Fridays are For Us....

image credit

For as long as I can remember Hubby has been working 7 days a week.
'The poor man' I hear you thinking, 'He must be exhausted' Yes, yes, I'm sure he is. He works hard to provide for us and we are lucky that he has a good job and therefore I can stay at home and simply 'Be Mum'.

But.....his working so much does not lead to a harmonious life. It leads to a fair amount of stress, for both of us. It also leads to the inevitable. Which is that he is missing out on the kids growing up.

Because they are growing up. Really fast, scarily fast. And I'm a little sad, because once it's gone we can't get it back again.

Mr 11 is leaving childhood. He is so responsible and so mature that sometimes I feel like shaking him and crying 'Just be a kid again!' He helps me to take care of his younger siblings, he cleans up around the house. It is wonderful, but it is also sad. Sad because his young and carefree days are nearly over. He no longer plays whimsical games of make-believe, he no longer sees shapes in the clouds and fairies in rainbows. The adult world is beckoning...and he is beginning to follow.

Miss 8 is losing her selfish streak. She is beginning to see that there are other people in the world besides her. She is starting to care. Yesterday, when she saw that her brother ran dead last in his athletics carnival running race she promptly burst into tears. On our return home she dug out her second place ribbon from last year and gave it to him. It was a beautiful moment. She still has a vivid and exciting imagination, yet she now knows that the world isn't rose-tinted as she previously thought....at night she worries about everyone and everything, she still falls asleep in my arms.

Mr 5 is on overload. He is cramming so much into that little brain of his at school that by the time he gets home he is ready to explode. Running around outside helps him to let off steam, yet a fair amount of that steam gets directed at his sisters and I. His teacher tells me that he puts in 110% with everything he does. So, by the time school is over for the day I pick up the shattered and exhausted shell that is my boy. His temper flares, he cries easily, he falls asleep in the car, he refuses to do his homework, eat his dinner or have a bath. Everything is a struggle. Sometimes, I'm almost relieved when he is asleep for the night. And yet, he can be the kindest, sweetest little boy I know...and his cuddles are truly something wonderful.

Miss 2 is a delight. That difficult and demanding stage of toddler hood seems to be finished and she is starting to become a 'real' little girl. She plays dollies endlessly, chatting away happily in her little made up language to all her charges. She dances to her own beat, kicking her legs in the air, twirling like a little fairy ballerina. She says new words everyday. Today we were playing 'doctors' and she attempted the word 'stethiscope'...with hilarious results. She is the fussiest eater going. Sometimes she seems to exist on only air and yogurt. I worry endlessly, she is two and a half and yet weighs the same as a one year old. She is teeny-tiny, with her little pixie face. Her babyishness is melting away, despite my attempts to prolong it, despite my desperation to hold onto it, my last baby is changing before my very eyes.

And so, with all of this in mind, I finally told my beloved Hubby about my fears. My fear of them growing up without him. And so, he has promised to spend a day with us.... tomorrow, Friday, is our day....and I'm going to make sure we embrace it with both hands, for all of us.




image credit

Thank Goodness for Little Boys....

When Mr 5 was born and they handed his wriggly and screaming little body to me it was apparent quite quickly that he was a boy.

Firstly he had a huge noggin that greatly resembled his Fathers. Secondly he had a penis. Thirdly he proceeded to poop all over me. Such is the charm of boys.

A boy! I was overjoyed. Then, slightly perplexed....What does one do with little boys? Or more to the point how does one deal with a little boy's private parts?

I'm used to girls. For starters I am one. I also grew up in a female dominated household (sorry about that Dad) My first child was a girl. Girls are well, familiar.

Not that girls are easier...not in the slightest.

Admittedly I did have a reasonable amount of experience with my stepson; who I have known and loved since he was three. But he was well out of nappies by that stage, and I generally let his Dad deal with any 'boy issues'

But what to do with a little chap all of my very own?

The first time I scored a face full of wee was a shock to the system....I had no idea boys could pee so far.

Rather than make all the chitter-chatter noises my big girl had made he uttered the one noise continuously 'Brrrrrm, Brrrrrm, Brrrrrrm'

He was greedy and gulped his milk down rapidly. He would tug painfully if I wasn't fast enough.

Despite these few interesting traits he was a delight, a joy. After the debacle filled first few years that was Miss 8's start to life ( which was wonderful...but exhausting) he was easy going, drama free.

He followed a routine like clock work. Ate when he supposed to. Slept when he was tired. He was the only child of mine to sleep through the night before 12 months of age.

He always has been a cuddly, snuggly little thing. Sensitive and cautious...just like his big brother. Sometimes a bit sooky. A temper I can only describe as volatile. A natural ability to care and think of others. One of his favourite things to do is curl up into my lap for a 'snuggle' with his thumb firmly place in his mouth ( I know, I know, still sucking his thumb at five.....we're working on it)

Don't get me wrong; he is a real 'boy's boy'. He loves cars, footy, building things. He idolises his Dad......and Lightning McQueen. He loves wrestling and thinks that girls stuff is 'the worst ever'. Once he spent an entire day outside catching stink bugs......charming.

His head is like a battering ram. He is constantly hitting it on things, bumping it, knocking it. I have had more hospital visits with him than with the other three combined. His head is criss-crossed with little scars from his accidents.

Having boys has been an incredible learning curve. The girls are more stubborn, determined and high maintenance. they push boundaries that the boys wouldn't dream of pushing. I love my girls, they make life sparky and amazing, but it is nice to shift down a gear that is life with boys.

Granted not all boys (or girls) are made the same. But my boys make my world a softer and gentler place. I'm really grateful that mine are the special little men that they are.

You can read my post on my special little girls here.

The Tweenager

We stare at each other across the room. Both of our eyes are narrowed in silent fury. We don't speak, we don't move, we just stare. It's a battle of wills, a fight of the mind....and she's winning. I feel myself deflating like a balloon, curling up in defeat, losing my purpose, my resolve.

Anyone think this would be a typical Mother/Daughter scene. And of course you may have made the assumption that my daughter is well into her teens. Not the case, sorry, and I'm saying sorry more to myself than anyone else. Truth be told my daughter is only 8 years old.

I'm not quite sure exactly when it happened or how it happened. It sort of crept up on me, king hit me when I wasn't looking. My beautiful, smart, funny and adoring child no longer looks at me as a pillar of perfection, she no longer regards me as all that is good and true. (Unlike Mr 5, see Wednesday's post) She sees what is really going on here; me pretending to know what I'm doing....because really I don't have a clue.

Now, I'm not saying that she's running amok. She's perfectly behaved at school, she mostly does what she is told at home. But it is all done with a mix of defiance and attitude. Her eyes roll when I tell a joke, she thinks my fairy stories are passe, and don't get me started on my random dancing and singing around the house......"Mum, you're sooooo embarrassing."

Maybe I'm a little zanier than the usual Mum? Maybe she has every reason to think I'm a touch foolish? But to be truthful every time she scowls at my antics my heart breaks just a little.

We've been through so much together. There was a time when she was all I had and I was everything to her, the centre of her little world just as she was the centre of mine.
She still is of course, my world had just grown to encompass several other little (and big) people.

My first baby is growing up, she starting to set off into the world. I'm not her biggest influence anymore. She no longer thinks I'm the most wonderful person alive. I guess I'm OK with that. I guess that it has to happen sooner or later and she may just be an early riser.
     
There are times though, when it all comes racing back, when she climbs into my lap for a cuddle and I hold her and I capture a moment when she is mine...all mine.
And I remember that time, the time when everything was black and she was the singular ray of sunshine...lighting the way.