Travel Tips to Convince You (And Him) to Travel with Your Family.

I am a travel bug from way back. At the age of 15 I boarded my first flight. I travelled to the Philippines with a group of people I didn’t know and did a mission trip and for two weeks I dressed a clown visiting schools, public squares and even rubbish dumps making children laugh as I rode a unicycle, juggled and behaved in a very silly fashion.

Smoky Mountain, Philippines
Nothing like gaining perspective as a teenager when visiting Smoky Mountain in the Philippines. A place where people literally live in a garbage dump.

The week I was due to fly out typhoons hit Philippines. At that point in time the prospect of the trip had become terrifying to me. I was willing to forgo my ticket and the weeks and weeks that I had worked in a cucumber greenhouse in sweltering summer conditions to earn the money to buy it. I was secretly hoping that the aircraft would be grounded and I would remain safe in my home with my family. I couldn’t believe I had been so foolish to venture out into the big wide world on my own – and fly on a jumbo jet with a group of strangers to get there, to say the least.

The flight was not grounded and away I went. I had the time of my life and just like that I had caught the travel bug.

Two years later I donned my clown suit again and went to Fiji. Next I returned to the Philippines. In my gap year I travelled to the US. I started to explore my own country taking domestic flights to Sydney and we booked our honeymoon in Tasmania. There is always something thrilling about being near an airport. It is the commencement of adventures. The launchpad of epic quests or the beginning of a voyage that will produce relaxation.

Clowning in Fiji
Getting ready to clown in Fiji. My 17 year old self.

Alex’s first flight was our honeymoon to Tasmania. We both loved our time away, but Alex was very content to stay in Australia. It worried me. After several years of married life, my feet were itchy. The travel bug flitting through my thoughts and imaginations and thrilling destinations were invading my mind. I finally convinced The Accountant to spend the money and we flew to Europe. We had a good time, but through much of it Alex was nonplussed. Nothing seemed to impress him too much and he often expressed a desire to go home. I was gutted. It seemed like this would be our one and only overseas trip together.

Eating snails in Paris.
Eating snails on our first trip together to Paris.

I was devastated at the prospect of having to break up with my darling travel bug.

But then we arrived home. It seemed that the eggs had been laid for Alex’s travel bug while we were overseas but it only hatched once we got home. Oh the stories he told! And the excitement he would express whenever he saw a location that we had visited. (So much more than we he was actually at the location, but never mind.) And then he started dreaming of new locations to explore – domestic and international. He was hooked and I couldn’t be happier!

Together we wandered through Eastern Europe, squeezed through the Asian crowds, kicked up our heals in the US and lived in London for a year.  We’ve also fallen in love with our own country as we looked in awe at the majestic 12 Apostles and or sipped our way through the Hunter Valley.  We are now confident travellers and have become pros at negotiating public transport in foreign countries on trains, bus and metros. (It’s part of being married to an Accountant. Saving money on a trip makes it more exciting.)

Fisherman's Bastion, Budapest.
Fisherman’s Bastion, Budapest.

Unfortunately as our family has grown, our wings have been clipped. I am reduced to reflecting on the happy memories and experiences of travel. There’s nothing like doing the washing up and reminiscing about a morning exploring a Montmartre cemetary.

But that travel bug. She’s a saucy little temptress and often I find myself daydreaming of jetting away again.

Alex, always the sensible one in our relationship, refuses to travel with the triplets.

Lily Livered Father.

I think we could handle it. We are experienced travellers after all. Surely the knowledge we have of travelling would serve us in good stead for an overseas jaunt with the family?  And as for his other arguments. I’m sure I could convince the children to stop eating for a day or two a week so that we could save the necessary finances. (Coughs nervously.)

Here is the starting point for my travel tips that I’m sure would put us in good stead for travelling with the triplets.

1. Choose a good airline.

It has been our experience that it is worthwhile choosing an airline carefully. Not very often, but occasionally we have made a bad choice with an airline carrier. There is nothing worse then beginning or ending your trip with a bad aeroplane experience. Your first priority needs to be safety. I was once on a plane where the nuts and bolts of seats rattled precariously during take off. True story. It’s worthwhile doing your research about your airline before leaving the ground. You also want an airline that has a priority for customer service. You especially want a friendly and sympathetic steward just in case you are travelling with a wayward toddler while pregnant and then you delete all the photos of your trip accidentally and start you crying and just can’t stop. You need a lovely steward to pat you on the shoulder and bring you a hot towel to wipe your eyes with. (Hypothetically speaking.)

Plane
Newlyweds. Alex’s first flight to our Tasmanian honeymoon destination.

2. Plan in advance.

Organisation isn’t something I am naturally gifted with. But I am always motivated to be organised when I travel.  I have the itinerary firm, accommodation booked, all documentation printed and organised into chronological order so I can pull it out as needed. And LISTS. In the lead up to leaving home, lists are my best friends, particularly lists for packing and what needs to be done before leaving.  I could only imagine that travelling with children would only increase the intensity of pre-trip organisation for me. Oh, how much thought would go into putting together activities to keep the children occupied on the plane and bits in between. And organising travel diaries for the children! Such educational possibilities!

3. Don’t plan in advance.
As much as I find security in having everything organised on a holiday, we have found a lot of our best travel moments have happened when we didn’t plan. From quaint hidden away restaurants in Italy to discovering hidden back streets in France or strolling in Spanish parks with the locals. Leaving days unplanned is a tip I have learned.  Planning the unplanned days might be necessary, but leaving room to hear local advice and explore their recommendations makes for a great holiday. Having unplanned days would be useful when travelling with children, because if everyone is over tired, it makes for a good rest day, and it may be that the local advice we seek on those days would be where the best playgrounds are situated.

