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Baby Shower (no actual showering involved)

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.

She’s learned from the best

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¬†

Playhouse excitement

Sometimes I get really excited about stuff to get or do with the girls, and it backfires on me. Like the time we excitedly took them on a geothermal walk and they whinged for 85% of it and screamed that the steam was stinging their eyes (it wasn’t. My girls just love to sprinkle every day with a bit of drama). So after months of planning for a playhouse to be built and delivered as a big surprise¬†for the girls, I had a little moment of doubt and wondered if a beautiful weather-board mini-house was more about my childhood dreams than theirs. Then Tilly did THIS face/fist pump combo when she saw it and I knew it was a dream come true for them, too. We couldn’t be more thrilled about the house (painted to match our house, which absolutely is more about the parents than the children, #sorrynotsorry) made by Uncle Greg’s Playhouses in Tauranga. Let the tea parties commence!

A Mummy Misdemeanour

Following an afternoon filling up on popcorn, M&M’s (peanut ones, chosen for the protein, obviously) and fluff off the cinema seats, I made a low-key dinner of peas, carrots and sandwiches. The five year old thought “lunch-dinner” was hilarious. The two-year-old shot me a mutinous look while making bee-beep noises as she pretended to call the cops on her hand. “Hello, p’lice?” she said into her hand-phone, “Mummy made us sammiches for DINNER, so come and take her and lock her up”.  Meanwhile, her big sister wailed “Don’t take my Mum away! She’s a good mum! Beeeeeliiiiieeeeevvvve meeeeeeee!”  She cried actual tears.  I think we now know which child will be given power of attorney one day. She’s currently top of the leader-board for inheriting my wedding rings, too.