. They both gave the kids enormous wrapped Christmas presents which I put under the tree last night after they had gone to bed. This morning, Christian and I were lying in bed listening to the kids as they tiptoed out of bed and into the loungeroom. "Jack!", exclaimed Phoebe, "Santa's been here! Santa's been here!" Jack considered this for a moment. "No, Mummy said Santa's coming in a few weeks. These presents are from Aunty Carol and the elf." Classic.
Once we got over the excitement of early Christmas presents (which, by the way, were exceptional), it was time to get ready for the Wiggles concert. Last year I went with an 'ormous' 22 month pregnant belly - this year, I carted three kids bursting with excitement into Melbourne. We met up with Gertrude and Esmerelda and their tribes, had a picnic in the scorching heat at Birrarung Marr, and then traipsed off to Rod Laver Arena for a wiggly good time. For an hour and a half, Jack jumped and danced, Phoebs shook her groove thang, even Maisie Mouse squawked and flapped her hands. I doubt that my two big kids will ever wash their hands again, as they waved to Murray when he was a metre away, high-fived Sam (!) and patted Dorothy when Anthony carried her up the stairs and right by our seats. By the end of the concert, Jack and Phoebe were pink-faced and sweaty behind their Dorothy the Dinosaur masks, and Maisie was asleep in Christian's lap (how did she sleep in all that noise? Seriously, the woman wakes if I even think about going to bed...) After collapsing in the shade near Fed Square with drippy icy poles, we made our sticky, dusty, dancy way back to the car. They all slept the entire trip home (actually, Jack frightened the bejeesus out of me when I looked in the rear vision mirror and saw his nose sticking out the eye hole in his face mask), and then took hours to settle at bedtime. Typical! Actually, I think I hear a little mouse right now...which would be about right because I was just thinking about turning in! Grrr. Trust me to have a telepathic baby.
To cheer ourselves up and reward our kids for behaving themselves in public (never a certainty!!), we took them out for an early dinner at a kid-friendly restaurant. Never mind the food - what was the most exciting thing for Miss Phoebe? Not only did the restaurant have a TOILET (yes, we are at the stage where we have to go to EVERY toilet we come across, sometimes several times over), but it was at the top of a flight of stairs. Well! Phoebalina made several trips to the toilet, proudly exhibiting her newly acquired status of "a big girl who wears undies", all the while stomping up and down the stairs. On one trip down the stairs I was acutely aware of the couple attempting to dine near my daughter's noisy footfalls, so I commented that she was like an elephant and asked her to step more quietly. Instead, she continued to step heavily down on each step, and began trumpeting loudly like an elephant with each stomp. Yes, she's such a delicate little flower.
Our lucky, lucky children were spoiled rotten by two people in particular yesterday, "Aunty Carol", our front desk receptionist, and Lesley, our cleaning lady. Every time the kids would visit Daddy at school, or come back to my office at the end of the day, Carol and Lesley would make a big fuss of them. As you can imagine, Jack and Phoebe never minded in the slightest. Yesterday, Carol was wearing jingly bells and a funny Santa hat, and Lesley was decked out like an elf. They both gave the kids enormous wrapped Christmas presents which I put under the tree last night after they had gone to bed. This morning, Christian and I were lying in bed listening to the kids as they tiptoed out of bed and into the loungeroom. "Jack!", exclaimed Phoebe, "Santa's been here! Santa's been here!" Jack considered this for a moment. "No, Mummy said Santa's coming in a few weeks. These presents are from Aunty Carol and the elf." Classic.
