The week... briefly

An attack of appendicitis followed by swift removal of said appendix is how this week began. For me, at least. I'm so glam when I'm sick. H.O.T.

Once that was over (ouch), I settled in and enjoyed my little family and made the most of enforced rest.

Obsessed with painted cane and wicker furniture. Hello turquoise!

images from here:  http://www.decorpad.com/photo.htm?photoId=67983&index=3&searchQuery=gallery%20framed&searchType=photos and here: http://www.tarasloggett.com/lifestyle/

Practicing fine motor skills (while secretly trying to work out if Hamish is a lefty or a righty). He's excellent with tongs. Definitely a BBQer of the future.

Editing the next issue of Multiplied. Yes, my babies. I know. But they're such compliant models. Didn't even kick up a fuss when I tied scarves around their necks.

Rocky rollin' - this kid is a rock-star. 

Making shoe rainbows and singing,  "I can sing a shoe rainbow, sing a shoe rainbow, sing a shoe rainbow tooooooo".

Unnecessary gratuitous cuteness

Swimming lessons - thank goodness for heated pools. It's really chilly this winter, and I adore it. Now if only I could convince T we needed to install a fireplace.

Out of the Box Children's Festival - newsreaders and newsshredders of the future?

Cooking from my trusty collection of Donna Hay cookbooks and mags. She's fab. 

ummm, talk much?

Ummmmm, yes. Poor T can't get a word in. This is me doing 'our' tenth wedding anniversary speech. I have no idea what I was saying that was so obviously hilarious. Clearly, I thought I was the funniest woman alive though.

People always tell me I'm a very 'animated' talker. Indeed. Indeed. Oh dear.

Me. A mum.

I'm a mum. I'm their mum. They depend on me. I'm a teacher, a guide, a mentor, a feeder, a protector, a keeper, a soul-carrier, a heart-wearer, a carer, a disciplinarian, a story-teller, a playmate, a book-reader, an example, a role-model, a citizen-grower, an influencer. They need me, and I need them.

Being a mum is the most brilliant thing in my life. It's also the hardest. Every.single.moment.and.decision. is laced with doubt, guilt, conscience, question, and of course love. There's always love. Big giant suffocating love that brings tears to my eyes just thinking of it.

But I want to be a better mum. A more patient one, and a less distracted one. Definitely a less shouty one. I wish for the time, the freedom and the... privilege?... to take it slowly, to move at their pace, take their lead, look at the world through their eyes, rather than constantly needing to hurry up, tidy up, shoosh for a minute, stop fighting, get-a-move-on, and whatever-else-on.

I feel like I'm torn between the real-life urgency to earn money, keep my foot on the career ladder, and contribute my share and the real-life yearning to just be their mum - now - while they're so little and they need me so much. They are utterly dependent. The physical dependency is tiring, but not as exhausting as the sheer emotional pressure of having someone's life in your hands. And I don't want to break it. It's so precious.

I know we have to work. We have to earn money. We have to pay for this house, this life, this stuff. I'm not ready yet to think about whether we need it all (I'm quite sure we don't), because that might mean something I have only ever romantically entertained on mini-break weekends in front of roaring fires, balloon of red wine in hand (pre-kids, of course, when living in the country sounded divine if you could pop up to the city whenever you needed to). But I also firmly believe that if one of us can be at home with our boys, then we should. We ought. It's our job. It is better for one parent to be here often, than neither. I'm constantly amazed at how we do things in our own home to ourselves and to our children (our children!), that we would never dare to do to our employers. Isn't that back-to-front?

I'm not one of those mums who knows I'm a better mum if I'm working. I'm not. I'm a better mum when I'm immersed with them. That's not to say I don't enjoy working, because I do - if the work is interesting and challenging. I like to be busy, and I like to achieve results. I like remembering that I can chat about things other than child development and eating habits. But I don't think I do both well enough when they're competing for my time. I don't think I'm a good mama when I'm trying to juggle work, which never falls on the days it's supposed to, meaning I'm constantly trying to distract them so I can work. I don't think do a good enough job for my clients because I'm only ever partly on the job.

I frequently feel annoyed about this. Angry that I can't do it all. Frustrated because I'm so tired of the juggling and I can't explain it properly to anyone else - it just sounds so trivial when I try. Annoyed because our weekends are exhausting and tag-teaming and T and I don't have much quality time together. Cross because the house is always chaotic and we're always running out of milk! Exhausted because I haven't had a decent night's sleep in three years and wondering if I ever will again. Peed off because I don't get out much, that I don't see my friends enough, that I've become dull and boring and WHAT ABOUT ME? WHERE DID I GO IN ALL THIS?

