1

The elusive Sleeping Through

When you have a newborn baby, one of the most talked about topics is whether they are sleeping through the night. Which, in itself, is a ridiculously unattainable goal – we consider “sleeping through” to be bedtime till awake time (say, 6pm – 8am, how awesome would that be?!) but the “technical” definition is 6 hours without waking. So, by definition, could be 2am – 8am. Not awesome.

Your little baby wakes two hourly. Then four hourly. Then, if you have a super great sleeper like Princess was (note: was), by 6 weeks she will be sleeping 10-12 hours uninterrupted. I know, right?! She was such a good sleeper, that we (bless our naive cotton socks) asked our doctor if we should be concerned. If only we knew. If only we knew.

On the flipside, BoyChild was a horrendous sleeper. In his first year, he didn’t sleep more than four goddam hours E.V.E.R. I understand why they use sleep interruption as torture. I get it. I feel for anyone who has to be subjected to that. I’m confident that Mr T and I both lost a large portion of our sanity that year. I’m not overly confident mine ever came back.

And then, you have BabyGirl. This amazing baby slept twelve hours at a time, from a very, very young age. That’s great, I hear you say. Well, no. She slept the wrong twelve hours. She would stay up until 1am, 2am and then crash out for 12 hours. Which is all well and good except for, oh, you know, the other people in the family who had places to be at 9am.

Sleeping through the night. Does it actually exist? I found myself lying in bed at 4am last night, staring at the ceiling, asking myself this very question.

Kids, the little sneaks, they are so good at lulling us parents into a false sense of security. Suddenly, without warning, you will realise that, holy moly, the kids are all sleeping through. They go to bed at 7:30, and by 9:30 you realise they are all asleep, and you and other half haven’t spoken in two hours. You look at the peculiar person sitting across the room. You wave. He waves. You say, “hello”. He takes off his headphones, pauses his computer game, and says “what? did you say something?”. So romantic. So romantic.

Often we will have a run of, say, a week where all three kids sleep properly. Naturally, we don’t notice until they stop, and we realise how easy we have had it.

I wonder, I do – at what age will I actually ever sleep through the night again? I mean, our kids are past that text book age bracket of waking in the night for actual legitimate reasons. You know, like needing to be fed, or have their nappies changed.

To give you an idea of the sleeplessness I experience, this is a snapshot of my night last night.

7:oopm. BoyChild goes to bed.

7:30pm. Princess goes to bed.

7:40pm. Princess goes back to bed.

7:46pm. Princess GET BACK TO BED I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HOLY WHERE THE HECK ARE YOUR PYJAMAS?!

8:00pm. BabyGirl starts her nightly ritual of *ahem* self soothing to sleep. On my leg.

9:00pm. BabyGirl falls asleep hard. I slip a nappy on her and carry her to bed. Thank goodness she is such a deep sleeper.

11:00pm. I head to bed. I am so accustomed to kids staying up until all hours that even when they do go to bed early, I don’t.

12:00pm. I turn off Toddlers and Tiaras and go to sleep.

12:30am. BoyChild sleeptalks.

1:15am. BabyGirl falls out of bed.

1:30am. Princess sneaks into my bed.

1:50am. I notice Princess is in my bed and carry her back to her room.

2:45am. I leave Princess’s room after sitting next to her until she falls asleep.

4:20am. BoyChild decides to use my ensuite. He turns on my bedroom light, then the bathroom light. Pees. Flushes. Washes his hands with soap. Dries his hands. Turns off bathroom light. Turns off my bedroom light. Cries that it is dark and can I please take him to his room?

6:50am. Boychild is up for the day. He quietly tells me he is awake and then disappears into the living room.

7:28am. Princess crawls into my bed. I tell her to go back to her own bed. She says it’s day time. I say she is mistaken.

7:30am. My alarm goes off. FML.

 

Coffee.

Coffee is the answer to your question.

Coffee is always the answer.

I am holding out hope that, when all three kids are somewhere between the ages they are now, and the age when they start going out at night, there will be a year or so when I might sleep like a normal human being. Because, once they hit their teens, I suspect the sleeplessness will rev up again. Worrying about them, about what they are up to, about them getting home safely. I now understand why, when I got “mildly intoxicated” as a teen, I staggered into the living room to find my parents sitting there, just patiently waiting. “I think I’m in trouble” I slurred, before turning and smacking clean into the wall. My parents, they knew their shit.

