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?

Happy Happy Birthday my gorgeous Ivy and Noah!

At two Noah can:

Speak up to six word sentences.

Run.

Jump.

Dance.

Feed himself with a spoon (this is a very messy affair though).

Take his own nappy off (and his sister’s).

Tease his sisters ( a pre requisite for being male and having sisters, I think).

Climb into his own bed.

Draw (scribble).

Release himself from the confines of the house by unlocking the front door. (don’t worry, we’ve installed bolts now).

Likes;

Sleep.

Has a distinct penchant for plastic jewellery, dresses and pink handbags.

Books and having them read to him. Actually, seems to obsess over one book for days at a time. Prefers his reading experience this way.

Trucks, cars and particularly diggers.

To kick a ball and splash in the paddle pool.

Loves;

Chocolate.

Noodles.

His teddy.

The Wiggles.

Hugs and kisses.

Doesn’t enjoy;

Vegetables.

Sharing a room with his sister.

Not getting his own way.

Shopping.

Sitting for too long.

 

At two Ivy can;

Talk in two and sometimes three word sentences.

Feed herself with a spoon without making much mess.

Dance, dance and dance some more.

Run.

Jump.

Take off her own nappy (and her brother’s).

Draw (scribble… on paper, walls and herself).

Have womanly mood swings.

Likes;

Bok bok (her chicken)

Climbing.

Playing in water.

Dirt and getting dirty, making mud pies and playing in anything that is gooey, squishy or tactile in any way.

Loves;

Hi - 5

Any form of jewellery.

Helping her Daddy get dressed in the morning (shoes).

Having a make - up session with her sisters.

Rice cakes.

Doesn’t enjoy;

Sitting still.

Meat.

Sleeping.

 

Well, dear readers, it’s the day before my little cherubs turn two. We have had many ups and downs over the last 24 months (most of them chronicled on this blog).

My little guy is amazing, social, easy going, talkative, has a gorgeous dimpled smile and a wicked sense of humour, loves routine, kisses and cuddles. He lights up my life with laughter and joy. He is my second chance and I love all that he gifts to me.

My little girl is petite, beautiful and strong. She is a complexity of character, socially shy, yet cheeky and free spirited with those she is comfortable with. She has stolen the hearts of many. She is the full stop at the end of a very long chapter in my life. I’m glad that it was her. She completes me.

Here is Ivy and Noah’s birth story. Written about five months after their birth.

Here is a little movie montage for anyone who has five minutes.

Tomorrow for all those with a love of all things Ivy and Noah there will be another one.

 

Early morning risers, kisses and cuddles in bed as the sun breaks over the mountains.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Debriefing and discussions about dreams during the night, good or bad.

Shiny, clean faces, at the breakfast table. Easy conversation.

Laughing at jokes that aren’t quite funny. Great big smiles that show teeth.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Standing on the verandah, with little bodies close to my side, waving good bye to school children as they walk up the street calling ‘I love you’s’ until they disappear over the hill.

Morning stories, dancing to The Wiggles, new words, new milestones met. Bright blue eyes and faces turned to the sun as they venture outside. Wonderment as the fluff from a dandelion blower flies into the sky, caught by the morning breeze.

Free spirited, loving life play.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Morning naps, angelic, peaceful faces. (Is any mother not grateful for this?).

Bleary eyed babies stumbling out of bed to climb up onto laps. Nuzzles and snuggles and drifting off again with the warmth of their special person. Deep, sleep filled breathing that relaxes the soul.

Emerging sentences, new understanding, watching them grow and learn through play.

New foods, new experiences, evolving personalities.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Excited faces at the gate, in anticipation of the big kids’ return from school.

Excited faces at the gate, happy to be home with the little ones again.

Stories of their day, their worries and their hopes, what made them laugh and why they felt sad.

The house feeling full, the chaotic noise of seven, the push and pull of siblings.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Squeals of happiness, backyard games of cricket, swimming, playing -  togetherness.

Hugs for no reason, an arm around my shoulder, playful banter, exclaimations of ‘you’re the best, Mummy!’

Sharing bath time with the little ones, even though their bodies are changing. Willingly helping when they see I am flagging.

Excited cries of ‘Daddy’s home!’ Little ones standing at the door waiting.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Dinner compliments, voices too loud, spaghetti sauce chins.

TV wind down time, everyone squeezed onto one lounge, when there are two, dogs between legs with furry heads resting on pyjama clad laps.

Talking while the show is on, asking questions about when we were children, interested wonders of ‘the olden days’. (I am constantly telling them I’m not that old).

Bedtime kisses and last minute, trying to stall, anecdotes, needs for a glass of water and one last call to the toilet before bed.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Slipping quietly into each bedroom, looking upon them, hoping they have a good life.

Pulling their blankets up under chins, tucking soft toys back into the arms of their owners, turning out lights.

Standing in hallways, listening to the house sigh with peace.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

My children.

They lift me up, fill my day, make everything worthwhile. It’s the everyday things.

I’m grateful for them.

 

This was written for Mamablogga’s November Group Writing Project. Why don’t you give it a try?

