Three Ring Circus

My eldest is growing up. FAST. Two minutes older than her sister but oh, so different. Socially, emotionally and physically.

I can’t stand it.

She’s not allowed to move into that next stage.

I feel… old.

Last night she was in tears because the dress we bought for her to wear to the year six farewell, two months ago, no longer fit her. Her body has changed. She is not overweight, in fact she is just right for her height but because all her friends are small, because her twin sister is too, she feels out of place, frumpy, fat.

I know how she feels. Although I was overweight amongst my peers and the brunt of everyone’s joke, the feelings of hurt are the same.

That feeling of not quite fitting in, that thorn amongst the roses feeling. *SIGH* I so didn’t want that for my girls. I wanted… well, I wanted conformity. I wanted them to blend in. I wanted them to have beauty, grace, a great fashion sense. I wanted what I lacked in the school environment for my girls.Not so much popularity… oh, ok, I wanted that too. ALL the things I never had.

Today my Mum took Imogen to the shops and she picked, for herself, a new dress. The sales people were lovely and Imogen’s self esteem flourished under so many people telling her she looked beautiful.

Of course, I know she is gorgeous but she is at that terrible stage when all that little girl confidence just flies away, leaving in it’s wake the insecurities of adolescence.

While she was shopping I started thinking about whether it was so terrible to stand out from the crowd. She has a wonderful nature, my Immy. Wise beyond her years. That in itself is beautiful.

As a pre teen, being different sucks. It does but looking on it as an adult, was I really that different and is she?

Why are children so horrible to other children? Why pick and tease and make their peers feel small and insignificant?

Probably because they feel the same way; Are the same.

Is it a learned thing, something that they see their parents do? Or something that is just part of the make up of some kids?

Anyway, I’m getting away from myself.

She bought a dress. She looks beautiful and she feels beautiful too.

I just want to make it an easy transition, if I can’t stop this hurtling into the teenage years…is that too much to ask?

By the Threeringcircus Technical Consultant, recently promoted to Sub-editor:

Your regular author sends her apologies for being unable to blog today.

Aparently it’s been too long since our last hospital admission. Despite our best efforts at managing the situation, we eventually conceded defeat and young Ivy was presented to hospital late yesterday.

As of this afternoon, things are improving - although I can’t include Ivy’s demeanour in this sweeping statement. She certainly has her mother’s critical eye for healthcare standards.

Unfortunately our insurance does not extend to bedside internet access. Nor did the recalcitrant Technical Consultant make alternative arrangements for same.

As a private patient, Ivy did receive a complimentary newspaper with an interesting cover story. I think the irony was lost on her, as her focus was more on stressing the insult of having an I.V. line in the back of her hand. When Noah took pause from his latest book fixation to inspect Ivy’s bio-enhancement, he was told in no uncertain terms, that the "hurts" was not to be touched. As always, chocolate proved to be the most effective distraction.

Hoping to return the the regular schedule shortly.

when you try to do your best as a parent and your kids think you are horrible.

It hurts when they can’t see that what you are doing for them is so that they grow to be the best they can be.

It hurts when they think that they are hard done by, having to do chores and jobs around the house, when they question what you do all day and tell their friends that you are a slave driver.

It hurts, really hurts when your children don’t think you’re perfect anymore, when you’ve fallen from that pedastool.

It’s the hardest job in the world, this motherhood business.

Don’t you all dread that question?

No, I’m not talking about the birds and the bees thing. My kids have known about that since they were little. (I guess it’s part of growing up with a midwife for a mother). No, it was nothing so…simple.

You know, that question, about the big guy in the red suit? Is he real?

I was asked today.

I felt so many things all at once, I needed to sit down.

My first thought was, Lord, how am I going to answer this?

Followed quickly by; you can just fall back on the ‘those who don’t believe, don’t receive’ line and avoid the topic altogether.

Next came the sad sinking feeling that my girls were growing up, that they were no longer part of that innocent age of wonder, they were jaded and had passed the point of believing everything David and I told them.

After that, I wanted to cry. Maybe I need to up the crazy pills, who knows but the thought of them not believing brought me down with a clunk!

It also reminded me of the year I questioned and found out for myself. I remember feeling deflated and my Christmas spirit was virtually gone.

I told her the story of Saint Nicholas. I reminded her of the true meaning of Christmas. I told her I believed in the spirit of the season and that for me it was more about family now and about the joy of giving.

She was very mature. She thanked me for being honest. We held hands and talked about keeping the spirit alive for the little ones and how important it was to me. She smiled and gave me a hug, in the middle of a huge toy store, where Christmas decorations have been out now for a couple of weeks and parents were casing the joint, watching their children play with prospective presents. (The very reason we were there).

But her eyes were sad. They had lost some of their sparkle.

Things will be different now. For her and for me. It might take her a while to find her Christmas spirit again.

Have your children asked you that question yet? How did you answer?

At 8am: Some of the kids (Ivy  included) have woken up with colds. Imogen will be staying home because she is too sick for school.

I realise that my quest to start the Christmas shopping is not going to happen.

It is cooler this morning and the sick children have begged off our daily morning walk, which I was kind of looking forward to but what is a girl to do? Break out the chocolate I say!

Ivy has a check up with the ENT doctor and I will begin my ‘negotiations’ to have her adenoids and her tonsils taken out.

Ivy finally has an appointment for the sleep clinic. It’s only taken ten months to secure.

The big kids have told me about three children in South Australia who are critically ill, two of whom are in a coma, because a highschooler gave them some ecstasy tablets and told them they were lollies.

I am very thankful that my children have had the knowledge of the devastation of drug use for as long as they can remember.

At 11pm (Don’t say anything - I know I should be in bed): Imogen is sleeping ok and I think her temp has broken. Ivy’s temp is going up and Noah is calling out in his sleep (asking for a book).

 Ivy is scheduled for adenoidectomy straight after the sleep study and if it shows that Ivy has apnoea, she will have a tonsillectomy too, although our friendly ENT doctor was quick to tell us that he felt she did not suffer from apnoea (yeah, like he has to sit up with her in the wee hours because her sleep is interrupted by gasping and hysterical crying) and there would be no need for tonsillectomy.

Can anyone say FIGJAM?

I now know that I hate predictive text on my mobile phone. When I tried to text David this afternoon, that… "Immy is sick" it predicted that I was trying to say…"Limbo is shmuck"

Is shmuck a word?

This weekend we are painting Immy and Maddy’s room followed by  AJ and Mal’s. The girls have decided on a dollhouse pink, with purple and green spots and silver swirls! It sounds magical and very pre teen. David does all the block painting and I get to do all the artistic stuff.

Speaking of artists, this morning as we were doing our chores no one noticed that a couple of toddlers were very quiet. Too quiet.

Anyone who has small kids, or kids in general, really, will know it’s not when they are noisy that you have to worry. When there is no noise -  that is when parents should be afraid…very afraid.

We pottered around, went outside (by that stage Ivy and Noah were out with us too) hung out clothes,played a bit…you know the normal run of the mill Saturday. it wasn’t until we came back inside to give them their morning nap that I discovered they had drawn all over their walls with purple crayon! Not only that but they had been creative in the hallway, the kitchen (specifically on the island bench), the fridge and on the glass sliding door!

This is not the first time I have noted their…artistic side. I caught Ivy decorating my dining area walls with red pencil and there are some scratchings down the hall, towards the bathroom. I suspect today’s sketches were done by the red pencil bandit too and probably the hallway drawings.

Noah is more a…tattooist, if you will, having aquired a green texta from somewhere and decorating Ivy’s arm and then his own with a purple (what is it with purple?) texta. He proudly showed me his wrist, telling me that he now owned his own "tic - toc" (clock).

After the first discovery I begged the children to pick up and put away all pens, pencils, textas and crayons. I did a sweep of all rooms and thought they had done just that but obviously, this morning, in our cleaning and moving around of the big twins’ room one lone purple crayon was dislodged and discovered by the wall artists. I don’t know if Noah actually did any of the drawing but I do know that he was there and he was probably egging Miss Ivy on. I can just imagine him grinning and clapping his hands at the naughtiness.

A bit like his father, really. Not a do - er but definately the one to plant the seed of mischief.

Most of it came off with a bit of vigorous scrubbing and the rest? David says it’s a good thing we’re painting!

My friend and I have decided we are going to write a book. She and I are both midwives and we are both parents to a large number of children. This is not going to be just any book. It is going to be a text book, directed towards medical students. It is going to primarily look at bedside manner and how to treat clients with respect. We think it will, not only be a best seller, we agree that in a few years time it will be a text that will be compulsory reading for med students, particularly future doctors who are thinking of practicing in paediatrics. It will be a text that is to be read first, before the "Westmead Children’s Hospital Paediatric Handbook".

I know, I can almost hear your eyes rolling out there. I know I go on and on about how bad the medical profession is up here but I am just going to have to get it off my chest again.

Sorry.

The first and most important thing for any doctor who thinks they are going to put their hands on any of my children (and this one is mostly for the ER doctors); Tell me your name! Introduce yourself. It’s not so hard…

"Hello, my name is….Peter Paediatrician, how are things?".

See? Easy, isn’t it?

Don’t come charging in, grunt in my general direction and then try to examine the baby. It just won’t happen. Call me strange but I would at least like the reference of a name when I am trusting you with my child.

Secondly, if I bring any of my children to a doctor it is generally because I feel they are unwell enough to need one. I don’t run off to the hospital or the paediatrician just because they have a sniffle. Don’t treat me like I am a paranoid woman, who has no idea. Hospital is not the most thrilling place in the universe and I most certainly would not be there if I had any other choice. The thought of sleeping in a Jason recliner for however many nights doesn’t really do it for me either so why you would think I, or any other parent, would race up to the hospital at the first sign of illness is beyond me.

 Don’t belittle the parent’s concerns by making benign comments like…"oh she looks alright to me…" or…"why did you bring him up here, he looks like he is ok from where I am sitting". Statements like this are generally made before examining said child, so how can you make a judgement call like that? Also, it makes the parent second guess themselves and they often start to believe that they have over reacted. Before you make observations like that, why don’t you stop and listen to the parents. They know their children better than anyone. better than you, that’s for sure. 

It’s the same with regular specialists (ie;paeds). If they turn up for appointments and the children are well (for the first time in months) please don’t make the parents feel as though they are supreme idiots by making sweeping statements like…" Oh, they are doing really well". How can you say that? You are not available to see them when they are sick but the distressed phone calls to your rooms should alert you that they are generally not well and this is a welcome break from the norm. The parents have worked really hard to get them better (without much help from you). How about a little support? How about some empathy for the ill health that the children have seen and the tough Winter the parents have endured? Would that be asking too much? Don’t blow it off like it’s nothing. That is so degrading.

As a general rule, it is a good idea to build some kind of rapport with the client. It’s good to have a basis of trust when you are going to be either touching the patient or the child of the parent. Don’t come across as some kind of over the top salesman and expect that the client/parents will trust you. They won’t. They will think that you are just trying to placate them, telling them what they want to hear. They will get the impression that you are two faced and dishonest. The clients/parents will start to doubt you.

An ER nurse said to me a few weeks ago that the worst thing about doctors these days was their lack of bedside manner.

What do you think? Is it important to you?

Our Paed says I am too fussy about doctors that my expectations are too high. Maybe I am. Are you happy to go to any old doctor or do you like to go to someone who is actually interested in looking after you in a holistic way?

Hi!

Come in, come in! Don’t be shy!

Grab a chair and a coffee, grab a biscuit or some chocolate if you like, go on, help yourself. There’s plenty to go around.

First time here? Yes, I know there are alot of them, aren’t there? Yes, it’s always busy, sometimes chaotic but each and every one of them is special, just as they are.

What’s that you ask? What are the best things about their ages?  Do I like one stage better than another?

Is there an age that isn’t a good age? All have their challenges, that’s true but every year a child is on the earth is a miracle in itself. There is good in turning another year older, for the child and for the parents.