Once we got over the excitement of early Christmas presents (which, by the way, were exceptional), it was time to get ready for the Wiggles concert. Last year I went with an 'ormous' 22 month pregnant belly - this year, I carted three kids bursting with excitement into Melbourne. We met up with Gertrude and Esmerelda and their tribes, had a picnic in the scorching heat at Birrarung Marr, and then traipsed off to Rod Laver Arena for a wiggly good time. For an hour and a half, Jack jumped and danced, Phoebs shook her groove thang, even Maisie Mouse squawked and flapped her hands. I doubt that my two big kids will ever wash their hands again, as they waved to Murray when he was a metre away, high-fived Sam (!) and patted Dorothy when Anthony carried her up the stairs and right by our seats. By the end of the concert, Jack and Phoebe were pink-faced and sweaty behind their Dorothy the Dinosaur masks, and Maisie was asleep in Christian's lap (how did she sleep in all that noise? Seriously, the woman wakes if I even think about going to bed...) After collapsing in the shade near Fed Square with drippy icy poles, we made our sticky, dusty, dancy way back to the car. They all slept the entire trip home (actually, Jack frightened the bejeesus out of me when I looked in the rear vision mirror and saw his nose sticking out the eye hole in his face mask), and then took hours to settle at bedtime. Typical! Actually, I think I hear a little mouse right now...which would be about right because I was just thinking about turning in! Grrr. Trust me to have a telepathic baby.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Absence makes the heart grow fonder (and the blogger go loopy)
If absence makes the heart grow fonder, then my heart is overflowing with love for my blog right now!! Oh, how my fingers have itched for my laptop over the last few weeks (that sounds a bit wrong, actually...). There have been hundreds of times in the last month that I have been desperate to write a quick anecdote about something cute...or disgusting...or funny...or completely unbelievable...but as you all know, we moved house and it has taken until today to get a modem in the house. So. Here I sit, with a four year old on the couch because he can't sleep while Maisie Mouse screams with indignation (mean Mummy won't let her stay up and watch crappy non-ratings telly), surrounded by washing, tinsel and pets, blissfully tap-tap-tapping on my pink laptop (did I never mention it was pink?? Of course it is!! Why would it be any other colour??) Do you really want to know what has happened since our last conversation? Or do I just really need to blurt it all out...??
Well. Last time we spoke, Team O'Toole was about to move out of the in-law's and into a rental. We moved on the Saturday of Cup weekend (you know, the day that absolutely POURED with record-breaking amounts of rain), and to be honest I thought we did a pretty good job of things. The kids thought having all three of them in one bedroom was awesome, we got our pussy cats and puppy dog back (oh yes, there are other members of Team O'Toole - furry ones!!) and somehow we managed to fit three kids, two parents, one dog and two cats into a two-bedroom unit. Not bad.
On the Sunday, we went to my Pa's 90th birthday and had a lovely day with all the aunties and uncles and cousins. My beautiful Pa was surrounded by his (rather large and noisy!) family, and it was so nice to share such a special birthday. Even though Christian had to work on the Monday, we were looking forward to Cup Day, when we planned to spend the day as a family setting up our new home. So I spent the Monday cleaning and packing with the three kids in tow, and you know how much you achieve when you're stopping every ten minutes to make a snack or break up squabbles, or wipe a bottom...
On the Tuesday we received a phone call that turned the world on its' head. The school we both work at, where so many of our friends are, where we love the students, had gone into administration and would be closing. Christian had to leave me and the kids, and drive into work on a public holiday to begin phoning staff to tell them they were unemployed. I bawled, blew my nose (I'm a very ugly crier), and drove to the in-law's to keep cleaning and packing. My own unemployed status was a strange feeling, because I've been on maternity leave all this year. In one fell swoop, I lost my job, and an entire school community of friends, collegues and students - and as I was not physically present at the school during this time, a lot of people seemed to think I wouldn't mind very much. Let me say this - I mind. A lot.
Naturally, everyone involved in the school was very upset, to say the least. Christian was devastated, but had to keep soldiering on for the sake of his students and staff at the school, and for us at home. After a week of copping it on the chin (and the rest of it, but I won't go into the gory details), a year of stress and illness came crashing down on my darling boy's head, and he went to hospital with chest pains. The doctors called it a 'warning', a precursor to a heart attack if you like. One thing was for certain - stress put my husband in a hospital bed, and has kept him out of action for over three weeks now.
We have some truly incredible friends who have helped us so much in the last few weeks. You know who you are. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. (And Gertrude, don't think our girls' weekend in the city has missed out - I'm saving that for a blog all of its' own!!) Truly, if I have learned anything in the last month, it's that even when I am blurry with lack of sleep, worried to the point of feeling ill, guilty from feeding my children tinned spaghetti (again), and simply trying to get through a messy day, my friends are the greatest. I am so lucky.
So here we are, in December. Thankfully, Christian has a job for next year, and is slowly making a recovery (by napping more than a newborn - seriously, the boy gets tired having a shower!) I have spent the last few weeks trying to keep the kids on an even keel, especially my great big 35 year old kid who has been at home on doctor's orders. Jack has been getting ready for Big School next year - I have half a mind to video him on the mornings we go to Transition at his new primary school, just to show him when he's 15 how excited he once was...Phoebalina Ballerina is officially wearing undies now and has recognisable hair. Seriously, she makes me 'do' her hair every morning, and has definite opinions about the colour of elastic band I may or may not use! And Maisie Mouse? She is completely in love with the cats and dogs, and has a breathy little high-pitched voice just for them (they are all called "Da", apparently...) She rolls everywhere like a champion, and can get into any tight space. Maisie can identify and hone in on any dangerous or prohibited item, and have it in her dainty little paws in less than a minute. All with a devilish grin on her face. I am waiting for the Christmas tree to fall victim...