And, once the kids leave home, will I sleep then? Or will I be so used to waking, that I will naturally wake at odd hours? Lets be honest, will my bladder ever sustain a full night’s sleep? I doubt it.

Sleeping through the night? I fear that ship has sailed. Oh, to return to my 20s when husband and I would sleep till noon. What’s it like, I wonder, waking when you want to as opposed to when a smaller version of yourself tells you you should wake up?

Who the heck knows.

 

 

 

 

 

1

Don’t Be A Dick.

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To all my children, on this fine day

As I sit here with coffee, watching you play

I think about your life, all the impressions you’ll make

And how I can teach you which pathway to take

So here, my dear cherubs, are some words of advice

Take them on board or discard them if you like

But please take this one snippet, if nothing else sticks

Be kind, be nice, and don’t be a dick

Be generous, courteous, put others first

Take care of the needy, nurture those who are hurt

Don’t be shy with your hugs, don’t be guarded with your smile

You’ll be surprised in your life, a nice grin goes a mile

You’ll get hurt, that’s for certain – it’ll suck, that’s for sure

But learn and move on as you close that old door

It’s ok to be angry, to yell and to scream

It’s ok to be sad but please, don’t be mean

Because the person you are is the person you’ll be

And how you live is reflective of the positive, you see

So be courageous and strong, stand proud and think quick

And if all else does fail, please – don’t be a dick.

You will rise and you’ll fall; you’ll laugh and you’ll cry

You’ll grow from adversity often not knowing why

things have happened to you in this way or that

sometimes life makes as much sense as a squid in a hat

But I say it again, and I’ll keep going on

Be proud of yourself. Be kind and be strong.

I’ll love you regardless of choices you make

I hope that I’ve taught you well for everyone’s sake

I’ll stand by you proudly through thin times and thick

But my dear child, I ask again – please, don’t be a dick.

Thanks, love.

Mum xx

 

 

 

 

 

4

Does it get any easier?

The other day I read an article about Prince William and parenting. In it, he talks about little George and Charlotte, and quips, “Does it get easier?”.

At the time, I laughed, said “Bless you, Prince William” out loud, and then moved on to whatever chaos was ensuing in my house.

Last night, as I sat next to Princess’s bed at 1am, blocking her from leaving the room while simultaneously keeping her quiet and shushing BabyGirl who was also stirring, thanks entirely to Princess and her midnight theatrics about spiders in her bed and the 643 reasons why she can’t sleep in her room any more, I thought about Prince William again. And whether it gets easier.

No, Wills, my buddy – it does not. It changes, that’s certain. And we adapt to the way things needs to be done. But easier? Nope.

As kids grow, their needs change and they enter into new phases and stages. And with each new stage and phase comes new challenges.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I feel as though the older my kids get, the less I know about this parenting business. Princess is going through a particularly anxious stage at present, and I am the first to put my  hand up and say, “I have no freakin idea how to deal with this”. You want the best outcome for your kids, so they learn and grow and don’t end up damaged as a direct result of your parenting shortcomings. No pressure or anything.

There is so much out there on social media about how to parent “right”. Don’t tell your daughter she is pretty, lest she become obsessed or self conscious about her looks. Remember to tell your child these 434 different things each day, to ensure they know you love them and are proud of them. Don’t tease your kids, don’t lie to them, don’t tell them the truth, don’t pull the finger at them behind their back as they stomp away. Make sure your child is nurtured and cuddled (but NOT coddled). No pressure or anything.

BabyGirl has entered the awesome phase of screaming when things don’t go her way, regardless of where we are. Today I had the nerve to take Princess to her classroom at school, instead of taking her to another, random classroom that BabyGirl decided should be Princess’s classroom. The screams were enough to draw a teacher from a nearby class. She’s fine, I flustered. Just leave her, she’s fine. Please, don’t judge me, don’t tell her it’s ok, just leave her. She’s fine. I’m fine. I’m not crying. You are crying.

