Friday, 4 September 2015

War and how it (doesn't) affect me.

I think it touched a nerve with all of us. My kids are a different time, a different situation that might have been my little boys.
War never changes, but we need to do more to help. I'm not saying swing the doors open and invite everyone in, but if you were fleeing from war with your tiny people scared for your lives, desperate about the future. Would you want the rest of the world to turn it's back on you and say, 'no thanks, you don't deserve our help, we're all full from helping ourselves today so sort it out yourself. It's your fault for being a resident of a country at war, your fault for being born there. Don't come here, go away. Don't let your problems touch me.
I once played Zlata in a rendition of Zlata's diary. Reading her diary and the things happening in her country and studying the history of it and having to act out her life was jarring, horrible and heartbreaking. It wasn't a story or a make believe. It was her actual LIFE. Much like Anne Frank she didnt write a book to be a good story (which is how it can seem as a child). She wrote it as an account of what she was going through day by day. They were living through war.
We were at war once, but we've never been invaded. We've never had our homes ransacked, our families murdered, gun shots fired and battles fought in our streets. We lack the true sympathy and understanding of what they are going through. We get bombarded by images on the tv of war and violence and just shrug it off, turn the channel over, that's what its like sometimes, it happens all the time everywhere else, but here. We see it on movies and it's all make believe so sometimes the real world images can pass us by unnoticed. But to actually live that war torn life. I can't empathise, I can't pretend to empathise. Not fully, not truly because I don't understand what it's like, I haven't got the faintest inkling of what it feels like to run for your life and I don't believe you can understand unless you live it. But we are all capable of compassion and the pity seen in that man's face as he carried that tiny toddler boy away from the shore is being shared by many.
The thing I do understand about it all is that if I was so frightened and desperate to protect my children and take them away from a terrible situation, as any parent in this world would feel. That I would have gotten on that boat, and those could have been my little boys.
We are judged on how we care for the smallest and weakest members of our society. We can't stop war, but we can change it's outcome and the future of the survivors.

Saturday, 18 July 2015

Peanut Butter Chronicles

The other night D and I were talking to Zarek about how he could have half a crumpet with butter on for supper and a custard cream.

Ayla comes running across the room shouting:
"I want Penis! I want Penis!, I want PENIS Daddy!"

Dom: Wha...I...uh...wha?

*we look at each other puzzled*


Me: Ayla.... do you want peanut butter?

Ayla: Yes, I want Penis butter

Me: Okay then... *start laughing*

Dom: We don't have peaNUT butter on crumpets that would be yucky.

Ayla (many tears and loud shouting about penis')

Me: We could have peaNUT butter sandwiches tomorrow for dinnertime though?

Ayla: "yes penis butter sandwich tomorrow later"

Me: Ayla can you say Pea - NUT

Ayla: Yes penis...

Me: No Ayla Pea

Ayla: Pea


Ayla Nut

Me: Pea Nut

Ayla: Peenu

Me: That'll do.

A story to horrify her on her 18th birthday

Saturday, 16 May 2015

Innocence of a Two Year Old

At home we have recently started watching 'Sunday Afternoon Movies' with the kids. We were sat watching Lion King for the first time a few weeks ago. Obviously at 2 years old my triplets are too small to grasp the permanence of death.
During the stampede scene our little girl Ayla got visibly distressed saying over and over in a sadder and sadder voice "baby lion!!! ... baby lion?" She rallied when Mufasa appear to save Simba but then when Mufasa fell from the cliff she got extremely uncomfortable with what was happening and kept asking us for reassurance while looking like she was about to cry. Then when Simba goes up to his dead father she announced "HE'S HIDING, HE'S SLEEPING" with a huge "everything is okay again" smile on her face....we've banned lion king until she's older....and bambi 

Monday, 2 February 2015

The White Stuff

Recently it snowed. Not enough to build a snowman, but when it did snow it went all out with thundersnow and covered enough of the world to make it seem magical.
It was the first snow my two year old triplets had ever seen, or at least were old enough to notice,.So when it decided to snow during their naptime and then break out into glorious (deceptive) sunshine I decided it was time to play in our first ever snow.

