The Five Little Ducks Blog

Here we are past halfway through the year and I am yet to write about my “new” life as a School Mum.

When my children were younger, I did not look forward to sending them to school (before Miss A and Miss L joined the family, I was even considering home-schooling). The thought of having to have them delivered to school promptly by 9 o’clock each morning and collected at 3 each afternoon, five days a week, filled me with dread. The stress of packing school lunches. Uniforms. Notes. Labelling. Library books. Homework!

I didn’t feel up to the task; I am not a “real grown-up”. Organisation is not my strong suit.

As the months drew closer to the commencement of kindergarten, five days a week of respite from my two eldest Ducklings began to hold some appeal. They needed structure and to have their minds challenged.

Six months in to the school year and I am enjoying life as a stay-at-home-school-mum. Having children at school, pre-school and home provides each week with a good rhythm and each day with routine. Some days at home are fairly quiet and peaceful, with only Baby J or Miss R for company as Miss L attends preschool three days a week. Thursdays are busy as Miss L and Miss R have their ballet lesson, and Miss L has an Occupational Therapy session. On Thursdays Baby J has been attending Occasional Care which he has adapted to extremely well and enjoys. On Fridays the three youngest ducklings and I go to play group or MOPS. On Saturday morning Daddy Duck takes Mr E and Miss A to their gymnastics lesson and the rest of the weekend is devoted to parties, family time and Church. I appreciate how the time I spend with the children is spread out and each child is able to receive some more quality attention, even if it is just while we are walking home from school and are yet to pick up Miss L or Miss R from preschool. Rarely do I have to take all five children out together in public (quite a stressful and attention-drawing enterprise) and when I go shopping I seldom have more than two children with me.

Mr E and Miss A attend Kindergarten at the local public school. I am so pleased with how well they are doing and it is exciting seeing them learn to read and write. I had always imagined that the 9-3 school day wouldn’t be long enough to allow me to get anything done, and truly, the time passes quickly. As I hurry to pick up the children each afternoon (time management is another weakness) the mental “to-do” list is always unfinished. But there are positives. 9-3 is long enough to give me the time to miss my children (and to give the children space to miss, or at least be happy to see each other again). Although six hours flies by, I have learned to appreciate that time and to be satisfied with whatever small tasks have been accomplished.

The current season in which I find myself has a lovely ebb and flow. The children come and the children go. The house is full of people and noise; the house is peaceful and quiet. I am a cranky mother of five; I am me; reading a book, digging in the garden, hanging washing on the line, laughing with a friend. Five days a week there is a period of reduced stress in the home and it has made a huge difference to my mental health. Even if a child’s behaviour is really challenging me, I know that a break is never far away.

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I began writing this post over a month ago. It was the week before Mr E got a terrible case of Flu: needing more than a week off school, followed by Miss A requiring some sick days also. Then came the school holidays which were actually quite wonderful; filled with quality family time, going away and visiting with people. The “big kids” returned to school last week, but with two birthdays and lots of commitments it has been busy.

Tonight I sat down at the computer, wanting to finish this blog post in a neat, upbeat fashion appropriate for a positive piece. Instead I started to cry. My husband called me over to the lounge and he brushed my hair as I wept, talking about how exhausted I am. I have not been coping very well with Mr J’s behaviour lately and it is taking a toll. His near-constant screeching and screaming has my ears ringing and my head aching. He is very clingy at home. Going out actually provides him with some distraction and me with a little peace. Mr J is not sleeping very well. He has been screaming in the night, wanting to be breastfed constantly and he is napping for less than an hour a day. He isn’t even eating a lot at meals, and demands to sit on my lap, still crying, wriggling and thrashing about.

The other children are being deprived of time with me due to Mr J’s needs surpassing theirs. If I sit down to play a game or do a puzzle with them, his sounds drown everybody out and pieces are thrown about. Story time is stressful and chaotic. I barely get a moment with the others. Today I took Miss R and Mr J to the library. Mr J threw novels on the floor, screamed loudly every time I picked him up, found a sink and started swinging off it, opened up an industrial printer (twice) and once we went outside, Miss R wanted to sit and eat some morning tea on the grass. I sat down with her but Mr J insisted on continually running off to the bike rack and climbing on top of the bicycles which were chained there. So of course we had to go home. Once home, he was tired and napped for a short period, during which time I put a load of washing on the line, ate some lunch, and then he awoke. In the kitchen he deliberately spilt food and water all over the floor. I had to make phone call to the tax office and had him screaming and trying to jump on my husband’s desk the entire time. Making meals is a challenge with Mr J demanding to be held and continuing to make sounds fit to rival the monkey cage at the zoo.

I am frustrated.

I am tired.

I am stressed.

My patience is depleted.

But I know that this will not last.

When we mothers of young children get together, we often talk about this stage of our lives being a “season”. Some seasons are more enjoyable than others. For example, I am thoroughly enjoying my 6 year old son. Four year olds can be quite pleasant too.

This absolutely crazy season that I am in with Mr J (who is still a very cute, snuggly and loveable boy) will not last forever. Eventually he will sleep through the night. Be toilet trained. Respond positively to blackmail and finish his dinner. Clean his room. Make himself a sandwich. Tell me a joke. Ask me a million questions. Make me smile and my heart swell with pride.

Overall, I am enjoying the ebb and flow of life right now. It is OK to acknowledge the parts of this season which are challenging. They are part of the journey. Part of the sacrifice which we make in raising our children. Our hardships in parenting remind us that we did not just have children to make ourselves feel good, but we are actually doing an important job; we are raising up the next generation.

Toddlers have often reminded me of what we must look like to God. All of the squealing and thrashing about. The nonsensical decision making process. Being strong-willed about the most ridiculous of things. Testing the boundaries. Charging headfirst into danger because we think we know better than our loving parent.

I only have to look back at last year to know how far forward we have moved as a family in the right direction. Early last year, I still had three children in daytime nappies. How did I survive that?!

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (ASV)

3 For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: ² a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; ³ a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; ⁴ a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; ⁵ a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; ⁶ a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; ⁷ a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; ⁸ a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.

 

Hallelujah!

Here is my version: the seasons of motherhood.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: a time for feeding and a time for weaning; a time for sleepless nights and a time for lazy days; a time for wrapping and a time for rocking; a time for crawling and a time for walking; a time for healthy foods and a time for chips and cake; a time for nappy changes and a time for toilet training; a time for loneliness and a time for community; a time for cleaning and a time for chaos; a time for games and a time for trouble, a time for being the fun mum and a time for being the disciplinarian; a time to shout and a time to hold your tongue; a time for laughing and a time for dancing; a time for cuddles and a time for kisses; a time for being the nurse and a time for being the teacher; a time for joy and a time for resentment; a time for Lego and a time for Barbie; a time for keeping every drawing and a time for quietly disposing of them; a time for taking the photograph and a time for being present in the moment; a time for tantrums and a time for reasoning; a time for rushing and a time for dawdling; a time for pick-ups and a time for drop-offs; a time for worrying and a time for hoping; a time for praying and a time for trusting; a time for being needed and a time for letting go; then being needed again, then letting go again; thus continuing in the ebb and flow for the rest of your precious motherhood days…