A letter to my boys: Four

Darling boys, you are four years old. Four. FOUR. In some ways, it feels like the blink of an eye. In others, motherhood feels like all I've ever known.

You have grown - of course you have. It's inevitable. In many ways you have changed so much. But, yet, you remain the same. Your essence, your you-ness, is resolute and unwavering. You are as you always have been - since the moment of your birth - and as you always will be, too, I suspect.

Since having you two, there is no doubt in my mind that we are all born with our personalities imprinted firmly, deeply in our souls. Our job as your parents is to shape your values, your beliefs, and to teach you how to respond, react and moderate. But we have realised there is no shaping of your personalities in our job description. They are far stronger and deeper than our influence.

Roc, you have started to show some remarkable self-control. Of course, you're still a four-year-old, who freaks out at random stuff like dropping your water bottle in the car, but in other ways, you are mature beyond your years. You take deep breaths to calm down. You can snap yourself out of moods. You make decisions about how you will react to a situation. You sing gentle songs to calm Hamish down if he needs it (and me, too, if truth be told!).

You love your family deeply and intensely. You aren't afraid to tell us how much you love us, and you are an incredibly affectionate little boy. You need kisses and cuddles - they right your world. 

You're a bit of a kooky little thing. Things have to be 'just so'. Everything has to be buttoned all the way up, socks perfectly straight, trousers pulled up, laces evenly laced. You have uniforms, or 'outfits' as you call them, for everything, and your clothes have rules. Your blue waffle long sleeve shirt is only worn with your red vest. Your green stripy shirt with the red elbow patches is only for parties. Your skinny jeans are for 'good', and your 'work' shirts are for weekend breakfasts. Underpants and socks must match. Precision in all things. Even your dancing.

You are razor sharp, and super smart. Which isn't surprising; your daddy is the smartest person I have ever met. You do everything yourself, and I'm guilty of treating you as a child much older than four. You are just so independent. I can't remember the last time I had to help you get dressed, or put the toothpaste on your brush, or wash you in the bath. You set the table. Pack the dishwasher. Make your bed, even. You've even started doing up your own carseat seatbelt (which of course I check once you've had your go). 

I sometimes wonder how on earth I'm going to keep up with you, and I certainly wonder how we're going to keep you entertained and stimulated for another 18 months before you start Prep. 

You are capable beyond your years, and I think I forget that actually, you're still a toddler. Still a baby, really. My baby.

I love you darling one. Adore you, in fact. I'm so intensely proud of you. And I am in awe of you, too. I'm so lucky to be your mama. Thank you for making me a mum. It's the biggest privilege of my life.

And my darling Hamey-bear. I am SO proud of you. You have taken this year in your stride. You've been dragged from physio, to paediatrician, to neurologist, to speech pathologist. You charm all of them the second you meet them. I was reading the letter from your neurologist just tonight, and in it he said "Hamish is a delightful 3.5 year old boy". And you are. You are so delightful. And delighted. And enamoured of life.

But aside from all the hypotonia stuff (which, thankfully, will be just a minor consideration in your daily life), you are hilarious. And beautiful. You see the world for its beauty.

We sometimes play 'doctors'. Whenever you stick the pretend thermometer in my ear, you withdraw it, shake it, have a look and announce cheerfully, "You're healthy mama!" You're an optimist. You're not melodramatic. I love that about you.

You're our funny one. The joker. Our little comedian. You're always pulling crazy faces, hiding, pretend-falling, making up silly words to songs, making up crazy dances, putting things in odd places to await our reaction, and generally making us burst into laughter. 

You are so gentle, too, and full of love. You kiss me constantly and call me "pwetty mama, breutiful mama." Sometimes, you are just so overwhelmed with love and happiness that you squeak! We call them your love squeaks, and they are the cutest things in the world.

Despite being the less-talkative twin (make no mistake, you still talk a LOT, but Roc is a force to be reckoned with), you are quietly confident. You aren't shy in front of strangers, and you thrust your arm out to 'shake hands' when you meet new people. I love that you seem to take each new interaction as an opportunity to make a new friend. 

Everyone who meets you loves you. You are the sweetest little boy, with the softest little cheeks. Your eyes are gentle, kind and deep. They reflect love. And people are drawn to you. They always have been. You are one of this world's treasures.

I love you, darling boy. So so much my heart swells up and my chest gets tight, and my throat starts to hurt and my eyes well. It's physical, this parenting thing. I didn't know it would be this beautiful.

