The Five Little Ducks Blog

“How are you going?”

Do you know how to respond to this question?

Sometimes this question transforms me into a dim-witted, bumbling oaf as I stumble for an adequate response, blurting out punctuated remarks like “Good! Hot!”, “Busy! Tired.” Or the classic “O-K…”which starts out with a high pitched squeak and fades into an uncertain murmur. Particularly embarrassing are the times when I reply passive-aggressively “not great!”

Even worse than “how are you” is “what have you been up to lately?”

My most likely response to this is, “umm… I’ve just been busy with the kids?”

Instant conversation killer.

Here, with more time to contemplate my answer, is what I have been up to lately.

School holidays

Six weeks with five not-so-little ducks at home. The holidays are over now. They were hard. The days were extremely long, and I felt overwhelmed by having my house endlessly full of people and clutter. With the days being so hot, the children watched a few too many hours of TV each day in our air-conditioned lounge room. By the last week (or two) I felt absolutely exhausted and depleted.

Mr E and Miss A returned to school a few days before Miss L and Miss R commenced kindergarten. I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed three days at home with just the younger children. Miss L turned 6 on one of those days; it was nice to be able to make a fuss of her.

Two good things noticeably came out of the summer holidays. Firstly, it was my first summer as a parent with children who are adequate, confident swimmers. Being able to go swimming without children constantly hanging off my arms and almost drowning meant that we actually went swimming more often than we have other years (Mr J mostly avoided swimming with us). On horrible, hot days when the children had been cooped up inside for too long I was able to say, “lets go swimming at Grandma’s!”

Secondly, I rediscovered spending time in my backyard. Our backyard, which feels so hot, ugly, weedy and unpleasant during the day, transforms into a lush, leafy paradise in the late afternoon. After dinner I head out into the balmy evening air and take washing off the line and pick tomatoes while the children play happily and peacefully on the trampoline or make cubbies down the back out of logs and ancient scrap metal left by our home’s predecessors. Most nights I allow them to stay up past their bedtime; it is so pleasant to see them getting along, to not hear them bickering, crying and yelling. I might take a picnic blanket out to sit by the olive tree, and am brought picture books to read. On a school night last week we stayed out there past 8 o’clock. The girls asked me to sing, and as I sung Miss A and Mis R danced on the grass, while Miss L snuggled next to me, singing along. As the sun set, the children whooped gleefully “it’s a full moon!” Mr E was practicing cartwheels and forward rolls, while Mr J, half naked as always, swung off the plastic climbing frame.

One evening we stayed out there so long that we saw bats in the night sky. Miss L was astonished; until that moment she had thought that bats were fictional creatures, and could not believe her eyes.

It is the only time of day when I feel truly present with all of my children, when I am not having to referee or discipline, when I am content as a mum to this crazy bunch. These gorgeous summer nights have been an absolute treasure.

School day routines

With four children in school now, I have needed to develop some organisational strategies to ensure that school mornings run smoothly.

Each child has a laminated school readiness chart. The chart includes responsibilities like eating breakfast, washing faces and brushing hair and teeth, being fully dressed and having lunch packed in the school bag. The children do not have to follow the same order of the chart, and I actually prefer it when they pick their own order, to prevent having all four children trying to complete the same task at the exact same time. Four kids brushing their teeth at the exact same time inevitably leads to conflict. Each time a task has been completed, the children tick the necessary boxes with a high lighter (from experience, high lighters are easier to clean off laminated surfaces than whiteboard markers).

The reward for completing all of the required tasks is “free time”. Often in the last two years of sending Mr E and Miss A to school, I would catch them playing and mucking around in the mornings before being ready for the day. Nagging would follow as I asked them if they had their shoes on or if they had eaten breakfast. With the implementation of these charts, Miss A and Miss L are very self-motivated and usually are the first kids ready for the day and enjoying their free time. As a side note, it is is interesting how during the holidays there was so much unstructured free time for the children that it was a burden for them. When it is limited to before or after school, and something that has to be earned, free time is more appreciated and better utilised.

All five children have Bento style Sistema lunchboxes. I purchased these so that I would not have to waste time looking for containers and their matching lids for the children’s different bits and pieces. I used to pack Mr E’s and Miss A’s lunches myself, usually in the evenings to save time in the morning. Tired of arguing with Miss A in the afternoons because she had refused (or “forgotten”) to eat her lunch, I told her to start packing her own lunches. Technically, the children all need to pack their own lunches now, however I am very present during the packing process. Miss A and Mr E usually make their own sandwiches while the younger girls tell me what they would like on theirs. They choose which fruits or vegetables they are going to take for “crunch and sip” and recess, plus they choose which snacks they would like to take. I have had enough time this year to bake a couple of times a week, so the children have taken home made snacks to school, like banana muffins, zucchini brownies (although I didn’t tell anybody that they contained zucchini), apricot muesli bars, Milo balls and pizza pinwheels. Brown rice crackers and cheese are also popular snacks to take. With the children in charge of the contents and quantity of food in their lunch boxes, we have had barely any food wasted. I feel that making snacks myself saves our family money and reduces plastic waste from their lunchboxes. Whether these noble habits continue next term when there is a new baby in the house is yet to be seen. I am also aware that it would not be easy for working parents to have the time that I do to make all of their children’s snacks like I do, plus, I actually like baking.