On Monday I had to carry Princess into her classroom, this time it was her who was screaming the place down. Soon I’ll be known as The Mother With Kids Who Scream. Or, The Mother Who Drinks A Lot. Or The Mother Who Sits In Her Car After Drop Off, Laughing Or Crying, No One Is Sure. Not Even Her.

No pressure or anything.

Wanting the best for your kids is one of the hardest, and easiest, parts of parenting. Easy because it is one of our strongest instincts as parents. Hardest because how the heck do you do it?

So, back to Prince William. Does it get easier? Well, yes. There will come a time when your kids are no longer climbing furniture and trying to kill themselves by jumping off the top of a bookshelf. There will come a time when your kids will listen when you tell them not to fight/run away/disobey you. When that time comes for me, I will let you know. There will come a time when your kids sleep through the night. It does get easier.

And then comes the time when those things are replaced by new, more challenging obstacles. And again, and again. And then comes a time when I think, as a parent, you will have to sit back and hope you have done all you can, to make your little person into a pretty okay adult.

No pressure or anything.

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0

And Now We Are Five

BoyChild is now five.

5.

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It’s funny – when I tell people my baby boy is starting school, they give me a lovely, somewhat sympathetic smile, and the conversation goes like this:

“Naw! Is he your first?”.

Um, nope.

“Oh! Is he your last?”

Um, nope.

“Oh! Well …. ok!”

But, anyone who knows anything about BoyChild and our first five (5!) years with him, will understand why there is something amazing in him toddling off to school. For a kid who barely spoke until he was well into his 3’s, a kid who has simply never followed the path most other kids follow, our Blue Orange, starting school is a massively huge milestone. For Mr T and I, as much as for him.

You know, BoyChild has suddenly grown up. He’s talking in fluid sentences, he’s giving me attitude, he’s cracking fart jokes. All things that you would expect from a normal 5-year-old boy.

I tear up thinking about it. I was so proud the day he farted, and laughed and laughed and tried to replicate it. Proud, and a little grossed out. But, primarily proud.

We had his pre school farewell ceremony last week, and his teacher was brought to tears. There is something about our boy, he has that effect on people. I’m not sure whether it’s his gentle nature, or his willingness and eagerness to try anything, but he touches people right in the heart.

I was doing pretty well at the ceremony – they went through his portfolio, and, as per the Montessori program, he walked around a candle representing the sun five times, to represent five years. They lit a mock cake and sang happy birthday to him (he led the song with gusto). And then.

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And then they all lined the room, forming a walkway for him and the other little girl leaving, to walk through as the entire class and teachers applauded. He walked away from me, and I was done. Tears, come on down. That kid.

 

And then, he was off to school. Happily. It’s been a week and we’ve had one day of tears, thanks mostly to Princess, who “helpfully” declared that “we don’t want to go to school today, do we?” to him. Thanks, love.

And. AND. The most amazing part, for me.

BoyChild has never been interested in reading. On day one he bought home a reading book, and I asked him if he would like to read it with me. He did. Day Two, I hesitantly asked again. He did. Today was Day Five, and tonight he read an entire book to me. By. Himself. I know, it’s more memory than actually reading, but that is such a giant leap in the right direction.

That kid.

Five years old. Such a cool kid, a charming, happy, funny, lovely kid.

That kid.

 

1

Look How Far We Have Come

Well, what do you know – it’s been exactly two years since I started this blog. Well, that’s what Facebook tells me, and we all know that Facebook never lies.

Two years. I can’t believe it – in some ways it feels as though I started only yesterday, in other ways it feels like I’ve been doing this for years. I started this blog because Princess was such a funny little thing, coming out with such crazy sayings and the most random of behaviours, it seemed almost a crime not to document it. Even if only for when they are teenagers, if nothing else!

Add to that the chaos of the two smaller children and I had a recipe for hilarity, drama and losing my mind slowly.

Two years. Look how far we have come.

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The kids are all so much older (two years is a lot when you are a kid!) and I drink so much more alcohol.

Just kidding.

Not really.

A friend asked me the other day why I hadn’t written in a while. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that Princess has grown up a lot. Her funny quips and “isms” have been replaced by scowls and declarations that we have ruined her life.

