- Your house has become a race track for cars or a sprint track for running. Or both.
- You know every superhero name AND their villains
- Your child’s first word was OUT as in “I want to go outside because the pure thought of being couped up inside is bringing me to tears” – Master Two at 13 Months.
- Even sitting requires moving
- Sport – really no further explanation required here
- Balls – as above
- Household items have become bats – spoons, chopsticks, spatulas, rulers etc
- Parks and playgrounds are your very dear friends
- Having a civilised meal in a restaurant is virtually impossible
- “Please don’t jump on……….” and “Please don’t jump off…….” are common phrases in your day
- You have started carrying a packet of bandaids in your bag.
- It is impossible to leave the house without taking food.
- Three words sum up their day Eat, run, sleep – Repeat.
1. You don’t text back. I don’t know how many times I have done this. But it happens all the time. Someone texts me, I read it, I answer it in my brain, I am interrupted by a) screaming child b) hungry child c) pulling at my leg child or d) all of the above. Text is immediately forgotten. You get another text from the same friend “did u get my text?” Of course I did, didn’t you get mine? And then, you check. There is either a message half finished in draft form or there is no message. Usually, there is no message. Dammit!
2. You lose track of conversation. You are having a wonderful conversation with a friend about something great and you are interrupted by a) mum, MUM! b) a meltdown c) an event that requires immediate intervention d) all the above …and Faboooooosh! Thread of conversation obliterated. Train of thought left faster than the speed of light. Worst still you are chatting with another sleep deprived mum and when you return to the conversation you look at each other blankly – deer in headlights style. Neither of you remember what were talking about .
3. You can’t remember if you had a shower today, or yesterday. No explanation required there.
4. A trip to Coles ON YOUR OWN is like your first car ride with your p plates. Pure joy.
5. You arrive home from an outing and realise you a) have baby spew on your clothes or much worse b) remnants of poo
6. You have about three cups of cold tea or coffee at various drop points around the house. After the second round of re-heating you finally give up.
7. Just the thought of wearing high heels almost has you keeling over in agony. And when you do decide to go there you totally regret it and keel over in agony.
8. Eyeliner is your new best friend.
9. You forget. EVERYTHING. Its a miracle that you and your children are all still alive.
10. You have become the Mother of Dragons. The less sleep, the bigger the dragon – don’t even THINK about messing with me today. One more child meltdown, one more throw of your gourmet meal on the floor, one more “But WHYYYYY” grating on your brain and I will seriously burn the whole house down, Khaleesi style.
So I was a little bit excited when a friend of mine asked if she could place a custom order for a doll to be made as a gift for a friend expecting a baby girl. Well, excited is putting it lightly, I was ecstatic. Up until now I have been using fabric that I have collected over the years including stunning Laura Ashley cottons, sourced vintage fabrics and those bits and bobs that have been handed down to me either by my mother or from my nanna. But, a paid project…well I couldn’t resist buying something tremendous and new from the most amazing craft store, Calico and Ivy. For crafters/knitters/sewers and the like it is literally paradise and a place of beauty. When I was there one of two staff members struck up conversation. She said that people have spent hours in their store, literally hours. I wish I had hours to swish around the store dreaming of all the things I could make, perusing the beautiful inspirational books at leisure, looking at all the trinkets, conversing with the staff about my next project. But I had minutes, because I took children. I took boys to a place of peace and tranquility and wrecked it. I just wanted my little piece of heaven.
When I parked out the front of the store, Master two was snoring peacefully in the car. Perfect. He even transferred to the pram. Hoorah! Only one child to have to worry about. Enter Master one at the top of his lungs “Mum LOOK! He’s awaaaaaake”!. I laugh now writing this. I was not laughing when it happened. We enter the store and are welcomed by the staff. Thankfully I had a goal. We conversed. “It’s Ok I have children too, I understand” said the staff member. And she did. We chatted some more but internally I was frantically trying to “take in the paradise experience” in enough time before Master two potentially screamed the place down from not getting enough sleep or master one from breaking something VERY expensive. WTF was I thinking?! I don’t think we had made the 5 min mark and I went looking for “the toy box”, praying they had one so that he could sit down and play with the toys. They did have one, but there was a ball in the box ………….and my paradise session ended. Game over. You know when they find a toy and they look at you with that “if you try to take this off me I am literally going to make a scene of epic proportions” look? The one where they have the potential to run around screaming like a crazed animal? Yup, we had THAT moment. So I allowed the ball. For those who know my son well, for a three and half year old, his ball skills are very, very good. So, every opportunity he gets, he likes to practice. Thankfully the instructions of “no kicking” and “no throwing” were adhered too. He impressed the staff with his bouncing and catching skills. How old is he? My son can’t do that and he is seven. Ok, awesome that you are bedazzled by the ball skills, but I am quietly praying I can source my fabric at a store that I get to visit once in a blue moon without actually buying the contents of the store, because we have broken everything in it. When the ball was bounced down the stairs with a “thud, thud, thud…and boing!! in an unknown direction with a “look! LOOK MUUUUUUUM! Look what I am DOOOINGGG”. I magic mother inspector gadget extender armed the ball to safety, caught one handed of course whilst holding crying baby, promptly paid for my fabric and handed the ball to the shop attendant. And she calmly said “Oh, is that our ball?”.