But when it comes down to it, right now, I am a mum. I am their mum. It's my job. It's my heart. And for now, that's what I need to be.

Universe, are you listening?

#31 Go to the dentist regularly

It's better to go regularly - preventatively - than to put it off and deal with the consequences (and I'm speaking from experience here) xx

#30 Be generous

With your time. Or with your money. And always with your spirit.

Lately

There has been a shift in our house. Our full time nanny has finished, and so has my roundabout of working full time across a number of jobs.  It was too much. Too unbalanced. I'm working less now and it feels good. I feel settled. Grounded. The boys are at 'junior kindy' two days per week and they're thriving. Our time together is so precious and we've been busy!

Baking

Colour sorting

 And sorting by numbers too (just some contact taped sticky-side-out onto a wall)

Making rainbows with pipecleaners and colanders

Pegging (oh, I can't wait for them to become adept at this. I am not exactly the world's biggest laundry lover)

Making playdough and working at it ever so diligently

 Hours of 'Thomas and his friends' - these boys must surely be the world's biggest fans

very enthusiastic trampolining (Hamey even takes his 'meh' jumping - bless him)

And in between all of that, there's been a bit of 'me' and 'us' time too.

Getting some exercise in - walking / jogging, twinadoes in tow in the mother of all prams

and date night sparkles!

I am blessed :)

They got so big!

My babies are so big! How? When? 

But it's such an interesting time.

In so many ways they seem so much older than 2.5 - especially Rocky - like when he tells me he wants: "chorizo cous cous - the big cous cous mama, not the little cous cous" for dinner. Or when he tells me he loves me very very much and he's very proud of me! Or when they tell me they're grown ups and don't need baby things anymore and only want to eat grown-up food off grown-up plates. They are so confident with people and happily announce their full names to anyone who asks. They march off (or race off - especially when I'm in David Jones - specialising in the 'run in opposite directions' manouvre) with confidence and eagerness into the world.

In other ways they are still little babies (and always will be, I expect) - like needing BIIIIG cuddles before bed, grabbing my hand when they're unsure of something, needing their boo-boos kissed better, edging closer and closer until they're on top of me when they get tired, and taking their trains to bed (which T then has to gently remove hours later from their gorgeous gentle grip).

They're amazing these little humans. I never knew to expect such amazing-ness (is that a word?). They blow my mind. I am privileged. And grateful. And tired. But that's ok :)

The following photos are of the boys with their "cousin Blakey" - possibly the only person they will hold hands with for more than 20 seconds. They adore him.  x

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

Multiplied fashion pages sneak peek

Issue 2 of Multiplied is off the presses today, and on its way to readers, so I think it's probably ok to do this :)

Best.Day.Ever

Adventures in toilet training

Well, he's done it! Rocky is toilet trained. It's been a fortnight now, and not one single accident. He just decided one day that he'd use the "big boy toilet" and that was it. Done. Easy or what! I'm not sure how or when to tackle the standing up component though; I might leave that to Daddy.

He was entirely motivated by a Dora the Explorer "You did it!" chart and a gigantic selection of sparkly stickers. 

This new-found independence has sparked an obsession. He spends a lot of time in the bathroom. Looking into the loo bowl. Flushing the loo. Unrolling reams of paper. Flushing things into the loo. Asking where they went. Opening the lid. Closing the lid. Taking his pants off. Putting them on again. Exchanging Thomas undies for spaceman undies for pirate undies. Going - of course - with his eye on the sticker prize.

Hamish, on the other hand, is not keen at all. He's very supportive of his brother though, which is nice, if not particularly helpful to his own toilet training cause. Every time I say "Hamey, do you want to sit on the big boy toilet?", he replies with "No. Nope. Rocky will do it for me!"

Hilarious little boys.

I think, given how easy it was with Rocky, I'm just going to wait until Hame shows me that he's ready to make the transition. I don't want to force him. He'll get there in his own time. He always does.

And ohmygoodness, the undies. Could anything be cuter than teeny tiny undies (well, except for the teeny tiny bottom inside them, of course)?

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

The twinadoes do GOMA

 That duck got a really good stickering

 So exciting!

 Tapping away furiously. Serious button-presser, this kid.

