Three Ring Circus

Oh my goodness today was a big day!

Last night Ivy took a backwards slide and decided she would cry all night. I don’t know for sure what was going on but by the morning, her temperature was through the roof again. Come daybreak though she was brighter and I thought the worst had passed.

Sadly I was wrong.

The girls had to be in Newcastle for their full dress rehersal of their dance concert this morning. Early. I found out about this on Friday night when Ivy and I came home from the hospital. I don’t know why I forgot… stupid! Vague headed me.

To say I was in a panic was an understatment. I hadn’t paid for costumes, I had to do full make up for three girls and buns as well.

Anywaaaaaaay.

We made our way into town and Noah was his usual happy, easy going self but Ivy…oh, Ivy! She cried and asked to be picked up and when we picked her up she cried some more. She scowled at anyone who came anywhere near her and smacked out at the other children. She was pale and her nose was running terribly.

We had planned to spend the day in Newcastle but Ivy was so very unwell we decided to go home.

She slept on the way home but woke in an even worse mood.

Poor baby.

She just could not tell us what was wrong. Despite panadol she followed David and I around, everytime we put her down (for a toilet break, to hang out school uniforms, to start preparing dinner) saying … ‘it hurts’. Even taking her outside (her treasured outside) just didn’t cut it today.

I felt so sad  that there was nothing that I could do to make it better for her.

David left to pick up the girls and that is when Ivy really lost it.

It is mentally and emotionally exhausting when she is sick and I would love to just sit and cuddle her all day but I have Noah and the other kids to think about too. Maybe the paediatrician was right. Maybe we should have stayed in the hospital for an extra couple of days.

You’ll all be pleased to know that she is tucked up in bed asleep now, medicated with pain relief, antibiotics and chest rub.

Tomorrow will be a better day.

It has to be.

I have discovered a new blog, Wrapped Emotions, through In The Life Of A Child.

Each week there is a prompt to do something creative. This week participators were asked to enjoy their family;

"Go, spend time with your family. Do one little bitty special thing with your children or your spouse or your mother or your sibling or your pet. Even if it’s just a great big extra squishy hug…do it.

Enjoy your family in some small, yet tremendous moment. Then post a few words, a photo…whatever symbolizes the little joy you shared."

So that’s what I did. Being away from everyone for over three days I wanted to have some quality time with the children this weekend. I needed to get some things done too, like make Ivy and Noah’s birthday party invites and send them. So I printed them off and we all sat around colouring them in. Even David and the littlies joined in. We talked about the up and coming party and coloured in too. It was fun and the kids appreciated the time we spent with them.

Here’s a photo that Dave took as we were all hard at work;

 

and here’s a photo of one of the coloured invites;

 

note the beautiful squiggles of colour artistically placed on the page by Ivy. An artist in the making!

This is part of a writing project from Thailand Girl, Chani.

As I often use this blog as a place to air complaints, I thought it would do me good to think about some of the positive things that have happened…

 

"Don’t you people know what a TV is?"

I thought if I heard that question one more time I was going to scream. It had been a long, hot Summer and with six weeks of having the children home for the holidays, it was starting to wear on my nerves. It wasn’t so much that the kids were home. It was the constant judgements, that people would pass when I ventured out with family, that got to me.

Ok, there are alot of us. Seven children seems like a crowd in today’s society. I guess people are overwhelmed by our size.

Why make those comments though? Why say anything? My mother always taught me, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

"Are those all yours?"

"Gee, you must have your hands full!"

"Why would you have more children when the little one (referring to Malachy, who is a foster son and not biologically mine) is obviously not right in the head?"  Oh, yes, they did say that! To my face!

"Your husband must be on a good salary for you to keep on having kids like that." Another favourite of mine.

All these things had been said to me during the Summer break. To top it off, I had one of the babies sick and one of the big kids with a suspected problem with her thyroid gland. Both required a blood test on this particular day. It was hot and as I had no one to look after the others, they were all grumbling about having to come to the pathology unit.

To say I was stressed was an understatement and then that -  the TV comment by this grouchy old man, walking along the footpath in the opposite direction to ours.

I could feel the tears welling up as we entered the small unit to have the blood drawn. Confined spaces seem to accentuate our family size and cause people to comment all the more. So I prepared myself for the questions and comments.