4. Pack light, return heavy.

I love to shop, and prime time shopping is during holidays. (The Accountant is resigned to this fact now.) When considering what to pack, it’s easier to leave things out if you remember the less you take with you the more you can bring home. It’s become a hobby of ours to bring paintings home from overseas locations now. So much of the art on our walls have become a lasting souvenir of an overseas trip. Definitely worthy of ditching an extra set of PJ’s for.

Shopping in Paris
Shopping in Paris baby!

5.  Remember that the worst moments on a trip often become the best travel stories.

I literally have consoled myself of this fact when we have been in the middle of a travel misadventure. And sure enough, oh how those at home laughed when we related misadventures on trains and planes, camera breakages and incidents involving vomit. All horrid at the time, all the best parts of the stories when we got home. So, travelling with three year old triplets and two strong willed brothers? How can we go wrong? We’ll either have a peaceful happy time, or we’ll come home with stories that could get us on Ellen.

The Great Wall of China
Climbing the Great Wall of China. The only time we have travelled overseas – and it was with a child, (not even children!) The experience was wonderful, but also enough to keep The Accoutant grounded for coming onto seven years now!

Are you a travel bug? Do you think we could travel with the triplets? If so, comment below and share your wisdom with The Accountant as to why for our family of seven should travel abroad.

I am entering this post in a super dooper competition with Problogger and Virgin Australia. Wish me luck, because if I win, there will be no excuses, the triplets and I will be on a plane with the family soaring to new adventures! And if The Accountant is right and it all goes badly, well, there will be some hilarious blog posts for you to chuckle over.

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Alice in Wonderland – Down the Rabbit Hole

Did you know that it’s been 150 years since Lewis Carroll wrote Alice in Wonderland? Originally Lewis Carroll (pseudonym for Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) told a story of a girl who down a rabbit hole to a little girl named Alice who requested he wrote the story down. He did and was encouraged to publish it. Since doing so Through the Looking Glass has been published countless times throughout the world in 174 languages. It has been made into plays and movies and been the inspiration for many works of arts and the theme for all manner of events and parties.

150 years and the story is still enduring. Scholastic has published a modern retelling by Joe Rhatigan and Charles Nurnberg  and we were delighted to be gifted a copy to review. It quickly charmed my 3 year old girl and for at least a month or two it was requested to be read to her at least once a day.

Little Girl enjoying Alice in Wonderland
A favourite bedtime story.

It is magical how the classics capture the hearts and imagination of generations of children.  I can remember watching the Disney version with my friends and it being a source of inspiration for a lot of imaginary games afterwards. It was probably the first classic novel I was given. I have to admit, I found the original text very difficult to read as a 10 year old, but it was the first time I ploughed through complex language in with the ambition of reading a time honoured classic.

This particular version has illustrations by Eric Puybaret have a modern flavour yet very much capture the nonsensical elements of the story and captures the fantasy and imagination that has long been associated with the well known characters and tale.

Alice in Wonderland stuck in house

If you want your child to discover Alice and some of the characters such as the White Rabbit, Dodo, Bill the Lizard and the Blue Caterpillar, this picture book is a delightful introduction.

The White Rabbit

I am wondering if there will be another book featuring Alice’s adventures with the Mad Hatter, Queen of Hearts and the Cheshire Cat, the final page certainly references that there is more to come in the story. If so, I know my little girl will be very keen to delve into the next edition.

Alice in Wonderland illustrations

Do you have memories of Alice in Wonderland? Has her tale been passed onto your own children?

 

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Three Year Old Triplet Tantrums and Mischief

 

Triplets and Daddy
The triplets with Daddy during holidays. They are often looking grumpy, but in this photo they are actually looking a bit shell shocked. They went on their first ‘big kids’ ride at Movieworld and the Wild West ride kind of freaked them out a bit!

Just quietly, can I admit to you that I am really struggling with three year old triplets right now? Look, they are gorgeous kids, and they make me smile constantly throughout the day. But just as often at the moment, they make me rub my aching head and quietly pray for divine intervention. Please Lord, make the crying and fighting stop! Because I really don’t know how to make the three year old triplet tantrums crying and fighting stop. Every.Little.Thing. They will go from giggles to hysterics in three seconds flat. It’s doing my head in.

And then if they aren’t fighting, there is mischief and mayhem.

For instance last weekend  I left the room after making a chocolate cake with the two kids. We were running behind time so I left Jayden and Toby licking the bowl and spatula while I raced down to get their clothes ready. Two minutes later Jayden has spilt sugar over the bench and put the bowl on his head so before we left I added showering a grubby boy to remove chocolate from his hair.

The next day I sent the triplets outdoors after they were fighting over lunch. Generally they play better outdoors. They were playing nicely, so I got a few things done while going out regularly to check on them. Even still, I didn’t hear Triplet 1 come in the back door. But then I heard a cry for help. He had done a poo and had tried to take his clothes and dirty pants off without taking his shoes off.  It wasn’t pretty. Ironically I had officially considered the triplets fully potty trained and had got the carpets professionally cleaned the week previously.