Which age should I talk about? I could really go on forever but I know you’re only here for a little while.

The eleven year olds, who you can enjoy a  long conversation with? The kids who are changing before your very eyes from little ones into teenagers, reminding you how life is ever moving. Watching them grow is an amazing honour.

Perhaps I should talk about how nice it is to have nine year olds. A time when life is full of adventure and discovery and imagination. When friends are important but a snuggle in bed with Mum and Dad in the morning is still the most treasured thing. For everyone. When dolls are just as cool as an MP3 player. When toilet humour is the funniest thing you have ever heard. They really make me smile.

Or maybe I could tell you all the great things about having twins just shy of turning two. You’d like that? Okay.

I think though you should know a bit about their past, just so you know how far they’ve come.

They were born at thirty weeks. So, about ten weeks early. They were sick in the NICU for a while with breathing problems and your run of the mill premmie issues. We brought them home just before they were due.

For a long time they didn’t do much, so we had to take them to an early intervention centre to encourage them to roll and sit and stand. I think from about the time they were fifteen months, they just sort of took off.

So here they are. They turn two next month. They are smart and funny and cute. I love that they stumble in at dawn for a cuddle. That David and I are their whole world. It’s amazing how fluent their words have become, how in just two years, they have learnt to speak in sentences. The things they say make me laugh, in a way I haven’t in a while. When they say cute things, it kind of makes me tingly all over.

It’s a great age, don’t you think? When everything is wonderous and special. It makes you look at the world with a new perspective. They find joy in the smallest things. A bird in the tree, singing, a ladybug on a leaf. Paddling in water and turning it into mud and then stomping in it so hard it splashes up onto their face!

They really love life, enjoy it to the fullest. It’s so refreshing.

I love watching their personalities evolving.

I know the little man is social and easy going. He gets tired easily and loves his snuggles. He’s a routine junky and if it is different than the norm, he doesn’t cope well.He’s a bit of a charmer with the ladies, you know. He flashes those big dimples and you’re all his. You can’t help but love him.

I’ve figured out that the little girl is shy with new people. She needs time to work you out but once she has, she is loyal to the end. I know too that she is serious and a thinker but that she also has a cheeky side. She is spirited and hardly stops for anything, she moves all day, there are very few quiet moments for her, except when she is sick.

They both have a bit of mischief in them but then, I guess that is part of being two, don’t you think?

What else is good about this age?

They understand what you are talking about, can follow direction. That’s pretty cool…and it’s cute as well.

My two are really into books, well, the boy is and the girl likes to chew on them, so she’s interested  but in a different way! Oh, and they are starting to have favourite things like Dorothy the Dinosaur from The Wiggles. It’s so adorable, it makes my heart melt.

I am really enjoying this age.

Yes, they are my last babies, so you are probably right, I don’t want to forget a thing but; you know what? Watching them also reminds me of the others at that age. It makes me wonder about what their future is going to be like. Watching the twins at this stage reminds me of how much I love the others too, how much I have enjoyed their journey as well.

How old did you say your little person is? I’d love to hear all about your favourite things about their age. Have you got time for another cuppa?

This post was written as part of  Mamablogga’s Group Writing Project for October. Why don’t you give it a try?

Why would you take one husband, five children and two toddlers to Toys R Us when you are severly sleep deprived? Honestly. Did you really think that you would have time to look for birthday presents for the soon to be two year olds? Follow the kids around, making mental notes on what they are interested in, for Christmas gifts? You were dreamin’ love!

For a start, didn’t you realise that releasing children into a toy store is like letting mice run free in the pantry? They scurry every which way looking for their favourite tidbits. You should know by now that taking them to a place like that is going to bring about the "can I’s"

Can I have this $60 doll? Can I have this $80 game boy game? You will make yourself hoarse saying no, by the time the husband calls it a day.(Which is about half an hour into the excursion).

Another thing, expecting toddlers to stay strapped into a stroller when there are toys, from floor to ceiling, is unrealistic… very unrealistic. Especially if you want to leave unscathed by the high pitched squeal, that your son has aquired, along with his almost two year old tantys.

Taking a money stressed husband to a place where you hope to spend money is not a good idea either. It just makes him fidgety, with crazy eyes darting from one end of the isle to the other, looking for the closest exit and you will be bitterly disappointed by the outcome of the outing. Remember that word. Bit - ter - ly.

When you do unbuckle the toddlers, be prepared to run…FAST. That, or be prepared to buy all the things they can break in the minute it takes you to hunt them down. Please know that the latter is not the best option unless you are flush with cash because two toddlers, working together, can break alot in a small space of time.

When you find your toddler son in a hot pink, battery operated, car, do not

a) laugh at him,

b) show him where the reverse button is or

c) chase him

because he will

a) think it’s a game and push the accelerator pedal down as far as it will go, thus allowing him to ‘drive’ full force down a crowded isle

b) hit the reverse button and drive over the cranky husband’s toes. Making him more cranky and

c) create a riot of other shoppers, laughing, at the spectacle of two parents chasing after their runaway child.

Also, it will get you in trouble with the sixteen year old, assistant manager, who has no idea what it is like raising children, doesn’t really want to know because it is Sunday and he would rather be out surfing with his mates but his Mum made him get this stupid job so that he could learn about responsibilities and good work ethic. He is already in a bad mood and you and your ragbag children just made his day!

When the money stressed husband says it’s time to go, just go. Don’t try to talk him around to spending money on Baby Einstein bowl and cup learning sets because they are on special this week. It won’t work.

When you have your own thirty -  five year old tanty and get your way it’s not a smart move to then ask him for something else, like a coffee because you are dead on your feet from chasing seven kids. He will laugh in your general direction and continue to make a fast exit to the car park.

Finally, when you go to the toy store with seven children, remember to take some ear plugs for when you are exiting the shopping centre. These will save you from having to listen to all the whinging about how unfair it was to take them to the toy store in the first place and then not get them anything. (Even though they got almost half a day playing in said store and a nice lunch, instead of having to clean up the yard).

Note to self: better just to stay at home and blog!

P.S. When walking to the carpark and cranky husband spies a model helicopter in a hobby store, encourage him to go in and make a selection. His curiosity will spark faster than a grass fire and his demeanor will rapidly change. Remember this the next time you want to spend money and take him to the hobby store first!

Imogen amd Madeline have been invited to take part in a research study with the Australian Twin Registry. I mentioned it to them on the way down to Sydney, in the car. They were really excited to participate and I joined in with the conversation readily. From the back of the bus came a small, sad voice… ‘what about me?" she asked.

What about her? She is a singleton in the middle of two sets of twins. She is every bit as special as the other children but the world looks upon her differently. She is only one. What is so amazing about that?

When she was little Lily would tell me that she was the third twin. My heart would shatter into a million pieces. I felt for her. She wanted that same attention that her sisters got. She craved it. I could understand that.

Now she is feeling it again. it doesn’t matter what I say. I tell her that she is so special because she is one and that having one baby was extraordinary, in our house but she feels…different, left out, sometimes alone. We have had some sad days this year, Lily and I. Days when she is devastated that William died because, he was supposed to be her someone. He was supposed to even the score. He was everything she’d hoped for and in an instant he was gone. Days that I ache to hold her and tell her she is everyting to me but she pushes me away, is angry with me because I couldn’t provide her the one thing she wanted - a twin of her own.

As she gets older, I wonder how it is going to effect her teenage years. I wonder if she will seek attention in negative ways or if she will just withdraw more than she has already. I wonder if David and I have given her a good foundation to build self confidence in herself, so she feels special in her own unique way.

I know we love her. I know, if we could, we would protect her from that feeling of being alone.

Courtesy of Ivy, consumer of all (supposedly) inedible products.

*Disclaimer: I have older kids who have repeatedly been told to put their small things away. These have been confiscated, thrown away and/or donated to goodwill shops. I am as vigilant as a mother can be but the girl still manages to swallow things.

* Tinselpoo (festive Christmas edition 2006, self explanatory).

* Easter egg tinfoil poo (I can only assume that there was a secret stash of chocolate eggs involved)

* Scrapbooking metal letter "F" poo (don’t ask. I don’t know how it got in her mouth or how she managed to swallow it without injury or how it worked its way through her system).

* Tamagotchi battery poo (see above disclaimer).

* 1 Barbie handbag and 1 Barbie shoe poo (colour co - ordinated, at least…pink and brown go well together, don’t they?).

* Azure blue wishing stone x 1 poo… followed by…

* Azure blue wishing stones x 5 (!!!!!!) poo (David almost passed out when he saw that one).

I had no idea where the stones were coming from until I followed her into her sister’s room one day to find a small vase full of them. She was getting up onto a toybox and helping herself to what, I can only imagine, she thought were lollies, from the tall boy! (Quickly taken away and thrown out).

* Littlest Pet Shop bottle (please refer to disclaimer again).

* Moth poo (after a day in the backyard. This surprise also included a couple of other insects which were not identifiable due to their chewed up nature. Yuck).

* Birthday candle poo (following my birthday, stolen from the dish drying rack. One blue and one red).

There have been others but those are the most memorable. I have never had a child who ate so many weird things before. I thought she was slowing down/growing up/losing interest after the moth incident. We went a few weeks where there was nothing but…well…poo in her nappies, however, after the birthday candle poo I am thinking she was just giving her tummy time to settle after eating bugs. *SIGH*

Picture this, if you will, five children, two babies two parents and a senior (sorry mum) matriarch lined up on banana chairs. Towels down, sunscreen and swimmers on and a whole world of water before them on a perfectly sunny day. Not too hot and not too cold. Add to this scene the mother and her mother in "like totally dude", happenin’, surfy- labelled boardies and an equally expensive labelled shirt and you have the setting for the day.

The children scatter. The littlies to Wiggle World, where they can splash through musical fountains of water, stand under a flower shower or swim in the ankle high pool. The older children are thrilled with all they see and make their way to the various adrenalin pumping rides. The Rip, The Beach, The BRO (blue ringed octopus), the hydrocoaster and… THE GREEN ROOM!

A monsterous tunnel that throws you and three others into what appears to be a conical sink hole flipped on it’s side. As the occupants of the clover shaped tube slip from the top of one side, down and almost all the way to the top of the other side, the mother thanks her lucky stars that the boardies she chose are dark blue, so they will adequately mask the stain she will aquire when her children (or adrenalin junkie husband) push her onto said ride (and she knows it is coming).

The grandmother is forced to find a designated smoking area, such is her fear of these kinds of rides. She is also thankful that boardies mostly come in black and blacker because she has promised the children she will attempt at least one ride.

The adrenalin junkie father is overloaded by all that he sees and he takes a moment to recover from the expanse of gut wrenching, whirling,vomit inducing mechanical giants (that and the cost of the boardies) by reverting to organisation of posessions so the family is free to wander the park without having to worry about anything being stolen. Once he has calmed down, he attempts to feign amusement as he watches the toddlers spray each other with Dorothy The Dinosaur and Wags the Dog water guns (secretly he is wishing he could run wild and free with the eleven year olds and the nine year old who thinks she is eleven).

His wish soon comes true as the babies become restless and tired from morning beach walks and Wiggle overload. The mother finds herself in a banana chair, watching one sleeping child in the pram while the other is asleep, like a kitten, on her lap. The children come to drag the Daddy away. His fake protests fall on deaf ears and his poor acting skills do not convince the mother that he wants to stay to help out with the cherubs. She laughs and shakes her head. He pretends to be pulled away by the children but  once he thinks he is out of the mother’s line of sight she can see him scurry ahead of the kids.

After an hour or so he returns, saturated and happy. A smile splits his face from ear to ear. There is a sparkle in his eye that the mother has not seen for a long time. The children are beetling around their hero father, excitedly telling the mother and the grandmother of their adventures. They eat their lunch hurriedly and then all of them, including the fully adrenalised father, scuttle away again. The grandmother is almost chain smoking now, knowing that her number is up next. The mother remains on her banana chair, watching as the cherubs sleep and listening to the Wiggles music playing in the background, thinking of all the thing she would like to buy in the shop that sold her the board shorts.