Luckily there was nobody waiting and the children were as good as gold while Ivy and Imogen had blood taken.

As we were walking out, the receptionist asked if all the children were mine. Here we go…

"Yes." I answered, preparing myself for another negative comment.

She smiled, "Christmas must have been wonderful at your house, and birthday parties too!"

I smiled with her, "Thank you." I replied and herded the children out the door.

That one positive statement, made by a stranger, put everything into perspective for me that Summer. Yes, we were a big family but we enjoyed each others company. Our lives were full and rich because of it’s size, it did not hinder us. I made the decision that day that I was not going to let those negative comments get to me anymore. That one positive statement spoke volumes to me.

It’s hot, so hot today and the wind is blowing but it isn’t cooling anything much. Here I am on my verandah though. The washing has long dried and is folded beside me (get up Tiff and put them away) and I am watching Ivy and Noah play in tubs of water, naked, free and happy and I am happy too.

Their faces relaxed, comfortable in their natural form. The wonders of their play area spread before them in typical toddler style. So carefree.  Noah’s constant obsession with books has left us knowing that  Spot is on the farm, visiting with all his animal friends, today and that cats have soft fur and rough tongues.

How could I have denied myself these days with them? How could I with the other children? Those days are gone now, lost forever and where was I? At work, studying, who knows.

 What I do know is that I won’t be giving up my time with Ivy and Noah without a fight. It doesn’t matter how many people offer me employment. It doesn’t matter that I am losing my skills as a midwife and that I will have to retrain when the babies are grown.

All that matters is the here and now.

I have always sung to my babies. Even now, when the big kids are feeling fragile they will ask me to sing them a lullaby. Ivy and Noah are no different, although they have taken longer to realise that I am singing to them. Tonight Ivy fell asleep in my arms, exhausted from a busy day. Noah was mucking around in bed, even though he too was tired. I snuggled down with him and he whispered to me… ‘Mummy, sing?’

So I did. The same song that I sing every night. The same song that I have sung to every single one of my children. The same song that was whispered in the night to me by my Mum and to her and to my grandmother. A song that I hope will be passed down to my future grandchildren. It is a song that my great grandfather used to sing on the radio. A song that connects our family.

Family.

Such an amazing thing. My father, who, as an adult, was obsessed with money and success, on one of his last days on this earth, before he gave in to the cancer that racked his body, told me that in the end nothing else mattered but family.

Something that I have always known, took him a lifetime to learn.

Recently, I have been in touch with a long lost relative. Liz. I haven’t seen her or spoken to her in fifteen years but we have connected again. She and I are the same age. She is married and has a beautiful little boy. I’ve been thinking of her alot and as I was singing my own son into slumber, I wondered if she knew this lullaby too.

Come cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear,

your head like a golden rod.

And we will go sailing away from here,

to the beautiful land of nod.

I’ll sing you a song as we sail along,

to a land that is blessed by God.

We’re off to that rare land,

we’re off to that fair land,

the beautiful land of nod.

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.

Over the course of the week we had tried to find somewhere to stay in Coffs Harbour but nobody could accomadate a family as large as ours, without having to book out the whole resort (ok, that might be stretching the truth just a little) so we decided we would stay at Paradise Resort one more day. The kids were happy but David was nervous, having to do a flat run to home with no decent break in between.

Somehow the 12 hour drive in the daylight always seemed longer than when we travelled through the night. By dinner, it was obvious that Ivy and Noah’s 2 hour sleep at White Water World was not because of being worn out by all the excitement but rather a symptom of the croup that had invaded their airways. After over a week of perfect, stress free health the lurgy had found them once more.

Come morning, their temps were high and the purchase of baby Panadol had been made. Once it had kicked in and the babies had rallied, we walked along the beach in the morning sun, for one last time.

We ate outdoors at a gorgeous cafe that sold all day breakfasts for five dollars - toast, egg, bacon, tomato and sausage. Then we walked around Surfers Paradise.

At the beginning of our holiday Imogen and Madeline had mentioned they would like to have their nails done. So when we stumbled upon a little salon I booked them in. I was surprised to hear that Lily wanted hers done as well. I thought the tomboy in her would be fighting those ‘feminine, lets be pretty’ hormones all the way into adulthood but Lily was the first of the girls to slip into the beautician’s seat.

