Life with Littles
- October 27, 2017
Is there anything more true than the saying, “Comparison is the thief of joy”?
Having just written them down, I’m going to read those words again. Slowly.
Comparison is the thief of joy.
Call it what you will. Comparison. Competition. Envy. Jealousy. The green-eyed monster. It steals. It takes away joy. It saps happiness. It lessens satisfaction. And yet, comparison is a tool we all use, every day, in every aspect of our lives, whether consciously or not. Is there a more natural instinct than to compare ourselves to others?
I wonder if the tendency to compare has become magnified with all the technology...
- September 01, 2017
At the end of June when we hung up your school uniform and kicked your little black shoes into the corner of the cupboard, I thought the summer would last forever. I saw the unstructured days stretch ahead of us as an unknown quantity and felt just as daunted by them as you were excited.
And then we woke up on day one, and it was 7.30am. And I didn’t have to pack your lunchbox, or chivvy you into your uniform, or make either of us look presentable until we were good and ready for our day, and we had nowhere...
- July 23, 2017
Summer holidays, and with a break in routine and family coming to stay in our three-bedroom house, I thought it would be a perfect time to start transitioning my two girls to a shared bedroom. I imagined lazy evenings of reading bedtime stories with one precious girl in the crook of each arm, goodnight kisses and waking in the morning to find the two of them snuggling together, the picture of Instagramable sisterly affection. The older one has always been a great sleeper, the younger is not – so I thought, now she is 18 months old, she may learn...
- June 25, 2017
A September morning and a too-big school dress, a neat little ponytail, knee-high socks and shiny black shoes walking little legs through the school gates for the first time, her tiny hand held tight in mine. The first morning of school, and both of us brand new.
It’s been a year of so many firsts and we’ve navigated them all with a little help from each other and our friends. The first meet and greet with the teachers, now beloved friends and trusted partners; the first choosing of a locker (did I elbow another parent out of the way as I...
- April 13, 2017
I’ve been having flashbacks lately. Vivid, intoxicating flashbacks. Memories from a different time.
The smell of jasmine in the morning. The way the sunlight looks from underneath a thick rooftop of bougainvillea. The sound of a speedboat engine revving to pull me out of the water on a pair of skis and the taste of the salt water when it hits my face. The crackling of a wood fire and the smell of lamb chops on a summer night. The brown of the water in forest rock pools. The morning sun slanting through my bedroom window and the insistent scratch of...
- March 17, 2017
Dear Working Mum,
I don’t know how you do it.
We’ve all been tickled this week by the hilarious BBC interview that went so very wrong when a toddler and baby came running into the room while their dad was on Skype being interviewed about democracy in South Korea. It was my favourite YouTube moment of the year so far – until this morning, when a friend reposted this on Facebook, a spoof of what it would have been like if it had happened to a woman. A working mum. And the reason I laughed so hard is that it so absolutely could have been...
- January 24, 2017
First it’s denial… Scratchy throat? No – it’s nothing. I’m just thirsty. It’s not my four-year-old’s cold. Couldn’t possibly be. [**reaches for the fluids**]
Then it’s hope… Well, yes, okay, I do seem to be coming down with a bit of a cold but I still feel good – I’m sure it’ll pass quickly [**reaches for the Berocca**].
Then irritation… Ugh, this cold is getting worse and it’s messing with my week – we have three children’s birthday parties in the next four days – I cannot be sick! [**reaches for the paracetamol**]....
- July 05, 2016
Dear fellow thirtysomething mum,
I see you in the supermarket, I see you at the playground. I see you at the school drop-off, I see you on the train and in the kid-friendly restaurants. Sometimes you see me too, and we exchange a little smile, an eye-roll, an “I get it” moment. More often you don’t see me – you are chasing your toddler down the aisles, watching your pre-schooler like a hawk as she climbs higher than you’d like, admonishing your kid for pinching her brother, reaching for a wet wipe, mopping up a spilled drink.
A few days ago I was...