My free spirited children do not like to have their hair brushed or done. In Mr E’s words, “but I’m wild! I have wooly mammoth DNA.” (Insert grimace here.) For three years, Miss A’s thick dark hair has been a point of contention between us as she likes to leave it down and has never allowed me to style it. Miss L and Miss R are more compliant, but I also didn’t want them losing hair ties at school. I decided that a bribe would be helpful in this situation.

The reward for having neat hair at school is getting to play on the iPad (a hot commodity in our boring household). Each child who brushes their hair and wears it neatly to and from school is entitled to 25 minutes of time on my or my husband’s iPad at the weekend. This system is working quite well.

After school, the children need to put their backpacks near the kitchen sink. I take out their lunchboxes and wash them straight away so that they will be clean, dry and ready for the next morning. I also look through the backpacks for any notes or artwork, then I put the backpacks on their hooks in the hallway cupboard.

One other strategy has helped us to streamline the school readiness process. We have a cupboard in our hallway which contains all of the children’s school uniforms. Rather than the children having their own specific school dresses or socks or shirts, they all belong in one place. All of the white socks are paired and placed in one basket. Odd white socks are put in the same basket, ready to meet their match. I feel that this system saves me time as I can look in one place and see if supplies need to be replenished. On Sunday evening, I took two baskets out to the washing line. In one basket I placed all of the school uniform items and was able to put them away immediately into the school uniform cupboard, while I put the non-urgent washing basket into the lounge room to be sorted later.

Toilet training a strong willed child

When our Occasional Care centre closed permanently at the end of last year, I looked for alternative childcare arrangements for Mr J. As he was turning three in December, I found a place for him for two days a week in a local government subsidised preschool for children over the age of three. In order to attend preschool Mr J needed to be toilet trained, as opposed to most childcare centres where the staff are able to change nappies.

I set my mind to having Mr J toilet trained over the summer holidays, ready to start preschool as a “big boy”. There was some progress. At the start of the holidays, the mere sight of our potty made Mr J hysterical, and he absolutely refused to use it, even when bribed. Picture books about toilet training were introduced and a rewards system implemented. Attempting to do poos and wees in the toilet was rewarded with a jelly bean, and actually completing the bodily functions in said potty also included a sticker on a chart. Mr J came to enjoy this system and he became excited about his stickers and jelly beans. No longer wearing a nappy during the day, he was still having frequent accidents. As he was constantly running out of clothes, I took to hand washing his shorts and undies then pegging them straight on the line to be quickly dried by our summer sun.

While we were making progress at home, Mr J refused to use a toilet or potty anywhere else, even at my mum’s house or when I took his own potty with us.

I hoped that the impetus of commencing preschool would propel Mr J towards full toilet training, that peer pressure and toilet use by all of the children as part of the routine would somehow magically “work”. I underestimated my son’s strength of will and determination. He was happy enough to go to preschool and play in their wonderful yard and with their toys, but he would not use the toilets. I knew that he would have accidents and I packed plenty of spare clothes, but when I would arrive to collect him in the afternoon and be handed bags of wet, dirty clothes and be told of how he had mostly refused to try using the toilet and would have accidents because he was “so busy playing”, I became discouraged. One afternoon I arrived to find Mr J in the throes of a complete meltdown regarding a truck that had been taken off him and placed in a storage room. He was trying to climb the barricade to said room, and the staff didn’t seem to know what to do with him. In that moment it struck me that he was too young for real preschool. I discussed my concern with the preschool director and she acknowledged that he was one of the youngest children present. In my heart I knew that he was also mentally one of the youngest, with less speech ability than the other children, a strong will to buck the system, and his complete lack of interest in toilet training; he is still a toddler and not yet a “preschooler”. We agreed to try for a few more weeks but over the course of the following week as I cleaned up accident after accident, I became anxious and stressed that there might be something wrong with my son. He seemed completely surprised each time he wet himself. On one particularly bad afternoon, after eating too much watermelon, he wet himself six times. Mr E had not been toilet trained at Mr J’s age; he got it almost overnight when he turned three and a half. Miss R was toilet trained before her third birthday but she had also been communicating better, was more compliant with the whole process and she understood her body signals. There was too much pressure on Mr J to “grow up”, and I knew that he still had months before he was going to truly be ready, physically and mentally, so in his third week of attending preschool I withdrew him from the centre with the hope in mind that he can possibly return later in the year. Returning to nappies, I have had a far more pleasant time at home with Mr J. He potters around happily at home and we get along very well. The main causes of drama involve needing to leave the house, especially, going shopping. After a very bad tantrum at Aldi last week, I think that shopping online and home delivery are the best way forward for the time being, although it does present its own challenges like trying to find a suitable delivery window.

