4 and 2 and a half.

My children are growing right before my eyes. And yet, every day is Groundhog Day. The same thing, all the time. Each hour, each day flows seamlessly into the next, and because I am the closest person to these tiny humans, I sometimes forget that they are, in fact not going to be like this forever. I want them to grow up, and live and do, and be. But sometimes I am terrified for them, because sadly, futures are not always rosy. And I wish I could keep back just a tiny little bit of baby-ness of my own, for always. Just to snuggle up with every now and then.

I sometimes think life would be much nicer if you could pick and choose which days to live according to your needs. So, for a few days you could be a grown up and go to work, and then when you were really weary of that, you could be a baby for a little while and sleep lots, and be taken care of. When you are old and lonely and tired, you could go back to being a Mummy of small children when you are being touched all the time. I know it wouldn't work of course. But still, you know.

Four

So, being just-recently-four is really hard, I think. My Georgie-girl, she has very definite ideas about things. Her line of 'traffic' in the morning when she plays with her cars must be just so. And when things fall apart as her brother (inevitably) destroys that oh-so-precious row of cars, they fall apart big time. There are so many big emotions encased in that little body. She feels all the feels. And I must admit, often I am not overly empathetic. It's hard when you have a child who acts like everything is an emergency. It gets a bit like the boy who cried wolf some days. I worry for her, I hope that she will be able to manage her feelings okay, in this big feelings-inducing world.

She is working out her world, and oh, the questions! Whoever said the average four year old asks 437 questions a day, was not lying. If I had a dollar for every time I was asked What is for dinner? What are we doing now? What will we do tomorrow? What will we do this afternoon? I would be a very wealthy woman. My girl is into dressing ups in a big way. She loves Frozen and is happiest when she is dressed in her Princess Elsa costume. She has three pairs of dress-up high heels, and we have had countless negotiations about where we can wear them.

She doesn't sleep very well at night. And while, that used to bother me so much, (Because she was such a good sleeper for the first couple of years of her life) I am slowly learning to roll with it. She often creeps into our bed in the middle of the night, and I sometimes end up moving into her bed for some space. Other times I end up squished into her bed with her like a sardine in a can, inhaling her childish loveliness. Mostly I long to have an uninterrupted night's sleep with nobody touching me. But I know, this too shall pass, and one day I will miss it.

She and her brother are either best friends, or fighting like wild cats. Some days they are at each others throats constantly, and it drives me insane, because they are both as bad as each other, constantly teasing, and shouting and goading one another. Someone is always running to me complaining about something their sibling has done. There is a constant battle over who gets to open a door first, or turn off the TV. But the next minute, they are playing happily, giggling to one another, or cuddling up in bed. I really want my kids to take care of each other, and be kind to each other. I think it is so important for siblings to be friends, and I hope my kids always like their family.

Two and a half

Goodness, I like two and a half. Master Charles is busy. I'm pretty sure I said this about Georgie too, but truly, he is one of the busiest little people I have ever known. If he is awake, he is doing. I often say Charlie only has two modes. On or Off. He is a brilliant sleeper, mostly it takes an earthquake to shift him, and generally he only wakes at night for a good reason. But when he is awake, it is all systems go!

Sometimes it is slightly terrifying, finding out what Charlie has been up to. A couple of weeks ago he had an obsession with finding out what was inside of eggs, and I think he managed to crack over a dozen eggs in the space of a week whenever anyone's back was turned. He also scares me sometimes because he thinks he is so very capable. We had to re-secure the drawer where the sharp knives are kept. "I do it!" is a constant catch-cry.

He is always doing. One of his favourite pastimes is digging in the backyard. Poor Shane often gets frustrated when he comes home and sees what Charlie has been up to. Our once pristine lawn now has tiny little piles of dirt and gravel through it, which makes it really fun to mow. But Charlie loves it. He loves to go to 'work' with Daddy. Shane often takes him out with him, when he does boy things, and the little man heart adores it. He has a little high vis shirt that he wears for 'work' and it is so cute.