While all this was going on David was becoming increasinlgy worried about Noah, who was slumped in his arms in a febrile induced sleep and Ivy, who was becoming grotty and tired again, in her fight to fend off the illness. A decision was made that he and Mum would take them and AJ, Mal and Lily (whose nails were finished and beautiful) back to the resort.

Mum would learn just how heavy 11kgs of sleeping baby girl could be when walking one and a half kilometres back to the rooms. David said later that she had almost collapsed by the time they’d returned but the determined (stubborn) woman had kept powering on until the end.

While Immy and Maddy were being pampered I wandered down to a surf shop to look at a pair of Globe sneakers that AJ had mentioned he liked. I was gobsmacked when I found the price tag! I knew this time would come when no name shoes and clothes would become uncool and I knew that my wallet would take a beating but maybe I was hoping that it wouldn’t start quite so soon…

I bought them anyway because he had been so good and because I understood wanting to be cool and like the other kids at school.

When we got back to the resort we all had lunch and some time in the rooms. The babies slept and the rest of us packed. It was quiet and the kids were subdued, sad that our time in the sun was over.

David and I decided we would have one last venture down to the beach.  Mum begged off, she was exhausted from her morning stint of being the packhorse for Ivy.

We stayed until the sun started to set, the breeze cooling on our faces. I relished in our time as a family, having longed for the togetherness for a while. I looked around me as the children built sandcastles and played on the beach. Noah, now comfortable with the ocean experience, sat, not on a towel but amongst the sand, shovelling the grit onto his lap. Ivy ran as free as her spirit, Imogen in the sea, Maddy and Lily building a world together, AJ and Mal, soaking up every last moment of the day and David, who struggles so hard to find balance in work and family, now relaxed and happy.

As we were walking towards the boardwalk, leaving Surfers Paradise behind us, Noah, who was weak now from fever and allowing me to carry him back to the rooms, turned once more towards the beautiful setting where the ocean and the earth kiss and waved goodbye to the beach…

‘Bye - bye the sand’, he whispered.

 

The next day we travelled home. The twins horribly sick, the kids and the adults a little grumpy from the long trip, reality of the normalcy of everyday life hurtling towards us. I couldn’t help but wonder what our next break would be like. Whether it would all change now, with Imogen, Madeline and AJ racing towards that turbulent adolescent time. Whether, we would feel as close as we all did now.

Whatever happens, I will be forever thankful for our hoilday. Everyday a gift and a wonderful memory to tuck away for a time when I need some sunshine.

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.

Sunday morning came and we woke early to give the birthday boy his presents. He opened them with much anticipation and was pleased with all he saw. Because it was only 6am and because it was a gorgeous morning we decided that a walk along the beach was just what the doctor ordered. The only problem was that Noah was afraid to walk on the sand and equally afraid of the waves.

We carried him at first, while the others, including the daredevil herself (Ivy Hazel), walked along the shoreline, with the waves lapping at their feet (and Ivy’s knees, skirt - when she sat in the waves, and top of her shirt - when she thought it might be good to lie down in the waves (we rescued her clothing at that point)). Noah’s eyes darted all around him, following the waves as they kissed the sand.

Eventually we put him down between David and I, holding both his hands and walked (pulled) him along. He cried and tried everything he knew to get us to pick him up again but eventually and reluctantly he toddled in between us, his little heart could almost be heard, it was that loud and fast. His eyes wide with the unknown. Just as he was getting used to it a rogue wave splashed onto his feet and he pulled his feet up, dangling, with the full weight of his body, from his arms, shrieking.

He had no problem saying sand. In fact, I think it was the only word he chanted for the first fifteen minutes as we taxed his fears but when the water paddled onto his toes the first descriptive word for the ocean was… ‘bottle’ (?) We have no idea why he called it that. At first we thought that it was a comfort word but in later days, when he had become accustomed to our morning beach walks he still referred to the waves as bottles. Go figure.

We are not cruel parents, although some of you might think we are. We just wanted him to overcome his fears or it would be a very long week.