I met him when I was seventeen. I was your classic loud, jolly fat girl. Hiding behind an oversized personality.

He saw beyond that.

We were friends first. Soon he knew all my secrets.

He listened but didn’t try to change things.

We talked until the sun came up. He was the first one to accept what I wanted for my adult life.

A family, not a career.

He was not like my father.

Not at all.

My life is so different because I met him and I am grateful for him. I thank the universe everyday for his existence.

Life was dysfunctional. He made everything alright.

We married and settled in together. We were young. Although he was worried about what his parents would think, he honoured our decision.

I became a nurse, he encouraged it, supported me.

We had twins. He took it in his stride. Even though he was exhausted he shared the load of bringing up two and then three little girls.

I became a midwife and he was there, helping me all the way.

He opened his heart and his emotions when William died.

He is so different from any man I have ever known.

We compliment each other. He is my night (knight) and I am his day.

I like to spend money, he likes to save.

I like to take risks, he likes stability.

Between us we have a wonderful balance.

It could have been so different, my life but not better. I couldn’t ask for better.

This was written as part of the November Write Away Contest at another of my favourite blogs, Scribbit. It’s my first attempt. Why don’t you give it a try?

Where are you going,  my little one, little one?

Where are you going, my baby, my dear.

Turn around and you’re two,

turn around and you’re four.

Turn around and you’re a young girl walking out of my door…

(Lullaby)

 

When Imogen and Madeline were little, way back in the Summer of ‘97, there was hardly a dress to be found. Unless you were in one of the higher income earning brackets and could afford boutique label frocks (don’t you just love that word, frock? It kind of just rolls off the tongue). I was not one of those people, so it was Best and Less and Target when we really wanted to dress up.

I’ll just pause here to say it still is mostly those shops that we frequent. Not because of income brackets but because they are affordable and nice and wear well.

Anyway, the best you could get were these sort of wash and wear sack like things. They were…functional but not pretty, girly dresses.

The majority of clothes available for little girls included shorts and t - shirts. Bike shorts were all the rage. (Sorry for anyone out there who still owns bike shorts and likes them). I think there were some denim overall type dresses but the girls claimed them too hot for our Summer and  would peel them off at the first turn of my back.

It was the same deal two years later when Lily was a toddler.

When I was a little girl, it was the 70’s. A time of gender equality. I did own some dresses but I was mostly in brown cords and skivvys in Winter and shorts and tops for the hotter months. I remember having a beautiful lime green number, which I wore with white knee high socks (are you getting a visual here? I looked luscious!). I thought I looked nice. I felt pretty but my peers didn’t think so. They thought I looked like a booger… in cork high heels and told me so, often.

So, when Ivy started to get past that growsuit stage and I cautiously looked out into the brave new world of clothing  for baby girls, imagine my glee (ok, I have been reminiscing my 70’s childhood, people, so I think I can use some of the  language of that era, just for tonight) when I found dresses, lots and lots of pretty, flowery, twirly, pastel shaded, gorgeous dresses! Since then, Ivy has been mostly clothed in them. With the exception of the middle of Winter days, frocks are her norm.

I love them! I have so many for her, I think her wardrobe is about to explode but I just can’t seem to get enough. David has tried to curb my buying them but it is no use. If I see a dress in the shop I like I have to have it. I don’t know what it is. Or maybe I do. Maybe I just explained my need for all things frock in the above paragraphs.

Ooooh, self analysis.

Scary stuff.

At first, I found Gymboree, through the internet. Their little dresses had me drooling onto my keyboard. Then the Spring and Summer range started to come out here. I discovered Cotton on Kids and a few other internet stores and went crazy.

Today, after waiting six weeks for a parcel, I was sure was not going to arrive, it landed on my doorstep containing the most gorgeous skirts and dresses I have ever clapped eyes on (I’m a freak, I know).

Today my mind is already ticking over with the different combinations that I might dress Ivy in tomorrow. Ahhh frock therapy… thank heaven for little girls, especially little girls who are toddlers in 2007. (Photos to follow. Ivy is not a willing muse most days).

***************************************************************

My friend Trish has given me this:

 

 

Nice matters. Oh yes, it does. In these times when everyone is rushing and some can’t stop to help others or offer a kind word, to me, nice is important.

Thank you Trish. She said that I was one of the nicest people she had met over the internet and I could say the same for her. So, right back at you, friend!

I’m going to share this with some people.

Triplets plus one mum, Michele S: for sticking up for another multiples mum. (See post above).

Meg from Dipping into the Australian blogpond because when you comment on her blog she always comments back. it’s like a conversation between friends. Something I need to work on, my commenting skills.

Finally to JohBlogs from Because I can…well, because I can really and because she wrote a very nice comment about my post on communities, that boosted me up, made my day and made me feel as though I had made a contribution out there in blogworld.

Thank you all for your niceness. Please pass it on.

 

I remember the day you were born. The early Autumn sun creeping through the window of the birthing room. My heart full of hope for you, eager to meet you, look into your eyes.

