Disciplining is hard work and it’s hard to know what to do and how to react at times. It’s hard to judge motive in little ones who can’t talk and even when they can, they sometimes still can’t explain why they did something. So we guess, sometimes we’re right and many times we are wrong but that’s okay, we learn and it gets easier, hopefully anyway. Our one rule that we stick to for ourselves is ‘Don’t smile, don’t laugh.’ The little ones love attention and a smile only encourages them and so we try to hold them back when they are being naughty but sometimes it is hard.

Wrigglebot was meant to be napping, he sleeps on the top bunk and has many toys and books up there. Suddenly I hear, ‘Mummy I’m stuck.’ I have a quick look, expecting to see him dangling from his bunk or his head wedged in the ladder or some such catastrophe, instead I see his doona and I know that I cannot cope with this one so I call in reinforcements. Husband deals with a Wrigglebot who had undone the buttons and crawled into his doona cover and could not find his way out again. Husband did exceptionally, abiding by the rule until he left the room and then we both lost it.

It does make me think though, when I was a child and got in trouble, were my parents really angry or were they just following the ‘Don’t smile, don’t laugh’ rule. I’m sure that’s what it was.

My husband’s parents are total hippies. His mother was the bra burning type back in the ol’days, I’m sure their recreational habits back then were not one bit legal, and my dear husband went to school with strange sandwich fillings he desperately tried to trade -to the absolute disgust of other students.

Of course, my dear mum-in-law is back to wearing bras most of the time and everything is pretty much normal in their household, but my greatest concern is how relaxed they are with Milla. This was a problem for me because leaving her in the vegie patch and allowing her to frolic amongst the brocoli and thyme was something that was incredibly likely.

I had been so worried about leaving Milla in their care for the first time and decided that short stints would be the best way to go before she pulled a lengthy stay and especially before she pulled an all-nighter.

We began with the day we had our 20 week ultrasound and if you read about what a disaster that was, you would understand that by the time we picked Milla up, I couldn’t care less what she’d been subjected to so long as she was still in one piece. Thankfully she was in one piece and as happy as can be.

A few weeks ago, they expressed their desperate desire to have her sleep the night. We were thrilled with the idea of going to the movies since it had been over two years since we last frequented a cinema (sad I know). But, I was so worried about leaving her and wanted so much to be a fly on the wall. I wasn’t reassured by my husband either because he also felt a little apprehensive about leaving her – but I couldn’t tell if this was just because it was the first time or because it was in their care.

We left her, and had a fantastic night – totally uninterrupted dinner (which was my favourite part) and a great film.
They sent a picture text to say that Milla was ‘having a ball’ with a photo of her sitting with the chickens in the chook shed and whilst I am all for a bit of dirt I was a little mortified that I wasn’t there to supervise.

We rushed the next morning to pick Milla up and there she was, and I kid you not, with daisies in her hair and barefoot and naked, grinning from ear to ear.

I realised at this point that these were incredibly important experiences for Milla to have. Although I try hard to offer a range of activities for her to enjoy at home and with our little adventures out each week, there is no better life experience for her than spending time just doing ’stuff’ with the ones that love her.
It makes for an enriched and happy life, and that’s exactly what I wish for her.

When Wrigglebot was one and a half we gave him a cricket set. It was ambitious I know and at first he didn’t play with it and all thoughts of him being the next Bradman flew out the window, I mean surely Bradman was already hitting cover drives at one. Since then, however, the cricket bat has had a good work out and has been, in my opinion, the best present we ever gave Wrigglebot. Okay this is ignoring the times he chases the chook bat in hand but otherwise the cricket bat has been a big success largely due to its magical properties.

What magical properties? you ask. Well this bat can reincarnate. For a few months it was a guitar, then a cricket bat, then a surfboard and now a water ski. Wrigglebot will play with each of these things for hours. When it was a surfboard he set up the stumps as flags and found a toy to wax his board with and then he balanced on it until a big wave came and he wiped out. With the guitar he played loudly and softly and composed his own songs, they all seemed to have the same tune and volume and rhythm, everything pretty much the same except for the words.