I love his tiny little deep voice. He is getting so big! But he is good at reminding us that he is "Only little!" He can be quite rough and physical, but he is nice. He is a very kind, considerate little soul for all his rambunctious ways, and I hope that will always be so. He is still a bit of a Mummy's boy, and often when we are out at playgroup or something, he will get upset if he loses track of me. But when Shane is around every inch of him belongs to his Daddy. He just adores his Father, and if Shane is home there is always a Charlie shaped shadow following him.

Four and Two and a half makes for a very full life. And while, sometimes it threatens to overwhelm me, mostly I am very grateful, and I do like it very much.

On a boy and his 'blankie'

My kids are awesome at the moment. Don't get me wrong, they are hard and crazy and annoying. This morning at ladies bible study at one point I wanted to pack up all my gear, shove my kids in the car and go home and cry, because Georgie was having an epic tantrum over biscuits, and I was only just keeping myself together. But still, I'm finding that something has shifted in them, or maybe in me? Either way, I just seem to be noticing so much what cool little people I have been blessed with.

There is so much that has been going on lately that I could share about, but first I will tell you, Charlie has a blankie. And, although I am stressing about what kind of crazed, obsessed, grotty, and what-ON-EARTH-is-that-THING-you-are-holding??? creature we are creating (you know what I mean!) it is still just so darn cute!

I always thought that Charlie was the type of kid that could very easily attach himself to a blanket, or a rug, or a toy or a something. But I was never too keen to help create an attachment. He has always been a bit of a touchy-feely kid, and when he is tired or sad his thumb finds it's way to his mouth, but fortunately he is not that kid with his thumb permanently glued inside his mouth.

When he goes to sleep he always pulls ALL the sheets out from under himself and ends up wrapped inside a little cocoon, fast asleep on his bare mattress. This last few weeks, he has gotten in the habit of going into his room and pulling his sheet off his cot, and then going to sit on the couch and have a bit of a cuddle with it when he is sad or tired. I knew that it was the start of something, but it was really cute, so I decided that it was okay.

 

Besides, what was I going to do about it anyway? On the weekend I was talking with Mum about it, and wondering what the manky sheet would be called. I had accidentally started calling it his sooky-rug, but talking to Mum I decided to stop that quick, because I really didn't want that to be 'the name'.

Then a couple of nights ago, Charlie finished his dinner and went into his bed, and when he came out he was holding the sheet and triumphantly crowing "MY Ankie, MY Ankie!" When I asked him, "Is that your blankie?" He nodded emphatically "My Ankie, My Ankie!" And so, Blankie (or Ankie, depending on who you ask) has joined the family.

I must admit, I am still a bit wary of creating too much of a crutch with the Blankie. Partly because when I was a little girl, I had a 'sheepie' which was a sheepskin rug, that I was very attached to. So much so, that when numerous sheepskins died, and my Mum refused to spend any more money buying new sheepskins, I took to carrying around old, dead ugh-boots. (You see why I have issues with the whole blankie thing now, right?)

But mostly, I don't mind too much. I am trying to create 'rules' with blankie though, for example:

1. Blankie never goes outside the house, this is partly to make sure it never goes anywhere but home, and to make sure he doesn't get too attached to it, and also to keep it clean(er).
2. If Charlie is eating, blankie goes up and out of the way. We do not eat with blankie. This rule provides Shane and I with endless entertainment, as Charlie is often forced into a Sophie's choice type of situation, when he must choose between his two great loves.
3. Blankies are changed and washed regularly. This is to stop Charlie getting attached to one particular sheet, and also, Blankie gets really gross, really quickly.

I must admit, though, my worries aside, It is really really cute, when my little boy is feeling a bit sad, and he comes up to my lap for a cuddle with his blankie.

33 and 15

Lately, this little ole' blog has been a bit of a me me me show. So I thought I'd catch up on where the kids are at the moment.