The toddlers are blissfully unaware of all that is going on around them and continue to sleep for another hour before waking to consume a bucket of chips each and half of the mothers burger. They are back in Wiggle World before you can say ‘Captain Feathersword’ and the mother and the father are released from parental duties to ride the waves together (the grandmother thankful for an excuse to buy more time).

The father rides The Rip with the mother and two of the children, after making her stand under a huge Nickelodeon water bucket that spews massive amounts of H2O onto her head, soaking her to the very core. He then convinces her that The Green Room is not as scary as The Rip and leads her to the top of the ride. As they get on the cloverleaf raft, he turns to her and declares that he lied and this is by far the most petrifying ride he has ever been on. As she leans over to hit him as hard as she can the ride controller heaves the raft into the tunnel and the mother once again (amongst screaming her lungs out and holding on for dear life) thanks the surfy labels for the dark coloured boardies.

The ride lasts about 9 seconds but it is a few moments of absolute childlike enjoyment. The mother feels light and happy and free. For a day that she thought would be boring and of very little enjoyment for the adults, it has turned out to be the best day so far.

As the parents return to the banana chairs to find the babies pulling apart a garden, the other two big kids drag the grandmother off to face her fears. She returns later, shaking and wet but she has not let the children down and they see her as a hip, cool Gran with a bad ass attitude! They circle her and bask in her heroism.

The sun is starting to set and the family are one of the few remaining in the park, having had the most wonderful of times, they are reluctant to leave it behind. Knowing that the holiday is drawing to a close.

The mother shops her heart out and the family purchase photos snapped in an instant of time. Some showing children smiling and happy, some with looks of terror on their faces, some with their favourite Wiggles character. It is a day none of them will ever forget.

We needed to be at Seaworld by 9:30 so that we could book AJ in for a surprise! It was busy that Sunday morning and AJ was bubbling with excitement. It was the first time he, Mal and Mum had been. When we  finally got through the gates (David had a little trouble because the ticket collector didn’t believe that he, Ivy and Noah were part of our party - seeing as he payed the $64 per adult and $42 per child (I can’t bare to do the maths) he felt that he had a right to argue the point), we guided the gaggle to the booking in area where we had orginised for AJ to go snorkelling in Shark Bay.

His session was not for an hour so we sauntered through the park, stopping to look at the dolphins and the dugongs before making our way to the waiting area. I was not in a particularly good mood because I had forgotten my hat and had no sunglasses. The sun was very bright and the weather was already hot to my unaccustomed body. My mother had also decided that she was going to give up smoking and this was her first day of bad withdrawal symptoms, so she was grotty as well. AJ was sublimly happy though as he prepared for his dive.

Ivy and Noah were overtired and sick of being in the pram and the girls’ patience was wearing thin with all the waiting around. They wanted to go on this ride and that ride and see this and that. In the end I let them go to look at the polar bears and the exploratory pool. Mum took the babies for a walk and all was quiet for a while.

David bought me a hat and Imogen lent me her sunglasses (see attached picture for a good laugh). What is it with these large goggle - like sunnies? Where have the sleek styles of the eighties gone? Not a Blues Brothers’ style in sight! SO, with the sun off my face and out of my eyes, Ivy now asleep and Noah happy to sit with David we watched our now 11 year old foster son in the clear waters. His smile was worth it all.

After that was finished it was lunchtime, so we sat under a tree and decided what to do next.

The beauty of having such a big family is that they all watch out for one another but one of the hardest things, with such a big age gap in children is how to divide your time. We decided that we wanted to see the dolphin show at 2pm and so we let the big children go together on all the scary, high powered rides and David, Mum and I took Malachy, Ivy and Noah over to the little kids rides. We were to meet up twenty minutes before the show. The big kids took off to line up for the first ride and we had a ball with the babies and Mal.

We only had one incident the whole day and that was when Lily came crying hysterically to us post ride on The Pirate Ship. Apparently the ride controller had joked that he was going to flip the whole thing over and Lily, who had tried her hardest to be brave, so as to impress he idol, AJ, lost the plot completely and screamed for the ride to stop. Imogen, her protective sister, ordered the ride to halt and then promptly told off the young adult for scaring a little girl! I think the worst part of it for Lily though was that she had fallen from grace in AJ’s eyes. He called her a baby and stomped around the park as though his life had come to a sudden end because Lily didn’t like the ride. We soon calmed her down though and things settled quickly after that.

We made our way to the arena where the dolphin show was performed and grabbed a seat. Everyone was hot and bothered and so Mum saved the day with ice creams all around. Ivy and Noah enjoyed their chocolate paddle pop, right down to the very last, sticky, roll down your arm, dripping lick. I took photos as evidence. Now when Noah sees them, he growls in a low rumble… ‘I like de clocolate!’

Indeed he did.

The show was amazing! These beautiful, intellegent creatures stole our hearts.

We finished the day by going to the water park. Noah discovered he was not scared of this type of bottle (water) at all and had a wonderful time splashing his mother. Ivy found that things looked better from a different point of view and fashioned her new Cupid Girl swimmers. I only wished that I had brought mine because my pants and top were now virtually soaked through.

That evening, we went to dinner at a Japanese Restaurant. AJ and Mal were amazed with the acrobatics performed by the chef as he cooked in front of us. Noah decided that he would choose this night to declare his independence and refused to eat unless he was feeding himself. Ivy took a liking to pickled japanese vegetables and the waitress was so amazed that she brought her another bowl (complimentry). Mum had purchased another packet of cigarettes and although she felt beaten by her 40 something year old habit, she was smiling and relaxed again. David and I basked in the glow of a successful day…well, for a short time anyway, before Noah tipped his whole bowl of fried rice onto the floor.

Well, we’re home. We did it. Ten people on a week long holiday, travelling in one bus, over nine hundred kilometres to take up residence in three rooms of The Paradise Resort, Surfers Paradise, Queensland… the Queenslanders never knew what hit them!

I’m going to try to tell you all about our adventures but there have been SO many, I might forget some. Lots of photos to share as well.

The good news is that David, Mum and I all survived to tell the tale and we have our sights firmly set on Fiji for next time (it must have been ok, if there is going to be a next time)! I must say though, that I am glad to be home, where the babies can roam free. The big kids will all go back to school for the final week before the school break begins. My plans for next week? To relax and have a holiday from my holiday before the holidays begin!!

A friend phoned me last night. She asked me if I imagined my life would be like this, when I met David, when I was 17. She asked me if I ever imagined I would have so many children. The simple answer to that is; no.

I knew that I wanted kids from a young age. When we talked about children, David wanted two and I wanted four. The only thing we could agree on was that we wanted an even number of children so nobody was left out. I certainly didn’t think about the logistics of being a mum.

So what is Motherhood to me?

It’s all those things that everyone said it would be, it’s sacrifice, it’s full on, it’s the hardest job I have ever done. It’s wonderous and amazing and brings me so much happiness. It’s love and contentment and brings a fullness to each and every day in mind, body and soul. 

Mostly though motherhood is about learning.

As a mum, you are always teaching life skills but as a mum, I am also the perpetual student. I learn new things every day. About myself, about my children and I am still learning life skills!

When I first became a mum to twins, Imogen and Madeline, they taught me about selflessness, about the big picture. They taught me about patience (It took three years to conceive them) and understanding. I think they also taught me about time management and the importance of boundaries. On a funny note, they also taught me never to carry two babies upstairs, naked, when they have gastro…very messy!

Lily came into my life (about 9 months after the above bout of gastro). Lily taught me to really enjoy motherhood. She taught me to appreciate all the little things. When Lily came into my life, my father told me I was stupid for having more children, that I should be concentrating on a career, a house and having all the finer things in life. It was Lily’s birth that gave me the strength to stand up to him, tell him that family was more important to me than anything else. Although she was a surprise, she was a Godsend.

AJ and Malachy came into our home when they were four and three. I am not their biological mother but they are still my children. Through the boys I know about compromise. I know about overcoming terrible situations, adaptation, about hanging in there when you want to give up. I know about a longing to protect and a different kind of love, one that I have sometimes had to work at but one that is very much alive.

Four years after Lily, our first son, William, was born and died five days later. From Will I learnt about absolute devastation, a love that is so strong that I can still feel its presence every day. I learnt the beauty of letting go, I learnt to find and rely on my mother strength and I learnt that I could keep going, fuelled by the love of my children.

My last set of twins, Ivy and Noah, were born at 30 weeks in 2005 about a year and a half after William’s death and after a very scary pregnancy but it is with these children, my last, that I have learnt some of the most valuable lessons. As a mother to these precious miracles I have learnt to hope. Over the last twenty one months, they have taught me to feel joyous about motherhood again, at times when I felt there was no joy left in me. I have realised that I am a mother first and foremost and that, even though it can be a difficult, exhausting, sometimes thankless job, motherhood means everything to me.

It’s my life.

Oh, and I also learnt to appreciate my own mother much more than I ever did as a child.

This topic was published as part of MamaBlogga’s Group Writing Project. The theme is motherhood. It’s my first attempt.

Why don’t you give it a go?

There is horses flu everywhere in NSW. It started up here in the boonies, apparently. Horses all over Australia are being quarantined so as not to infect the rest of the equine community. It leads me to wonder what it would be like if you were standing next to a horse, with the flu, when he sneezed… gooey springs to mind, wet, ummmm… green?

Here is a joke as told by a 3rd grader (column 8, Sydney Morning Herald) ; Q:Where do the horses go when they have the flu? A: They go to the horse - pital!!!

It seems there is alot of that going around, the flu I mean and sneezing. When you are the mother of atopically challenged children, you don’t hate Spring but you don’t love it either. The weather here has been the typical asthma inducing type, gloriously and unseasonably warm in the day, with hot gusts of wind and freezing at night. Out of the seven children, four are currently dealing with their asthma. For the older girls, it’s more a case of compliance to their medication and upping the dose accordingly but for Ivy and Noah it is a series of nebulisers, preventers and then prednisone when things get bad…and nebbing two cranky toddlers every three hours is about as bad as it can be (for me) before we seek hospital admission.

Although, I am slowly (so slowly) coming to the realisation that gaining admission to hospital in the boonies is harder than it is in the big smoke.  Personally, I think it has more to do with paeds than with anything else. When Imogen and Madeline were little and I was inexperienced in asthma induced problems, I would ring their paed (a wonderful female doctor) and she would see me. In later years, we had a standing letter for the hospital and if I phoned the doctor she would more often than not meet us in the children’s ward. She was, in my opinion, a true paediatrician. Not only did she look after the girls’ well being but when their parents were getting a touch of the crazies, she could see it and would use her ‘assertive practitioner skills’ to guide us into hospital, so that we could have support too. She was a Godsend. Fast forward eleven years and my how things have changed!

Now, you can’t even get in to see your paed. You have to beg the receptionist for five minutes of his time. When you make a mercy call in the morning, if you are lucky, he will call you back at dinnertime…when the babies have really lost the plot, are crying at the top of their lungs, other children are scattered throughout the house in varying stages of undress, showering or getting redressed, because, on top of everything else, you have agreed to let the school aged children go to the fundraising disco, which has been scheduled for, you guessed it, dinnertime.

If you say you are not coping and that your week is like a living hell, the new age paed will be encouraging of your feelings of self doubt by belittling them and cussing about how horrible his week has been. (Of course it is impossible for a lowly SAHM/midwife to have a worse week than a doctor). If you then concede to being able to cope at home for a few more days on the understanding that you will be able to see him first thing Monday morning, you can then expect to be told that his schedule for that day is ‘disasterous’ and he can only squeeze you in at 8am (breakfast time and leaving for the bus time).