After a while, we picked him up and carried him to the mall for AJ’s birthday breakfast at a place called Charlie’s. If you are ever in Surfers Paradise, try it. We all thought it was lovely. A nice atmosphere, the staff were great. Unlike some places, they didn’t even flinch when we said we needed "a table for ten, including two highchairs, please". Prices were reasonable too, although if you ask David, he would beg to differ.

Post breakfast saw us do a little shopping and AJ picked up a Roosters towel, the girls some more swimmers and Lily some thongs (Lovely patriotic green and gold thongs, with green stars and AUS printed on them) and a gold and diamonte shell trinket (in typical Lily style).

We walked back along the beach repeating the same routine with Noah. The only differece was this time he would let the tiny waves touch his feet, uttering… ‘gone, gone’ as they moved back into the ocean.

The morning was SO traumatic for the child, that once the adrenalin had stopped coursing through his veins, he promptly fell asleep, to recover.

There were so many emotions charging the air that morning. Happiness for AJ, sadness for him too, that his day was not spent with his birth mother.

Wonder that Ivy and Noah could be oceans (pardon the pun) apart in their personalities, when they had shared so much from the day they were conceived. She, so bold and confident in herself, he, fearful and unsure, both beautiful in their own right.

I felt relaxed walking along the beach. We had gone there to renew our wedding vows in 2003, 12 weeks pregnant with William.

When he died I had an Angel Reading done and in that reading, the lady said that when William wanted to send his love we would see white feathers. I don’t know if all that stuff is real or if I look for signs because I want him with us so badly but since his death I have seen many white feathers turn up just when I need them most.

This day, as we walked down to the beach we found one. It was comforting to see it.

I felt contentment for the first time in ages. Everything seemed as it was supposed to be that morning as I watched all the people I love most in the world walk along the beach in the early morning sun.

Sorry for that brief interlude. We just had a major reality check in having to take Noah to hospital, with Ivy riding on his shirt tails, with asthma. (Did I mention I love living in a place that is hot in the day and freezing at night?) Anyway, enough of that…

‘Everyday is better when you are on holidays’ : a slogan I saw often in sunny Queensland.

It was true, everything was better.

Even though the resort had not been eager to clean up the pool poo, even though the prices were high for everything, even though our rooms were small, compared to our house, everything seemed to take on a shiny glow of vacation beauty. Ahhhh, holidays, that ultimate escape from reality!

That first night we walked into Surfer’s Paradise, along the boardwalk, to the markets, had some dinner and milled around. Everyone was exhausted, so conversation was minimal. All except David, Ivy, Noah and I slept like logs but it was all good because, when you are on holidays, it doesn’t matter when your babies sleep on top of you all night and when you wake up and you can no longer feel your arm from the shoulder down because a large lumpy boy’s head has been there for hours, it’s easy to spring from your bed to face the new day. YAY!!!!

The kids wanted to go to the kids club, which suited the adults well because we had not planned anything much past getting across the boarder and into the resort. So off they went and we sat down in our room to discuss the days ahead. The babies didn’t like that idea much and started to ransack the room, calling housekeeping twice before we unplugged the phone and changing the time on the clock radios before they discovered the empty cupboard!

Oh, what fun two babies can make for themselves with an empty cupboard! Oh, the amount of coffee and conversation that you are able to have when babies discover said utility. Bliss on a stick…until one of the babies slams the other baby’s fingers in the sliding door… Oh, the howling that came from that baby, so loud, I’m sure they could hear us in reception, three floors below.

When all was calm again, Ivy and Noah rediscovered their ’sunnyglasses’ that Gran had bought for them the night before. For the next hour I had to put sunnies on, take sunnies off, admire child with sunnies on, take photos, play referee when Ivy decided that she liked Noah’s sunglasses better…in fact, wanted both pairs, one for her eyes and one set for on top of her head, like her big sisters’ wore them. It was okay though. It might be the same stuff, different day (or in this case place) because EVERYDAY is better when you are on holidays! (She says through a gritty smile).

After lunch, we went shopping. We would have been there sooner, except that David and I had a fight about who he should trust. Me or the Navigator (Navwench - the other woman in David’s life). Somewhere in the midst of our…heated discussion, we became seriously lost in Southport suburbia… he should have listened to the navigator, I’m sure I told him that! Never listen to a woman who has shopping on her mind, she just can’t think straight!

