Three Hundred and Twenty Six - 18.11.14
Sometimes there are mothering moments that are encouraging. Confirming ones, which demonstrate that little ears are listening and learning. Many of our conversations that I record here, despite a surface that may be mistaken for cheekiness, are, in actual fact, reaffirming. Ones that ooze goodness at the core, and shine true to your beautiful soul.
You tried today. To listen. To hear. Your tried your very best to seek guidance and boundaries through communication... but this Mumma, and her sickness, challenged you. No voice will do that, I suppose. And when feedback is sought and not delivered, toddlers who need external affirmation show signs of ware.
Big: "Use your words, Mumma. I can't know eberyfink wifout your telling me so. I meed your words 'cause den I know fings and I know when you're happy and when I do fings my berry best way. Can you please try a little bit harder to use them?"
Know your goodness, Big. Follow your heart. Inside you have the most wonderful guide. Be quiet. Be still. Listen. Trust that without my words, you know the way.
Three Hundred and Twenty Seven - 19.11.14
'Tis the season to be... cray. If you are fortunate enough to stop for a moment, you can feel it. The pull towards this. The tug towards that. Be here. Do this. Buy that. Often simultaneously. As desperately as I try to shield my children from this struggle in an attempt for them to just enjoy this time free of expectation... I cannot.
Amidst the juggle of heres and theres, I pack a bag of things to keep you entertained while I attend to the this' and thats. Food stuff. Toys, wooden and softies. Sippy cups. All.the.things... but none of the things that you desire, it seems. Until you spy my wallet, that is, which is promptly emptied. Cards, notes, everything.
Age is not indicative of wisdom. You are a most wonderful reminder of that, and its pure simplicity. What a gift I have, in you.
Three Hundred and Twenty Eight - 20.11.14
On toddler present selection and proud mothering moments:
Big: "Oh, uncle Thomas might weally, weally wike dis... Oh, no. I might weally wike dis. I'll find somefing else."
Three Hundred and Twenty Nine - 21.11.14
Happy Birthday. It's the song on repeat. We sing it to you multiple times a day in preparation. You certainly have not tired of it. You lap it up with the attention and the outpouring of love. And now? You even join in.
Two roly poly arms burst into the air and you shout... "a-ray!"
The cuteness is off.the.charts.
Three Hundred and Thirty - 22.11.14
Today was one of those days. The ones that you know exist, but you'd prefer to move beyond. To forget. Tired babes. Weary Mumma. Too much. Not enough. You know the drill.
Mumma: "I've reached the end today, Big. It might be time to sell off all the things that are weighing me down."
Big: "I weigh you down sometimes, don't I, Mumma?"
Mumma: "Sometimes, yes. But do you really think I could sell you?"
Big: "Yes! You could try da famer's market. People buy fresh fings here."
Mumma: "Oh honey, I'd never ever sell you. I love you too much."
Big: "Dat's your choice, Mumma... but you could make lots of moneys for your moneybox if you did try, you know."
Three Hundred and Thirty One - 23.11.14
One. One? One!
One full spin around the sun for you, baby girl. And what a journey it has been thus far. Your day today has been filled with many magical moments. Chaotic. Cake. And quiet. The latter, my favourite. On this day especially, I reflect on how blessed I truly am to have your wee fingers entwined with mine.
Happiest of Birthdays to you.
Three Hundred and Thirty Two - 24.11.14
Of the things I know about you, this ranked highly. The stage and you were destined to be friends. Besties, even. And how evident this was in light of your impending dance concert. The rehearsal, and the very first your tiny ballerina toes touched the stage you were at home.
Big: "Oh, Mumma. Dere's a stage and some curtains - but you can't touch dose - and I meed to stand on my berry own cross and dance and smile with my whole heart. Maybe dis was my most fabourite day eber!"