My Georgie, she is getting so big! She is 33 months old now, nearly 3 years! She loves 'dressing up' and when we go out anywhere, she has to have her sunglasses and her 'pretty necklace.' She is such a girl, and I love it.

 

She is such a helper too, and she is just so funny. Little things she does, like for instance, when I tell her that when playschool is finished she needs to turn the T.V off... she will go and turn the television off when her program finishes, and the come to me crying her eyes out "More T.V Mummy?" and yet she still does what she is told! It is so sweet, and I smile a secret smile nearly every time she does it.

 

Sometimes she and her brother fight so much! They just scratch and pinch, and pull hair, and bite, and wrestle, until I am about ready to scream! I don't know how many times I have uttered the phrase "Stop fighting!" And I'm sure I will say it a few hundred thousand more times yet. Mostly though, they are pretty good friends. I love watching them be siblings, it makes my heart happy.

I have put the two of them into the same room to sleep, and it has gone really well. It surprised me, because I wasn't necessarily anticipating it to be good, especially because Georgie doesn't always sleep very well. But I think that because Charlie is such a deep sleeper it has been okay. Georgie actually seems to be sleeping better now that she has company in her room!

Oh, my boy. I love this kid to bits! He is at such a delightful age. 15 months is full on.  Discovering and learning and growing all the time. He is getting so big! He is strong and fearless and he only stops to eat and sleep. I often think an adequate description of Charlie is 'adventure on legs.' He is starting to talk so much, and loves his 'Dad-dad-dad, Mum-mum-mum,' and 'pup-pup-puppy!' he is amazingly eloquent, despite his lack of words. He can express himself beautifully, and he hides nothing. With Charlie, you know exactly how he is feeling. I hope I can always read him so well.

 I am really glad I get to be Mum.

I love him so.

I could share and tell so much about Christmas, and our beach holiday.... but for now, can we please discuss something terribly important?

In a very few days, my baby boy will be one, and I am devastated! I don't even know how this is possible. This year has been one of the longest of my life. But my time with Charlie has gone by so fast. I adore that boy with every fibre of my being. I am fiercely passionate and protective of my son in a way I never imagined possible. I think it's been a bit unexpected because I wasn't too sure about having a boy child. But I am in love with him and I never imagined it would be like this.

I cling to him, in a way I never did with Georgie. Partly I think, because with Georgie I didn't realise just how quickly it would go. But I look at my amazing, capable, independent, two and a half year old... and she grew so darn fast. I think I was probably a bit preoccupied with pregnancy when Georgie was this age as well.

Also, if I am being completely honest here. I think for me, there is a knowledge that my boy will not be mine for very long. All too soon, he is going to be chasing his Daddy around, and then after that it will be girls, until eventually one day it will be one girl, and then he won't be mine anymore. I want it to happen. I know it must, and I would hate it if it didn't. But I understand that our relationship will change, and he will never need me as much he does right now. (This probably has a lot to do with the fact that I am contemplating weaning him right now too!)

With Georgie, it is different. I think a girl's relationship with her mother is a bit more unchanging, and constant. I feel like Georgie will always be mine, she will always need her mama. But with Charlie I get a bit scared that I will become obsolete. I am friends with my mother and am confident of being friends with my daughter. I am much less confident with Charlie. I guess I have seen and experienced really great examples of girls being friends with their mums. It is much less common to see a man having a good relationship with his Mother.... but I am going to work so hard to try and be Charlie's friend. For always.

He, more than anyone else, has kept me going this year. He has been the easiest baby. He is the baby mothers pray that they will have. I have been able to enjoy him in a way I never managed to enjoy Georgie. (No new-parent terror.) I cannot stop adoring him. This is also my absolute favorite age. From 9 months to about 14 months, I think children are amazingly fun. It was my favorite age group at work.