I remember the day you were born. The room full with love. Time marched ever onwards as we waited for you. Longed for you.

I wondered how it would be, having a son after only daughters. I worried.

Your father was excited to have a boy, anticipated his life with you.

 I was supposed to birth you, feed you, nurture you. Supposed to…

I remember the day you were born. You didn’t cry when they pulled you from my being. You were so very still as the doctors worked around you. There were people and machines and noise but for an instant, there was just you and me.

I remember the first time, days later, that you looked at me. Those big blue eyes. I swam in their deep beauty, soaked them up. I touched your hand and your fingers curled around mine. A sweet moment between us, one to hold on to.

I remember watching your body fade, the whisper of death upon you. It was calling to you but we needed to say our goodbyes.

We christened you and for one last time you opened your eyes and took us in, as if to hold us close, as you went to a better place.

I remember we kissed you and told you of our love. We told you we were honoured to have met you but we knew you had some place else to be. We told you it was okay.

I remember the doctors stripping you down, leaving you naked without your tubes and wires. Just a boy. Flesh and blood. Unable to live without them.

I remember the day you died. It was sunny but in my heart the clouds were dark. I couldn’t hold you as you took your last breath in the late afternoon of Autumn. I couldn’t hold you because I had let you down. I could not give you life. I could only give you release.

I remember the day you died, my father dressed in a pure white shirt. It seemed out of place.

I remember family and friends helping your spirit fly away, helping us to let you go.

I remember the day you died. I held onto you for the first and last time. Your body still warm and although I willed your breath to come, it did not. I looked at you, at your features, without the tape and the tubes. I drank you in, hoping never to forget the weight of you, your smell.

I remember the moment that I gave you to the nurse. The last day I would ever see you. I wanted to run after her. I wanted you back but all I could do was cry and walk away. Leaving you with strangers.

With every breath that I have left in me I will remember you. I will honour you by loving your brother and sisters, your father and your cousins. I will remember the gifts that you gave to me and I will honour them by forgiving myself.

Today, as we remember all of the babies who have not survived this life, I will remember you, my son.

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?

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.

 

I walked down the aisle, held your hand and promised my life and my love to you.

14 years ago we were both so young, babies in this world but it felt as though we had been together for a lifetime, that we were meant to be together.

14 years ago we did not know the challenges that would be given to us. We were so niave in our love, we thought it would all be so easy.

People said we had married too young, said we would grow apart.

Instead we have grown together, in love and life. Just as we promised 14 years ago today.

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?

Today is a VERY good day! My beautiful, amazing husband has found a way for us to be able to purchase a NEW bus!!!!! WOOHOO!  I never ever knew that I was living with my very own bus fairy. We went looking on the weekend and found the perfect bus for us. We drove it, loved it, the kids loved it, the babies loved it. It came in at a good price and Toyota in Cardiff gave us a more than fair trade in. Our only issue was funding but David worked it out. Things will be tight for a little while but I will have reliable, safe transport for all of us! Gotta be happy with that.

In other news, Ivy said her first two word sentence this morning. We have butterflies everywhere in our house (it is a symbol we use to acknowledge William) and they are everywhere outside in the garden too, so the girl has grown up with our winged friends. Anyway, she was playing with a butterfly on my bed this morning and she says, as clear as day… " Awwww, pritty b-fly" (Awww, pretty butterfly). It was so gorgeous and clear! I’d forgotten how amazing it is when babies start talking. As if that wasn’t enough, she made Imogen’s day when she called out "Immy!" from her carseat this afternoon. She is such a smart little button. She wanted to go outside this afternoon and was tapping on the door. I explained to her that we would have to wait until Noah woke up and she pottered away, happy with that. About half an hour later, we heard Noah cry out. Well, she was up and at his door within seconds, saying ‘Nono, Nono’ (Noah’s nickname for himself is ‘Nono’). As soon as I opened the door she was in there babbling away to her brother about something that I didn’t get. Obviously he did because as soon as I had put him on the floor they both made their way to the door and Ivy started her tapping again!

If she wants something that her sisters have, she puts her little hand out and cries "share, SHARE!" or "Ta, Ta" and the volume escalates if it’s not given straight away. Miss bossy pants.

Noah is smart too. He lets her do all the talking and reaps the rewards! Very clever lad that one.

Ivy had a haircut yesterday, her first. She now has a perfectly adorable fringe to go with her little curls.

I’ve dobbed myself and Mum into making eight ABBA costumes for Starstruck (Mum if you read this before I have a chance to talk to you, don’t have a stress out, it will be FINE). Oh and eight A-line skirts too. We have a month to do them all. GULP

Tracey started her new job today and I miss her already.

Leanne finished up and I met my new counsellor Emma. She seems ok.

AJ made the football team.

Lily made it to the Zone Cross Country

Immy and Maddy have just registered for their next dance eisteddford, they have solos in the school choir and are both rehersing for Starstruck.

Maddy had a new friend over for the weekend and she was lovely. Maddy seemed really happy.

Things are looking up! It’s Mother’s day on Sunday, wonder what may blow my way.