Ok, it’s not all bad – in fact, we’ve just had a rare afternoon of peace, just the two of us. Sitting side by side, her drawing a picture and me working (read: mindlessly perusing social media). We chatted like … well, like normal people. It’s days like this that make me so absolutely proud of the person we have grown, and excited to see the woman she is yet to become. She is about to start Year 2 at school and over these holidays she has developed amazingly – her reading ability surprises me daily and her drawing skills are far superior to mine!

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BoyChild is nearly 5 and, like his sister, has come so far in the past year. He is very much a boy – we get a lot of fart jokes and fascinating stories about trains. But he is still the most sensitive of the lot, and still lets me cuddle him. Long live THAT.

For a kid who barely spoke when I started this blog, a few weeks ago he overheard us correcting Princess for mispronouncing hospital, “hos-ti-ble”. He listened as we taught Princess the correct way to say it, then suddenly blurted out, “HOSPITAL!” with pride oozing from him.

“It’s hos-PI-tal” he repeated. Again. And again. Like with Princess, I just found myself welling up with pride. And excitement to see how he grows and develops once he starts school.

In two weeks.

*brb I’m just going to have a cry*

BabyGirl. Freakin BabyGirl. I just can’t even. I said it when I started the blog, that I suspected she might be the one to watch. I knew even then, when she was not even one year old, that she was a fire cracker. Her humour, her vocabulary, her utter naughtiness and her giggle that just seems so artificial that you can’t help but smile. Her absolute freakin adorableness.

She starts preschool soon and while I’m excited about the time alone (where I will, no doubt, wander aimlessly wondering what I ever did pre:kids), I will miss my baby. She’s more or less toilet trained during the day now, and I am more than ready to bid nappies a fond farewell, thanks very much. She will proudly tell all and sundry that she can “wees on the toilet JUST like MUM”.

The kids collectively? They drive me mad. Well, that’s not new though, is it?

They bicker, oh my do they bicker. All siblings fight, I know. I grew up in a family of four girls, one of whom was what my mum described as “fist happy” (plot twist: it was me). So, I get it.

Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

And so here we are. Two years later. A lot has changed, and we’ve grown so much, as individuals and as a family. Can’t wait to see what the next two years bring.

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Look how far we have come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

0

Things I’ll miss

This is the last week of the school holidays. It has been six weeks of … I wanna say fun?

I mean, of course I’ve thoroughly enjoyed having my children around, hanging off me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

However, there are some things I really am going to miss.

The way my kids play so happily together, all the time.

lions

They are so good at negotiating, they never bicker. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve had to say, “stop being so darn polite to each other, you little angels”.

The movies we have watched

I’m not sure if once-a-day-for-three-weeks-straight is really enough time to reallyy grasp the true genius that is the One Direction This Is Us documentary movie. I really will miss having this on every day. I mean, on one occasion it was turned off before it finished – what if the ending changed that one time?!

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Of course, a day wouldn’t be complete without a movie to counter the depth and realism of the One Direction movie, which is why we felt compelled to watch Barbie – The Princess and The Popstar every day also. Oh, the drama. Oh, the feels. Oh, the dance moves and high end animation.

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The Housework

I am certainly going to miss the housework when the kids go back to school. I mean, how will I ever fill my time, when I’m not doing three loads of washing a day, because apparently we need to change our clothes to match the movie that happens to be on (see: above). And the toys. The Toys. I love picking up beads from the floor. And I love it even more if I get to pick up the same beads an hour later.

The Endless Requests 

I’m pretty confident the reason we have children is because we feel our life to be lacking without constant requests for food, water, toys, games, clothing.

All. The. Time.

I mean, the very last thing I want to do on any given day, is sit down long enough to finish a cup of coffee. Or, answer an email. And I absolutely don’t want to make an important work-related phone call without being interrupted at least eight times. More than anything, I appreciate the fact that, when I moved my phone call outside, the kids followed me.

I am, after all, their very reason for breathing.

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The Lego

I love Lego. It encourages creativity. And builds fine motor skills. And it’s fun.  I will miss standing on it once school starts back. I will miss it being in my bed. I will miss it being in the washing machine.

The noise

Silence is over rated, really. I think it’s fair to mention here, I’m sure the neighbours will miss the noise as well. They might deny it, but I know they love it. They love the expressions of emotion, the not-at-all-over-dramatic cries, the mum-is-about-to-lose-her-shit warning sirens. They love it. I know they do.