Okay, it was all my fault but don’t tell David that I admitted defeat, I’ll never live it down.

The whole shopping experience was not how I anticipated it. It was good, don’t get me wrong and I am sure if I were an eleven year old pre - pubescent girl looking for swimming costumes I would have been in heaven. We found some nice things and all the girls walked away happy, AJ had a haircut, David found new phone pouches and Navwench holders, so he was enjoying himself. It was just that I didn’t get a chance to do anything for me and so I was a bit miffed. The kids and David were happy though. My Mum was a little hot and tired but it was still okay.

I think we went back to the resort for a swim and dinner and an early night because the next day was going to be a big one…we were off to Seaworld for AJ’s 11th birthday!

In case you were worried about our sleep that night, Ivy and Noah slept very well, we had worn them out, finally.

We booked into reception and investigated our space. The kids claimed that the heat and travelling had overcome them and that a swim in one of the three pools would help to rejuvinate their weary bodies. So with barely time for the adults to catch their breath (and oh, how I wish we had, in hindsight), we wandered, sauntered, scurried down to the pool area. The five big children were in faster than you could say… ‘are we there yet?’ David, Mum and I found some chairs around the paddle pool.

We dressed the twins in their new swimmers and went to put them in only to discover that some kind child had left two big floaters in there!(Does anyone remember that movie scene in Caddy Shack where Bill Murray picks up a thought- to- be poo from a drained pool, take a bite and after everyone has thrown up, declares it a chocolate bar? This was not one of those moments!)

In my teenage years we jokingly called them aquabogs (riding the waves of Bondi Beach). That is exactly what these things were! I saw David visibly recoil and we stood there disbelievingly for a while. (I think this was our first inkling that our resort had gone down hill somewhat, since Accor sold it). I urged David to tell reception and asked Imogen and Madeline to take Ivy and Noah in the bigger pool. They thankfully obliged their, now, disillusioned mother.

The little floating boats didn’t stop some kids though. Before too long several toddlers were swimming amongst the effluent! Ewwwww!!!!! I had to look away. Finally someone came to clean up but it was too litlle too late for me. There was NO way I was going to let my easily diseased babies into the paddle pool that day!

I know, I know, accidents happen and the average child’s bowel relaxes about ten minutes after entering into water but gross, people! Where were the parents? Couldn’t they have gone and said something to maintainence? Had it cleaned? I know it’s an embarrassing situation but to just run away?

Dear God, what has the resort world come to?

We packed the bus and made our way to bed. Some settled earlier than others. David went to bed at 8:30, knowing he would be driving the first shift of the trip. I went to bed at 11:45, once everyone was asleep. The first alarm sounded at 1:30 am and after David’s  morning coffee ritual, we piled into our overloaded bus and started our journey at 3am. As we were slowly creeping out of our stone encrusted driveway, lights lowered, so as not to wake the neighbourhood, I felt for all the world like the Von Trapp Family Singers escaping to Austria (think Sound of Music, people). I also realised how loud everything sounds at that time of the morning. We sped along the freeway and by dawn we had passed Taree and were in dire need of petrol and coffee. After finding nothing open we were finally able to refuel at a truck stop - the only bus amongst these giant beasts, the children were in awe of their size. With everyone now awake we continued on to Maccas in Kempsey and a stop at The Big Banana, thinking that we would make one more final stop before crossing the boarder into the Sunshine State. We were making amazing time, the kids had been fantastic travellers and we had only eaten half of the lolly container when everything came to a grinding halt!

Just outside of Ballina a truck had driven off the road and into the river and traffic was stopped both ways. We sat for ages before we decided to turn the engine off and hop out of the bus. The kids climbed in and out, through the bus, the only place left that went unexplored was the roof and if David and I were not vigilant parents, I’m sure they would have made their way up there too, the babies became ratty and bored. They bucked and arched and wriggled and screamed when release from the confines of their carseats was not instant. My mother decided it would be a good time to start a game of Eye Spy. David walked up to the scene to find out what the deal was only to be told the road was closed indefinately. Great. Me? I have never been a great traveller and so I was bored out of my scone. I attempted to liven up the game of eye spy but no one was impressed when they couldn’t guess that the thing starting with ‘E’ was an elephant. They said there was no elephant in or outside of the car and therefore, I was disqualified! No respect, I tell you!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An hour (the other half of the lolly container and several packets of chips) later our road was finally opened and we pushed through to arrive in Sunny Queensland ( a beautiful 24 degrees) at about 3pm…

To be continued…

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?

