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Baby Shower (no actual showering involved)

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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

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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

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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

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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.