As always, my darling ones, all the love in the universe,
Your mama

Mother's Day

Being a mama is the greatest privilege. I adore my boys. They complete my life.

I've been very blessed in this journey. I've never wished it away. I've never regretted it. I've never felt scared, or lost, or paralysed by fear.

Some days, of course, are harder than others, of course they are. But many, many days are blissful. Millions of moments are pure joy. On the whole, I haven't found motherhood hard, or horrible, or relentless, or thankless.

It's hard to admit this out loud sometimes. I'm always so conscious that everyone's experience is different. Everyone's experience is their own. And many many mothers suffer terribly from PND, anxiety, and lack of support.

There, but for the grace of God, go I.

Every day I am grateful.

Thank you my darling boys for making me a mama.

I love this photo. T caught us mid-just-doing-what-we-do.

This is a snapshot of my life. Of my love. Of my loves.

Cray cray

Roc, last week, when at our local shopping centre, you needed to go to the loo. So, off we went. Into the ladies.

You looked at the black picture synonymous with female amenities the world over, and asked what it was.

I explained it was the female bathrooms, and you could tell because the triangle was supposed to be a skirt.

You were quite perplexed at this, and wanted me to confirm that boys wear skirts too. I said they could, but in all honesty, it wasn't something you would see around that often, for no particularly good reason.

You came back - quick as lightening - with "But what about in Scotland mama? Boys wear skirts in Scotland. They're called kilts."

Yes, darling, that's right. They do!

"And in ummm mustin? countries? Is it mustin? They have dresses there."

Yes, darling, in muslim countries, men do wear long clothing that looks a bit like a dress.

"And in Fiji and other places? Boys have skirts there."

Yes, my darling, you amazing boy. They do.

"Ohhhhh, so it's just in Australia that it's cray-cray."

Yes, my darling. It is.

I love you, my beautiful, inquisitive, clever little three year old. I hope your open-mindedness remains untarnished by this cray-cray world.

Three and a half

My darling Hamish,

You have grown up so much, it seems, lately. You are walking differently. And talking like a grown up (still with the most adorable of lisps).

You have started standing your ground and challenging boundaries. You're still a soft and gentle soul, but you've found your voice. I'm happy that you're learning to stand up for yourself. It's so important. We just need to work on the delivery a little.

You have a beautiful capacity for creativity, and I love listening to your darling voice sing-songing stories that you have plucked from the depths of your imagination.

You can draw! You draw the most remarkable, quirky little people. I want to hang them up all over the house.

You have been poked, and prodded, pulled and paraded around doctors, physios and specialists this year, and your smile has never once wavered. You always see the good in people, and they in you.

You have a special sparkle in your eye that everyone you meet can see. You have a beautiful spirit and it shines straight out of your beautiful face and lights up everyone around you.

You still won't eat much meat.

We love you, darling baby boy of my heart.

All the love in the universe,

Your Mama

Ah, my Roc

You race towards me, full steam ahead, and throw your arms around my legs: "I just love you mum".

Laughter erupts from your elfin face as frequently as tears and tantrums.

You are ferociously independent, and remarkably capable. You are able to competely dress yourself, make your bed, set the table, and today you served up your own weet-bix.

But despite all this indepedence, you're still not entirely comfortable being alone, or playing independently. You NEED your peeps around you.

You are thriving at kindy, and I think you're just a little bit bossy. Apparently you are a stickler for the rules, try your very very hardest to do everything just.so and glow and grow with every little piece of praise that comes your way. In that way you are just like me. I was exactly like that as a child, and actually, I still am I think.

You talk. My goodness you TALK. You never stop, except when you're asleep, of course. Daddy would say you get that from me, too.

Physically, you're a little version of your daddy. Long and lean. Platinum blonde.

You've shot up recently. I can't believe how tall you are! Up, but not out. Your tiny little body is lithe, lean and looks like it's carved of marble.

And we love you. So so much. Did you know you sing like an angel?

All the love in the universe,

Your mama

Boys, you're three. THREE!



My babies are three, and I adore them. I feel very very lucky to be their mama. When I was pregnant, and even since, people have told me that parenting can be hellish and for little reward. I just don't agree. I adore it. I think it's the biggest privilege in my life. Sure, bed time is a circus every.single.night, and my patience wears thin [sometimes more than sometimes], but I never wish I was anywhere else. I've never wished it away. I'm lucky x

Roc,

You're three, going on 34. In the weeks leading up to your birthday, you were telling anyone who'd listen that you were "two now, but next week, at my birfday, I will be sirty-four". You just want to be like your daddy.