His gurgling chuckle. The way he crawls when he has something in both hands, or the way he crawls, stiff-legged, when he is naked on the grass. His beautiful pout. The way he sucks his thumb. The way he stands up, and claps for himself. The way he could walk if he wanted to, but chooses not to, because he is cautious. His cheeky grabbing hands.The way he and his sister play. The way he absolutely idolizes his Daddy. He is open and affectionate and everything he should be.

It is amazing and wonderful and terrifying and heart-wrenching and heart-warming and intense and awe-inspring and gratifying and exhausting and beautiful and complete, being this boy's mother.

I love him so.

Happy birthday my Charlie bug.

Love, Mama.

29 and 11

I realised the other day that I haven't written too much lately about the kids. Which is a shame, because they are pretty great. So I thought I'd do an update on where my two cheeky monkey's are at lately.

Georgie. Where do I start? She is almost 2 and a half. She is bright and clever and independent. She is always a couple of steps ahead of me, and I swear some days I can just see the wheels turning in her little head. She is such a little mama. She 'mothers' poor Charlie to death at times, but she is also so incredibly helpful, and such a little mimic, and is terribly funny!

 

 She is on her way to being toilet trained, and wears undies almost all of the time now, and is only still in nappies when she sleeps. And oh, how she loves to swim! Every time we step foot in a pool I get comments about how good at swimming she is, how much she loves it, or how enthusiastic she is. I swear she is part dolphin. We have just started swimming lessons this term and she loves it! She is one of the very youngest in her class, but she holds her own with the bigger kids. She is getting very capable in the water now, and my only trouble is making sure she is not too capable. She does have a tendency to just jump in, whether someone is ready to help her or not! But she is a good little swimmer.

 

 She loves routine. She loves to dance, and is turning into a little chatterbox. She is also turning into a real little girl, loves to dress in 'pretty dresses' and is getting so beautiful. She is my girl, and she is lovely.

And Charlie. How I adore my boy! He is the most awesome little baby boy in the world!

He is so sweet, and cuddly. But he can also be a little ball of mischief as well. He is 11 months old now, (almost 1!) outgrowing a lot of his soft baby chubbiness and he is starting to get a lot more muscular. He is standing up on everything and his favourite thing to do is push around kitchen chairs, walking behind them and making a tremendous noise. He will be walking soon. He also LOVES  food with a passion, especially big people food!

 He is a practically perfect baby and has been sleeping the night through since he was about 6 months old. He has basically ruined me for another baby, should we ever have one. He tends to be quite cheerful most of the time, and rarely gets grumpy. Mind you, when he is grumpy he will sometimes hit and pull hair and lash out a little. His philosophy seems to be "If I'm unhappy, I'm going to tell the whole world about it and make them unhappy too!" It will be interesting to see if he sticks with that one as he gets older! It's definitely a good thing he is rarely cranky! Before I had him I wasn't too sure about being a mummy of boys, but he has made me so incredibly grateful to God for a son. Because I love this kid to bits.

We have been jogging along steadily. We are hanging out for holidays, and a break. This last week has seen a bit more limping (it's been a rough week). But for the most part, we are doing okay. I am doing much better, and my bad days are not so bad. And, though we have our struggles and our difficulties, life with these guys is pretty good.

My children are not me.

You know something that sounds a little silly, but is true nonetheless? At times, I kind of forget that my children are not me.

They start off as little tiny creatures that are inside of you, so close, that it feels like the are a part of you. That emptiness after you've given birth, and suddenly there is no being inside of you.... it's a bit bittersweet. It's exhilarating, sure, to be so light all of a sudden. Yet it's also just a bit sad too, hollow. But the baby, the baby is so close. It still is a part of you. The baby still is you. Your milk nourishes it's tiny body, keeps it alive. Your child needs your touch, your scent. You are still one.

But then over time, it changes. They start to become independent little beings. Who have their own minds, their own desires, their own needs, their own feelings, and their own thoughts.

My children are not me.