After disposing off the clothes to the laundry and depositing the child in the bath, I set about to find the source of the smell that seemed to be lingering. I couldn’t find it, so just decided to mop the floor where the child had been. Eventually I came to a dirty patch that seemed to be the source of the problem. However once this had been mopped there still seemed to be an odour coming from somewhere that I couldn’t locate. I kept mopping all surrounding areas, but the smell wouldn’t go away. When I went down to fetch his PJ’s, I found poo smeared all over the newly cleaned carpets. (And walls)

Thanks to Google, a concoction of 2 tablespoons of washing up detergent, 1 tablespoon of vinegar and 2 cups of warm water seemed to be effective at removing the smell and stain. (In bold in case you need to refer back to this if you face similar disasters. Because I’m helpful like that.)

It did take a fair bit of time to clean. Which made me late getting dinner ready. As I was rushing around the kitchen, suddenly Triplet 1 appears with a very wet mop. It wasn’t the same mop that I had been using. I went to investigate. He had got another mop from outdoors, and had ‘mopped’ a large area with the dirty water that I had used earlier. While doing so, he also spilled the remaining dirty water from the bucket.

Let me tell you. Upon this discovery I was not calm. I was ranting and yelling.

As I was trying to mop up the pools of water, one of the big boys came out telling on Triplet 2 “For putting toothpaste on his willy.” It was the final straw, I huffed off into the kitchen to let The Accountant know of my disapproval. He disappeared to restore order. I could tell I was frazzled and told myself to settle down. I shut myself in the pantry (I just didn’t want to see another kid right then) and tried breathing deeply to restore inner equilibrium. But because I was in the pantry, I gave up on this plan and reached up and found some chocolate, and closed my eyes while eating it and said a prayer.

Equilibrium restored.

Except while I was eating chocolate and praying in the pantry, Alex’s Chinese step sister walked into the kitchen. She is staying with us during the school holidays. We’ve only met her once before, so we’ve been getting to know her. I stood quietly in the pantry waiting for her to leave, but after peeking out at her, I realised she wasn’t going anywhere. I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin up and walked out of the pantry, as though it were perfectly normal that I had been in there for ten minutes.

Poor Yiwen was very startled so I just mumbled something about needing a moment and thankfully she smiled and had a chuckle with me. She had been with us for almost a week and had witnessed a lot of triplet tantrums. I don’t think she will understand until she’s a mother though.

To prove I’m not exaggerating, this is the three of them crying in the car park of the local fruit shop. Triplets all crying at once wasn’t pleasant when they were newborns and it still isn’t a nice sound.

I know I’m not the only Mum who hides from their children on the odd occasion. Where’s your hiding spot when you need a moment of peace? Have you ever been ‘caught’?

 

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Farm Kids

Farm Kids are generally very happy kids in my opinion.

Jonty on the farm

There is something about the great outdoors that delights children and being on a farm is mostly all about the great outdoors. I know because I grew up on a farm, and even though I would generally describe myself as a bookworm rather than an outdoorsy type, a large chunk of happy childhood memories for me are outdoors knocking around paddocks with my siblings on the farm.

My kids are blessed to have a great deal of exposure to farm life despite the fact their parents are not farmers. This week we jumped at the chance to go out west for a few nights at a group of properties my parents own. Mum and Dad don’t live there, so we don’t get out all that often. In fact, I was astonished to realise I haven’t been out there since the triplets were 8 months old – read about that trip here.

So on Sunday the kids and I loaded the car up and headed west. We stopped for a quick play in the park at a town along the way and Miss Rachael, who lives there now, popped down quickly with her fiance and showed us her new engagement ring! We headed to the next little town and stopped at the nursing home to say hello to my grandparents. Sadly, they have dementia now. It is still good to “introduce” my children to their great grandfather. Nana has only just moved there, so even though it took her a little while to work it out, she does remember the kids still. It’s all a bit sad, but thankfully, there is still so much of their personalities that are retained despite their damaged memory.

Once we got out to the farm, it was a bumpy drive up the long driveway to get to the homestead. It had rained recently, so the driveway was very slippery. Vans are not made for wet bush tracks. So, I didn’t get in our car again until we were leaving. Now that we are home, the car is still waiting for a wash, it has a thick, thick, thick coating of mud over the mudflaps!

Mornings started with cousins playing together with a toy farm by the fireplace.

Caitlin's Happy Heart |Playing farms by the fireplace

 

It didn’t take long before the kids were outdoors. I had brought the triplets balance bikes. There were two enormous mud puddles in the driveway in front of the homestead. Mum and I spent a lot of the next few days yelling at the four youngest boys (5, 4 and two 3 year olds) to get out of the puddles. Honestly, boys and mud – it’s a magnetic combo. They would creep up to the side of the puddle and just stare longily at it. Next they would have a stick or be poking it with their fingers, and before you know it they would be riding through it. I looked out once and there was Jayden standing in the middle of the puddle with a plastic mower. Luckily there was a washing machine to keep washing the muddy clothes!

Caitlin's Happy Heart | Boys and mud puddles

The best thing to do to stay away from the puddles was get out and about and see what the big kids, Uncle Adrian and Grandad was doing. An excursion away from the homestead was always an adventure.

Big cousin with triplets

Like watching a truck unload the grain and get loaded up the auger.

Truck unloading grain | Caitlin's Happy Heart

Letting grain run through your fingers is such a great sensory experience.

Feeling grain on a child's fingertips

There was old machinery to play on.

Playing on an old tractor

Playing on old farm machinery

New machinery to explore.

Kids on tractor

Things to climb.

Climbing on a farm

And best of all, rides on machinery!

bulldozer

kids on a bulldozer

Lessons from a big cousin.

Cousins

Lessons from Grandad.

Grandson learning about an air compressor

Picnics for lunch.

DSC_0324

Getting spoiled by Grandma. Lollies!