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.

 

*** 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!

Oh, just to have one night without a baby in my bed! It would probably feel weird, actually. Last night was the first night that Noah slept through, since his last bout of illness. In absolute contrast to him was his sister and my resident teddy bear, Ivy Hazel. Last night, I went to bed at 11pm after thinking that I had settled Ivy post 4 hour sleep cycle tanty. Ha ha, what on earth was I thinking? Half an hour later I found that child back in my bed. She proceeded to knock around the bed in its entirety. David, who has come down with a severe flu, was shivering with rigor next to me, in a male, comatose, kind of way (only women will know what I am talking about, males who read this will deny that they can sleep this way at all). So he was unaware of the tumbleweed daughter between us. At 3am, I had had enough so I put her in her cot and shut the door. For the next half hour she stood wailing ‘doordoordoor’ I tried all the tricks but nothing was dampening the door baby down. In the end I took her back to bed, where she slept for an hour before waking up for the day. It’s been a while since that girl has done an all nighter and boy, did I feel it this morning! (Notice the VERY dark circles under Ivy’s and my eyes in photos provided as evidence).

I guess we have always had babies in the bed, except for a brief interlude, Immy and Maddy, although excellent night sleepers, would come in at around 5am until they were about six or seven for a cuddle and Lily was an early morning ‘ I’ve had a bad dream, can I snuggle with you.’ kinda girl. You’d think that having Ivy (and occasionally Noah) in the bed would be no big deal and it isn’t -  if we can both (all) sleep. It’s just that Ivy DOESN’T. She thinks my bed is a party and she’s the only one invited! For those of you concerned about David’s sleep, don’t be. He sleeps well, thank you very much. The only time his sleep is disturbed is if I kick him hard enough! (Joking people, he is a good man).

Yesterday I had my first ‘time out’ in ages. Mum and I went to the grand opening of my fave internet scrapbooking store Shop & Crop, going real life!  Yep, a real shop! Although it was busy and crowded, I had a great time. I bought some goodies, ate some food, talked to people, bought more goodies and generally felt inspired to scrap - just what the doctor ordered. It was good because I came home to a very sick husband and you definately need happy things to draw on when you have one of those. (Thanks, Davey for letting me out for the afternoon AND for looking after the kids AND for putting dinner in the oven). While we were there we booked in for a class with Jennifer Hall ( a scrapbooking celebrity) in a couple of weeks time. So exciting!

While I have acknowledged that Noah’s play is very boy oriented, as in cars, cars and more cars I don’t know that I have waffled on much at all about Ivy’s play.  I have to mention though her play with a dolly yesterday. Firstly, she cuddled and rocked the baby, then she stripped the baby off to change the nappy. When Maddy gave her a wipe, she knew  EXACTLY what to do with it. She cleaned up baby’s bum, of course! Who says gender specific play is a learned thing? I think Ivy just naturally knew what to do with the doll. A very distinctive female instinct of nurturing. It is amazing to watch, especially having a boy/girl twin combination. Noah also cuddles the doll when it is given to him but soon loses interest and nappy changing and wiping bottoms - forget it!!!!!

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?

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.

Understatement of the Century.

I hate Winter. I know I’ve said it before here but just to clarify; I REALLY hate it.

I didn’t once upon a long time ago, pre children. Winter was a time to rug up, a time for hot chocolate and blankets on the lounge snuggled up close to David. Winter was a time for exciting Scouting activities and holidays away to even colder locations, open fires, hot casseroles, heaters in the car, slowly thawing out every part of you until just the tip of your nose was cold. Super soft downy quilts that you could snuggle right down in and not have to remove yourself from until the sun had warmed the crisp air to an acceptable level.

Now Winter is full of stuffy doctors rooms, just hot enough to breed a hundred thousand other germs that are not already wracking the smallest of my children. Winter is about tissues and mucous, hacking coughs, headaches, sore throats, Panadol, cough mixture, throat losenges, heat packs and nebulisers. It is about, crying, fragile babies and children, who ache and hurt. Winter, for me, is now about feeling inadequate in my abilities to keep my kids well and pushing fate to the end of her tether, to avoid hospital admissions.

