Monthly Archives: June 2012
Little Man: Where did I come from, Mummy?
This conversation had been threatening to ambush me for weeks. I could feel it. This was my moment and I had only one chance not to stuff it up. I remembered the advice I’d been given by a much wiser mum-friend to give just enough enformation, but not too much. Age appropriate, Michelle, age appropriate. I sat him down with me, put my arm around his shoulders and began to explain how Mummy and Daddy had decided that after we got married, were decided that even though we were so happy (carefree, spontaneous, able to sleep-in and did I mention spontaneous?) we really wanted a family. I went on to explain that, if two people reeeeallly love each other, they can use that love to make a baby. I (confidently, forthrightly and not-at-all-struggling-for-words like a bumbling idiot, not at all…) described how Daddy has special teeny tiny seeds called Sperm and Mummy has an Egg and that when we cuddled really tight, with love in our hearts, he gave me some seeds to join with my egg, and that would grow into a baby.
Little Man: Where does Daddy keep his seeds?
Me: (Dear Lord, what is this obsession with details?) Oh, um…well, you know that sac you both have under your penises? That’s where the seeds are kept.
Solemn nod. huge eyes.
Little Man: But why doesn’t he have a picture of us kids on that sac?
(My turn to look bewildered.)
Today, someone said to me , “You’re always smiling, always so happy.” She went on to imply that if only she had a life as perfect as mine, she would also be happy all the time. It got me thinking. I really don’t think I have more reasons than the next person to be smiling and happy. Know why? We are all in this life. We all have blessings and we all have terrible burdens.
Today was the day
your moment of truth.
You’ve been waiting and hoping
to lose this loose tooth.
You could hardly believe it,
you cried (with joy…)
you danced round the garden
screaming “Oh boy!”
In front of the mirror
you examined your teeth,
some gaps on the top
and some underneath.
And then you got busy
writing a note
so that the tooth fairy
would give you her vote.
The number one reason I yell at my kids is mess. They generate mess at a fascinating rate and it infuriates me. I seem to spend all day, every day cleaning up after them.
Today, I paused. I looked around with a fresh eye, and for a minute I didn’t see the mess at all. I saw joy.
The blocks all over the floor held hours and hours of my son’s learning and success. The dress-ups strewn all over the carpet carried my toddler’s giggles and fairy princess dreams. The books, haphazardly stacked in the corner housed cuddles and quiet time, fast running out as my nine year old steamrolls towards adolescence.
Today I didn’t yell.
Today I giggled and cuddled and reveled in the fleeting childhood of my three amazing children.
Dishes can wait.
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I realise more and more that I am the Mum I am because of the mother you were. Here are some of the valuable lessons you’ve taught me along the way.
From the time I was born, magic existed in my life. It was first revealed to me when you magically appeared from behind a fluffy blanket in peek-a-boo. I discovered it again in the tiny, glitter-encrusted note from the tooth fairy and the equally glittery trail that she left to the window. (Even when I realized you were the Tooth Fairy, I continued the pretense for the sheer magic it created in my life.) Magic was in the tree at the bottom of the garden, where the tree elves would enjoy the feast my siblings and I had painstakingly set up for them (they left crumbs and a very polite thank you note, suspiciously in your handwriting). I discovered that I could magically make people smile, just by smiling myself. Together, we discovered my inner-magic – my ability to do things I never knew I could, from traversing monkey bars to speaking solo in front of my entire school. I learnt the magic of envisioning something and making it happen. As I grew up, you showed it to me in more sophisticated ways. You showed be by achieving unachievable things yourself. My stay-at-home mom wrote books, plays, television shows and got them published – you showed me by your actions that I, too, could one day make obstacles disappear. Your mantra was always “Show me where it is written that I cant do this.”
I am a passionate person. So are you. You taught be to stand by what I believe, whether it makes me popular or not. I can’t count the number of times I sat on your lap, howling and crying crocodile tears because I had been ostracized for not doing what the cool kids expected of me. You gave me comfort, let me cry and always told me you were proud that I’d chosen the high road that led to your lap, rather than going against my conscience in order to fit in. I learned that sometimes the cool crowd aren’t that cool…sometimes the cool crowd are really the cowardly crowd. You taught me that not only is it okay to be me, it is, in fact, the most important thing in the world. You were never part of a herd and you are fabulous. I learned that my quirks make me fabulous too. Read the rest of this entry
Baby G: Mum, wake up!
Me: (incoherent grumbling)
Baby G: pleeeeease!
Me: grumble grumble….sun is still sleeping….grumble grumble.
Baby G: C’mon mummy! Lets snuggle and wake up the sun togevuh!
Best invitation ever. We snuggled, drank OJ and with one squinty eye open, I watched the sun ‘wake up’ with my little princess’ hand wrapped tightly around my index finger.
Being woken when it’s still dark. Not so cool. Being told how much you are loved at 5:15am…delicious.
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After 21 months of pregnancy (collectively…although each one did feel approximately that long), haemorrhoids, nausea, varicose veins, false labour (doesn’t get more fun than that), real labour (a whole other post), cracked nipples, repeated public boob exposures and The Battle With The Scale, there is a bright and magnificent light. There is! It makes all the hard work and humiliation worth it. I present to you Kiddy Quips.
You see, those sweet-smelling, exhausting and delicious babies one day start talking. And their perspective on the world is presented to you daily in delicious little conversational nuggets. Even on those days when they have well and truly beaten you, when the day ends and you’re covered in bodily fluids and bits of congealed breakfast – even on those days, just one of these nuggets has the magical power of wiping the slate clean. Today, I will share with you a sampling of my favourite quips gathered over the 400 years (give or take) I have been mum to Miss M, Little Man and Baby G.
Miss M’s nose was running, so she came to me and said: “Mum, can I have a tissue because my nose is sweating”
Miss M: Mom, what’s a vegetarian?
Me: Someone that eats vegetables.
Miss M: Oh, so we are vegetarians because we eat vegetables.
Me: No – we eat vegetables AND meat. There’s a different name for what we are.
Miss M: I know! We’re Australians!