Lollies from Grandma

And getting up close and personal with wildlife. The kids loved being introduced to an echidna.

echidna

children meeting an echidna

As nice as life on the farm is, I always wonder how I would go if I was living in such isolation, when a quick trip to the shops is out of the question and having a day of retail therapy is several hours away. As it was, I downloaded a book to read on my Kindle while I was away. Unfortunately, I hadn’t realised that my Kindle was turned off and therefore was unable to deliver the book to the Kindle. There was no reception whatsoever except for a few random places on the farm you could get a very weak reception. (As it turned out, even those places wouldn’t pick up on the Kindle.) The triplets and I went for a drive a couple of kilometres away from the house one afternoon to see if I could get my book. When I pulled off the track to go to the tank where you can sometimes pick up reception, I didn’t realise how slippery the wet mud was and bogged the car. I felt like such a goose! Unluckily for me, there was no reception picking up that day either, so I couldn’t ring for help! I hadn’t brought the two way radio because it was playing up. I knew I could walk back to the house, but it would take a couple of hours, particularly with the triplets, but they didn’t have shoes on, so we couldn’t do that. I considered letting the triplets out and just letting them play in the mud, they had been trying to do this all day anyway, but I was figuring that it would probably be at least three hours before Dad would come by on his way home, so by then they would be very cold and far too dirty to get back in the car. The triplets did have fun beeping the horn repeatedly. I figured there was definitely no one but the cows to get annoyed by the sound!

Luckily for us, we didn’t even have to wait a full hour. Dad decided to bring the kids back and have an early afternoon, so he came by earlier then usual. Of course, I was feeling stupid, and he didn’t make me feel any better. My son who was with Dad also had great delight in laughing over my misfortune. Nevertheless, Dad towed me out and we returned to the house with no new book. Imogen was telling everyone that “Grandad was a superhero because he rescued us.”

bogged

Just as well, the end of the evenings were lovely with a fire to watch.

Cousins around a fireplace.

Or even better – a bonfire!

Bonfire

 

With bonfire food of sausages, spuds and corn.
Corn by the bonfire

And of course toasted marshmallows!

toasted marshmallows by a bonfire

But best of all going to the farm meant family bonding for the children with their cousins and grandparents.

Grandad and grandson

We live a rich and blessed life indeed.

 

Have your kids been able to experience farm life? Are you on holidays yet?

Linking today Flog Yo Blog with Grace.

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How to Handle a Public Tantrum

How to Handle a Public Tantrum

Those moments. The ones when you are in public and you have a child (or more than one) on the floor writhing at your feet screaming in a fit of discontent and sorrow. Knowing how to handle a public tantrum is one of those chapters that should be included in the parenting manual – you know the manual? The one we all didn’t get when we had kids. That one.

Last week Jayden chucked a spectacular tantrum at the checkouts in Target. For the first time the triplets had all had their own kids trolley and had been able to follow me around the store without fighting. They looked adorable all walking in their little red trolley convoy and as a special treat I allowed them all to put a ball in each trolley for us to buy.

Shopping with triplets

When we got to the checkout, they all unloaded their balls and delivered it to the counter. However, when they turned around to go back to their trolleys, Toby walked back to the wrong trolley.  It became obvious that it was impossible for Jayden to compromise and push any other trolley, despite the fact that it was identical to his original. I then asked Toby to be compassionate and let Jayden have his original trolley. Predictably this request was answered with a resolute, “No”, and his little hands gripped tightly to the trolley ready for the inevitable Onslaught.

Sure enough, when Jayden saw that his demands “request” had been denied, he did protest much.

And loudly.

Cue loud raucous crying. Cue launching himself at his brother. Cue brother hitting and kicking as he defended his “right” to use the red trolley of his choice. Cue rolling around the floor screaming.

Cue mother trying to pay and get the brood out of their as quickly as possible. On this particular occasion. I have no idea what other customers or staff were thinking of me. I only had the eyes to deal with the situation in front of me. I took the trolley off both of the two boys, because neither had been acting kindly wheeled them back to their home then scampered back to collect the children who were still languishing at the checkout crying loudly. I rushed back, took them by the hand and walked out, waiting briefly for Immy to responsibly replace her own trolley like the model child of the moment.

When we got out of Target, I kneeled down so I was eye level with Jayden and had a quick chat. I empathised that I knew he was feeling sad, and that he wanted to push only one trolley, and then I pointed out that it wasn’t fair that because he was feeling sad, he made everyone around him feel sad because they had to listen to his crying. I also spoke to Toby and said it wasn’t being kind to fight with Jayden. We then continued our shopping, and they did quite well.

To be honest, I’m becoming a pro at negotiating the humiliation of the public tantrum. My young brood of children are all strong in nature. This means they don’t back down readily and will tenaciously hold their position. Which is actually great qualities to have as they grow up. However while they are so young, it is tricky teaching them how to be gracious when they are disappointed. Especially when the lesson needs to be learned publicly.

It’s always helpful remembering that our children are learning. Knowing how to share, behave in public and thinking of others are skills that children learn. Tantrums are often a vehicle to learn good behaviour. Granted, it’s the least desirable transport on the road to good behaviour. Children should be encouraged and taught better methods of handling their frustration. But inevitably there will be public tantrums and outbursts. Here are some hints that I use when I’m in a public tantrum situation.