And not a surface left un-stuck!

2012 is the year ...

...to get a few things done!

2011 was busy. Really really busy.Work busy. immie&ollie kept growing, my PR consulting continued, and I launched a brand new national magazine with a friend and now business partner.

In 2012, I want to get some things done for our home that I've been wanting to do for some time:

1. Bedhead! We're getting one. It will be upholstered and beautiful. I'm pinning like crazy to my pinterest board.
2. Bedroom walls. They will be painted. A cloudy / dusky / grey-ish blue. I might even stencil a pattern on the wall behind our bedhead. Lattice? Chevron? Not sure exactly what just yet, but it will be subtle.
3. Dining room. The walls will be overhauled. I can't decide between wallpaper and paint, but we're getting some drama in there.
4. Enrolling the boys in school. I cannot believe we haven't done this. They are nearly 2.5 and we haven't put their names down on a single list. We haven't been able to resolve where we'd like to send them, and because there are two of them, it's quite an expensive endeavour to put their names down at lots of schools. Some charge $450 (that's $900 right there. For ONE school waiting list. Bam! Just like that.) But at this rate we'll be home-schooling them, so we'd better sort it out.
5. The five year plan. I've probably spent the past 5 years coming up with all sorts of dreams for the future. If I'd nailed them down and started working towards them, I'd be well on my way to something now. So, a five year plan will be the start. 

5 projects will do. That's plenty for the year. If I can achieve these things, alongside keeping everyday life ticking over, I will be a happy woman.

My daily happiness project is awesome too. So far, I've enjoyed brewing a pot of tea and drinking it slowly by a window in the rain, hung fairy lights everywhere, worn a full length tutu, had a long luxurious bath with a glass of champagne, had a pedicure, snuggled my babies for way longer than they wanted to be snuggled - similarly, husband, and lots of other tiny little things that I normally wouldn't pay much attention to.

My happiness project

I have decided to start my own personal happiness project. 

It's not that I'm not happy; far from it in fact. I am - on the whole - a really happy, cheerful person. I'm well aware of how blessed my life is, and how lucky I am.

But hey, who couldn't do with a bit more happiness in their lives? I want to reflect at the end of each day and have something to smile at. I want to make memories. And on those bad days we all occasionally have, I want something that puts it all into perspective.

So, today I decided that I'm going to consciously do one thing every day that makes me happy.

Big or small, inconsequential or important, it doesn't matter.

Just something that makes me smile :)

This is something that made me smile today. Votives, wrapped in doilies and twine. On their first practice run for our tenth wedding anniversary party next weekend. I love them. I'm happy.

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

What a few weeks

Far out the last few weeks have been a whirlwind. There has been so much going on in our usually quite calm and predictable lives.

Poor little Hame contracted an awful respiratory virus and ended up in hospital. There's nothing worse than seeing your baby attached to tubes and drips and oxygen. He is such a gorgeous gentle soul - aside from the obvious physical signs of him struggling to breathe, there was no indication he wasn't well. He wasn't whingey, or clingy, or upset. If anything, he was more delightful than ever. Is that even possible? He is an angel-child. He really really is. We are so blessed to have him in our lives. I think he must be here to teach me something. He's not even two, but he has this inner joy. It lights him up from the inside, and everyone who knows him - or even meets him - feels it too. It's remarkable.

I snapped some pics of him during his hospital stay, and looking back on them makes my chest feel tight. The poor little boy.

I also didn't see my Rocky for nearly three days. I thought my heart had been torn from my chest. I didn't realise until that week, up there in hospital with Hamish, that it was the longest period of time in their whole lives that we'd been apart.

My mum and my MIL who took care of Rocky while I was staying with Hamish said he kept asking for him: "Mish, where?", "Mummy, where?".

But the reunion was so beautiful. Rocky screamed 'Missssh, Misssssh' and was so excited that he ran around in a couple of circles and then crash tackled him to the floor in a huge cuddle. Over the next couple of days I would just find them sitting really closely next to one another. They make my heart smile those two. Darlings.

Then, in a complete about face, we had something incredibly positive and exciting happen. immie&ollie was interviewed for a tv show! (!!!!!!!!!) It was so exciting and nerve-wracking all at once. We're going to air on 21 August on The Great South East, a Channel 7 show.

Here are some behind-the-scenes shots :)

Ten years on and so so grateful for my beautiful life

Today is exactly 10 years to the date that I underwent a mammoth 17 hour operation to remove a mass on my brainstem that I could have died from.