You are still the world's biggest talker.  You narrate every minute of the time you're awake. Your language is extraordinary in fact. You know words, concepts and ideas that make me gasp out loud in shock. You're a rapid visual learner, so you can read lots of sight words and are obsessed with spelling. You read everything in sight and want to know what it says if it's a word you don't know.

Your tantrums ended almost as rapidly as they began (thank goodness), and you are generally a happy, delighted and delighful little boy.

You sneak into our bed at about 6am each day for snuggles and you are just beside yourself with happiness when you do. You curl up close with your daddy and I hear you whisper "I love you" to him. Then you creep across to me, put your tiny hands on my cheeks and tell me you love me too. Then you fall into a happy slumber with a smile on your face. You are a very very affectionate little boy.

You're big now too. Really big. So tall! I look at you tearing around the back garden and find it so hard to believe that when you were first born all ten of your fingers wrapped around the very tip of my pinkie finger. You were so so tiny.

You adore singing. And you can sing! Whenever we're out and about people come up to you and tell you you have the voice of an angel and it's such a delight to hear you singing without any self-consciousness. Your favourite tune (which is rapidly becoming my least favourite, if I'm honest, because it's all I hear!) is the Morningtown Ride by The Seekers. You love it. You even sing it every day you're at kindy for your class.

You are so like me in so many ways - eager to please, a memoriser, a chatterbox, always trying to make people smile, just a little bit bossy, and more than a bit OCD (remind me to tell you about the blankets!). And in so many physical ways you're so much like your daddy. You're a version of him in miniature. Like twins :)

You don't like being alone. But we're working on getting you to enjoy 'self-directed play' (or so they call it).

We are immensely proud of you, you chirpy, clever, happy, singing angel.

All the love in the universe,
Your Mama

My darling Hamey-bear,

Happy third birthday, angel-boy.

I just adore you, my baby. You are so soft, and so gentle. You're always ready for a cuddle and there's nothing better than feeling your precious soft cheek against mine.

You are obsessed with Thomas and his friends. You know all their names - every single last one. You know if they're "steamies" or "diesels". You know which ones need what coal. You know which have tenders and which have carriages. Which 'huff', and which 'puff'.

You take a collection with you to bed every single night. Some nights, I'm surprised there's any room for you at all. But you insist. And later on, just before he goes to bed himself, your daddy sneaks in and removes them all from your gentle grasp and puts them on your bedside table.

You're perfectly content with your own company, and happy to play in your own imagination. You love books and insist on two stories every night. One from a book, and one "from your mouth mummy". And then you need a song. You usually pick the rainbow song, but sometimes you want something from deep within your own imagination and then mine gets a work-out!

You're a little chatterbox and you're starting to give Roc a run for his money. You have started asserting yourself more and more and simply shouting over the top of him if he doesn't stop to let you get a word in!

And even thought you're so big now - THREE! - you're still my baby. You come in for cuddles at 5am every morning, which I know I will miss when you stop. You're a wriggler, so not much more sleeping happens at my end after that, but you just need me to be snuggled up against you. "Mummy tucks" are the best thing in your world I think.

If you ask Daddy though, I think he'd say that when you launch yourself at him, throw your arms around his neck, and squeeeeeeeze out the biggest hug you can muster, that nothing can beat it.

I love you so much my kind, gentle, sweet, funny little boy.

All the love in the universe
Mamaxxx

The Great Escape of 2012

Boys, boys, boys, boys.....

Oh, where do I begin?

You escaped! Out of your bedroom, out of the house, through the fence, and up the street onto the main road.

You were going to catch the bus to the rugby, apparently.

You were well prepared for your grand adventure. Rocky, you had Daddy's rugby season ticket lanyard strung around your neck. Hamey you had Daddy's QLD Reds cap on, and his ROLEX wrapped around your upper arm. You didn't want to be late, obviously.

Rocky, you were covered - no, smothered - in my tinted moisturiser. "Suncream" you said, so you wouldn't get bitten by the sun. Still in your Thomas the Tank Engine sleepysuits though - you know, the ones with the feet in.

And you were so determined! You pushed our letterbox out of its fence mounting and onto the footpath to create your escape hatch. God knows how you shimmied your way through the 'window' left behind.

Look:

I'm serious. You pushed that baby onto the footpath and somehow crawled out and managed the not-insignificant drop to the grass. How, how, how? And that scratch at the top? That's the only evidence of the entire terrifying incident.