Winter is about illness and getting through those long cold months with minimal assistance from unhelpful medical professionals, who are sick themselves and don’t really want to see one more sick child.

A parcel arrived from overseas yesterday. An ordinary brown box but inside that package were promises of sunshine and long afternoons by the pool. Bright, warm mornings and dinners on the verandah. Just clothes to some but when I opened the box I swear I could almost smell Summer.

I was never a Summer girl. In my younger years, Summer meant hot sticky days, too embarrassed to go swimming for fear that Green Peace would spy me, declare me a beeched white whale and lovingly roll me back into the ocean. Summer meant too much salad. It meant long, hot nights where you wake up in the morning sweating and feeling as though you never slept.

Summer now means at least three months, if not more, virtually, asthma and illness free. It means long legged children running around in the backyard with water pistols and swimming until it’s too dark to see. Summer means, happy, stress free faces, free from runny noses and deep dark circles under their eyes.  Summer means warm, healthy glows coming from radiant sunkissed skin, not the pale pallor of Winter.

I am sitting here, hoping that Ivy and Noah will sleep soon. They have been up for a large part of the night coughing and snuffling. It’s been three weeks and they are getting worse not better. Ivy’s ears are discharging goop again and Noah’s asthma is escalating to a point where I am seriously considering hospital. It’s not easy to see the good in Winter today. I would love to just pack everyone up and steal them away to the warmest part of Australia, right now- to a place where the sun could mend their red, chapped, wind blown lips and the fresh breezy air could blow away all the germs.

After the babies are asleep and I have finally had a shower I might just open that box again and set my imaginings free. An escape from reality might just help me get through today.

Ok, Easter is officially over in this house! If I ever see, smell or taste another chocolate egg again, it will be too soon! UGH, chocolate overload, my friends is NOT a pretty sight in a thirty - something woman. OOOOHHHH, my belly. I know, I know, no sympathy for self inflicted wounds. It was fun until last night. Then, I just needed for all chocolate to be gone from our home. I am seriously starting the cabbage soup diet on Wednesday! Anything to get away from chocolate. I need to purge all those impurities from my system, so that I can be ready…for Christmas, the ultimate day in over indulgence!!!! LOL! Seriously though, I am sick of chocolate. If I had to gage seratonin levels due to eating of said indulgence, I would be waging a bet that I would be considered an EXTREMEMLY happy person, right now. I’m sure those levels of happy hormone are dangerous.

Had a nice quiet, rainy day. The boys had their access visit with their mother (always a not fun time for the family afterwards) and the girls, babies, Dave and I pottered off to the local video store, where the rest of the town had already been, so we were only able to borrow the DVDs that nobody wanted, Oh and the kids flicks that we have seen 1000 times before. No, I jest. We did get Charlotte’s Web. When I watched it, all I could wonder was…is Dakota Fanning aging at all???? I think that girl is one of those kids who is never going to grow up. She’ll be 30 and still look six!  The girls enjoyed it and another pre teeny type movie called Step Up. Immy, my little drama, dancing, all round performer, romantic, thought it was "the best movie she’d ever seen". (She says that with every movie that has a hunky male dancer in it, I’ve noticed). We ate fish and chips and generally slothed around the house.

I want to tell you about the recent move in bath time activities in this house. It used to go something like this; The big kids run a bath and take turns going in, as pairs, sometimes topping up the water with warmer additions. While this is progressing, I feed and bath the babies and by the time they have had a little play, one of the big girls are usually out to help me dry and dress the pair.