1. Distract
Of course, there’s a point where distraction is futile. But often, if the tantrum is in the early stages, you might be able to distract your child. Use your most bright cheerful voice while you point out something very ordinary extremely interesting. It’s amazing how interesting a mannequin in a window can be when you are using your best senior high drama voice! Of course there is the possibility that you make something look so interesting (there are drawbacks to pointing out toys, for instance) that your toddler switches modes and re-directs their tantrum to the new thing that is in their focus. If so, proceed to suggestion number 6.

2. Temporarily Remove Your Child From the Situation
Sometimes I find it helpful to take my screaming child to a quiet (or quietish/quieter) corner and talk to them calmly. Cuddle them and reassure them that you love them. Give them the opportunity to calm themselves down. Once they are calm, state firmly but lovingly what your expectations are when you return to what you are doing. Also state clearly what will happen if the bad behaviour continues. Of course, sometimes when you do this, the cries escalate, snot starts running, feet begin to stamp and your child makes all indications that it will take an hour before your offspring calms down. In which case, admit defeat and proceed to number 6.

3. Know That Most People Are Understanding
When your child is having a public tantrum you can often the burn of disapproving eyes on you and your child. Reassure yourself that in fact a lot of people are quite understanding. I know it doesn’t always feel like it. Because let’s face it, often we don’t even want to turn around and check out the expressions on the people around us. Of course, occassionally there is a situation where you are literally being judged by everyone around you. If so, proceed directly to number 6.

4. Recognise the Root Cause
Sometimes we need to pause and consider what is happening in our child’s life. Your child may simply be venting because they are worried about the dentist appointment that afternoon or they are feeling insecure because they are uncertain of how to behave in this situation. Children who enjoy routine can often just be unsettled by being outside the home. Acknowledge what they are feeling. Give their concerns words. Give them a hug and let them know that you are willing to guide them through their frustration. Of course, sometimes you may have correctly identified the root cause, you chat to them, hug them and they scream louder. If so, you may want to proceed directly to number 6.

5. Keep the Bigger Picture in Perspective
I constantly do this when I am parenting. Why do I want to deal with this issue in public? Really. It’s so much easier to deal with tantrums privately. Bigger picture thinking makes you realise that by dealing with this issue as it happens, you are in fact teaching your child how to behave in public. You are actually working towards this happening less in the future. If you retreat every time a child throws a tantrum, your child learns that they can completely manipulate you during public outings. However, some days you know you or your child is just too tired to deal with a tantrum in public. In which case, Hold your head high knowing you are doing what is best for you and your child in that moment and that despite what people are thinking, you have a large array of strategies that you implement other times and proceed to number 6.

6. Ignore All Above Suggestions, Do Whatever You Can to Retreat and Get the Hell Out!
Some days, there’s just no winning. Recognise those days, and do whatever you can to withdraw in a hasty retreat. Wave the white flag. Or not. The white flag may not even withstand the destruction of a toddler/preschoolers rage. Training can be done another day, save your own sanity woman!!!! (Or Man, there is no gender bias when it comes to being defeated by a small fry.) Get to the car as quickly as you can.  Try not to screech the tyres in your retreat, but if you need to enhance the drama – go ahead. Make your exit spectacular! Ugly crying may accompany this retreat. Embrace the emotions. You are not the first to be brought to their knees by their wild progeny.

Shopping with triplets for balls
Moments before the epic showdown.

 

There is no shame being beaten by a bambino providing you raise your head and live to fight train another day. You can be assured of this. The same issue will come up – the odds are with you that the issue will surface imminently. Believe in your child, believe that they can learn to negotiate, believe that they actually don’t want to tantrum but rather that they want, need and desire the security of boundaries. And know this. If I am in the crowd as the battle lines are drawn, whether I catch your eye and give you an encouraging smile or not, I’m cheering for you because the fact that you are dealing with a tantrum publicly immediately is a public declaration that you are a good parent. Further then good – you are an excellent and outstanding (and brave) parent.

 

Has your child every had a spectacular public tantrum? What works best for you when you are faced with a child having a public tantrum?

Joining with Essentially Jess and IBOT.

 

 

 

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Waiting during Infertility with Grace, Patience and Purpose

Waiting During Infertility

Infertility is such a difficult journey and there is long periods of waiting during infertility. Infertility involves so much waiting. Waiting for a positive pregnancy test, waiting for a cycle to begin, waiting for blood test results, waiting for doctors appointments, waiting for scans, waiting for a diagnosis, waiting for your turn. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Waiting patiently for children or contemplating a possibility of no children sometimes feels like an impossible chore. Except it’s not a chore, it’s an existence. Living with infertility is an existence where everything is hopeless and every feeling you have is limited to your feeling of loss. Thoughts are constantly about the baby who is not in your arms.

I can remember there was an evening during my journey of infertility when I changed my perspective of waiting and started to concentrate more on living.

It happened as I watched a grieving husband kneeling by a graveside, weeping for his dead wife, lamenting his loss and contemplating raising 2 daughters on his own. Unseen by him, I could see his wife’s ghost. She was begging him to cease his grieving. She implored him to not waste a moment while  alive but to value and cherish life, recognizing that even the small mundane things in life are “important enough” and that he should value “every, every minute.”

This mourning husband grieved on a stage during a scene of the famous American play “Our Town”. the poignant image of the dead watching us live our lives and willing us to respect the enormous privilege we have to be alive affected me enormously.

As I watched, it occurred to me that perhaps I needed to ensure that the fleeting minutes that belong to me as I live on earth are not wasted.