A very kind and lovely stranger found you both nearing the bus stop and kindly returned you home after you (thankfully) were able to tell her where you lived. Full address. Perfectly recited. You also explained to her that you were just going to the rugby. And you had been "wery wery careful of cars". Sweet Lord.

I, of course, have been feeling like Mother of the Year. I'm sure it won't be the first time.

You two are brothers-in-arms. Partners in crime. Your daddy and I are in for a wild ride.

Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers. Thank goodness you knew your address. Thank goodness we have taught you to stay away from the road. Thank goodness you are safe.

[I'm predicting that a long time in the future when we are re-telling this story for the bazillionth time - probably at your 21st birthdays - that I just might be able to laugh about it. But until then.......]

A letter of a different kind. To T, on Father's Day

T,
You are smart. You are kind. You care.
You are resolute. And determined. 
[And stubborn].
You work hard. And long. For us.
And you deserve all the best things in the world.
You are funny. And fun.
You are my husband, and our babies' daddy and you are brilliant at both. 
[Lord knows neither are always easy.]
You love.
You are loved. 
By us. So much.

Happy Father's Day xxxx

The playroom

Boys, I'm posting this here so that you will be able to look back and see that at one moment, on one day (after hours of slaving away by your dedicated mama), your playroom was clean, organised, thought-out and lovingly tended to.

You love it in here - especially you Hamish. You spend ages in this room emptying out every single toy storage drawer... one by one... until everything you own is covering the floor like a waist deep sea of toys.

Your mama xxxxx

Your mama is Pinterest caaraaazy. Decided on a whim to whip up this upholstered cushion for an old bookcase on its side today. I'm hoping you'll use it to lounge on and read.

Some country pictures that represent your heritage. You have English, Scottish, Australian, New Zealand and Italian running through your veins. I can't find NZ in this series, but I'll keep looking. 

This is your beautiful, clean, tidy, organised play room. I wonder if it will ever look this way again.

Short letter: funny little habits

Dear boys,

I love finding the toy toast in our toaster every morning when I open the cupboard. I wonder which of you does this each night? I suspect it might be you Rock, given I've seen you lurking by said cupboard. But it could be you Hamey - we've always referred to you as the stealth bomber....

Love you two cheeky monkeys - you are hilarious.

All the love in the universe,
Your mama xxx

PS on another note, I'm off to clean that toaster. ewww.

Of toddlers and tantrums

Oh my darling Rocky-bear

You are bonkers. I mean that most affectionately, of course.

Some days, your need to control everything around you makes me laugh. Some days it makes me almost cry. Some days it makes me want to tear my hair out. And other days I love that you are observing so much of your world and trying so hard to understand it.

Honestly, I have never ever seen anything like some of the tantrums you have lately. And I can see them coming. Usually I do whatever I can to avoid them - like not presuming to do anything on your behalf. You are so gorgeously, stubbornly, exhaustingly independent. You have to get the weetbix from the cupboard, and the milk from the fridge. You have to pull your own chair up to the bench, and take the milk bottle lid off yourself. You have to get your own spoon from the drawer and carry your own bowl to the table.

You have to choose your own clothes, put on your own undies, do your shoes yourself, get your own water, walk down the stairs yourself, climb into the car yourself, do your own seatbelt, clean your own teeth, bring your own pjs from the bedroom... and on it goes. You most definitely will not do something you don't want to do.

Sometimes I forget - because I'm so used to doing things for you. Other times I want to avoid the mess. Mostly, we're in a rush. But it's always a bad idea to 'help'. I have to wait for your invitation to "do it together". You never need help, of course: that would mean sacrificing some independence. But I know that when you say you want to "do it together", that actually, you need your mummy.

And when a tantrum hits, far out it hits. You can scream with the best of them, my noisy, angry little man. I know that it's just you trying so hard to control your environment so that you feel safe and secure. And I understand it. But the challenge for your daddy and me is to work out how and where to draw the line. We need you to understand what is acceptable behaviour, and what isn't. We need you to understand that while you're the centre of your own universe (and rightfully so!), you need to be aware of others, their needs and their feelings. And we need you to learn that you don't get what you want by screaming for it (although the social change activist in me fights hard against that and screams right back that sometimes it's the only way).

At least once a day Hamey says: "Rocky cwying again Mama" :)

You 'rewind' things. Literally. All the time. If I touch something you don't want me to have touched, you grab my hands and swipe them - 'untouching' them. If I accidentally sit on your bed at nighttime before you have asked me to sit down, we have to go back to where we were before we walked into the bedroom to give it another go to get it right. If the cupboard door is open, when you think it should be closed, you have to close it and then re-open it. At least you haven't tried to 'unpeel' a banana... yet. I know of other toddlers at your age who have done just that!