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Of course, when all is said and done, I wi

I will

I will mis

*ahem*

I will miss my ki

I will miss my

come on, you can say it

I. Will. Miss. My. Kids.

At least BabyGirl will still be with me. UNTIL MAY. Let’s take a moment to digest that.

And I will be able to drown my missing-my-kids sorrows with help from my other child.

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0

Dear Santa

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Ah, letters to Santa.

Dear Sata

I wood like

Sume Now tis

a hyena costoom

hyena faspat

sume Hebas

a LeopRd gerey

Sume Now sHoes

a kid Kare

Sume wahzes

Sume Fapat

Sume t-tesers

Sume toos

I’m so glad that Santa has the amazing ability to decipher the Santa letter of a 6 year old.

We’ve had to remind Princess that Santa doesn’t get children exactly what is on the list. Because, sometimes Santa knows that children want things, when they don’t even know they might want them! Like socks! Oh, Santa. He’s so clever.

Not to mention the fact that sometimes, no matter how hard Santa tries, he just can’t find a hyena costoom (costume). Santa is very proud of herself  himself that she he was able to locate a LeopRd gerey (leopard jersey), on sale no less. And, even better, some Now sHoes (new shoes) at the Salvation Army store for 50c.

Sadly for Princess, there is no way in hell that she would be getting a Kid Kare (kid car) anytime soon. But, Santa has fulfilled a significant part of the list, including the now tis (new tights), t-tesers (t-shirts) and even some toos (toys).

All in all, I have to give it to Princess this year, her list was pretty good. No specific toys mentioned that can only be purchased online for hundreds of dollars, like last year.

BoyChild’s list? A little shorter.

New trains

Coming from a kid who has over 30 trains.

And, BabyGirl?

ELSA! SOFIA! ELSA! I LIKE ANNA! ELSA! TRAINS!

“YOU can’t have trains! I’m having trains!”

TRAINS TRAINS TRAINS TRAINS

Gotcha.

Just for shits and giggles, what do I want for Xmas? Well, since you asked …

Dear Santa

This year, I would like the following, in no particular order:

  1. An hour with no one talking to me/touching me/looking at me
  2. New fancy shoes. Or, superglue to fix my current ones.
  3. A day when I don’t have to parent or adult or cook or clean/  or launder or wash or change a nappy.
  4. A massage.
  5. Something pretty. I mean, really pretty. Not a drawing.
  6. Happy kids, with no bickering or squealing.
  7. A hefty addition to my bank account balance.
  8. Cider. On tap, preferably.
  9. The Chelsea Winter cookbook. Any one of them, I’m not fussy.
  10. Some nice food. That I don’t have to prepare. Or share.
  11. A surprise. A genuine surprise. Any of the above will do.

 

Look, I love Christmas, and what I truly want is everyone to be safe, happy, content and doing what they want to be doing, with whom they want to be sharing the day.

Anything more is just gravy.

Oh! 13. Gravy.

2

How to make an Advent Calendar

As many of us do, I spend a fair chunk of my time on Pinterest. I don’t search for anything specific, I just mindlessly peruse the scores and scores of pins, looking at nothing in particular. It’s a fab way to kill time.

On one of these many perusals, I found this picture of a homemade Advent calendar.

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How cool is this? And to think, rather than the kids eating bland, cheap chocolate once a day, I could put interesting lollies into each box. Maybe even two lollies. What?! Crazy! Fun! OhmygoshIneedtodoit!

So, I pottered off to the shops to buy all the supplies I needed. I think, somewhere along the way, I forgot I had three children, and would therefore need to make three calendars. But, that’s ok. Three isn’t a lot.

Here is what I needed:

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Paper to make 48 boxes (because, lids as well). Times three.

Stickers to decorate.

Ribbon and card for the base.

Lollies.

More lollies to replace the original packs. That someone ate. It was me.

And, here we go. Let’s make an advent calendar!

I didn’t want to spend a ridiculous amount of money on this thing, so I bought a pad of small paper. The boxes are supposed to be made with square paper, but this wasn’t an issue, I just had to cut each piece into a square before folding. I got surprisingly quick at this.