I mean, if I wanted to, I could try and raise them as little carbon copies of myself. Not allow them to question, or think. Stifle their thoughts and feelings and force them to be something they are not. But that isn't what I want for them.

And so, they do things that are completely contrary to things I would do. They make choices that are completely impossible for me to understand. They may go off and live lives for themselves that I would never have imagined.

They are my tiny people, yes. But they are people. They are not me. And it's kind of weird to remember that. They won't be my babies for long. I have to let them make mistakes. Make their own choices. I have to cherish and take care of them. And help them learn to be whoever they are.

 Heck, the world's already got me. It needs Georgina. It needs Charles.

And that's even better.

Because those two little people are awesome.

Linking this post up with Grace today! (It's been a long time since I've posted on Friday!)

Healing

You don't get to choose your damage. Abuse, trauma, accidents, sickness, disease, death of a loved one. You don't know what's going to happen, or how you are going to handle it until it happens.

You do have one choice though.

How you deal with it.

You can allow it to dictate your life, make decisions for you. Or you can use it to shape your future. You can choose healing. The pain of healing can be awful. But it's better than living with the pain of the damage.

Cancer has to be cut out. Bones have to be re-broken to be set properly sometimes. Burns need dressing. Damaged limbs need amputation.

After writing yesterday's post I was a bit of a mess. I just felt horrid, and was quite upset. It wasn't until later when I was doing the dishes that I started putting the pieces together.

On Monday I was grocery shopping with the kids. As we were walking up an aisle I spotted the student midwife who was present when Charlie was born. I watched her face, a face that was etched into my memory.... but not a trace of recognition flashed into her eyes. Funny. It was one of the most important events of my life, but just another day at work for her.

Charlie is almost 9 months old. I fell pregnant with Charlie when Georgie was 9 months old.

As I was doing the dishes I had so many memories flash in my head. Of my labour with Charlie.

It was.... rough.

Not the pain, not the birth. But the labour. In my entire life I have never felt so bad. It was a completely degrading, humiliating experience. I had pushed it down, and pushed it away. And over time, I think the hurt kind of compounded a bit.

It's ironic really. Georgie's birth was filled with intervention, when she arrived Georgie was nowhere near as healthy, and whole as Charlie. She was small, jaundiced, she didn't feed well. Charlie on the other hand, was born completely intervention free. I didn't even have any pain medication. He was a great big healthy baby, he knew how to feed. He was practically perfect. Yet his is the birth that has left the largest scar.

It could have been worse. So much worse. The actual birth was really quite good. And the labour was short. But it was not good. I'm sure many women have experienced worse, and I ache for them. Maybe what happened to me wouldn't have bothered someone else.

But it hurt me.

You want to know something? Shane has found the two under two thing a bit hard at times. We both have, really. We always planned for a big-ish family. But he jokes about "No more babies!" I hate it. Hate it. But not because I'm scared that he will want to stop having children, and I will want to keep going. I'm scared because I think he will want to have more. And I might not be able to face going back.

I'm really glad that Charlie was not my first baby. He might have been an only child. I'm grateful that I had Georgie, so I know that the birthing experience can be a good one.

I'm pretty sure I will go back. Not for a good long while yet- we are busy enough right now! But it's going to be hard when we do.

I'd do it again, for Charlie, in a heartbeat. He was absolutely, positively, 100% worth it. I adore the snot out of my boy, and I am so, so glad that despite all the yuckiness that is Post Natal Depression, I have never had trouble bonding with him. Ironically, it was the midwife's rudeness that helped me forge a bond with my boy.

Worth it.

But I'm still angry, so angry about it all. As I was sobbing over the dishes I remembered hearing from a friend that that same midwife, the midwife who made me feel so low, is pregnant. In my anger I said "I hope she has an awful time! And gets hurt as much as she hurt me!"

Wow.

Where did that come from? Have I been carrying that bitterness this whole time? I've still got a long way to go to forgive her. But I'm getting there.
I'm working on healing.