But most of the time you are a funny, delightful, and delighted boy. You are enamoured with life, people and the world around you. You sing your heart out at any given opportunity, and say hello to strangers passing by. You are caring, and affectionate, and need far more than the average person's daily quota of cuddles and kisses. You smooch smooch smooch all day long. You crash tackle Hamey in your quest for cuddles. You speak a mile a minute and every single day amaze me with what you can say, but more so, what you understand.

Some wise person once said that the very traits that make your toddler sometime challenging are the same traits that are admired in adults. And I hope you don't lose your spiritedness, vigour, energy, and protestation. You need these in this world.

I love you so so so much. You're frighteningly clever. Terrifyingly loud. And I am so so proud of you.

Mama xxx

Two and a half

 Hame and Rocky are 2.5 today. It blows my mind. Some days it blows my mind that I'm even a mum, let alone to twins, and let alone to twin toddlers. They keep us busy :)

My darling boys,
You are two and a half! And so much fun has has been happening in your gorgeous little lives.
You've started 'Junior Kindy' one day a week, and you adore it. You especially love packing your backpack and wearing it around. The Wiggles, of course. Look at the size of them: they're nearly the same size as you, my tiny little humans.
Unfortunately, on your very first day you picked up Hand Foot and Mouth virus! Poor Hamey was really very ill with it. Rocky, you only got it very mildly, but it kept us all cooped up for a couple of weeks.

You're both really enjoying 'reading', and I often find you cosied up like this  - totally adorable.

















You're also very keen on building things. I'd say you enjoy destroying the fruits of your labour more - that's definitely your main reason for achieving such feats of engineering, but I'm hopeful that, one day, one of your towering masterpieces will remain intact long enough for me to get a photo.

We had a big party to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary, and you LOVED it. All those people paying you all that attention! Oh, and the dancing. You love dancing, and I don't think I've ever seen anything cuter. This photo is one of my favourites - dancing with my little men.

We went to Stradbroke Island on the ferry, I had my birthday (and you sang so beautifully to me), and you started running off with my iphone, taking all kinds of artistically composed photos :)

 Tantrums aside, you are delightful darling boys. You make me happy. And you know it. You tell me all the time. You also tell me you make my heart smile. And you do. I am one lucky mama.

I love you my babies.

All the love in the universe,

Your mama

My babies are two

My darling Hamish, you are two years old. A little boy. But still my baby.

There are some things about you that I think will never change; your gentle nature, infectious smile, enthusiastic giggle, bottomless eyes, and kindness.

And then every day you accomplish something new and I love you even more again.

You love cuggles and kisses, which you say with the most adorable lisp. You wrap your arm around my neck like you never want to let go. You love your 'Grocky' and you're always angling for a hug with him. When you're sitting side by side, you're always touching. Hands, feet, arms, legs. You're so entwined with each other. It's amazing.

You love to run. Whenever there's an open space, you stop - just for a second - and then a huge grin spreads across your face and you're off!

I hope you're always smiling, running, laughing and loving, my angel boy.

All the love in the universe,
Your mama

Oh Rocky. You are one special little man. You've started narrating your life. It starts the instant you wake up, "ooh, I woked up! I woked up mummy!" And it doesn't stop until you close those beautiful eyes at night.

You are exceptionally enthusiastic about most things. You say "oooooh, niiiiiice" a lot. You tell us "oh no, rocky did get a boo boo - kiss it bedda mummy". The way you speak literally takes my breath away.

You love your 'Ahmy' and you can't relax unless you know he's ok. If you get a drink of water, you need to know he has one too. If you get some berries, you won't start eating until he's happily munching on his. You make sure he has his hat and his sunscreen, and you like to say 'nigh nigh' to him before you go to sleep.

I can't believe you're 2 years old, my little miracle baby. What a blessed two years it has been. I'm one lucky mama.

As always, all the love in the universe,
Your mama

And some snaps from the 'Rainbows, teepees, and superheros' party !

Letter to my babies - 22-23 months

Hello boys, my goodness time goes quickly.

Your daddy and I were just remembering how you used to say "pickabook" Rocky for "book": mama used to ask you everyday to go and pick a book, and you thought that's what a book was called. It was so adorable. Now you not only know it's a "book", you call them by their full names.

And Hame, you used to call a biscuit a "bweh" and grapes "ahple" because you thought they were little apples. You would say "mama, ahple ahple ahple". Now you say "mummy grep ples".