I think that’s what I like about the magical cricket bat, he can make it be anything he wants it to be which would be a little more difficult with a Bob the Builder truck carrying helicopter for example, I mean what else can a helicopter be?

There are in life big victories; you know like passing Year 12 exams, getting your license, getting the job you really want, seeing your kids leave home and then there are the little ones. Right now I’m focussed on the little ones and today I have had two. The first was seeing Squirm do wees in the potty. Yes we are starting toilet training here and much fun is sure to ensue. We had one successful wee and four messes to clean up but I suppose a 20% success rate isn’t bad for the first day.

The second victory is that all three of the little cherubs are having naps at the same time. The house is quiet except for the tapping of the keyboard and the dishwasher gently humming. There is no yelling, there is no crying, no whinging, no one pulling at my leg, there is peace. I didn’t think this day would come for a while yet, it may be a fluke but I aim to enjoy it while it is here. And so off I go to a cup of tea and a piece of freshly baked lemon cake. I feel like a bit of a domestic goddess today mind you the cake was baked with one baby screaming, a toddler weeing in the kitchen and a three year old sticking his fingers into every ingredient I pulled out. But I digress, I must go my tea is waiting.

I thought a few days away would be a great idea before baby number two arrived. I would have liked a few weeks but the budget wouldn’t stretch that far and my husband had to return to work and get back to reality.

It was an ‘interesting’ trip and certainly not the getaway we were used to pre-baby.

The car was loaded with child paraphenalia and our things squeezed in around it all. I left my competent hubby in charge of packing his own bag which turned out to be a big mistake as he left out the oh-so crucial jocks and socks. I thought this was funny at first, but when day two hit I was not laughing – he honestly thought back to front and inside out made a difference.

Of all the hot weather we have been experiencing we chose the worst two days to be away but we did make the most of it and as soon as the sun broke through the clouds for infrequent periods in the day we were off to the beach, in the hotel pool and at the adventure playground.

Our apartment was not one bit toddler proof and of course Milla wound up with her first shiner after one round with the coffee table. Not just your tiny purple mark either, but a huge, swollen purple eye. We were devastated but were told that it would be the first of many and to get used to it. Typically, I had Milla’s health centre visit today and had some explaining to do, all the while feeling like the worst mum in the world!

I am guessing our next trip away will be just as eventful, if not more so, with a toddler and a baby. And thankfully, I still have time before our next trip to at least ensure I have a self-sufficient husband!

Milla’s development will never cease to amaze me. I am in awe of how fast her development actually is and what she has achieved in her short life of 16 months so far.

Everyone tells you how fast it goes by. One minute you think you’ve got a newborn and sleep deprivation forever and the next minute they are up and walking, and running away from you when it’s time for ‘nigh nighs’ or a nappy change.

Milla woke at 6am this morning which is unusual since I have been lucky enough to get some 8am sleep-ins and when I asked her if it was because she got cold in her bed she replied, “No, hot!” and she pretended to cool herself down by blowing on her tummy like we blow on her cereal.
This was a huge reminder to me to really make the most of my little darling, all the stages she is going through, including the challenging parts, and just soak it all up as much as I possibly can.

My pregnancy with Milla was such a breeze that I was just so excited when I discovered I was pregnant again.
I couldn’t wait to feel those first kicks, to have people touch my belly and marvel at my little miracle (yes, I am one of those who enjoys the stranger hands on my bump), to break out the maternity wear and shop in all different stores to jazz up the sizeable belly. I was so comfortable and blissfully happy in my first pregnancy that I never quite got to the stage where I wanted her ‘OUT!’

Now, with 15 weeks to go, all I want is ‘OUT!’
I feel incredibly guilty that I want it over, particularly since so many women, friends included only dream to be in my position right now…but I am so totally and utterly uncomfortable.
There have been so many emotional ups and downs with the baby’s health and the 40 degree heat that Melbourne is experiencing is just not my cup of tea when I feel like I have a hot water bottle shoved up my singlet day and night!
I am certain that looking after a toddler (who has now decided that running is the best thing ever and “no don’t” are her most frequently used words) is even more exhausting than working a full 45 hour week.
And, friends and family have all commented on how huge I am and that I look like I’m at week 40 already – not what you want to hear when you have a good 15 weeks left of baby putting on weight!