Unless you throw a mother (pardon the pun) of a tanty and tell the doctor that you are not going to make one more decision regarding the health of your babies because HE is the doctor and should be ‘guiding’ we parentals (medical training or no), do not expect the millenium paed to aquire ‘assertive practitioner skills’ anytime in the forseeable future. You see, he does not want to make the wrong choice at the risk of being sued. AAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!

While I very much like our paed, I find him very frustrating…hang on, there is a common thread here. I find all doctors frustrating! Well, what do you know? Is that what they call an epiphany?

At least, that is what he looked like at 4am this morning when he was in my bed trying to evict my eyeballs from their sockets. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a blue and white striped Bonds suit and the most devilish of grins, dimples included.

Why, oh why won’t my babies sleep through the night? When I took them home from the NICU the nurses commented on how lucky we were to have NICU trained babies. ‘They’re in a good routine’, they said, ‘they’ll just wake and feed, wake and feed’, another commented.

Look, don’t get me wrong, that is great when you bring them home, newborn from the hospital.When you are happy to baby gaze and you want to feed them every three hours, when you are floating on the pink fluffy clouds of euphoria. The trouble is, they can’t seem to break that routine and they are ALMOST two!!!! Two! Those pink, fluffy clouds are looking awfully grey and stormy, right about now.

For goodness sake, I am so sleep deprived! I can’t think straight anymore. Give me a break!(Please)

Here are some hints for Ivy and Noah (and any other babies out there who refuse to sleep through the night);

Do NOT come into my bed unless you want to snuggle down and sleep. If you want to seek and destroy, then do it in your own room. Mummies and Daddies need to sleep, otherwise they get cranky in the day. You, know, that time when you want them at their best, so they can dote upon you?

If you wake up very early in the morning, it will not put you in good stead to demand a ‘bockle’ (bottle) and then hit me in the face when it is not forth coming. No amount of hitting will get me or your father up in the freezing cold to get you a drink.

If you wake up in the middle of the night, do not get out of bed and wake up your brother or sister as well. We will be alot friendlier if there is only one baby to put back to sleep. Two wailing babies is just asking for trouble.

If you have to wake up can you please do it half an hour BEFORE we go to bed, not half an hour AFTER? If you haven’t guessed by now, when parents go to bed, they are exhausted and are asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. Half an hour in is serious REM time and you are interrupting the most restful part of the night.

Finally, if you do happen to wake several times during the night (and expect us to get out of bed to resettle you), when Mummy says it’s time for a day sleep, know that she means it. Know that you running around in overtired hyperactivity mode makes Mummy more tired. Mummy saying time for sleep is not an invitation for you to start up a conversation of babble with your sibling. It is not the time to do a poo in your clean nappy and it is not the time to chant some baby mantra at the top of your lungs. Sleep means sleep (and time out for your worn out caregiver…often a first opportunity to shower and have some nutrition for the day so that she has the energy to bend to your every whim).

P.S. Another little hint; even just one night of full sleep will do wonders for the Mummy and the Daddy. Take that into consideration when you go to bed tonight.

Well, Immy and Maddy have spent the last two days in heavy rehersal for the perfomances of Star Struck. Maddy is singing in the choir and Immy is in the dancing section. Tomorrow they have to be on the bus into the Entertainment Centre at 6am. They have a technical and a dress rehersal and then it’s their first performance!!!!! A BIG day and night. We are all going to watch them tomorrow night (yes, the babies too). I am really looking forward to it. Some of you might remember some months back when Mum and I made lots of costumes, well, it was all for this. Immy says she is not as excited as last time (when it was postponed) but is just as nervous. I think, come tomorrow they will both be really excited  by it all. I am so very proud of them. I’m sure they are going to shine! They have two performances on the Friday and a final performance on Saturday night! They might have lost a bit of their spark, come Sunday. Wish them well. Break a leg, girls!

What is the Noah - ism for glasses? :Eye - ses, of course!

He is becoming so aware of his surroundings now, noticing things and naming them. It is really interesting to watch. Maybe it’s because I am older and have a better understanding of the different developmental milestones or maybe it’s just because Ivy and Noah are my last babies and I don’t want to miss a single thing, who knows but every new day is an adventure, a new discovery.

Noah was sitting in front of his bedroom window this morning, just watching the world go by, silent and still. Very unlike Noah. When he heard me come into the room he turned to me and pointed outside… ‘rainging’ he said. Just like that. It was raining too, pouring infact, so much so that the scene outside was quite blurred through the rain on the window. Our backyard is starting to resemble a swimming pool again. I hope it stops soon. Imogen and Madeline are in a school production, held every year up here in the Hunter region, called Starstruck. It was supposed to be on in June but was postponed because of the flooding. The performances are all set to start again this week. On Thursday. It would be a shame if it had to be cancelled because of more poor weather. Praying for sunny days here.

AJ’s soccer team made it to the semi finals this weekend. Unfortunately the team lost this round and so his next game is in Singleton. I really hope they win this match. They have played extremely well all season. We need good weather for this too.

For those lovely friends who have been worried about the babies with their gastro, thank you. It means alot to know that you all care. Noah turned the corner on Friday and Ivy, although still not 100% is alot better and they are both eating and drinking now. Maddy and Mal seem to be the only ones who avoided the bug this time around. Fingers crossed that is the last we see of it for 2007.

*** WARNING, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SICK OF HEARING ABOUT THE SICK*** (hey, I just realised I can use colour on this blog!)

It’s very early on Monday morning and I know now that Lily’s vomiting was not just a random act of kindness, in wanting to paint my bathroom. In hindsight, it was foolish of me to relax after a respiratory illness as bad as the flu that has just swept through our house. It was foolish and complacent (there is that word again) of me. Did you know that some viruses can cause respiratory infection AND tummy upsets? Adenovirus springs to mind and, obviously, in this house, influenza too. I have had personal experience with my friend adenovirus. Imogen aquired it some years ago and after a particularly nasty ‘cold’ with asthma involved, it travelled through her system, into her gut and…well, you can imagine the rest. So, now gastro has come to reside in this house. As far as I can tell, it comes in varying forms of disgusting. From the throw everything up and feel better in 24 hours to the nauseated feeling of something isn’t quite right that lasts for days and everything in between. Yuck. If there is one thing I hate more than snot, it’s vomit and if there is one thing I hate more than vomit, it’s diarrhoea. Somebody get me a bucket…

When David discovered Ivy had…soiled her bed in the wee hours of the morning he rapidly made his way to go to work. He washed and dressed (while I cleaned Ivy up - he did strip the sheets for me) and while I was dirty (pardon the pun) that he was about to make a clean (oh I crack myself up) getaway, I also had to laugh because his running commentry really lightened the mood.

Ivy and Noah were sitting on the bed, carrying on with their regular banter of babble, squeals and screeches, when Ivy made a rather loud rasberry "thbrrrrrrrr!" sound. David pipes up …’it was like this’ he explained in a high pitched imitation of Ivy’s voice. Then Noah let out an almighty blurt "Thbbbbrrrrttttt"…"more like that, actually," said David, "I’ll tell you how it really happened". Narrating on his son’s behalf. I fell about the bed laughing, the babies staring at me as if I had forgotten to take my crazy pills this morning. Seeing my mirth, he made to leave and I grabbed him and said, "You think you’re going to work and leaving me with the gastro kids, think again Buster!"

His reply to that? "Buster thanked the mice for the wonderful party… and then he ate them" (apparently an old family saying) and with that vacated the quarantined house. I live in a crazy world people, how is one supposed to stay sane?

…until our holiday but who’s counting and wasn’t the weather beautiful today?

Today I was supposed to move all my scrapbooking stuff into Ivy’s old room, wash mountains of sheets, make some lycra boots, clean up my room and rearrange the loungeroom. I was supposed to go food shopping, weed the garden and wash down the stroller. Supposed to.

What I actually did was two loads of sheet washing (which the lovely Maddy hung out for me), a load of school uniforms, I scrubbed down the stroller and while I waited for that to dry, I got in the car with the family and went food shopping…for picnic yummanas. Then we went out to Hunter Valley Gardens for a picnic and basked in the late Winter sun, ate antipasto on paper plates, munched on TOOBS, watched Ivy try to play football and Noah being pulled around in his blue carcar. After we had had our fill of all things delicious we went for a walk and found ourselves in front of the Ice Cream Parlor at Oscars.

For those of you who don’t know, I am an ice cream addict (self confessed). I have lovingly passed this trait onto all of my children (even the non biological kids). The (almost) hardest part of the day was choosing the flavour…the hardest part, really, was having to share with Ivy the ice cream hog!

Did I tell you all that we put Ivy in the big bed? Yep. And, did I tell you that she slept through the night for five nights in a row? No? I didn’t tell you? That’s probably because I was sleeping or catching up on sleep or dozing, dreaming, napping, snoozing, catching some zees, anything you can imagine (don’t get too carried away, people, remember we are parents of seven children and we really are tired) without a baby in the bed. Did I also mention that five nights is just enough time to become complacent and expect that she will continue to do so? Wrong! So wrong. You should NEVER become complacent! Because just when you are least expecting it, she will throw you an all nighter, just to put you back in your place. If you do relax then you can also expect that her brother will wake up too and together they will make your night almost too much to bare, add to that an early morning (4:30am) vomit (picture the toilet literally painted in spew, walls, door, floor, sink…anywhere else BUT the toilet) from Lily and your night is set! Oh and don’t forget to have one of Lily’s best friends sleeping over for the night. PERFECT! That’ll teach yer, yer pesky parents!

Seriously folks, five nights is a cause for celebration in this house!

In other baby news, did you know that it takes Noah roughly 10 seconds to steal the "helpme" (torch) from his sister, even though she is waving it from side to side and screeching at the top of her lungs, and when you need two hands to push - pull the tape measure in and out of its casing, your mouth is a handy place to hold your father’s mobile phone, so that your brother won’t take that too?

Hmmm, that’s about it for this week. Let’s see what mid August has to offer!

We went to our paed today for a check up following the flu and every ENT infection known to man that attacked Ivy’s little body. He looked her over and declared her …’the best he’s EVER seen her’! Yay for Ivy and yay for the antibiotic. We are going to stay with the erythromycin for a few more days and then trial her off it. Fingers crossed in the immortal words of the ENT doctor.

David came with us this time and we sat for a long while in the car afterwards. It was like one long exhale. After some  delicious minestrone soup and crusty bread (David and babies, not me, don’t touch the stuff), we joked about placing bets on timing for the next illness. His bet was for just before we leave for Queensland, mine was a little more optomistic, with her going down at least a week before, so that we could get on top of it before we go! I know, we sound like freaks but such is life with Ivy. We might as well laugh when we can, so humour us, ok?

It was beautiful in the Hunter Valley today and this afternoon Ivy and Noah played outside in the sunshine. I discovered that it is not only my little girl who loves shoes but my little man too…and not your big clumpy sneaker or boot either. He is rather partial to a good patent leather shoe, thank you very much! It was with that information and an impromptu photo shoot that I went to  a scrap class with Jen Hall. Those of you who are into Scrapbooking will know her as one of The Masters and that she has a quirky eclectic style that I love.

We arrived late and were a bit rushed to catch up but I soon found my pace and got to complete a whole layout uninterrupted! I had a really great time and I hope I can do it again very soon. I got to look at some of her pages and OMG! I have so much to learn. Her layouts were absolutely amazing. I would love to be able to scrap with abandonment as she has. Her artistry shows no fear.

The good news?

Ivy is getting better!!!

Yes, she is on the road to recovery. Finally.

It’s all because of my new love…Erythromycin. How can one little antibiotic be SO different from another?

Here are the good bits;

Normal temperature for 24 hours.

Nose is running clear!

Left ear is clearing up (with the help of hydrogen Peroxide and Ciproxin drops).

Cough is not so wet.

No vomiting antibiotic for over 24 hours.

The bad bits;

Upset tummy, bad diahrroea, still clingy and whingy when awake, still needing Panadol/Neurofen for pain almost 2nd hourly.