You both talk like big kids - in full sentences, and with words I didn't realise you'd be able to get your little mouths around.

Mama has a beautiful necklace that is a circle with your names stamped on it. You both love it. You know your names are on it, and you call it "mummy's special circle". I didn't know you'd be able to say those sounds all in a row. You surprise me every single day. You can repeat absolutely anything, and you love learning new words.

You're still both champion sleepers, although we had a couple of weeks there when you discovered you could get up and out of your beds yourselves. Rocky, you would just appear from nowhere with a giggle and a "hiii, hello".

Hamey, we used to find you curled up on the floor amongst your toys and spare sheets you pulled out from the drawer under your bed - like you made yourself a little nest.

Rock, you LOVE red. Really really really love red. You insist on wearing "Rocky's red hat, rocky's red sirt (shirt), rocky's red soos (shoes)". Every.single.day. You are an intense little boy. You're energetic, full-on, noisy, clever, and ohsocute.

Hamey, you're a lot more easy-going when it comes to your wardrobe, but you do love blue. Whenever you see something blue you point and say "Ahmy bwoo", and when you see red you say "Grocky wred". You are still an angelic little boy, although, you have a touch of the stealth bomber in you. You're a little comic darling.

I love you, my baby boys - to the moon and back and forever.

All the love in the universe,

Your mama

19 - 20 months

My darling Hamish,

You've had a big couple of months! Overseas adventures, your first long-haul plane ride, lots and lots of growing!

You travelled like a total superstar and didn't skip a beat.

You are such a special little boy. Always so happy. Smiling. Laughing. Snuggling. Singing. Playing. Hiding.

One of the most gorgeous things you do is to hide behind something - usually a long curtain - and then pop out to say 'Boo'! You giggle your little head off, and could do it all day long.

You're happiest when you're surrounded by other children (you call them all babies) to play with. You like to give them all a big cuddle.

You wave hello and goodbye at literally everyone you see. They all love you too. You just have a gorgeous way of bringing out the soft side of everyone. Your happiness is so innocent and so genuine that no-one can resist.

You didn't mind when hundreds of people wanted to take your photo when we were in Europe. Everywhere we went people stopped to take your photo and you thought it was so exciting making all these new friends!

You love slippery slides, Tiny Tots, snuggles, grapes, sultanas, smelling flowers (and picking them for Mama!), and jumping. Your hair is growing as well - finally!

I love you my darling one.

All the love in the universe,

Your Mama

Ah Rocky, you are a scalliwag.

You are noisy, and demanding and utterly adorable. You talk all the time - from the minute you wake up "Mummy, I woke up, Bag - off!, Wiggles, DVD, Milk, MIILLKKKK, toast!" to the minute you go to sleep "Bag - on, milk, bed, night night".

You're into everything, and if I didn't witness it with my own two eyes I wouldn't believe it was possible for such chaos and havoc to be generated by one tiny human!

You love cuddling and you love Hamish. You are always looking out for him. If I give you your water cup, you immediately say "Water, Mish?" and make sure he has his. If we're getting your pyjamas on you need to know that Mishy has his as well. I think you might say "Mish" than any other word. You know he's your special brother and you tell everyone "Mish - brudder".

You learn words so quickly and delight in them. When we were on our big overseas adventure you loved to tell everyone you were in "Nurmany" or "Como" or "Caris". You learned how to say 'Ciao' and 'Bonjour', and made so many people laugh with your gigantic personality wrapped up in that tiny little body!

I love you monkey - you are hilarious.

All the love in the universe,

Your mama

18 months

Oh, my baby boys. You are 18 months old. One and a half. Already!

And you're such little boys. Inquisitive, cheeky, noisy, cuddly, messy, and lovely.

My darling Rocky,

You blow my mind. You've started talking - really truly talking - in proper words and sentences. "Mummy, poo - nappy!" "Mummy, up, please?", "Mummy, bottle, yum".

The instant you're awake you start going through all your favourite words, and you don't stop until your head lays on your bed to sleep.

You seem calmer now too - as though your increased ability to communicate has solved some of your frustration. You've stopped shouting as much, except when you're shouting with laughter and joy.

I *think* you've even graduated out of your sleep wrap. Last night was the first full night that you've managed to stay lying down without it since you were 10 months old!

You're less suspicious of people now too, and more social. Especially when they are impressed with your talking skills. Then you don't leave them alone :)

You love Tiny Tots, ravioli, grass, and cuddles.