This is how it has gone of late. I ask the big kids to start the bath routine. No one moves. The babies get fed and I start their bath routine, continually reminding the others that dinner will be ready soon. Still there is little movement until I redirect their energy (or lack there of) into running the tap for baths. Most nights I get asked if they can skip…what is that? As a pre teen, I think you are at your smelliest. It’s a time when a kid REALLY needs to wash, why do they suddenly think they can get away without cleaning themselves???? When I argue my point, I am then asked if they can shower instead of bath and even though I constantly remind them that a shower uses up to ten litres of water a minute, they do not budge. Another new pre teen thing. I compromise and say a short one only and all girls in at once and then both boys. Anything for five fresh bodies at the dinner table. Most nights they are pretty good but some nights I shudder to think what my family is doing for the water supply in NSW.Not only am I getting rebellion in the 9 - 11 year old bracket, the babies have decided that they like to move and splash and try to turn on taps while I am bathing them. Sometimes, I think I come out of the bathroom wetter than them! They have started this game (for want of a better word) where as soon as I get onto my hands and knees, they splash me. If I stand up, they get up, throw their legs up and over the top of the bath and yell "geeowwwwt" (get out in twin speak). I get down again to wash them and immediately they start in with the splashing and the squealing and the giggling. Sometimes they slip and slide and my heart jumps into my throat but mostly the are limbre little bath pixies, who move so quickly, it’s sometimes hard to catch them to wash their crawling feet (where the tops of their feet are blackened with floor mank) or to wash the buttery sandwich leftovers out of their hair. Some nights I am exhausted just from bath time alone, mostly I laugh though and enjoy the moments. Knowing, all too well that there will come a day in 9 - 11 years time, when they won’t want to bath, pretend to bath, skip their bath or when I say bath, think I mean shower.

 

 

My next gripe for today is about girls not wanting to brush their hair over  the school holiday period. Ok, I understand that it gets a little old having your hair raked up into a ponytail every day and reminded that it is nit season for 90% of the school year and I DO allow them some slack when school break comes but really, don’t they know that if they don’t brush their hair for a number of days that it WILL get knotty and if it does become encrusted with dredlocky knots, that when your mother comes along to brush them out it IS going to hurt. ALOT.

My mum used to say to me, you can’t put an old head on new shoulders, that kids need to learn the hard way. Ok, but can’t they learn the hard way with shiny, neatly brushed hair? Is that too much to ask? *SIGH* I guess I’m missing the point here. I know Mum is right, they will learn through their own mistakes but why can’t they do it later, when they are older and living in their own flat, with a housemate or a boyfriend to (kindly) brush out their knots, why now, when there are three long haired beauties (and another one rapidly growing hers) and a mother (whose hair is VERY short) who just doesn’t get it???

When my own long hair knotted ouches got too much for my mum, when I was in fifth grade, strangely enough, she took me to "Bruno’s" and had it all cut off in a time when being able to sit on your hair during school was REALLY cool. I can’t seem to do that to my girls. I sigh and moan and carry on but when it all boils down to it, I like their hair long. Whinge two over.

Finally my last purge of disgust comes when I discovered that Ivy’s newly grometted ears (actually only her left) were discharging blood and pus. Of course it was a public holiday. For city dwellers, this probably wouldn’t pose much of a problem but for those of you living in the boonies, like us,it’s easy to understand how something as simple as going to a GP, for a script of antibiotics, to fight off obvious infection, can become a living nightmare.

To start with there was NOTHING open in Cessnock. We phoned the hospital, to ask if we should present there. We knew what the problem was, it wouldn’t take long. Their answer?

"We are very busy, if you think she needs to come in, then you’d better bring her up but remember, this is an emergency department. We can’t give you anymore information over the phone". That was it. What were we supposed to do with that? She was by no means an emergency but if we didn’t do something she could become one.

So we then moved onto the next hospital (remember, we are out in the boonies here, friends) they, at least had an after hours GP service but the receptionist told us our area was not covered and so we could either present to ED or have a phone conversation with an RN. We took the RN. She was very direct and thought that young Ivy best be seen by a GP. She phoned our local hospital who gave HER the exact same speel as us. When she came back to the phone, she offered us a long wait at said hospital or an appointment at the next town hospital (3/4 of an hour away) to see a doctor. We took the appointment. That went very smoothly and with our script in hand we set about finding a pharmacy. Easy, right? No, not easy at all. We had to drive another twenty minutes to find one. On the way home I realised that Ivy’s secretions had not been swabbed and that was a bugbear with her paediatrician, that they never swabbed! I ummed and arrhed for a while but in the end I started the antibiotics and gave her another dose of panadol. I guess I’ll deal with my lack of swab results when next I see the paed!

Wow, this has turned into a monster post. Good thing there are photos to break it up!! LOL. It’s late and with all that off my chest, I think I am going to bedfordshire!