I pull the pain out of it's little box every now and then. The intensity of it knocks me over a little. But each time you examine the hurt, embrace it, and own it.... it gets a little bit smaller when you put it away again. And in time, I will be able to put it away for good. The monster will be small enough to tame, and it won't be able to claw it's way up to the surface, causing pain, anymore.

Waiting

We've been a little busy round these parts lately. Last weekend saw us off to the city.

Shane went off to ride bikes with my brother-in-law. He has become a bit of a biking enthusiast, and on Sunday he did a 50km mountain bike race. He had never actually ridden 50km before, was getting over a cold, and wasn't quite sure if he could actually do it... but he did! I am just a little bit proud of him.

Buggered... also, hot!

The small girl did her EEG test and she was an absolute angel. She sat and read books, and we sang songs, and played with puzzles for a whole hour while she had lots of wires stuck to her head. We won't have the results for two weeks, and they still may not show anything... but in the meantime she has had no more seizures, so we'll just wait and see how we go. She has still been very unwell though, and this week has been one filled with cuddles (which is so unlike her) and she has not been sleeping very well at all, which means I am also incredibly tired. But she does seem to be acting more like herself today.

 

We spent a lot of time wandering around beautiful spring gardens while we were away, and were lucky enough to be stopped by a local newspaper photographer while we were taking some photos for ourselves, and he took a couple of beautiful shots. Georgie and Shane even ended up on the front page of Monday's paper!

I am a little bit in love with a couple of those pictures. Who knew we could look so good?

Hopefully, soon they will be able to figure out what is going on with Georgie, and we can get life back into a more comfortable rhythm.  We are happy, and everything's fine. But I know I have an awful lot of nervous tension just beneath the surface. I feel like I'm waiting for the knife to fall, or for the other shoe to drop. Or something.

This morning I found myself lying on the floor being a mummy-shaped jungle gym for my two monkeys. As Georgie bounced on my tummy, and I laughed (all the while being hyper-aware of the baby boy being who very close to biting my leg) I couldn't figure out why I wasn't happier, more content, and I couldn't quite keep the tears from forming.

I don't know what I am waiting for, what needs to happen. But I wish very much it would happen soon.

Mars and Venus

 
I love my boy. He is such a content little guy and he seems to have such a good nature. But there's one thing that really threw me when I had him.

One day he will be a man.

I started thinking about the fact that he is a male, and the way the world will treat him, and it made me sad. And angry. I never really thought about it before. But the truth is, it's not a man's world anymore. It's a woman's world now.

Now before anyone comes after me with a torch and pitchfork, just listen. I know that in the past women have not been treated equally. I know that in many third world countries, gender equality still does not exist and often women are mistreated because of their gender. But generally, in first world countries, I worry that the pendulum may have swung too far the other way.

I think it first started for me when Charlie was just born, and the midwife who helped me with him on the first night, started chastising him gently for not feeding well. She kept on saying 'A big boy like you should know how to feed properly.' And I remember thinking, he's just a baby, they all need to learn how to feed. What difference did it make that he was a big boy?

All of a sudden, in our culture, it seems to be okay to put men down. It is deemed socially acceptable to run a man down, or make fun of him for his masculine qualities. But so many times, if a man even jokes about feminine weakness, he essentially puts a target on his head. It seems what's good for the gander is not what's good for the goose (I will however, make one concession here in regards to teasing men; Man-flu).

Don't get me wrong, I don't necessarily hate feminism. I think that gender-equality is important. But I do not support anything that boosts itself by putting others down. I cannot approve of a feminism that promotes itself through the emasculation of men.

I don't agree with those who say women are better than men. In my opinion, men and women are equally valuable.  I don't need to prove my worth by showing that I can do everything a man can do, because I can't. I'm not a man. But I am a woman, who plays a vital role in this world, as a woman. Not as a woman trying to be as good as a man. I already am just as good as a man, just in a different way.