And I love you more than I could ever put into words. To the moon - and back - and more.

All the love in the universe,

Your Mama

Hamish, you darling darling boy, I adore you. Adore adore adore you. You are so gentle. And kind. And soft. You're always giving things away to other people - it makes you happier than anything else to give someone a gift. You don't keep anything for yourself.

I've never been so proud of you either.

You handled your surgery so well. You didn't cry - honestly. Not once. Even when the surgeon pulled the metal pin out of your hand without a local anaesthetic. You just stared at him with your big trusting eyes and grinned with excitement at having your hands back, working better than ever. Then you waved.

I cried, but not you. Never you.

You are hilarious. You get yourself into the strangest places and positions and wait there until someone walks by, when you jump out with a 'boo'. You cackle and cackle, and you make Daddy and I laugh until tears run down our faces.

You're a very special little boy, and we are blessed to have you in our lives.

As ever, my darling, all the love in the universe,

Your mama

Ready, Set, Talk - 17 months

Well darlings, you're 17 months old, and are chatterboxes. You don't stop talking. Either of you.

Daddy and I decided we should record a list of your words, so please excuse the list, but here they are:

Lach
Mama
Daddy
Bear
Turtle
Princess
Toast
Milk
num num
Balloon (boon)
Book (booka)
Shoe (Doo)
Num num (food)
Berry (bewwy)
Light (dight)
Fan (woo woo)
Bikkie (gubby)
Cuppatea
Torch
Car
Carkeys
Grass(gass)
Baby/bubba
Crazy
Ziggy
Pa
Nanna
Gamma
Go go go
Ball
Pool
Bath
Tree
Clock
Hat (dat)
Mates
Egg
Block
Straw
Table
Chalk
Bath


Hamish
Mummy
Dad
Toast (t)
Milk (meh-meh)
Balloon (boon)
Book (booka)
Shoe (Soo)
Num num (food)
Nose
Light (La)
Fan (woo woo)
Bear (Beer)
Turtle
Car
Grass(gass)
Baby/bubba
Pa
Nanna
Gamma
Ball
Pool
Bath
Tree
Clock
Mates
Egg
Block
Straw
Bath

That's a lot of words, apparently. You understand a whole lot more than that as well, so you're clever little monkeys. You're noisy too.

Oh, and you climb. Especially you, Hamish. Your arm casts are absolutely no deterrent whatsoever. You scale anything. Absolutely anything. A foothold, and you're up! With the climbing, comes the falling, and the head-knocking, but you're still in one piece.

You love to play 'heads, shoulders, knees and toes' and giggle your little heads off as you point to all the parts. You know head, ears, knees, toes, belly-button, mouth, eyes. And you dance! You both stand there stomping your little feet, swinging your little hips,waving your little arms, and nodding your little heads the instant any music with a good strong beat comes on.

I love you more than I can express, you noisy, funny, vertical little men.

All the love in the universe,
Your mama xxx

Lach, you're a beautiful brother

Darling Lach

I just wanted to capture this moment for you; such a beautiful precious moment that shows how much you love and look out for Hamish.

I tried to get a photo and some video, but I didn't manage it, so this is the best I can do.

Last week, while you and Hamish were playing, you noticed that Mishy was trying to read a book. You noticed that he couldn't turn the pages because both of his arms and hands were in casts. You went across to him, sat next to him, and turned the pages for him.

It was so beautiful it made me cry. You are so beautiful my little Rocky.

I adore you, with every breath I have.

All the love in the universe
Your Mama

Darling Hamish, tomorrow is a big day

Hello Hamish, my darling one.

I've just peeked in on you, tucked up in bed asleep, looking like the peaceful angel that you are. Did you know you even look like you're smiling while you're sleeping? Well, you do.

Tomorrow is the day you are having your surgery. You hit the 10kg mark, and so the time has come.

Daddy and I are sure you will face this challenge with your usual smiles and laughter. And before you know it, you will be back to normal, only better :)

We love you angel - you darling, divine, boy.

All the love in the universe
Your mamaxxxxxxx

15 months

Rockstar, you are busy. So so busy. All the time.

You don't walk - you run. You don't just talk, you chatterbox. You don't do things quietly; you make as much noise as you can. Sometimes you just shout - as loud as you can - for absolutely no reason other than that it maks you laugh, it makes Hame laugh, and it makes Mama and Daddy laugh.

Your latest version of fun is picking up everything that is pick-up-able, and throwing it over the baby gate and down the stairs, with as much force and racket as you can muster. You also throw things down behind the television and under the sofa, and remove everything in your reach from its rightful home, and onto the floor. You are a one-baby chaos machine!