For the first time in over a week I am feeling more relaxed and happy. Even though Ivy was up for a large part of the night with tummy cramps, she is up and walking around this morning, playing and rummaging through things! YAY! I never thought I would celebrate the demolishing of my kitchen but here I am!

While Ivy has been  feverish, she has been obsessed with her shoes. She would wake with a high temp and cry ’shoeshoeshoesssss!’ Even when she was so ill she couldn’t stand upright, she would be snuggled into my lap, on the rocking chair, grizzling about her need for shoes.

Here is a photo I took of Ivy last Sunday, in the car, with a high temp, loving her shoes. Ivy has several pairs of shoes and each and every one of them has helped her through this last week gone. I hear the cry for her shoes in my sleep now.

Yesterday, Trish and her boys made the long trek up to see me. She braved the flu for me. She knew I was struggling and came to give me some company. I had a really nice day, what more could you want? Adult company, chocolate and hot tea. Ivy had woken in a good mood and was pottering around for the first half of the day. Even when she lost the plot and cried and grizzled for the whole afternoon, Trish still stood firm. She didn’t beg off, she didn’t cuss or roll her eyes because Ivy was sick, sad and demanding. She was there. Thank you Trish. You are a really special person!

On a final note this morning, I took this photo of My Noahry Boy, trying his hardest to be like Mum.

Here he is, on the kids computer happily typing away.

I wonder if he thinks he is blogging?

Today it was wet and freezing and the babies and I were stuck inside to slowly go cabin mad. (Like a dog goes chain mad).

I did what any person would do and took out my camera. After the babies demolished the kitchen followed quickly by the loungeroom, unrolled a new toilet roll and started in on my room, I called it a day and locked them and myself in Noah’s room.

Ivy and Noah did what any self respecting toddler would do on a wet day. They pulled every single toy out and every book was tipped from the bookshelf. I tried to get some good shots but do you know how fast two twenty month old children can move? FAST! Very fast!!!!

The real reason I was trying to get photos was to enter a competition that is being run by Huggies. It’s for Jeans for Genes day. To enter you need to have the cutest baby in jeans photo. After a couple of hours though I came to the conclusion it was impossible!

I thought it could be fun but I also wanted to support this because William had a genetic heart condition (critical aortic valve stenosis) and any research into genetics is therefore important. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if something significant was found before any of my children have children? There will always be a risk for them, I know that.

It was just not to be today.

A lovely teacher from Bellbird P.S. has birthed her baby at 28 weeks. When I found out I wanted to go to her and give her a hug, just be there for her as she goes through this journey. However, I don’t know her that well. It got me thinking though that there is very little support for families who have premature babies up here. I did ask when Ivy and Noah were in the NICU and the response was that there was no interest for a support group for our area. I beg to differ. I could have definately used some help and reassurance.

There is a lady on the Central Coast who is trying to get a group up and running. I am really hoping it gets off the ground! I’ll be one of the first in line to go to a meeting. It’s still an hour away though from the Newcastle and Hunter regions.

How do we get something like that started I wonder?

Maddy came home from dancing and her hair was in a terrible knotted mess, even though it was in a ponytail, so I cut it. That’s right, I did it. I was sick of the knots, tears (hers) and sweat (mine) everytime I had to brush it out, so I got my sewing scissors and lopped off about two inches. Up to her shoulders. What do you know? The brush runs straight through it now and both Maddy and I were pretty pleased with the results. I know I am no hairdresser but it’ll do for now. It’s neat, all one length and can still go in a ponytail sans knots. Not bad for a non - practicing midwife!

Today I received some more fluffy mail from Jolmaz.

2 cute covers, some liners and 2 very cute doll nappies.

When David and I saw them we both came to the same conclusion at almost the same time. Those little nappies could have fit Ivy and Noah when they were born! The girls are totally in love with them. Thanks Maz!

We bought these harnesses for Ivy and Noah. They are more like backpacks. Ivy’s is a poodle and Noah’s is a koala. So cute and clever. The animal’s tails are the ‘lead’ part of the harness. Ivy and Noah wear them with pride and think they are the height of baby fashion. They don’t know that they are being led. They think they are in control! (Very important when you are in the middle of toddlerhood).

When Imogen and Madeline were toddlers if you even mentioned the word harness, you were considered cruel, now they are a fashion statement. I’m seeing them on the backs of  ‘independent’ babies everywhere. The mother’s have serene, relaxed, stress free faces. The promise of that was too much for me and the harnesses had been on my wish list for a while. Call me cruel, I don’t care. I want some of that serenity when I go shopping!

Mum’s nappies are all too small for the babies now. They have lasted well and have covered little bums for well over nine months. It’s sad to retire them but no matter how hard I try, they just don’t fit. It’s tempting, oh so tempting to go and buy some more to replace them but I must be strong! I don’t need any more of the lush fabrics and colourful, fluffy things. David says I have enough.

Shhh, don’t tell him that I did get some Lou Lou’s and some more Bubblebubs (from Baby Blossom) before he banned me from nappy buying…oh and don’t tell him either that I bought some more covers and liners and flongies from my new fave

nappy WAHMs JolMaz… am I addicted?

I guess I should also confess to buying more clothes for Summer at an incredible outlet store. Yummy gorgeous clothes… (I’m not addicted - I can stop whenever I like!!!!)

*STOP PRESS* The flongies are here!!!! They are lovely.

Yesterday I went to Westfield at Tuggerah. I transferred some money from our holiday savings account. It was worth it. As much as I hate to dunk into that account, I needed to. We had to go down to pick Lily and Madeline up from a sleepover with Grandma anyway so we thought that it wouldn’t hurt to do a touch of shopping.

We bought some play equipment for Ivy and Noah because they had enjoyed Sammy and Joel’s so much and we purchased a second swing so that both of them can be pushed at once while I’m hanging out the washing. There were other things that we bought too, essentials like wipes and…well, I guess Lily and Maddy thought that a new Beanie Bear was essential and that AJ and Mal believed that they absolutely needed that football… Anyway what we really transferred the money for was sheets.

I think the lowest point for me, as a mother, is when babies throw up on you. Not just the normal possets that all babies do. All of mine have decorated me in such a way at some point in their babyhood. The first time ever Immy, who was about eight months, vomited over me just after a full lunch. It was gross. It was large and it went into all the crevices of the lounge where I was sitting at the time. THAT was memorable. The others have done it but nothing so… chunky or confronting… until Saturday morning.

Noah and Ivy have had croup then asthma and it has now progressed to a cough. Just a garden variety cough. On Saturday they woke and had their morning bottle. All was good. It was a little early for them and cold but nothing  too out of the ordinary. Ivy got down from the bed and pottered around. Noah snuggled down on top of me. He was coughing just a bit. Then he sat up and started coughing more. I was patting him on his back, consoling him when all of a sudden he gave one almighty cough and up came the entire bottle! The thing is that, right at that very moment, I had my mouth open in an ‘O’ (as in ‘Ohhh, poor Noah, you’ll be ok.’) but it was not ok, none of it was.

He got my face, hair and inside my mouth, down my shirt and all over my last set of flannelette sheets. He got the blanket and one of the quilts too.

I know, I know it’s all very gross and makes you want to throw up as well. It did me, there was some dry retching on my behalf, that was for sure. Also tears (lots of them) because after the last month of sickness, being vomited on was like the last punch in the guts. Showers were had by all and finally a few laughs over the whole thing. (It was ok for David to chortle, HE didn’t get anything but some splashback on his PJs sleeve). Noah was right for the rest of the day. No more spew and barely any coughing.

I had to tell you that story because I needed to justify why I spent alot of money on Saturday and why when I saw that new minky blanket in Adairs, I just had to have it.

you don’t care if your son wears a pink bib to the dinner table… but you DO take photos because it’s kind of cute!

We had a wonderful day on Sunday! We went to Samuel and Joel’s first birthday. It was lovely being around so many little ones. Sammy and Joel were all smiles all of the time. They took the people and presents in their stride. Gorgeous, happy little guys. I took my camera but I forgot the memory card so no photos for me just sweet memories. Ivy and Noah played on the outside equipment throughout the afternoon. Ivy didn’t stop for anything. David and I shovelled food into her mouth while she was climbing the slippery dip. Noah, bless his cotton socks, being male, could not master the playgym. He could climb up and get into the body of the colourful plastic but from there, he was stumped. Instead of trying to work it out, he head butted the sides and the front screeching ‘getttouuuuutttt!!!!!’ All the while Ivy was climbing the stairs, swinging from the bar, to the floor and through the exit over and over again, barely giving her brother a sideways glance.

We had to stop to give them both ventolin through the nebuliser a few hours in but otherwise we thought they did ok, asthmawise. After the croup went straight to  an exacerbation of their asthma and we had been struggling to control the rattle and hum of our wheezy babies.

On the way home Ivy and Noah started to cough and wheeze and wheeze and cough. By the time we hit Pennant Hills, they could barely catch their breath. We entertained the idea of driving straight to the hospital but somewhere between the Berowra exit and Gosford, they fell asleep, hands above their heads, necks extended, rapidly grasping at each breath. I just wanted to get them home. I thought that if I could get them there, I could medicate them and get through until morning. SO we pushed on. By the morning and having nebbed them 2nd hourly I was exhausted and so was David. Ivy and Noah were largely better, having made it through the night. A little shakey from all the ventolin but better.

I was disturbed though and not taking the series of the nights events well at all. In a paediatric world this is known as ‘parent acopia’ The parent’s inability to cope with the situation. Often hospital admissions of children are made because of this, according to some. It got me thinking, where do we go if we feel that we can’t cope? I haven’t been in that situation for such a long time. Do we go to the closest hospital? Do we go to the hospital that our paed is attached to? Do we go at all? Because, when you get to 2nd hourly nebs, there’s not alot more a hospital can do for you. It really would be because I couldn’t handle the babies being sick anymore. Of course, I wouldn’t be silly. If Ivy or Noah were in trouble I would take them but hospital is a last resort in this house.

Parent acopia was very real for me on Sunday night. When I asked the paed today we made a plan. He said my problem wasn’t that I didn’t cope. It was that I coped too well. Essentially, he made it ok for me not to cope. He let me know that most parents wouldn’t cope with 4th hourly nebs, let alone 2. He made my acopia acceptable… for me. So now, if I get to Sunday night’s stage of complete and utter breakdown, I can go to his hospital and we will take it from there.

We have a plan and I like plans!

On Monday I met some lovely nurses. We introduced ourselves and our area of work. When I announced that I was a midwife the medical and surgical nurses all commented on how lucky I was and how easy my job was.

Ok, birth is a normal life experience and most women enjoy a healthy pregnancy, have a normal birth and are independent of cares during their postnatal period. Having said that, I don’t think midwives have an easy job at all. For a start in our position we are expected to have some medical and some surgical skills. We have to be ready to treat episodes as scary as eclamptic fitting and postpartum haemorrage right through to being able to prepare and take a lady to theatre for caesarean. Our position is not so much the physical as the emotional. We deal with mental health issues, people with developmental delay, we look after ladies from all walks of life with differeing expectations. We deal in new life and birth and an important right of passage but we also have to have knowledge and compassion for those who lose their babies and for those who lose their right to birth in a way that equals their expectations. Midwives work hard every day. We are lucky though. Lucky, that on a daily basis, we are invited into something as important as a baby’s birthday. That, for a few hours we have an insight into a woman’s life, her family, her very being. I think that we are so priviledged to be a part of something so beautiful. Midwives are the lucky nurses

Ok, I’m having a bad hair day…month..ok, ok I’m having a bad hair YEAR!

For the umpteenth time I am trying to grow my hair out from the short pixie cut style I have had forever. The kids are all encouraging me to do it. David is too. I want to grow my hair, I do…it’s just that…I can’t get past that stage. Girls will know what I am talking about. You know, that stage when it’s too long to look any good but too short to pull it up into something. Too short to have it cut into a longer style but too long to look anything like your previous do. *SIGH* I don’t think I’m going to make it. It used to be long enough (pre children, pre wedding) that I could sit on it. David would spend hours  making minute plaits throughout my long locks. It’s been short for so long now…I’m not even sure it will look any good with some length to it.