I roused the troops from their beds by flinging the curtains back and exclaiming proudly SNOW!
Some vague excitement started to build as they all crowded the windows to see this 'snow' which they told me was white (well done nursery), and they were even more intrigued when I announced we would put coats and shoes on and actually go outside into the snow.

Ten minutes later all three were finally dressed and ready, I decided not to put a coat on myself so I could gauge when it might be getting too cold for them. I pushed them all out into the garden and popped the 'baby' in the playroom by herself where she could watch from the warm house, (and cry at us as it turns out) through the window.

Let the fun commence!

Ayla picked up some snow and stared at me with a horrified, it's cold and wet, look on her face while I pranced around trying to convince them it was fun to be in the snow, showing them how I was leaving footprints and could ball the snow up into piles.

They were unimpressed.

Determined to salvage this amazing first snow experience I ran inside and returned with the sledge I 'optimistically' purchased the previous year, certain that it would snow in 2014. It didn't.

I proceeded to encourage, beg, bribe and then threaten each child into a sleigh ride. Each ride lasted no more than two steps before they wanted to get off, so still clinging to the idea that perhaps they would like the snow if they I just tried a bit harder I started placing their teddies on the sleigh and dragged that round the garden while saying;

"weeee, oh isn't this fun, weeee, woooah"

When I looked back over at them the 'baby' was leant against the window howling at the fact we were outside and she wasn't, while my triplets, (who hadn't moved since dismounting from the sleigh ride) were all huddled together, shivering.


I asked them if we should go back inside (to which the answer was a firm NO through chattering teeth) and then proceeded to bribe them back indoors with the promise of cake.

So much for our first snow experience, it would appear it's great to watch from inside but not something they want to get actually out in. Maybe next year.

Wednesday, 21 January 2015

Truths about motherhood

No two people will ever, nor should ever walk the very same path.

I felt it was so important once I had my kids to tell people "i don't like newborns, or babies" once I had the pleasure of three living at home with me. This is me, the one who wanted kids FOREVER. I do not like those first few weeks of a newborn, stretched out by prematurity. But once your kid gets more dialled in, starts smiling and being more aware its fantastic. At age 2 my trio are now how i imagined having kids would be, as in I can actually do stuff WITH them and not just FOR them. Sure we had a lot of fun from 4-24 months but they are learning now, like big thirsty sponges eager to soak up any game, idea, book, word or song they can.

That hit you in the heart love when you meet your kids, never had it, didnt love my trio when I met them. I dutifully cared of them as I was their mother (or so they told me) but thats the end of it. It was different with Quinn, they showed me her the moment she was born and there was this feeling, this strange 'oh, there you are' emotion, this instant recognition - she was mine and I knew it. I never got that with my trio, let's blame it on an upsetting birth and traumatic first few days but some part of me has always felt broken and sad about that fact. Walking into a room not knowing which of the 15 babies were mine, I felt horrible, I felt I should have (but couldn't have) known which children were mine.

I am happy breastfeeding Quinn but really didnt like it when I was breastfeeding my triplets. It was very important to me they had breast milk but the never ending line of another baby needs feeding by you and you alone now was so very, very hard. After the first fortnight of all three babies home I kept thinking, it's someone else's turn now, I don't want to do this anymore, it's got to be someone elses go now. And then just as quickly, I got over it, had learnt to do it so well (and to take care of them better than anyone else) and realized no one else was going to come and do it for me anyway that I just got on with it and soon I didn't mind doing it anymore.
Feeding Quinn is different, she has at moments brought me to my knees with frustration but at 10 months she is once again (hallelujah) consistently sleeping through the night, on a firm routine and has always remained a compete joy. All those sweets she made me crave have definitely made her into a total sweetie.

Motherhood is both hard and glorious, and I cannot stand any mumpetition of "well my baby was already walking at 10 months, I see yours is 11 months and can only drool" which seems to be lurking everywhere. Each kid is unique, each milestone just as special for everyone, no matter when they occur, and each journey and life is so very different they deserve more credit than most give them.