When the midwife said what she did about Charlie, I was conscious of a sense of wanting to protect him. I want to shield him from those who will seek to put him down because he is male. He will be my son, to love and train and teach. I want to help him understand that there is nothing wrong with being a man, and I want to help him become the best man he can be. And I really want to help him understand how important it is that everyone is treated equally.

Linking up with Jess, at Diary of a SAHM, for I blog on Tuesdays.

this? it's pretty darn good

So today I wanted to do lots of things. I was hoping to wash clothes, get my house a little more organised, unpack, clean, and catch up with a wonderful friend of mine who has a new baby that I haven't seen yet. I also really wanted to do some blog-catching up while the kids had their daytime naps, because I've got so much to tell you!

I wanted to write about our great week in the city, about how much fun we had, and all the good and bad things that happened. I especially wanted to tell you all about the kids first plane trip and ferry ride, and the fact that on our first night back, both kids slept for 12 hours straight! (yes, it was awesome).

But instead, the little guy decided that today is a day for cuddles. And honestly? He is just so delicious at the moment, that I don't mind. Not one little bit. He is so amazingly cute right now, and I loves him hard!

Dear Me....

Dear Me,

Relish your life. I know that it is hard at times. I know that sometimes it feels like this is all too much work, and it is never going to end. But the truth is that you are living the dream, and this will pass all too quickly.

Squeeze those chubby little baby legs. Kiss those beautifully soft cheeks. Listen to that beautiful gurgly laugh. Imprint that girl's stunning smile into the very depths of your memory.

One day they will be grown up, and it will all be gone. I know that it is hard being a Mummy all of the time. But cherish the fact that you can be a Mummy all of the time. Be grateful that you can belong to them exclusively. Be thankful that you have the freedom to enjoy this gift of childhood.

Even though you are so, incredibly tired and you feel like you are never going to get yourself back again.... remember that you will. One day your body will be yours again. One day they will no longer belong to you like this, and you will miss being their everything. One day they will have problems that you cannot fix with a kiss and a cuddle.

Remember that some people cannot have children. That they are desperate for the thing you take for granted. Remind yourself that what you have is precious.... and it can be lost. Hold on tight to those little hands. Glory in the wonder that is motherhood. Try not to yell, or scream, or lose your temper. This time is too short to be unhappy. But if you do... forgive yourself, and move on. Nobody is perfect, and what you are doing is very hard. It's okay to fail and struggle.

You don't have to enjoy every minute of it. Changing dirty nappies is not fun. Cleaning is not fun. Rocking and cuddling upset children when your eyes are hanging out of your head is not fun. Chasing a cheeky toddler down the aisles of Target while holding a grumpy baby is not fun. But enjoy the good moments. And remember that the bad ones will be over soon, even though it doesn't feel like it.

Above all else..... Love them. Love them extravagantly. And remember this. So much of this is fleeting, even though at times it doesn't feel like it. But you will never get it back. Don't waste it. Embrace it. Own it. Don't let yourself get in the way of the joy that is being their Mummy.

                                                                                                                     Love, Me.

My cup? It runneth over...

I am living the haze of the sleep-deprived, hormonal, moody, exhausted, slightly neurotic, just-had-a-baby, Mother. I have so much to do, and am so tired, and I should really be sleeping instead of sittting here at the computer. But I just wanted to say this:

I am beyond grateful. For these people, my people. Shane, Georgie and Charlie. My world is so small, but so precious. At times it feels like they are taking everything from me... but I wouldn't change this. It is absolutely priceless. These days, although they may be hard, are what it's all about.

I am so glad for what I have.

I am also so grateful for the people around me who are keeping me up. My husband, who is doing his best, even though he bears the brunt of my hormonal outbursts. My sisters, who are helping in so many ways. And my Mum. She is doing so much for our little family, and so much for me. I am so grateful for the Mother I was blessed with. I hope I can be such a Mother one day. She has just been taking care of me, in so many ways. I cannot thank her enough. Words just can't express it.