At the time, my husband and I had been married for 4 years. We married relatively young and during our marriage, we were already on the way to paying off our modest little white farmhouse that we lived in, I had finished my degree, a Bachelor of Education and in the evenings Alex was studying externally working on his degree, a Bachelor of Accounting. We were working during the day which had developed a passion for travelling and funded overseas European adventures and had a great social life with a variety of friends.

Young and infertile
Alex and I back when we were young and childless.

But, for almost 2 years at that point, we had been trying to have a child.

It is not that the quest to have children was crippling me and leaving me unable to live a meaningful life. I was very happily employed as a lower primary teacher at Christian Outreach College. I adored the children in my classes and I enjoyed teaching. In many ways I was able to redirect my instinct to mother towards those children. I would make sure they ate their lunch, ensure they felt loved and accepted, govern the squabbles and conflicts they had with their friendships. I would spend hours preparing games and designing lessons so that the learning was as fun as possible while the content that I taught was solid and my students had strong academic foundations in those early years.

But even though I loved my job, there was still a level of discontent that one feel when you are experiencing infertility. The yearning to have your own biological children can be deep and painful.

I am a Christian. I talk to God and he talks to me. I believe God talks to me in a variety of ways. Sometimes I feel dirction by God when I read His words in the Bible. Sometimes as I pray, I can feel a presence and deep down inside my Spirit. I hear a voice that is wiser than my own. After I have prayed, ideas and answers that become guidance come to me, more often and more quickly then if I do not pray. So for me, this is proof that God talks to me. When I am at church, often I hear from God when I sing a song or listen to the Pastor preach.

Then there are the times that God speaks to me in a more unconditional way. For instance, a walk in the bush contemplating nature, and suddenly God drops a metaphor into my mind that applies to a situation in my life.

On this particular occasion God used some words written by Thornton Wilder and a group of student actors to get my attention.

Later that evening as I contemplated the message of the play, I heard God speaking to me. I felt a clear directive that I was not to waste my life worrying that I would never get pregnant or speculatively obsessing about my future.

Would I be a mother?

Childless? Was I going to be always without my own children? How would I cope, would there always be a part of me that would feel empty and unfulfilled?

That night I realized that while it was natural to feel emotional about this topic, I was spending so far too much of my thought life contemplating scenarios of what may or may not be. At the end of the day, the obsessing was not getting me anywhere. There were two scenarios. I would have children, or I wouldn’t. Either way, if I wanted my life to be meaningful, I would need to work out a way proceed and find my purpose in each moment.

And so I stopped dreaming about the “what ifs” and living more in the moment and planning for the future that I knew. I was living, seeking to fulfill my days with meaning and gratitude. Of course I still dreamed about being a mother, but when I did so, it was with the confidence that whatever my future was, it was secure and it was good.

And it has been good! After five years of trying to conceive, I discovered I was pregnant with our first child. I was living in London at the time. Ringing my parents and my sister and telling them the news was one of the happiest moments of my life.

In my wildest dreams I would have never imagined that after my first little boy was born, I would have four more children and that my youngest three would be triplets.

Large Family 5 kids and triplets

Parenting is hard work. Really hard work. I am blessed that I am able to stay at home with my children and raise them during these early years. Each day is precious and I treasure so many moments with my children. It’s not all happiness. There are the stormy waters of childish tantrums, stubbornness and jealousy to negotiate. When the tempests brought on by angry little humans surround me, I often remember the days when I yearned for these children. Suddenly my perspective is restored, and somehow I navigate our ship into safer harbours and enjoy the sunshine when peace is restored.

I remember the words spoken in the play, “Our Town”, that I watched back in 2002. Emily, the young wife who had died asked, “Does anyone ever realize life while they live it … every, every minute?” The response from the Stage Manager who narrated the play was, “No. Saints and poets maybe…they do some.”

I am not a poet, and my family would testify that I am indeed no saint. I am determined to live my life in such a way that it is meaningful. While I am here on earth, I don’t want to just value every moment, I want to make a difference in the lives of others. I want to make the God that I pray to proud of the life I lived and I want my life to reflect the goodness that he is to me.

Because, to once again quote Thornton Wilder’s words in “Our Town”,

“We all know that something is eternal. And it ain’t houses and it ain’t names, and it ain’t earth, and it ain’t even the stars … everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you’d be surprised how people are always losing hold of it it. There’s something way down deep that’s eternal about every human being.”

 

 

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I Wanna Be…

Dress Ups and Children's books

There are two books that are very popular in our house. Written by Heath McKenzie, I Wanna Be a Pretty Princess and I Wanna Be a Great Big Dinosaur are two books that encourage imaginative play, independence and individuality not to mention fancy dress!

I Wanna Be A Great Big Dinosaur is about a little boy who professes that “More than anything else in the whole wide world, I wanna be a great big Dinosaur!” A friendly T-Rex overhears this statement and offers to teach the boy all the skills necessary to be a great big dinsosaur. So he learns the basics: like ROARing, stomping and eating but then starts to discover some of the activities that little boys engage in. By the end of the story, the dinosaur reverses roles and wishes that more than anything else in the whole wide world he wants to be a little boy. And why not? Eating delicious foods more than just meat, reading, soccer and video games makes me want to become a little boy or girl again also. (Some days!)

I Wanna Be A Great Big Dinosaur

I Wanna Be A Pretty Princess follows the same pattern. A little girls wants more than anything else in the whole wide world to become a pretty princess. A princess overhears and shows her the rudimentary requirements and etiquette required to being a pretty princess. The little girl is not completely thrilled with all these rules, so makes up her own rules. I must say I think the little girl literally rocks the princess role in her rainbow tights and tutu as opposed to the perfectly manicured princess with no room for error.

