I’m running a little competition over on the McPikelets Facebook page. If you’d like to win a copy of ‘Music Box 2016’ (a collection of songs from this year’s Children’s Music Awards) then get yourself over to Facebook.com/mcpikelets or click here
Amy told me in the car this morning that she never wants to get married. I launched into a lengthy monologue about how we’re fortunate to live in a country where marriage is a choice, so she absolutely never has to get married unless she really wants to. Equality was discussed. Freedom to parent outside the realms of traditional marriage was also covered, as was the freedom to decide never to be a parent. There was a long pause while she took it all in. I took a moment during that pause to marvel at this little girl who so clearly knows her own mind, and to be grateful for the society we live in. I wondered what political or economic topics we should cover on the drive home. I may have teared up a little. Then: “Yeah, I don’t want to get married because I never want to get my ears pierced. Oh wait, is it earrings you do when you get married, or is it rings on your finger? If it’s rings on your …
I always knew I wanted to be a mother. Right from when I was tiny, I fed, bathed and bedded my dollies and teddies, and wouldn’t let anyone do up the top buttons on their tiny clothes in case it choked them (this could have been an early indicator of OCD, in hindsight). I gravitated toward anyone with a baby in their arms, and when my parents finally delivered on a sibling for me when I was 11, my poor little brother essentially had three parents all over him, all the time. I even attended antenatal classes with my parents, and remember thinking “this will all come in handy for me one day.” There were many things I wanted to do in my life, and having babies was always part of my grand plan. Despite practicing for “becoming a woman” long before my time (generally by trying on Mum’s bras and stealing from her boxes of Tampax so I could watch them puff up in water), I was completely blindsided by puberty. Health class showed …
The two year old was devastated I wasn’t taking her with me to a baby shower (because, seriously, unleashing Tornado Tilly in the home of an uninitiated mother-of-twins-to-be just seemed cruel). Luckily the five year old set her straight on how mundane the event would be: “Tilly, you don’t want to go to a baby shower. It’s just a whole lot of women together, and they help the pregnant lady to have a shower, then they all take turns giving each other showers all afternoon. Bor-ring.” Great. So then my husband was suddenly interested in coming along, too.
Told Tilly it was time to eat her toast and get out of her pyjamas so we could get going. “But I can’t have toast and go anywhere!” she shrieked as she pushed her unwashed hair out of her eyes, “I’m still giving my baby a bath and then there’s SO much cleaning to do!” A series of grumbles and frustrated grunts followed. Isn’t it just so beautiful when you hold a mirror up to your child and see all the best parts of yourself reflecting back? #JustLikeMama
Tilly caught a prawn. She named it “Prawny”. Sad times all round when I broke it to her that prawns are more of a “for a few moments” pet than a “forever” pet.
So today it was like Pinterest came over and said “hey! Let’s do some child-led cooking! Mini apple-berry pies! Fun shapes with pastry! It’ll be an educational hoot!” Then Pinterest came down with a sudden bout of food poisoning, tried to shout instructions from the bathroom, but finally admitted defeat and went home.
It’s ‘Cultural Dress Up Day’ at kindy. The culture Tilly has decided to align herself with is PeppaPigUnicorn. Fair enough. Also, she seems to have found Nemo.
Me: “I love you so much I could burst!” Tilly: *sideways glance* “I like you too”. I just got friend zoned by my own two year old.
From the April/May 2016 edition of Little Treasures Magazine: My interview with the wonderful Dr Nicola Mohan from Mt Eden Village Doctors on how to help keep little ones calm during doctor and hospital visits.
McPikelets 