Oh, thank you for letting me get that off my chest. I feel lighter already!! And so the daily blog resumes...
PS. I'd love to know what you've all been up to. It's been mighty lonely without a modem to keep me warm...
Well. Last time we spoke, Team O'Toole was about to move out of the in-law's and into a rental. We moved on the Saturday of Cup weekend (you know, the day that absolutely POURED with record-breaking amounts of rain), and to be honest I thought we did a pretty good job of things. The kids thought having all three of them in one bedroom was awesome, we got our pussy cats and puppy dog back (oh yes, there are other members of Team O'Toole - furry ones!!) and somehow we managed to fit three kids, two parents, one dog and two cats into a two-bedroom unit. Not bad.
On the Sunday, we went to my Pa's 90th birthday and had a lovely day with all the aunties and uncles and cousins. My beautiful Pa was surrounded by his (rather large and noisy!) family, and it was so nice to share such a special birthday. Even though Christian had to work on the Monday, we were looking forward to Cup Day, when we planned to spend the day as a family setting up our new home. So I spent the Monday cleaning and packing with the three kids in tow, and you know how much you achieve when you're stopping every ten minutes to make a snack or break up squabbles, or wipe a bottom...
On the Tuesday we received a phone call that turned the world on its' head. The school we both work at, where so many of our friends are, where we love the students, had gone into administration and would be closing. Christian had to leave me and the kids, and drive into work on a public holiday to begin phoning staff to tell them they were unemployed. I bawled, blew my nose (I'm a very ugly crier), and drove to the in-law's to keep cleaning and packing. My own unemployed status was a strange feeling, because I've been on maternity leave all this year. In one fell swoop, I lost my job, and an entire school community of friends, collegues and students - and as I was not physically present at the school during this time, a lot of people seemed to think I wouldn't mind very much. Let me say this - I mind. A lot.
Naturally, everyone involved in the school was very upset, to say the least. Christian was devastated, but had to keep soldiering on for the sake of his students and staff at the school, and for us at home. After a week of copping it on the chin (and the rest of it, but I won't go into the gory details), a year of stress and illness came crashing down on my darling boy's head, and he went to hospital with chest pains. The doctors called it a 'warning', a precursor to a heart attack if you like. One thing was for certain - stress put my husband in a hospital bed, and has kept him out of action for over three weeks now.
We have some truly incredible friends who have helped us so much in the last few weeks. You know who you are. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. (And Gertrude, don't think our girls' weekend in the city has missed out - I'm saving that for a blog all of its' own!!) Truly, if I have learned anything in the last month, it's that even when I am blurry with lack of sleep, worried to the point of feeling ill, guilty from feeding my children tinned spaghetti (again), and simply trying to get through a messy day, my friends are the greatest. I am so lucky.
So here we are, in December. Thankfully, Christian has a job for next year, and is slowly making a recovery (by napping more than a newborn - seriously, the boy gets tired having a shower!) I have spent the last few weeks trying to keep the kids on an even keel, especially my great big 35 year old kid who has been at home on doctor's orders. Jack has been getting ready for Big School next year - I have half a mind to video him on the mornings we go to Transition at his new primary school, just to show him when he's 15 how excited he once was...Phoebalina Ballerina is officially wearing undies now and has recognisable hair. Seriously, she makes me 'do' her hair every morning, and has definite opinions about the colour of elastic band I may or may not use! And Maisie Mouse? She is completely in love with the cats and dogs, and has a breathy little high-pitched voice just for them (they are all called "Da", apparently...) She rolls everywhere like a champion, and can get into any tight space. Maisie can identify and hone in on any dangerous or prohibited item, and have it in her dainty little paws in less than a minute. All with a devilish grin on her face. I am waiting for the Christmas tree to fall victim...
Oh, thank you for letting me get that off my chest. I feel lighter already!! And so the daily blog resumes...
PS. I'd love to know what you've all been up to. It's been mighty lonely without a modem to keep me warm...
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