Last night I had a shower and this morning my hair was sticking straight up in all different, wierd angles. I expect looks from David when I get out of bed. He generally teases me when my hair supports the appaearance of someone who has been scared out of their wits but this morning, after his bottle, Noah came pottering over. I sat up to give him a cuddle. He looked me up and down then stared directly at my hair…"Ooohhh"! he exclaimed and patted my knee in some form of baby commiseration before beetling off again. How can I do this when EVERYONE, including the baby, is a critic? For now, I look like a mop and I try not to look at the mop too often. Cover it, I hear some of you say. Yes, I have thought of that but every time I put a bandanna on I get a mental image of mutton dressed up as lamb. I SO don’t want to be the mutton! So, here I sit with bad hair…

While my hair follicles slowly lay down each new keratin layer let me tell you about Ivy’s absolute HATE for hats. I’m not sure if it stems from being in the NICU and having to wear those beanies for so long but Ivy hates hats. I have tried many and varied types of hats. Beautiful Summer bonnets, frilly wide brimmed ones and all have found their way off her head and onto the ground (much like her bibs but that is another story). Winter is here and, wanting to protect her ears as much as possible, I have gone through a series of beanies for the baby girl, trying to find one that she MIGHT keep on her head for more than five minutes to no avail until Mum knitted an all in one beanie with straps going under the chin and secured with a button. At last! A beanie that she can’t take off! The thing is, if you can’t take your beanie off your head, in Ivy’s world that is the worst thing to ever happen to you! She pulls and grunts and yanks and when she realises she can’t remove the offending wooly mass, she screams and cries and has a stampy tanty.

A stampy tanty is an Ivy special. She stomps her feet very quickly, pumps them up and down, almost in a jog on the spot. All the while she grizzles and shakes her head and her fists. This is a new kind of tantrum for me. I have had a ‘head banger’ tanty girl and a ‘face puller’ and I’ve also had the ’stand and ball’ tanty queen but never a stampy tanty girl. I usually difuse said tantrums by having my own stamping fit and we end up in some kind of primal mother/daughter war dance and fits of laughter but not with the beanies. Beanie escape, or lack there of is serious business.Not being able to escape woolen beanies is the end of the universe, according to Ivy. We have tried to redirect her efforts with diversion and bribery without much success so for now we are about learning to deal with the beanie application tantrums. I’d like to say that I am going to win this battle, hands down. I’d LIKE to say that but Ivy is a very strong willed young lady, so I’ll have to say the victory of the beanie battle is pending. 

Sorry.

This is going to be a long one but I promise I’ll pepper it with lots of photos.

First of all,

Happy Birthday Lily!  9 today! I can barely believe that my ‘bubba’ is nine.

Where do I start to tell you everything that we have been up to in the last week? To some it might not seem like alot. There have been no late night outings for couples, no romantic dinners for two, no weekend getaways but for some reason our days have all run into each other…a ball of activities, some so small but they all add to make up the chaos of the week just gone. I feel as though I have hardly seen David with his constant comings and goings into the early morning crispness and the dark Wintery nights. I have felt largely as though I was operating as a single parent (with a lodger) for most of the week but such is life when your husband works in Sydney and you live in the boonies.

We went to see our ECHN Dierdre. She is lovely and calming and grandmotherly and everything you want in a support person.

Ivy and Noah were evil. Just evil. They found the stand-on scales and proceeded to stand on them, sit on them, jump on them and wobble them back and forth until the constant clunk clunk clunk became too much for the caregiver and the mother. They thought it was funny. I did not. They pulled out every toy, whinged, ate every bit of food that I had in the baby bag, whinged some more, drank both drinks, banged at the door for release from the room and when it was not instant, they whinged and cried and wailed! I was never so pleased to leave a place. I felt clostrophobic and ashamed that my babies had essentially turned into monsters! Deirdre was sympathetic, allowed me my time and left me with assurances that there WAS help out there for Ivy’s sleep (or lack there of) issues. She listened to my doctor troubles, weighed and measured my now huge babies and asked all the right questions for an 18 month check up and yet I walked away tense and upset.

I am at a loss as to what is wrong with me. I look at them and feel happy and sad that they are growing up. The last 18 months haven’t been easy but at the same time, perhaps they were easier then than now. Toddlerhood does not suit Ivy and Noah well. They are full on ALL of the time. They move constantly and demolish all that is around them. Because there is such a huge gap between babies, perhaps I have forgotten what toddlers are like, perhaps I was not prepared this time.

The evening saw the three big kids home from their trip! Oh what excitement when they arrived, tired from their long bus trip home but buzzing with all the news of what they had seen. Ivy had not slept the night before and the day (see above) had been busy and messy. As we drove up to the school, looking for a place to park, I noticed a space…"Park there", I said to David, spying the bus zone, "it’s night time. It’s not as though there are going to be any buses coming through". David just looked at me. He had a bizarre look emerging from his face. A cross of the incredulous and ridiculous. "Poor Tiggy"! he exclaimed, "you must be tired". It took me a few seconds to work out why he was laughing at me. Of course there would be buses coming through. In fact two, with seventy something children aboard! I’m not blonde. Truly but I could have been on Friday night, with a ditzy comment like that ejecting itself from my mouth before my brain had time to retract it. Oh dear. My excuse was being so absolutely tired that I couldn’t think straight. I’m sticking to it!

And so we travelled home, our bus and house full again. It was nice. I felt contented. Until morning… when camp re - entry began. (insert twighlight zone music here)

It seems over the four days of travelling with peers that the children had forgotten how to do their chores. AJ heaved himself out of bed to go to soccer without lifting a finger to take out the garbage. Lily and Mal went to watch. Ivy and Noah and Imogen and Madeline and I made our way into town to pick up a few things. Everything was annoying me, from the way they were speaking (or should I say speakin’) to the way they walked. Slouched, hands in pockets, head down, feet shuffling…need I say more? Everything I asked of them seemed to be some form of torment, with eyes rolling and shoulders slumping. When we arrived home, I got more of the same from AJ. by Saturday night I was over it. My washing pile had gone from a healthy four baskets to a heart stopping ten, after they unpacked their bags! There was mess from one end of the house to the other and NOBODY was lifting a finger to correct the damage.

Unfortunately there was more of the same on the Sunday morning. Lily’s friend came over to go ice skating and that one little thing gave me the leverage I needed to bring things into order. If the rooms were not clean, there would be no outing. If the attitude didn’t stop, there would be no skating. Miraculously things started to get done. Amazingly we were out the door by 10:30 and even better was that all of us ended up having a great time. Noah and Ivy discovered hot chocolate and also that it tastes even better if it is someone else’s. Noah found a ride in aeroplane. You know the rides that you insert $2 and you get a minute of jiggling movement before it dies. At least this one was already out of order so the babies were left to do the jiggling themselves. They had a ball while the others skated around the rink. Mal (who couldn’t even stand in his skates) found a plastic chair and firmly planted his bottom on it. They use them on the ice for the younger children to find their balance, a bit like an old person’s walker. Maddy then pushed him around the ice. Their smiles were infectious. We went home and had the first of many cakes to celebrate Lily’s birthday.

Come Monday morning, I thought we would be back to normal and in the swing of things. How wrong I was!

While David made an early exit from the homefront, Noah was just waking up (very early for him). I asked the kids to get cracking as I wanted to be out of the house by 9:30 - 10am at the latest. Easy, right? No not easy when the children don’t want to get dressed, when they don’t want to do anything. When Noah decides at 9am that he wants to ‘go - carcar!’ right then and there and when I make a turn towards the bathroom (for a much deserved AND needed shower) has a complete meltdown. Banging on the door, wailing  ‘carcar carcar carcar!’ When Ivy joins in because she feels miserable and boys wrestle and yell at the top of their lungs. When Malachy has a severe case of Mondayitis (think shirt on backwards and shorts in 14 degree weatther. Think changing into ANOTHER pair of shorts when he is asked to put long pants on. Think shoes on the wrong feet and then crocs with socks on because he can’t be stuffed doing his shoelaces up himself). By the time we actually reached the car, it was a wonder I had any hair left!

Noah, who by that time had worked himself into a lather of baby sweat over getting in the blasted car, was in a horrible mood. He pulled Ivy’s hair and pulled at her jumper, so she was upset too. I was at my wits end by the time we reached the end of the street and also in a dither. I turned to the distraght Noah and used my assertive mummy voice…’Noah, that’s enough! Settle yourself down!’ and with that said Noah turned his head and fell asleep! Just like that. The rest of the trip to Sydney was blissfully quiet.

The reason for our trip was for Imogen, who had her first appointment at Westmead hospital with the orthodontist.

For those who don’t know, Imogen and David have a genetic condition called ectodermal dysplasia. It is something that effects the skin, teeth and the nails and the hair. When Immy was diagnosed it gave us an answer to many things but it also gave her dental care under the medicare scheme. Our last check up was well over a year ago and we were told then that because Immy’s case was mild that we may not make it to the top of the list for orthodontic care. We were very surprised when the letter came. The orthodontist, Peter was very nice. He spoke directly to Imogen and then to me. He described in detail what would happen for Immy over the next nine months. Braces first and building up of teeth. This will take a few years to complete but the end result, he felt, would be wonderful. I have to say I walked away from there very happy.

We had dinner with David’s parents and then made our way back home.

This morning I got out of my nice warm bed when it was still dark and it WASN’T to get up to Ivy! (She was asleep in my bed already). I got up so that I could see Immy, Maddy and AJ off to Canberra and the Snowy Mountains for four days. They have not been away from home for that long and never with people other than grandparents. Sure, there have been a few friend sleepovers but that was only overnight. This trip is a big deal for all of us. I will miss them. I will have to trust that I have taught them right from wrong and that they will behave themselves for four long days. The house was already very quiet with three bodies missing. Lily, although gorgeous, is not the best communicator in the world. Either is Mal. Thank goodness there is Noah’s constant babble going on in the background or I would go completely mad.

I hope the kids have a good time. It is such a great expeience for them, especially to be able to see the snow. It gets cold in Ellalong but it never snows, the best our little country town has to offer up in the way of snow, is the black frost that hits us around July. It just doesn’t cut it, really. They have plans to build snow men and to have snowball fights. I hope the weather sees them coming and brews them up an adequate snow fall. If not, I guess there’s always the man made stuff.

I won’t be able to call them (no mobile phones allowed) and we have been told that public phone access is limited so I am guessing I won’t be hearing from them while they are away. I have hit the chocolate early this morning (terrible emotional eater that I am) to try to compensate, in fact I feel quite ill from all the white chocolate buttons that David has carelessly left sitting on the counter and I have just as carelessly eaten. He should know me better than that…hmmm…perhaps he does.

Ivy started her Augmentin Duo four days ago now and I *think* she is looking a little better today.  What do you think? Aside from the red raw nose from all the tissue usage, I think she has a bit more colour in her face and, yes, even a sparkle in her eyes. Please let this be the end of her chronic infection.

Well, the mobile phones were a hit! Imogen and Madeline have been begging, pleading and planning for a mobile forever. We kept saying no. Too young, not responsible enough, won’t use it for the right reasons… etc so when their birthday rocked around a phone wasn’t even on the list this year. When they opened their parcel from David and I they were VERY surprised.

Actually, it was my friend Mary who talked me into it. She presented to me the way her boys used theirs. It sounded sensible and in the end (and a few late pick ups, with girls in tears) we decided we would.

Today (three days post phone) I am sick of the unrelenting ring tones and the bleep bleep of the texting.  The girls are pleased as punch though and the ‘mobys’ have been a constant accessory around their necks. It IS kind of nice to see them enjoying their gifts. I just need a good set of ear plugs for the school holidays, I think…they tell me wax is good.

Tomorrow we are partying with 15 children (plus ours). Lordy me!