But you are delightful. So cheeky. So funny. So clever. And so cuddly. One of my favourite things is when you see me coming and you race as fast as your little legs will carry you over to me. You throw yourself around my legs and grip on as though you never want to let go.

You are going through a very clingy phase and are sometimes utterly inconsolable unless I'm giving you a cuddle. You cry with such heart-breaking tears that it's all I can do to stop my own tears falling.

But mostly you are cheeky, crazy, giggly, and mischievous.

I love you my little Rocky.

All the love in the universe,
Your mama


Hello Hamish, darling boy

Happy 15 month birthday my angel. I know I say it every month, but you are a darling. You just are. You still are. I'm sure you always will be.

You are kind, and gentle, and sweet.
You sing the softest, sweetest songs, and it melts my heart.
You smile and laugh at complete strangers everywhere we go. They fall in love with you, and I don't blame them.

You LOVE other children. You try to launch yourself out of your pram to play with other kids. You point and laugh and laugh until they see you, and then they can't help themselves either - you're irresistible even to them. They come over, hold your hands, kiss your cheeks, and say "look at the beautiful little baby mummy" to their own mamas. You are enchanting.

All four of your molars have come through at exactly the same time this month and you haven't made a peep. Not a sound. You are so brave. Even when your little gums have been bleeding, you still keep on smiling.

Lately, you love your teddy bears. You often pick all of them up and once and just snuggle right into them with the biggest, happiest grin on your face. See? Darling. No question.

As ever, all the love in the universe
Your Mama

14 months

My mini men are 14 months old. They're walking, talking, and enjoying each other's company. There are lots of cuddles in our house. Seeing them give each other a hug and a 'pat' is seriously one of the most adorable things I have ever seen. It makes my heart melt.

They are ON THE GO. Always moving. Always getting into things. Always in different places getting into mischief at the same time. The other day Hamish got himself wedged under the sofa, and in the time it took me to get him out, Lach had worked out how to unlock the tv cabinet doors, and had started playing with the glass tea light holders!

Later that afternoon, Hamish climbed into the cupboard with all the ceramic dishes while Lach emptied the flour all over the floor at the opposite end of the kitchen.

The house has never been messier, I have never been more exhausted and challenged, but it is so lovely seeing them explore their world. You can't get cross - they're just trying to understand what is around them, and it's amazing to watch them learn so rapidly.




Mr Mishy

You are an angelic child. Always full of smiles and quick to laugh, you're an absolute delight. You're cheeky too though, and a prankster. You're always getting yourself into strange places, making funny sounds, and pulling funny faces just to make people laugh. You're definitely our entertainer.

You took your first steps just a few days ago, and this morning, before Daddy left for work, you did a big walk. You were beside yourself with excitement. The look on your face was so precious, I wish I could have bottled it.

You're getting bigger and bigger too. We have been seeing the dietician about your weight, and after a couple of months of adding cream, butter, cheese, oil and avocado to everything, we were given some high calorie supplements to add to your food. It worked! You have hit 9kg and that means you get to have your operation sooner, which is better for you in the long-run.

You still almost never cry. You don't make fuss about going to bed. You wake up smiling and the sound of you singing from your cot in the morning is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

I adore you you darling, beautiful, wonderful, kind, funny, boy.

All the love in the universe
Your mama




Hey Rockstar

You are clever. Really really clever. You pick up words a mile a minute. You chatter and babble all day long. You can say Mama, Daddy, Nana, Maaa, Pa, Mish, Ta, Cheese, Ball, Balloon, Car, Car Key, Star, Princess (nana's dog's name), blue, dog, quack, and bath.

You're always watching - really watching - trying to figure things out. You work out all your toys within about 3 minutes of using them, so we're constantly finding new things for you play with.

You love music. In fact, you totally rock out. You're really into the Stone Roses at the moment. You know the songs, and when the choruses come on you actually headbang. You have music in you. Even when there isn't any music playing, you sit there rocking away.

You're up and walking too. You're very confident on your feet and the day that you started you instantly changed from a baby into a little boy.

You've been going through a bit of a biting phase, which has left your poor mama rather battered and bruised, but we've realised that you think it's a kiss! This makes it ok. So we're learning how to do proper kisses and you haven't chomped into me in a couple of days now :)

You're still so little, but you more than make up for it in personality! I love you more than I can explain, you clever, funny, darling little scalliwag.

As ever, all the love in the universe

Your mama