Mr J is a “runner”, so it is important that I always have the stroller or a harness with me. Having bad knees and being pregnant, I have no chance of catching him! Now that I have come to accept this, instead of giving Mr J “chances” to walk with me, I know better, and find that I maintain better control. Now I just need to find a way of controlling Mr J’s little hands… The boy is obsessed with his penis and constantly plays with it. “Me love my doo-doo,” he often sighs contentedly.

Yesterday I was in the outdoor area of an RSL with some new mums from Kindergarten, a location we had chosen so that I would not have to worry about Mr J running away. It was all rather civilised. We were sitting under a beautiful leafy tree, had finished our coffees and were chatting away. Mr J kept pulling his penis out of his pants and giggling. Embarrassed, I tried to stop him, but the other mothers told me not to worry and to ignore the behaviour, as drawing attention to it probably meant that he would keep doing it. Mr J returned to the playground and disappeared for a few minutes. A pink flash streaking across the playground suddenly caught my attention, and I realised that my son was completely naked. Horrified, I leapt to my feet and went into the playground and found Mr J’s nappy, shoes, socks and clothes in the cubby house. He hid from me under the playground and I bribed him with going home to watch Paw Patrol so that he would come to me willingly. “Me naked!” he pronounced excitedly as I dressed him, put him back into the stroller and we departed from the club.

Despite all of my complaints about my wild, strong-willed three year old; he can be so sweet and endearing. Most nights I wake up to find him suddenly next to me in bed, cuddling his blue teddy bear. Nuzzling me with his nose, he whispers “love you too Mum”, and goes back to sleep.

Nesting

If you read my first blog of the year, you would know that my resolution this year was to say “no” more often and set better boundaries. I feel that I have been achieving this, and I have had more time at home. I am supposed to be using this precious time at home to declutter the house as much as possible before the baby arrives. Slowly, slowly I am getting things done, but I do not think that every job on my list will be ticked off in time. By midday my energy is spent and I am yawning, ready for a lay down. Before school and after school I am busy doing all of my regular daily tasks, plus cooking and caring for the kids. In the evenings I often fold washing while we watch an episode or three of The Office, and if I’m feeling particularly domestic, I iron my husband’s work shirts. The concentrated effort that it takes to conquer decluttering tasks is overwhelming for an undomestic goddess like myself.

At least one task is accomplished. The baby’s “nursery” (a patch of wall next to my bed) is ready to go. The bassinet has been made up, the change table has been cleared, and I have baskets full of baby clothes, wraps and reusable nappies all organised. A few weeks ago I had woken up panicking in the middle of the night about how I was not ready; the bassinet was filled with a jumble of baby clothes and nappies, while the change table was home to a giant washing basket full of junk. Now that everything in this one little corner of my nest is organised, I feel calm and peaceful about my daughter’s arrival. Still, I do not wish away the rest of my pregnancy, because I know how quickly everything passes. I do not want to wish away any of the coming years with this child who is already such a dearly loved and treasured part of our family. When I feel stressed, imagining her sweet face and curly hair, calms me and brings me joy. My children are already besotted. Mr J talks about his little sister constantly. “M— in there”, he tells people, pointing at my belly. He picks up baby clothes and toys and says “M— love it!” One morning recently Miss R was crying and feeling upset. To calm herself she went into my room and took out baby clothes one by one, talking about how she would help me choose the baby’s outfits each day. “This will be good when it’s a hot day,” she explained picking up light body suits, “and on cold days she will need warm clothes.” Miss R also keeps a toy puppy that I purchased for the baby in her own bed, so that she can keep it safe and close.

Before Miss L goes off to school in the mornings, she turns to my belly and says “Bye M—. Mummy, our baby is going to be so cute…”

Poor Mr E, a deep thinker with an active imagination like myself, gets anxious about the baby’s safety. I remind him to pray, and he drops his head and mutters under his breath with his hands clasped together towards his forehead. “I worry too,” I say, also praying from the heart for our baby’s protection.

I am breathless and constantly tired, but I am extremely glad. In one month our precious baby will be with us; we are all so full of joy for this child. It might seem crazy to add another human being to this mad house, however we are grateful for this blessing.

To the people who when they see my pregnant belly and horde of children feel compelled to make their comments like “you’re a glutton for punishment,” “didn’t you have enough on your plate?” and “you’ve got your hands full”… yes, yes and yes. My hands are full. And I’m so looking forward to having my arms filled with my newborn daughter. There is enough love to go around. Plus, we have plenty of spare plates.

“Children are indeed a gift from the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is His reward.” Psalm 127:3