In fact, exactly 10 years ago, I would have been still in the operating theatre with so many surgeons they must have been getting in each other's way :)

I have no idea how my family and T coped while I was under. What on earth must they have been thinking and doing for 17 hours, awhile waiting on razor's edge to hear if I'd made it, or if I'd be paralysed.

I'd been lying in the hospital bed for so long already, just waiting for the surgical team to figure out how to do what needed to be done. I had a complex cervical spine, and they had to have it modelled into perfectly scaled 3D to work out just how exactly to go about the surgery. I was scared, and the night before the operation, I tried to change the surgeon's mind. I did my best persuasive job, explaining that I was absolutely convinced I could go back to my normal life, just being hyper-careful to not move my head too much. "Do I really have to have this operation? What will happen if I don't?", I asked him. "You might die." I don't think I'll ever forget that.

I also tried to tell my darling T that this was just all too much for any young relationship to bear, and I couldn't be a burden on him. I told him that I loved him, but I couldn't stay with him if I ended up paralysed because I couldn't steal his life and his love and his potential like that. I knew that our life wouldn't ever fulfil any of the dreams we'd had and we wouldn't be able to have the adventures we'd planned. I wouldn't be able to have any children. I was in tears telling him that I needed to go into theatre knowing that it was all settled and agreed. He wouldn't have a bar of it. I'll always remember he told me that he had no expectations about his future other than having me in it, and we would make our own way and our own life with what life threw at us.

I survived that surgery, had a very long hospital stay, and a lot of 'attachments' for a long time. I developed infections that needed IV antibiotics through a PICC line for just under 6 months. This is me about a month after the surgery, still in hospital and doing a happy dance because I was able to stand up on my own:



This is me 6 months to the day later - my wedding day. I was determined to walk down the aisle that day. And I did.



10 years. A decade. A lifetime. I'm a lucky lucky girl, and I have so much to be grateful for. Here are just three of them:

The twin mum guilts

The twin mum guilts are something that every mum of multiples will understand.

I remember when I was pregnant with the boys, I was so worried that I wouldn't have enough love for two babies. That I wouldn't have enough capacity for snuggles with two babies. That I wouldn't be able to equally share my time between two babies.

The instant they were born, those anxieties faded away. Mothers have a remarkable ability to create maternal love from nowhere. It roars to life like nothing I've ever experienced. Since the second I first laid eyes on them, I have had more capacity to love than I ever knew was possible.

It's only been on the very rare occasion that one has been super needy or ill that that little doubt about not sharing my love equally has popped its head up. But I'm extremely pragmatic most of the time. Even if there is a day when one baby needs more attention than the other, I know it will even out in the end. They'll go through phases. Life is swings and roundabouts.

But recently, I have had some serious bouts of twin mum guilt. I was driving home from the shops the other day - a sparkly gorgeous perfect winter day - and saw lots of very chic mamas out and about pushing their (single) babies. Designer prams. Swishy shiny ponytails. Designer gym gear. Designer sunnies.

I drove past a playground, and there they all were again. Pushing their (single) babies on the swings, catching them at the bottom of the slide, chasing them through the fields.

And it hit me like a bulldozer. I can't do this with my boys. I used to be able to - back when they were lighter and didn't move as much. But it's just not possible anymore. Firstly, I live in an old inner city suburb that is very hilly. I literally cannot push twins and the twin pram up and down them. Not without doing myself significant harm, at least.

Secondly, I can't take them to the park on my own. It's two against one. It seems that at the exact same time one tries to play frogger with the traffic, the other thinks it's an awesome idea to superman off the top of the jungle gym.

And I know - I could drive somewhere flatter to walk. I could ask someone to come to the park with me. But all of that takes so much coordination. Well in advance. And I do. But on those days when we just want to get out on a whim - that's when it stings. And that's when I feel the most guilt.

But my pragmatic side says at least they always have a playmate - even if it is at home; that it won't be long until they understand not to run onto the road or jump off the slide; and we're lucky we have a lovely big back garden that we have just filled with lots of lovely toys and play equipment.

And then I look at photos like these ones and I am pretty sure everything is going to be ok.

On a semi-related note - they totally love each other. They've started giving each other a kiss and a cuddle goodnight. It is the most heart-warming beautiful thing I have ever had the privilege of witnessing. My babies are divine.