You can then imagine my shock when husband announces that having four children might not be so bad! Hmmm…at this stage, not likely! But as ‘Chelle says, we soon forget the challenging times and I can only imagine that when this beautiful baby of mine does decide to arrive, all the stress and discomfort will surely melt away with the first sight of scrunched up hands and tiny feet, and the first smell, cuddles and kisses of what can only be described as pure newborn goodness.

Having had two ‘good babies’ everybody told me that I was due for a horror child, I just laughed sure that it would never happen to me. After the first few days with this new little one I was scared, very scared, I could feel my sanity slipping away in a fog of exhaustion as sleep eluded him and therefore me. It seemed he wasn’t sleeping for any length of time day or night but that past and now we seem to have an agreement where he sleeps at night but refuses to guarantee any sleep during the day. It seems like that would be a good deal but it just leaves him cranky and irritable and needing to be held which doesn’t really work when there are two other monsters who need my attention.

When I think about it objectively I had difficult times with the others as well but in retrospect it didn’t seem like it lasted very long or was as tiring. I forgot about the hard times when they were no more and I think most of us do and that’s why we think we can handle another baby, because we are forgetful. We forget how difficult it is to get them to burp, to guess what is ailing them, to feed them, to settle them.

Babies are hard and I’m not ready to claim that I have one of ‘those babies’ instead I have a normal baby who is just struggling to adjust to being in the outside world. Perhaps I am deluding myself, frankly I can’t wait for this present to be the past,. only this time there will be no more forgetting.

My world has recently revolved around burping, my life is glamorous I know. I am trying to teach the little one how to burp in order to settle himself and give us some sleep. He is learning quickly although sometimes he needs a lot of encouragement to bring up those little burps followed by a stream of that sweet smelling baby vomit that sits on your shoulder until some passer by kindly informs you that a bird may have pooed on you, nope I’m just a mother and that’s the sign of my now contented baby. A nurse once told me that breast fed babies don’t need to be burped because they aren’t swallowing any air like they may in bottles. I don’t believe it.

On the other side of the spectrum is Wrigglebot who has the gift of being able to burp on demand which he seems to do after every mouthful of drink followed by a very sweet, ’scuse me’. Him, I am trying to discourage from burping though encouraging the saying of ‘excuse me’ after burping. That brings me to Squirm who copies everything her brother does and so she is beginning to try burping as it appears to be a very fun game.

So there you have it; a little one whom I want to burp and finds it difficult, a Wrigglebot who won’t stop burping and a Squirm who is doing her best to be just like her brother in his burping prowess.

Here is the long awaited update on my busy Christmas season. It all started with our customary tree decorating rituals. When we were first married and had no kids we couldn’t be bothered having a tree so Husband pulled out a tripod and jokingly put a star on top. One year it was an innocent joke, the next a funny memory as he brought it out again, the third year I realised that it was a very sad tradition that we had started and yet it has stuck with more decorations being added each year. This year all of the decorations were home made, the kids had a lot of fun decorating it and were extremely proud of their ‘Christmas tree.’

I tried to do things with the kids each morning and so after the tree we progressed to painting wrapping paper,  then we did baking and then each afternoon I would collapse exhausted. I’ve heard people say that pregnancies get easier as you know what to expect and though it was all very normal I can honestly say that I have never been so exhausted in my life.

As the weather got warmer I started contemplating our Christmas plans and began having nightmares about the most awkward place for my waters to break, whether at a family Christmas dinner, Carols by Candlelight or in the middle of a shopping centre, none of it sounded very enticing and so it was with great relief that I went into labour at home on the 15th of December and after two and a half hours little Willem Kipling was born. The labour seemed horrendous at the time but in retrospect it all went really well and was about as good as you can get; no drugs, no complications and quick. He was 6 pound 7, 50 cm long and looked remarkably like his older brother.

A week later we headed off to a family camp which may have been a little ambitious as I was completely exhausted most of the time but the kids loved it and it was nice to spend time with the extended family. So now we are home and trying to get sleep and hoping that we don’t have one of ‘those children’ (more on that later.) So that’s it, Christmas has come and gone, Willem is here and I am just praying that one day I won’t be tired.