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To make the box, I googled “how to fold a box”. I freakin love the internet. It knows everything. And, because I’m not going to detail every step to you, here is the link I used.

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By about box #30, I was folding these so fast I even had time to pat myself on the back and congratulate myself on what a crafty, dedicated, organic mother I was. As I ate lolly bag #2.

And so, night after night (well, night after whatever random night I remembered, “oh, that’s right, I’m meant to be folding boxes”), I would sit and diligently fold boxes.

I did a really, really good job.

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Until I realised, I had folded over 60 boxes and I still had a long way to go. And, somehow, mysteriously, half of November literally vanished. Gone. No idea where it went. How could it possibly be November 27, when just yesterday it was March 3?

And then, someone ate the other bag of lollies.

Still me.

And so, here you go. After the better part of a month, and over $15 spent on supplies, I give you, the advent calendars for the kids.

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What’s that, I hear you say? Those don’t look like ….

Well. No. They aren’t. Because apparently three kids x 24 days x lids and bottoms = a freakin butt load of boxes. Not to mention the fact that the kids kept eating the lollies. OK IT WAS ME.

These calendars were $2.10. EACH. I don’t even care if the chocolate tastes like dirt, I’m not the one going to eat it.

And, my kids win anyway – they get a super exciting pre-Christmas treat – two sticker books, 64 pre-folded boxes and some ribbon. All the christmas craft one could want!

And me? Well, lollies, of course.

 

 

 

0

Twenty Seventh!

Princess had her very first Cross Country yesterday. These are an institution here in New Zealand. I remember my own school cross country races fondly. I grew up in a relatively rural town, so our cross country race involved running through the bush, scaling fences, all the while wearing either bare feet or, if we were feeling fancy, jandals.

It’s nice to see nothing has really changed. I mean, they had to wear shoes, but it still brought back memories of my own races. The line up to start. Taking off, running their little hearts out.

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Princess was really excited about this race, she couldn’t stop talking about it. She selected her clothes specifically, laid out the night before with her running shoes. She had been doing a lot of training at school, and even received a certificate last week for her “improvement in school athletics”.

I couldn’t believe how excited I was about the race. There is something about seeing your child participate and do well in something, that just melts your heart. Now, I’m no Tiger Mom, but I do want to see my kids do well. Did I want her to win? Hells yes, that would have been awesome! But more than anything, I just wanted her to do her best. I know, right? I’m such a grown up some times.

And so, it was time. They lined up all the Year 0 and Year 1 girls together (there were a million of them) and boom, they were off. And by “off”, I mean, they disappeared out of sight. Down to the river, to run along the river bank. The race was only 500m so I was surprised at how long the kids were gone for!

We waited … and waited … and then we saw a little girl emerge from the bushes. Was it Princess? Goodness, no. This kid? Usain Bolt, I tell ya. She was miles ahead of anyone else. MILES.  And then came more. And more. And more little girls, all wearing, it seems, the same as Princess. I began to wonder if I’d missed her. I looked towards the finish line – nope, not there. More girls came, and there she was. My heart? It died. It puffed up to six million times its normal size. There was my big kid, running her hardest. She wasn’t winning, but by gosh was she trying.

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She overtook a couple of kids on the home stretch, and ran across the finish line.

I won’t lie. I was yelling. Calling her name, jumping up and down in a manner that will most certainly embarrass her in years to come. I mean, no one else is going to cheer for my kid. That’s my job. 

I was so happy, I nearly cried. Ridiculous, really. But it’s that crazy pride thing that we parents get. That crazy pride thing that makes us nearly lose our minds at times, I swear.

And, as Princess ran up to me, beaming from ear to ear, she proudly held up her hand and said, “Look, Mum. TWENTY SEVENTH! That’s MY number!”. And with a kiss and a giggle, she was skipping off to her class with her friends.

Did I want Princess to win her race? Sure, that would have been nice, for her to get up onto the podium and get a certificate. But she is 6. She doesn’t yet have the drive to need to win, and that’s great. She had a wonderful time, she later said to me, “I’m so proud of my race, Mum”.

And you know what? So am I. As far as I’m concerned, she might as well have won that race. So we went out for celebratory frozen yoghurt, and Princess got extra sprinkles, because she came TWENTY SEVENTH.