So I have been busy “mothering” my two boys who get busier by the day. Master two is nearing 1 and whilst he isn’t close to walking I have deemed him a “race crawler”. You cannot leave him for a second and as soon as he knows you are watching, he builds up his pace to race. Particularly when you catch him trying to chomp down on a shoe, a rock or any other inanimate object he suspects is tastier than the food I serve him on a daily basis. Nothing like a good old fashioned chew down on a rubber door stop. Yum mum. A lot of things have changed for me in the last month or so, mainly around the supervision of the boys and the intensity of their play. Its become….boyish, rough and tumble, physical. It is incredibly difficult to discipline your three and a half year old…
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So I have been busy “mothering” my two boys who get busier by the day. Master two is nearing 1 and whilst he isn’t close to walking I have deemed him a “race crawler”. You cannot leave him for a second and as soon as he knows you are watching, he builds up his pace to race. Particularly when you catch him trying to chomp down on a shoe, a rock or any other inanimate object he suspects is tastier than the food I serve him on a daily basis. Nothing like a good old fashioned chew down on a rubber door stop. Yum mum. A lot of things have changed for me in the last month or so, mainly around the supervision of the boys and the intensity of their play. Its become….boyish, rough and tumble, physical. It is incredibly difficult to discipline your three and a half year old around being gentle with physical contact when Master two is laughing after being almost full body slammed. Or when I am trying to snap the older one out of ridiculous nonsensical talk which is loud and literally grating on my nerves, because I would like our baby to actually (eventually) develop proper words, only to find that he is being incredibly amused and thinks his older brother is a hero for entertaining him with gobbledy-gook. I was telling a friend just today how amazing the difference between the two boys at this age. Master One was page turning at 10 months of age and would sit with great intensity listening to stories (and still does), and by 11 months we would have book marathons. Number two wants to chew. Chew the books. I have tried to sit with him and just when I think the story session is going swimmingly, he grabs the book, flips it over and tries to give it a good munch. I have the thinker and the do-er. Oh what a pair!
So, I suppose as my boys get more boy-ish I choose to enter my zone of extreme crafting! My most recent piece is photographed above. A personalised bunny softie made especially for a new baby girl. What a perfect little gift for little babes due around Easter. I also embarked on somewhat of a “memory” doll. It gave me much pleasure to design and make a doll for the daughter of one of my best friends. But this was a special doll as it was made out of one of her favourite little tutu dresses. I would love to make more of these if people are willing to sacrifice a dress that might otherwise just end up in a box somewhere, instead, they can have their own little memory doll. A wonderful keepsake for their daughters.
Of course I don’t mean this literally but, this is fast becoming my go to phrase of 2015. Let me tell you why. There are two things that have really surprised me about being a mother. 1) I never thought my children would assert their feelings about what they want to wear so early in life. I also thought, girls would be more prone to this behaviour (how gender bias of me), I was SO wrong. You know how you go to the supermarket and see Mothers with children half dressed or dressed in a costume with gumboots and wearing an array of accessories? and, you think smugly to yourself “why on earth did that mother let her child out in public like that?”. Well, let me tell you, she absolutely did not dress them like that and to change the attire to something more socially acceptable for the public…
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Of course I don’t mean this literally but, this is fast becoming my go to phrase of 2015. Let me tell you why. There are two things that have really surprised me about being a mother. 1) I never thought my children would assert their feelings about what they want to wear so early in life. I also thought, girls would be more prone to this behaviour (how gender bias of me), I was SO wrong. You know how you go to the supermarket and see Mothers with children half dressed or dressed in a costume with gumboots and wearing an array of accessories? and, you think smugly to yourself “why on earth did that mother let her child out in public like that?”. Well, let me tell you, she absolutely did not dress them like that and to change the attire to something more socially acceptable for the public eye would have resulted in a meltdown of epic proportions. Trust me when I say you would much rather deal with the occasional glance over and “why did she let her kid wear THAT out” than deal with said meltdown. I, am this mother. Not only have I lost all choice over what my 3 year old son wears, he has now entered a phase of extreme dress-ups! Where, anything goes. Scarfs, gumboots in 36 degree heat and usually more than one beanie at a time, capes, masks and full head to toe, superhero costumes, out in public. It’s got to the point where my son now asks “Mum, can I wear my spiderman mask and spiderman gloves to the shops?” and I pretty much just say “sure, why don’t you just wear the whole costume”.
Secondly, and this has been so far the hardest thing. Fierce independence, also to the point of biblical meltdowns, if independence is quashed. It’s testing the qualities I thought I had oodles of – patience…. calmness. I am sure somewhere its kharma for me also being a personality type that’s quite resistant to help but c’mon! Give me a break. My son has to do EVERYTHING himself. And the latest is fastening the belt buckle in the car which is supposed to be a 5-star harness rating that I am sure children (of a certain age) aren’t supposed to be able to do. Try telling this to ‘my way or the highway 3 going on 10 year old’. And, it always happens when you are tying to go somwhere in a hurry. I just want to leave and you have decided to embark on a new level of independence and today is the day you absolutely must do this yourself. As a mother of course, you let them try, and you let them try and you let them try. Small interjections of “Let me help you” or ” if you just let me help you with this part”…end in (screamed in my face, to the point of face turning a brilliant red and face semi contorted) “NO MUM……..I DO IT…..” escalated to a pure scream with his eyes almost popping out of his head at even the hint of me trying to help. Hence, one must have humour to cope. Or a seriously large bottle of vodka.
What I have learnt with my son is that you just leave the situation. I think to myself “You want to do it on your own? Fine”. So, when I get the first round of “No Mum, I’m doing it” I try to take a deep breath in, calm blue ocean, step away and leave him to it. The end result is one of two things. After 10 minutes of trying without my “presence” I will hear screams of frustration, then, silence, then “Mum……can you help me?”. Reverse psychology, I love it. Or half an hour later “Mum…..MUM!! I did it!”. I of course race back in. Applaud, applaud. Congrats son well done you did it all by yourself, congratulations we are all now 100 years old…..can we go now? Awesome.