The Five Little Ducks Blog

For many years I have had a somewhat obsessive-compulsive/guilt-motivated relationship with the old “stop and smell the roses” cliché. When out walking, if I passed a fence overhung with roses, I simply had to stop to smell them because otherwise I felt I was not truly ‘embracing life’.

The wisdom of the old adage was definitely a part of my life. This could be seen in my relaxed attitudes and parenting style. I have never been any sort of perfectionist with the housework; I would rather spend time with my children. Playing together, telling stories, cuddling, talking about the world… caring for my kids was about more than their physical needs but taking each opportunity to be with them.

Something has definitely changed since our nieces moved in to our home. I do not like who I am anymore.

I frown more and laugh less. I critique more and compliment less. I referee more and I play less. Watch the clock more and Carpe Diem less. How is it that the (non-childcare) days seem twice as long, but I have less time to fit in everything? So much time is devoted to getting children dressed and fed and seeing to the household essential tasks that there really is not much left for the children to have my complete attention.

Do you remember the quote “I see you” from the much-hyped movie Avatar? It is a line about really seeing and understanding a person. Some days are so busy and difficult that I feel like I do not even see Mr E or Miss R. They have been bumped from the main characters to supporting roles.

I wish that I did not have to set so many limits with Miss A and Miss L. I do not like having to reprimand them as often as I do. However their abilities to control themselves are so poor that I cannot ignore their actions. Around car parks, sharp knives and hot stoves the girls are completely untrustworthy and my guard cannot be let down. Many of the issues revolve around food. Miss A and Miss L want to taste everything I am cooking with, and will get upset when I explain that they are not allowed to try raw meat. I hate that I yelled at Miss L “get out of the kitchen” this afternoon because she kept putting the uncooked burger mince in her mouth. I do not want to be a mum who yells “get out”. I am reluctant to bring out the play dough again after both girls kept eating it today. I tried to be jovial and light hearted as I said “play dough is not for eating” and “play dough tastes yucky” but they ignored me completely.  Every time that the girls are left unsupervised, something (like a book or toy, even the wall) seems to have been damaged, or some food has been taken without permission, and something has been rummaged through or cleaning products played with.

This is not to say that Mr E and Miss R have my complete trust; I know better than to leave an open packet of Tim-Tams on the table, or to let them paint unsupervised. They are not ‘angels’ and have committed their fair share of mischief. But they do seem to learn from past mistakes, and will eventually accept ‘no’ for an answer. They have some common sense.

I am trying to seize special moments with all of my children. To still get on the floor and play with some toys. To notice the good things and give them labelled praise. To embrace and tickle and laugh. At times it seems to backfire! A few days ago I finally had all of the children dressed and ready to go on an outing to the library. It began to pour with rain outside and the eldest two asked if they could go out to see the rain. I wanted to say no but did not want to deny an opportunity to connect with nature so I said yes. I regretted this when all four children became drenched from head to foot and I was so overwhelmed about the thought of having to change them all over again that I cancelled the library trip. That afternoon Miss A asked to see my jewellery. Thinking it an opportunity to make a memory with my daughters, I invited each of the girls onto my bed and we looked at all the bracelets and necklaces together. Miss A and Miss R delighted in trying different pieces on, but Miss L kept playing very roughly with my things and falling off the bed, so I asked her to leave (have you noticed a pattern about Miss L being reprimanded? I am worried that she will develop a complex).

When I was growing up, I loved stories about plucky orphans with positive attitudes (think Anne of Green Gables, Heidi, Pollyanna, The Little Princess…). Unfortunately, this may not be the reality. Sometimes ‘orphans’ are very hurt little people who push every boundary and complain and frown a lot. But they still need so much from you. Miss A follows me around constantly at times, saying “I’m following you everywhere mummy because I love you.” Miss L frequently cries “want more cuddles”, even as I am in the midst of hugging her. I feel like I am never enough for them, and it is so difficult to get a break. Trying to introduce a compulsory rest time for the whole menagerie looks like a lost battle. The girls refuse to stay on their beds or even in their bedroom for the allotted time that I am trying to take a nap. Unless another adult is in the house keeping the children out of my room, they will keep coming in to ask for help to put a dress on a doll, or to tell me who hit who, or to show me a drawing they have done.

I do not like who I am becoming as a mother and I am not impressed with myself as a person. I am no longer as cheerful towards people when they ask me how I am. How do I neatly summarise into a short and sweet sentence how completely tiring and overwhelming this situation is? How by the grace of God I am doing OK, but I am worried about my husband not coping and I miss my birth children and the house is constantly a mess and why do I have to keep repeating myself and the food waste is bothering me and the sound of children fighting is driving me insane and oh-my-goodness- Church morning tea is so stressful now and getting these kids into the car is such a nightmare?! Since before the girls moved in, I expected that at some point I would have a big, tearful breakdown. There are times when I think it might be coming on, but the meltdown is yet to occur. Not only can I not give a decent response when someone asks “how are you” but I have become more self-focused (or ‘my family’ focused) because I do not have the emotional or physical capacity to give others quality attention.

The love that a mother has for her children is primal and intense. I find my birth children charming. They are probably very ordinary children but in many of their ways I see something unique and beautiful, genius even! I want to store up each little precious moment and memory with them and I can completely relax around them.

Other people’s kids are annoying. You might like them at first but eventually you are happy to send them back to their mum.

That is the tragedy of these girls’ lives. They have a mum and dad out there who probably love them more than I do, but cannot care for them properly. I love our nieces, however I have to choose to act lovingly towards them because none of this comes naturally yet.

Every night before I go to sleep, I stop at each of the children’s bedsides to say a quick prayer for them. Last night I felt so fragile and stressed that all I could muster up was “God, help me to be what each of these kids needs me to be.”

I do not regret our decision to raise Miss A and Miss L. It is working. I am OK. We are still just finding our way.