Wash, dry, fold, repeat

I hate doing laundry. Hate it. Pathologically. If I didn't prefer wearing clean clothes to dirty ones (or for the health hazards that might eventually accompany such a lifestyle choice), I think I'd find reasons to never do it ever again.

I have actually offically given up the iron. I refuse to do it. I'm useless at it, I hate doing it, and I don't see why I should have to do something I really really don't want to do when there are perfectly acceptable alternatives. T's work shirts go to the drycleaner. They all have french cuffs, so there's no way I can be trusted with those.

I also buy clothes that don't need ironing. Unfortunately this means I tend to wear a lot of Bonds yoga pants.... but whatever works, right?

I've become an excellent excellent pegger. Whenever I'm hanging out the washing and wishing it would be over, I just remind myself how much I hate ironing (waaay more than I hate pegging) and remember that good pegging can practically eliminate the need to ever get that iron out.

And if I really really really have to iron something, then I either try to arrange it for when my mum is visiting (ha!), or I take it to the dry cleaners. If it's an absolute emergency and there is truly nothing I can do about it, I bribe T :)

So why am I finding myself googling 'laundry design'??? I must be mad. Or not. Regardless of how much I hate doing it, it must be done. So why not make it as streamlined as possible. I'm sure that part of the reason I find it so tiresome currently is because nothing has a home. I have piles of clean and dirty washing on the floor. The baskets are never where I need them. I don't realise when I've run out of powder. I can never put my hand on a coathanger and have to run up and down the stairs until I finally have everything I need.

A little bit of organisation can't hurt, right?

Enter the Ikea Antonius Wall Upright. It's not going to win any beauty contests, but it's inoffensive. It has hanging space, and folding space, and storage space and basket space.



Off to Ikea I go!

The weight game

The boys need to put on weight. They are tiny little dots- not surprising given their birth sizes - but they've fallen off the bottom of the percentile chart.

Part of me wants to say chart shmart. The other part of me desperately wants to get them up there on it.

They've never been well and truly on it. You can't when you are born at only a couple of pounds. But they have managed to reach about the 5th percentile at various points in the past nearly two years.

But now that they're running around, you can see that they're little. They still haven't reached 10kg, which is apparently average for a one year old. They still wear size 0 clothes or 9-12 months.

Their GP has me adding butter and cream to food. We're attempting to add avocado with varying levels of success, and we're also supplementing their diet with sustagen, which isn't going down that well. I can't seem to hide it well enough, and they sniff it out before it gets anywhere near their mouths!

I know they have a whole lifetime ahead of them to grow. But nonetheless it's still stressful. I think so much of it is to do with them being premature and VLBW. They had intrauterine growth restriction and were born at the size of a baby at about 28-29 weeks gestation. So much of their first year - and particularly the first few months - was focused on how much weight they were gaining. It's hard to break the habit of constantly keeping a watchful eye on it.

I'm sure that if I had delivered full term twins with no size concerns I wouldn't have the slightest idea what they currently weigh.

But I'm working on it. They're happy and they're healthy. Surely that's as good an indicator as anything :)

Lessons learned from travelling long-haul with twin toddlers #1

DVDs are of no use if your children don't understand what headphones are for

Big boy bed

My baby Hamish has graduated from his cot and into his junior bed *sob*. What happened to my baby???? He looks so grown up lying there. Overnight he's 3/4 the length of his cot. How did I not see that before now?

I had no intention of transitioning them into beds any time soon. Nuh uh. No way. I need sleep, and they are fabbo sleepers (6pm - 7am without fail, every night!!). I have been way too worried that they wouldn't be able to resist the midnight play-together. And until this week, they hadn't really shown any definite signs of being ready.

But then Hamish scaled the side of his cot and fell out onto his head. So the decision was no longer mine. And in one fell swoop my baby became a little boy.

It's been remarkably easy so far with no issues yet: no falls; no getting up and down all night; and no being frightened of his new environment. I'm sure it helps that it's actually still his cot - just with the side off and the toddler rail on. I've also kept him in his sleeping bag because he has such a strong sleep association with it. In fact, when he isn't in his bag, he is up and down all over his bed, but the minute his bag is zipped up, he snuggles in with his blankie and his elmo and he's off!

Rocky is still in his cot, and I think we'll keep it that way for a while. He's definitely a 'get-up-er all-night-er' - I can sense it!

Oh, my baby!!! He'll always be my baby.