I Wanna Be a Pretty Princess

To be truthful, I wasn’t the biggest fan of this book when I first read it. Maybe it was because my little girl, isn’t the princess type generally. She is more the super-girl, roaring dinosaur dress up girl normally (fits right in with her four brothers). She LOVES this book though and we have read it a million times,  and I don’t think I’m exaggerating. (Sometimes the boys even request it when she’s not around, so that has increased the quota also) Maybe the encouragement towards self expression suits her?

These are a great addition to our kids library. Both books are loved by both boys and girls and are filled with vibrant and humorous illustrations and fun dialogue.

 

 

Reading I Wanna Be
I started reading the two books with Imogen and Jayden today. Toby wasn’t interested and was busy playing with mobilo. I loved how gradually he was drawn from two rooms away (complete with dinosaur tail and mobilo belt) and by the time the 2nd story started he was well and truly engaged with the text.

 

These books were gifted to us by Scholastic. All opinions are my own, of course!

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I Was Offended by Sexualisation of Women on Mother's Day

To the young man who sat next to me on the plane on Mothers Day,

Plane Sitting

Mother’s Day is a day celebrating motherhood and thereby it is a day we cherish womanhood and esteem femininity.

Let me tell you, I did not feel valued as a woman and esteemed as a mother when I looked at your shirt. The topless young blonde in tiny lacy knickers displayed on your shirt was sexually objectifying women. There is never a good day to objectify women and on Mother’s Day it was particularly offensive to me. For the first time that day I was glad I did not have my children with me. I am glad that my four boys did not see an image that should never be thought as ‘normal’ and the fact they are young enough to not be turned on by a naked lady but enthused by the water pistol the woman on your shirt pressed to her oversized breasts just makes it more dangerous. I’m glad my daughter did not see a picture that debases females.

You seemed to be a nice enough young man. You smiled as you sat down and spoke to my husband politely. At the end of the flight you considerately passed my husband his suit jacket from the overhead locker. I don’t know whether you have even considered or realised that there are some people who would find your shirt offensive. I wish I was brave enough to tell you in person. I will use this platform to explain why I take exception to men who wear shirts with images that belong in a porn magazine. (And might I add that I don’t think porn magazines and their extreme objectification of women belong in society? That is another issue however.)

I wonder, if you knew that on Mother’s Day you were going to sit on a plane next to the mother of the girl on your shirt, would you? Or if this woman was a mother, would you sit next to her children with their scantily clad mother plastered over your chest? Would you like her mother or her children to know that you look at a picture of her daughter or their mother and imagine having sex with her? And would you like them to know that you don’t imagine having sex with her because she is a special person or that she has a delightful personality or that she is lovable? How could you think of her in that way? You do not know her, she is a merely a pictorial object that causes you to have a biological reaction?

You might say that my indignation is unfounded. You might say that the way you wear this shirt is nothing personal to the young woman depicted on it.

That, young man, is my point. You have a sexually explicit picture on your shirt and it is indeed nothing personal. It is a woman you do not know and it makes you, and others who look at her meaningless. Sexually gratifying to a certain point for you. Exciting to behold perhaps? But meaningless, as her image only produces a mere instinctual reaction.

Sex should be far more than a biological reaction. When sex is seen as impersonal, womanhood is not valued. The loving sexual relationship that men and women have,  that produces children who are  loved and brought up in a loving family needs to be esteemed. Our society is damaged by depersonalising sex and our thoughts regarding sex.

Young man, I wish I had the confidence to tell you this to your face. I wish that I could be as confronting to you as your shirt was confronting to me.

I wish you could realise on Mother’s Day that having sex in a loving committed relationship upholds a woman’s dignity and worth as a person and not as an object. I wish you could realise that wearing sexual images reduces the dignity of womanhood. The fact that you dare to wear this in public may not be offensive to all, but for those who it does offend, it is reasonable for us to feel this way.

I wish that you did not feel the need to advertise your own primal desires publicly on your chest. I wish that you would recognise that if more young men changed the mentality that sex is a commodity to be thoughtlessly imagined and consumed, then there would be less young women feeling the need to degrade themselves by dressing in a provocative way to get your attention. Because even though women do dress in a way to evoke a sexual response from you, there are very few women that actually want meaningless sex. I am confident when I say that most women want love, committed love, more than they want sex.

Please young man, think twice before you wear clothing with naked women photographed on it. I know that the woman has posed for it, and it was her free choice to do this. Don’t take away society’s free choice when we choose not to look at sexual images. When you walk up to us with that image, you take away that choice. You evoke other men to have lustful thoughts governed purely by biology, whether they wanted to or not. On so many levels, that shirt is not fair.

Yours sincerely,

The Mother sitting next to you, rushing home to hug her children before they go to bed.

PS. I saw you checking Instagram and Facebook in the air. What if our plane had dropped out of the air and I didn’t get to see my kids again because your failure to place your phone on Flightsafe mode….