To everyone who is helping keep out little family going at the moment,

Linking up with Kate for Thankful Thursdays.

So much to say.....

So where to start? I have so much to say and so much going on in my head that it's a little hard to get this all out coherently, but I'm going to try.

We are home. And I am so glad for that. I am so grateful that my little family is now a bit bigger. I am so glad that Georgie has been so good for her Daddy while I was gone. She hardly seemed to miss a beat, (which, I must admit, hurt a little) but I would much rather have her cope really well than really badly! She is fascinated by her little brother, and I can see all the little wheels turning inside her head trying to process how he fits with us. But for the most part, she is being a champion.

Charlie has been fantastic since we have been home. He has just been sleeping, and sleeping and sleeping. Which I'm finding a bit odd to be honest. But he hardly slept at all in hospital, so I think we are making up for it now. I am so glad that he is okay.

He is lovely. He is a very big boy. But it is big... not fat. He has huge hands and feet, and he is so long! He is well covered without being chubby and he is just absolutely delicious. He is in 000 clothes, but I don't think he will stay in them for long. He is the size Georgie was at about 8 weeks! I think he is going to be a big man like his Daddy.... it's odd to think of him towering over me one day! I look at him and can't believe that just a few days ago he fit in my tummy. He is feeding so well. It made such a nice surprise, because from the word go, he just seemed to know exactly what to do when it came to feeding.... such a change from Georgie who gave me so much trouble in the beginning. I am so grateful for that.

Shane is doing okay. He is terribly tired and is a bit stressed out between so much going on here and a lot going on at his work at the moment. But hopefully things can settle for him soon and he can relax a little.

I'm doing okay too. I have been pretty exhausted. The labour took a lot out of me this time. Plus, I didn't get very much sleep at all in the hospital. My body amazes me. It has bounced back quite well. I continue to be blown away by the way we are created. God is surely an amazing God. I am still sore, but I am loving the fact that I didn't need stitches after Charlie was delivered (a miracle!). My back has been quite painful, and I have to be careful as my tummy muscles have torn a bit, but hopefully with time everything will heal.

And the birth? That part I don't really want to talk about much. I had planned on recounting it all as I did with Georgie's. But honestly, I just want to block it out. Suffice to say it was probably the single most intensely painful experience in my life. It's funny, so many people have told me I have done an amazing job, but I just don't feel it. I feel a little odd now about the title of the last blog post. Because I actually don't feel that way at all. I just feel pretty awful about the whole thing. It wasn't all terrible, the beginning and the very end of the labour went well. But in the middle I felt totally helpless and lost and so incredibly vulnerable and I just don't want to remember any of it. I had a young midwife with me, who didn't have a lot of experience. I ended up trying to push even though I knew it didn't feel right when I was only dilated to 8 centimeters, and it took Shane taking control, making them check me, and then him calling my Mum to come in for things to get back to okay. Fortunately though, the delivery went very well.

I also ended up pretty shattered after being left alone with Charlie for almost all of the night after he was born. I hardly got any sleep for the first 3 nights and so I've been pretty exhausted. The whole experience has been a bit damaging. I didn't realise how wrong it all was, and how badly it affected me until talking about it with my sister Jenny, who is a nurse. She got very upset and angry about it, and said it should not have happened, and that helped. It made me feel better to know that it was not okay. But..... Charlie is here, he is perfect, and it is over. God has seen us through this and somehow he has managed to help me out with so many of the really important things. So I am grateful.

This little face? It's worth it.

He's here! (alternatively titled I am woman, hear me roar....)

Charles arrived at 11:52pm on Tuesday night. He is doing very well and weighed 10 pounds 7 ounces (!) and was 54cm long. He was delivered naturally with no pain medication (!) and, (pause for effect) did no damage to his mother who is all kinds of shattered and proud and stunned and amazed and grateful. She has a thousand and one posts to write, and things to say, but for now is just being Mummy.