It was going to be a pamper party but our host was flooded out of her home and her materials waterlogged during last weekends storms. So now we are going to the movies to see Bridge to Terabithia. I read the book in year seven and remember balling my eyes out. Years on, I can’t remember the story at all. Afterwards we are going to Pizza Hut for a late lunch.

In preparation for the many pre pubescent girls descending on our house I scrubbed (as you do). I can see the dining table again, post Starstruck sewing and the bathroom is sparkling. David set about securing our kitchen cupboards with child locks and while he had the electric screwdriver in use he also pulled down Noah’s cot (’carcar’ - everything is a car at the moment) and retired it to the half of the garage that wasn’t squashed by the tree. He has done so well in the big boy bed. His only set back was last night when I asked David to check on him in the early hours. David went to Noah’s bed, after manouvering his way around a sleeping dog, to find it empty. After a few moments of half - asleep confusion, he discovered the sleeping dog on the floor was actually his son. At some stage during the night Noah had gotten out of his bed (on his way to us, we presume) but had not quite made it before sleep overcame him. Too cute! We have tucked him in EXTRA tight tonight.

One of the girls’ friends has been out of school all week so she was unaware of our change of party plans. Flooded in, we now know, they are camping out at the local pub. How did we find this out and track down the missing friend? An intricate phone network is in place that I, as a mother, am completely out of touch with. Maddy called someone, who had someone elses number, who knew someone who had the friend’s phone number. So Immy called the someone else’s number. She didn’t have the someone’s number, who had the friend’s number but she knew somebody else who knew that someone’s number and so Immy called her. When there was no response she sent a text to the somebody else. A few hours later that somebody phoned Immy and told her that the friend was flooded in but she would get a message to her to call Immy… confused? Not as much as I, dear readers! The mind boggles.

I thought I would tell you about our paed appointment.

It went…better than expected. Noah was good. Had made a great recovery from his cold and asthma attack. his weight was great and his development definately to his adjusted age (15.5 months), if not better. The paed was happy with him. He apologised for being away during the Tregenza sicky season and reassured us that he was going to have some urgent appointments available from July. All good news to my ears. Then he saw Ivy, with her goopy ear and her goopy nose and her lack lustre prescence. He conceded she was very ill and we talked about the different things we might try. For now we are going to address her ears and nose with a stronger antibiotic, stay with the hydrogen peroxide, give her flixotide for her asthma/chest and he will see us in two weeks. He also sent us for a chest xray, which showed fluid build up on one side. We are yet to confirm but believe she has pneumonia.

Today she is sick and cranky. The antibiotics have given her the runs and she is off her food but her nose was running clear for a large part of the day and her cough doesn’t seem as wet. Fingers crossed that this will do the trick.

I spoke too soon. About storms.

While the hurricane babies were whirring through my house the storms outside were brewing. On Friday it started raining. It was cold and wet and gusty winds whipped around the bus as I drove the kids to school that morning. It was just the beginning of a VERY long weekend. By the afternoon the electricity had gone out and my sausage casserole was doomed. The wind was so strong that it upturned our gazebo which flew into the air and lodged itself between the fence and the cubby house.

We had power again briefly but at 9pm the lights went out for good. We all went to bed but sleep was scant. The kids were scared, the babies were scared, heck, I was scared! The wind had increased to up to 90 kms and there were odd noises coming from outside as the storm lashed at our doors.

Ivy and Noah, not fairing too well with their colds, were restless and miserable.

By morning we could see the damage that had occured during the night. We had three trees down, one on our shed and on our fence and one on our garage. Our back yard was flooded and under our house flooded too. The farm at the end of our street was no longer a farm but a lake. Our neighbours and David all rallied to cut down the trees in the street that had fallen. In the mean time, I was left to tend to sick babies and feed tired, wild eyed children with no electricity, no hot water and a limited amount of supplies. When news of the next storm made its way to my ears my first instinct was to run! So, we packed up and made our way down to David’s parent’s house when the main road out opened briefly.

By Sunday evening the storms and winds had settled down, although many people in the area were still being evacuated and their homes flooded, ours was ok. 

When the power came back on, my first task was to wash all my cloth nappies. I had gone to the shops to get some disposables but when it came time to make the purchase, I couldn’t do it.

I reasoned that I could make the nappies last and they would be first in line for the washing machine. I balked at the papery feel of the ’sposies’ when I did put one on earlier that morning and missed the roundness of the cloth bottomed babies. So I put the packet back and spent my money on clothes for the kids.

We went to the Parenting Expo two weekends ago, with my good friend, Trish and her beautiful boys. It was a great day for shop - a- holics like me (not so good for David, who hates crowds and spending money). We bought these little magnets called Job Joggas. The idea is for the kids to take responsibility for their…responsibilities. They do their chores and move the completed tasks across to the ‘jobs done’ side. It is supposed to save me from having to nag and save the kids from my nagging!

So far it has worked! I have (hardly) had to nag at all. We decided that at the end of each week there would be a master Job jogga. This week it was AJ. THe boy who hates discipline and rules took the joggas to heart and completed all his tasks without me having to ask. What’s more, he went above and beyond his chores. They all have really. Maddy vacuumed and cleaned, Lily helped Mal with the recycling. Immy has been invaluable with the sick babies. For his trouble AJ has chosen a mini football with his favourite football team on it.

I love the Job Joggas. I hope it lasts. Here’s to the possibility of a nag free year!

Since the storm, Noah has not settled in his cot. He has cried and trembled and sobbed. Two nights ago I tried him in his big bed and he slept! Today he had his morning nap in his big bed and settled very well. So it looks as though the cot is on the way out.

It’s sad in a way to know that this cot is retiring for good. There will be no more babies for me and so, if we were to store Noah’s cot (which was originally bought for William) the next babies to use it would be grandchildren.

I guess it is time to let go of the baby days and relish in the little boy that Noah is becoming and the girl - child that is Ivy

It was a busy weekend in this household! On Saturday we all went from room to room and purged our lives of excess! Hooray. Admittedly, I still have to scrub the house down post purge and we didn’t make it to our bedroom (that will take a whole weekend in itself, I think) but all the kids’ rooms are done. I can see the floor in Lily’s room and there is actually some drawer space in Immy and Maddy’s wardrobe. The boys room is now free from  a littering of pokemon cards and marbles and my bathroom no longer has a build up of hand creams and body butters. We have cleansed our home of too many pieces of unused linen, clothes that don’t fit anymore and hoarded toys that are broken, don’t work or we are too old to play with. By the end of our day I noticed that I had nine, yes, nine clothes baskets of (what the children consider) dirty laundry.

If I have to wash it, THEY have to sort it! This task became what the kids have lovingly tagged  "the climbing of Clothes Mountain"! In true child fashion, the clothes were all dumped on the kitchen floor in one giant mound (Clothes Mountain), scaled and declared as property of the five mountaineers. *SIGH*

Eventually all clothes were sifted through and the mountain broken down to nine small managable hills to work through. Praying for sunny days for the next week, here.

Lately, the girls have been introducing Ivy and Noah to the joys of dressing up. As little ones, all three girls were avid lovers of dressing as fairies, pirates, Mary with the baby Jesus. Over the years they have dressed as doctors, midwives… when I told them that you didn’t need a doctor to birth  babies (that were shoved underneath oversized t-shirts), characters from Harry Potter, characters from Saturday morning cartoon programs…anyway, you get the picture.

Immy and Maddy started Lily very early on the whole dressing up type of play. When she was barely six weeks old I found her dressed (by the twins) in a large white hat, gloves up to her arm pits and a sparkly white and silver shirt (one of Immy’s favourites), so I guess it doesn’t come as a big surprise to me to find the little twins now dressing up…or should I say being dressed up.

Noah has taken a particular liking to a wig and hat combination! He actually suits being dressed as a girl and the other kids all laugh and clap and call him ‘Norah’. Of course, Noah laps it up and I find him going to the dress up box more and more to extract the Norah wig and hat. I don’t know if it’s because of the feel of the hair and hat or if it has more to do with the high level of attention he achieves with said hat on his head…I’m thinking the latter. Although, he is currently wandering around the house with a handbag over his shoulder…

The end of the week and the weekend has seen Ivy the daredevil take her stunts to new levels. Examples of this include teetering on the arm of a loungechair, licking the frost off the windows in Noah’s room, while I have Noah buck naked on the change table and scaling the ladder of the new bunk beds in Imogen and Madeline’s room. I just want to add here that the girls were asked to close their door for that very reason. Also that the bunks were purchased so Ivy and Noah could have the singles…who am I kidding? Imagine the scary things Ivy could attempt if she were in a bed! I think she may just be the first child known to man who has remained in a cot until adulhood! I am NEVER going to be ready for that child to transition to a big bed! Other scary stunts include; standing up in the highchair, even though she has been strapped in - she’s worked out that if she pulls her arms out of her sleep suit, it also allows her to escape the highchair straps and running along the verandah full force, not seeing that it finishes very soon and making very convincing attempts to fly. Oh dear. She gets into everything…EVERYTHING!

My mum just laughs and makes statements like…’oh you are going to have your hands VERY full with that one’. What does she mean, going to? Aren’t they already full to overflowing?

There is nowhere else in the world that I can go to the toilet to discover an Action Man staring down at me from a toilet paper pyramid. My kids can really make my day. make me smile, forget my worries with something so simple. Oh to be a child again.

We have had such a busy, busy week here. My head is spinning. We have had sickness and lots of blood tests. First for Ivy and then for Maddy. Maddy found a lump in her neck some time ago. It hasn’t gone away. She has some other things going on too - tired, bruising, nose bleeds. She’s lost 6kg. Her paed has ordered some tests and so we have gone through the motions of having them done. My heart will not let it steal itself into thinking the worst. It’s most likely nothing. A prolonged infection and the tests are just a better to be safe than sorry kind of thing. I guess we’ll find out, when I ring the doctor.

Noah, after a month of pretending to walk, has finally taken the plunge and is pottering around the house, arms out like chicken wings, for balance. It’s very cute to watch but another reminder that my babies are growing up way too fast. Last week I let them feed themselves a yoghurt for the first time, with hilarious results. Thankfully it was the end of the day and I could strip them both down and put them in the bath and their yoghurt infused clothing through the wash.

Ivy in true baby girl fashion has a fetish for shoes and handbags. She follows me around most days with shoes in her hands grizzling for me to put them on her. They are not necessarily HER shoes, anybody’s will do. She says "schoo..schoo, (pushes shoe into nearest family member’s hand) SCHOOOOO!!!!!"  Very cute MOST of the time.

I have had a bit of a cloth nappy binge this week. My ultimate in retail therapy. Sad for some, heaven for others. I purchased 4 new Baby Beehind Bamboo nappies, two Lou Lou nappies and some Twins In Cloth nappies. Mum has been busy too. She has been knitting madly and produced a gorgeous soaker for Ivy and for Noah, she has almost finished a pair of blue and red longies. Oh, drool. I LOVE my mum! Next on the nappy making for her are some cave man nappies. I have cut some faux fur and some pink fleece, which she is going to line with PUL and put some bamboo fleece in for the absorbent layers. I’m hoping for a cute yet functional nappy for all occasions!

Just wanted to share also, my kids’ obsession for Beanie Bears. I took some pics of them yesterday, with all of the bears. Just when I think we have MORE than enough bears in our home, more find their

way in!!! I think the girls first started collecting when it was more fun to get toys for chores, rather than money and it has continued on as a love for all things Beanie.

Not much else to write about at the moment. We are on the countdown for Kelly’s impending birth, so not wanting to go too far away. One of the girls Dee, from Belly Belly, came out to talk to Kel about VBAC. I think it was really good to get the perspective from someone who has done it successfully. I was really grateful to Dee for it. I’ve told her before that she is my VBAC pin up girl! Someone I really admire.

Gee, it’s been a while and so much has happened. Where do I start?

