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 accoun