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Building a Birdhouse With a Child

Making a birdhouse with my child was a fun activity using nature to interact with nature. His birdhouse has been swinging in the garden from a cherry blossom tree for over a year now and I’m pleasantly suprised how it has endured the seasonal changes and weather.
Building a birdhouse was an activity which certainly required adult assistance and was quite time consuming for a seven year old. Some older children might be able to construct one independently, although a bit of guidance from an adult would most likely be helpful, particularly during the first time. We have found it a good project to work on during the holidays or on a weekend that has ample free time available. Jonty has made two now. The first one hangs in our garden, the second he gave to his best friend for Christmas. We really need to make a third. A friend asked Jonty to make her one and he said he would, and even though she has made Jonty some recycled birdhouses, we haven’t reciprocated, which I feel awful about, but it is a time consuming activity and our lives are so busy. But no excuses, we really ought to do it soon.
The first step was to go hunting in the yard for leaves and sticks. We have plenty of gum trees around us so this wasn’t too hard. Depending on where you live you may need to go on a bushwalk or an excursion to a national park. The trick was to find sticks a variety of sizes that were able to be broken into smaller sizes easily enough.
We used an empty juice bottle as the base to stick the sticks and leaves onto. Cutting the holes out for the birdhouse was tricky and certainly needed to be done by an adult. We made sure that the hanging string was in place right from the start.
Birdhouse made by a child
After that it was a case of using the hot glue gun to apply the sticks. There were a few burnt fingers here (for both of us!). Assembling the sticks require a bit of thought and time to fit them together like a jigsaw so there was minimal gaps. I would line up a stick, Jonty would glue it and apply it to the container. Just a hint, we ended up sitting on a large piece of cardboard to catch the dripping glue. This was the time consuming part of the project.
Child making Birdhouse with hot glue
Jonty first put bread and grapes (his idea!) into the birdhouse. The next time we went shopping we bought birdseed and kept a container in the pantry. It lasted a long time because the birds haven’t seemed to cotton on to the free food!
Birdhouse food
Although this was a time consuming project, it was a great chance to spend some quality time being creative with my son. If you have a block of time, I would heartily recommend this as an activity to try with your child. It’s also very exciting when birds eat from it, and a great chance to learn the names of various birds.
Project Birdhouse
Do you have birds in your garden? Do you ever feed them or have a birdbath? Any hints on tempting the birds to eat from our birdhouse more regularly?
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To the Mother Who Feels Like She is Drowning

 

To the Mother Who Feels Like She is Drowning

Dear Mother who feels like she is drowning,

I know you are struggling to breathe. I can hear the strangled sounds as your head pierces the water and you gasp for air. I can see your legs kicking furiously underneath the surface valiantly fighting for survival.

I know that mounting to do list is drowning you. I see you feeling suffocated in dirty washing, dirty dishes, dirty window sills and unclean toilets. I know that sometimes when you breathe it must be shallow breaths because the smell of urine seems to permeate so many places in your home, not least of all the toilet which you cleaned from top to bottom 20 minutes ago. I know how the sound of crying, screaming and whining dulls your senses and follows your relentlessly. I can see you locked in your cupboard struggling for composure, praying for sanity and I see that before you regain the equilibrium you seek, you rush back out to the cacophony because if you don’t, you fear that some tiny bodies may perish in the battle that constantly surrounds you.

I see you tentatively venture into the wider world, silently praying that you will not sink below the glassy sea while everyone is watching. You hold the little hand beside you tightly and every fibre of your being wills the life form that you have created to hold it together otherwise you could break. And while everything goes smoothly I know you feel like a hypocrite as people applaud you for being “such a good mum” when you know that any moment you are about to fall apart. And when the inevitable comes, the mother and child’s truce disintegrates and the battle with your small charge recommences, you swallow your pride as you struggle to control the writhing body as it convulses in a tantrum. You are once again absorbed in their world trying to decipher their needs and tame their wants, yet still aware of the averted gazes and silent disapproval as humankind passes you by.

To the Mother who feels that she is drowning.

You will not drown. Look up for a moment. There are life rafts you can get onto nearby. If it seems too far away to swim, take a moment and yell for help. There are people nearby ready to throw life buoys in your direction.

I know so often if feels like you are all alone because you are immersed in your personal pain. There are always those who want to swim beside you or help tug you to safety if you look. Just stop and look and you will find a compassionate friend, a counsellor, a person in a community group or local church. They are all around holding life jackets for you, ready to put it on you and keep you safe. Believe me mother, tread water for a little while, call for help and grasp the hand that extends towards you.

Get to that raft and breathe. Find that place of safety and work out a plan. Your survival depends on it. Recognise that surviving does not equal perfection. Not every dirty room will be clean and not every moment will be calm, but learn to be happy amidst the clamour of daily life. Be happy and confident even if you are surrounded by imperfection. As you sit on that raft, look ahead at the distance you have to swim. Don’t feel overwhelmed but notice that in the stretch ahead, there are life rafts dotted all over the place. When it’s time to get back in the water, you only need to swim to the next raft; the next mother’s group meeting, the next church service. Swim to the next mothers group meeting where you can breathe with other mother’s who are taking refuge, swim to the next church service where you will find motivation to continue the marathon, swim to the next family function where arms will wrap you in love, even when you don’t feel worthy.

I promise you, the land will appear on the horizon. Some day you will reach the shores of sanity. Your house will be gleaming, there will be no more public tantrums, your children will link arms and walk with you on that shore and you will sit and eat a luxurious meal uninterrupted in comfort. As you look back out at the ocean you will feel peace because you know that it was a long hard swim to get to this promised land, but it was worth every stroke. You will remember the treacherous seas and the pain of the journey and you will find a boat and and row back into the waters and throw life vests out to those who are still swimming.

We swim this thing called life together. The old and the young, the weak and the strong. No one needs to drown.

 

Do you feel like you might be drowning? What are your life rafts as you wade through the waters of motherhood?

Are you able to throw the life vests for people? How do you recommend mothers get to safety?

 

Today I’m linking with Essentially Jess’s fabulous IBOT. Check it out, find a life raft and read some blogs. It will do your heart good.

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