Ivy is still unwell and pretty miserable on it today. I feel so sad for her that I can’t get proper care for her ear. David is trying to contact the paed again today, so we’ll see what happens there. Not that I would be able to get to his rooms because our bus broke down last Thursday and it is still off the road and in Ford at Cessnock…waiting for a miracle…. waiting, like Jesus, to rise again on the third day.Personally, I don’t think it will. I think it has been on it’s last legs (or wheels) for the last few months, driving on borrowed time, so to speak. *SIGH* I need some rich relative to magically appear or a car fairy to deposit a new bus on my doorstep, that would be better, then I wouldn’t feel like I owed anyone anything!

Anyway, coming back to reality, now. The bus lost its power steering, its air conditioning and its temperature control on Thursday, only months after some pump had gone in it and we forked out to replace one plastic piece of pipe for an amazing amount of money. The mechanic near David’s parents’ tried to fix it and was unable to get the parts so sent us home, only for something else to break on the way. Leaving us driving down the main street of Cessnock with white smoke billowing from the front and that horrible burnt rubber smell trailing behind us. I think it’s safe to say I hate the bus. We used to have a beautiful new Pajero. It was so lovely to drive. I miss it, although I wouldn’t trade back my two babies for a nice car. I’ll take the cherubs anyday.

So, we are pretty much stuck until it’s fixed. That’s funny because I have appointments and excursions all week that will now need to be cancelled. I don’t take kindly to having to stay at home at the best of times. I don’t do cabin fever well.

Last week was a pretty good week, aside from the run around from the inadequate medical profession up here in the boonies. On Thursday (the day the car died) we drove down to Sydney in the afternoon but before that we went to Imogen and Madeline’s first ever dance eisteddfod. It was a real eye opener to the seriousness of the dance community up here. OMG there were stern-faced, die-hard dance mothers everywhere and the girls who were performing were even more so! I am NOT a dance mother. I don’t think I ever will be. Slap me please, someone, if I ever go down that path! I can’t imagine devoting my weekends to trapsing all over the countryside with costumes and make up kits on trollies and kitting out the bus with wardrobe rails and change rooms for my kid’s two minutes of (local) fame!!!! I can’t ever imagine Immy and Maddy ever being so serious about dance comps that they don’t smile and talk with the other competitors! Some of the girls were like performing seals, getting up time and time again with well polished routines and plastic smiles on their heavily painted faces. It was kind of creepy in an American girl’s beauty pagent, kind of way.

The girls got in there though, in their usual, happy, give anything a go way and danced their stripey knickerbockered legs off. They smiled and generally had a wow of a time. They were nervous but what kid isn’t when they are going in a competition. I was very proud of them. So was Kelly, their teacher. They were great. As first timers too, they were only one point off a highly commended, so Kelly and I took that as a great achievement! I’m happy for them. If they want to do those kinds of things, I’ll support them 100% but only while it’s fun and they are enjoying themselves. It shouldn’t be work and as Kelly said, if their heart isn’t in it, the judges can tell and they won’t do well. They’ll lose their spark. I think that’s kind of sad that it gets to a point that the children will keep on doing something they are not enjoying just to please their mothers. The next big question is why do mothers want to push their kids in that way? Is it to relive some childhood desire that they once held for themselves? Who knows.

Sydney; We stayed the night at David’s Parents house. The kids had a ball. They love spending time with Grandma and Pop and the adults are all too aware that it’s borrowed time now before the teenage years. Before they don’t want to spend time with the elders in their family. We all take what we can get and relish in it. I left what Pop lovingly described as ‘the madhouse’ to babysit for my sister in law. Our gorgeous niece was born last December and my gift offering to her exhausted mother, for her birthday, was a night out with her hubby and no baby. I have to say, I really enjoyed just looking after one little one. I gave her a bath and a cuddle and she (eventually) went off to sleep. Then it was quiet. For the remainder of the evening. I had to get up and check on the baby a couple of times, so unfamiliar to the quiet, was I. Of course, Mum and Dad weren’t out for long. I remember the first time David and I went out without babies. It was wierd and I just wanted to go home. Nice too but so far removed from normal life for us.

The next day was Mal’s 9th birthday and we decided we would take him to the Easter Show this year. It had been three years since we had ventured into the chaos of the show and that was sans babies, so this was going to mean organisation plus!!!! It was a fantastic day! Everyone enjoyed themselves and thoroughly worn out, we trekked back to our base and crawled into bed at around 10:30 pm. We did the animal walk and the babies got to pat a pig and we saw the sheep being judged. (I always find it ironic that we travel from the country to the city to view the country). Mum bought the girls some beautiful freshwater pearls and Lily got this cat, in a bed, that when you turn the darn thing on, it makes a breathing motion! Trust Lily to pick something like that! Mal went straight for the Hotwheels display in the Kids World tent, while the girls and AJ made a beeline for the Beanie Bears! Maddy was lucky enough to win a limited edition Easter Show bear(only 300 worldwide) so she was thrilled!

My personal favourite is always the fruit and veg pavillion, with all the different stands and free taste testing. David dared me to try an 18 years and over only  10+++++ chilli from the Chilliman stall. It blew my head off. Literally. I was hallucinating, I’m sure. My head was throbbing, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was that hot. I won’t buy into Dave’s dares again. Never ever. Lesson definately learnt there. We did the showbags and went to the arena for the night activities but by then Ivy and Noah were so over being in the carriers and just wanted to get up and wander around. Very hard when you are sitting on a steeply sloped grassy bit. When made to sit down, Noah produced an almighty, highpitched squawk, that was driving everyone (especially me) ballistic and with Ivy trying to do a runner every time I looked the other way, it all got a bit too much for this weary Mum and we made a hasty exit. Of course Gran couldn’t let the kids go home without one ride and I think that in hindsight, it was the perfect end to a wonderful day. There were no lines to have to wait in, so the kids were straight on. Because it was the end of the day, the ride operator gave them an extra long go. With balloons and bags and very tired feet we made our way home.

See ya Easter Show! See you in another three years…maybe.

Today it has been raining. Sometimes hard and sometimes just drizzling. It kind of compliments the day that it is. William’s angel day. The day, three years ago, that we let William go. There were so many highs and lows of the five days surrounding his birth and death. The lowest was having to turn off the ventilator. His death, although terrible, was beautiful as well. We were in the courtyard just outside of the NICU ward at Westmead. The sun was out but it wasn’t too hot. All of our family were there and some of our friends. If a life had to be lost, it was the nicest way to lose it.

We have come so far in three years. So much has happened. I look at my family now and I think I can let myself feel ok today. I woke up angry. As seems to be my trait on William’s angel day but it soon left me and I did feel a kind of peacefulness that I haven’t had for the last two anniversaries. Maybe it was the break in the weather. Maybe it was all the kids looking towards the sky, hopeful that their brother and cousin was looking down on them, I’m not sure but as we released our balloons to the heavens, the sun peaking through the dark clouds, I felt okay. Not happy but not sad or angry or confused but present. Definately there, in the moment.

We let the balloons go and watched them for as long as we could see them. They floated really high this year. They soared!

David’s Mum came up to be with us and Dave cooked his famous fried rice and we ate all our favourite foods. More chocolate eggs and ice cream (good depression busting food).

The kids are all watching a DVD now and Dave and I are just veging. Ivy and Noah are roaming around the lounge room, occasionally turning the DVD off. We’re all a bit tired, I think but it’s nice to be together for a change.

Today was a BUSY day. For a start, we all forgot to wind back the clock! So when we left for Newcastle, we thought it was 10:30 but it was actually only 9:30! We had to drop Imogen and Madeline off to St Andrew’s at midday for one last practice before their performance. It was cold, rainy and windy, totally opposite to yesterday. I think we all felt it more because of the extreme swing in weather. We had raced into an over crowded Maccas and waited and waited and waited to be served. (So much for fast food). By the time we had our lunch I thought we were late so we raced into town, only to find we were, in fact, one whole hour early! (How embarrassing)!!!! Anyway, it worked out well because we had time then to go back to Mc Donalds to complain about the dodgy COLD pasta zoo meal that we were given. I hate Maccas at the best of times but now I REALLY hate it. Bodgy, cruddy, horrible stuff.

After all that was sorted and we took the twins BACK to the church we then made our way to the Regional Museum for the local reusable nappy week ‘picnic’. Originally planned for a parkside do, because of the rain we were forced inside. The museum was great, the kids had a ball. I didn’t even know that anything like that existed in Newcastle, so I was pleasantly surprised. The girls were lovely. Really very welcoming and I met Sue from the Itti Bitti Nappy company!!!! Felt a bit starstruck meeting this famous WAHM in the flesh! LOL. Anyway, I got to feel all these beautiful nappies, Dave and the kids got to run around pushing and pulling buttons, so everyone (including the babies) were happy.

Our final outing for the day was to the girls performance with the Hunter Singers and Hunter Kids Sing. The choirs were absolutely amazing and the sound that came from the church was gorgeous. I was very proud of the girls. Noah and Ivy, by that time, were feral from bad food, lack of sleep and being up in arms all day. It started out badly (with Noah throwing up all over Grandma’s jacket) and escalated to basically being forced out of the performance by filthy stares and horrible comments. Ok, Noah was screeching at the top of his lungs and Ivy was crawling into all the crawl spaces and yammering on to the little old ladies’ heavily beaded necks (occasionally touching them too) but what do people expect of babies and what do they expect of us? We have kids in the choir, we want to hear them sing, we have to bring the baby cherubs (devils today, but usually pretty good) Babies make noise. Babies can’t sit still. UGH. I’m sure those old grannies had babies once, they just forget what it was like. Surely they didn’t tape their baby’s mouths shut when they went out and surely they didn’t just stay locked up in the house until their kids were old enough to have silence beaten into them! I don’t know…

We left halfway through (after the girls items were over) and I was never so glad to get away from anywhere. I felt like we were the Feral Family and had no place in Novocastrian society. *SIGH*

So that’s me for today, a little disheartened, a little beaten down, looking forward to my bed. All my babies are tucked up now. I think I’m just going to have a little cloth nappy buying therapy and toddle off myself. G’night all.

Watching my now 15 month old daughter balancing dangerously, one handed, bum in the air, on her Fisher Price ride along car, with her twin brother screeching in the background, because he can’t do it and the older kids TRYING to watch Ugly Betty with the TV on full bore on a ‘lazy’ Sunday afternoon, periodically moaning because of the noise generated by the babies or because one of them has wandered over and switched the television off, got me thinking about what a mad house I live in!

My house is always busy, chaotic and messy and while sometimes it’s really stressful running a household of nine, mostly I love it. David (DH) suggested that I have a blog to chronicle the happenings of our home and our life. Who cares if no one reads it now. It will hopefully be something more that our children can look at later on, so they know our thoughts and hopefully have some wonderful memories written down.

I’m quite excited. I always had a diary when i was in High school and then a journal for some of the more difficult times in life. I get some form of satisfaction writing down my thoughts so this should be good.

Today has been a hodgepodge of cleaning and shopping and milling about the house. Ivy( 15 month old imp) is currently climbing up the lounge in her latest daredevil attempt to better those of her brother’s. Noah is disapproving as only he can, by head butting the glass window and pulling things down from my scrapbooking table in an attempt to divert his father’s attention from her onto himself.

AJ our 10 year old foster son, is watching Digimon for the millionth time and his brother Mal is off in his own world, playing with his transformer.

The girls (Immy, Maddy and Lily) are all outside running through the extremely long grass, barefoot and fancy free. It’s nice to see them outside. It’s either been way too hot or raining lately.

Tonight the kids have thrown down a challenge to David and I to make dinner in an Iron Chef type style, with an hour to prepare and cook food under their secret ingredient, which tonight, is Pastry. It should be fun, with one small kitchen and two mad chefs juggling for space, hungry kids and overtired babies but such is life in this house. It IS a juggling act.

I guess, I’ll mostly be posting about life at home, work, things that I love like Belly Belly, cloth nappies, photography and scrapbooking but other things might creep in too, we’ll have to wait and see.