We intentionally had our children fairly close together. I want to be able to do things together as a family as they get older, and a large age gap would make that more difficult. I want us to go travelling or hiking or mountain biking or sailing or rafting or riding together, once they're all old enough to participate, and before they start leaving home.
Often it's really hard at the moment, though. I feel constantly pulled in three different directions, and constantly unable to make each child as happy as I'd like. This afternoon, for instance, I picked the girls up at 1 and we went home to pick up Daniel, eat a lightning snack, and locate all the library books. Then we went to playball from 2pm until 3pm, and then on to the library, as we do every second week after playball. So far, so good, despite the usual circus of chasing Daniel around the place trying to prevent him from clearing the shelves, assuring Lauren that the Superman book that she was hankering after was not necessarily just for boys (even though I was tempted not to combat peer-induced sexism in this case, as it's one of those nasty half-comic pseudo-books that I despise), and plain refusing to get Snow White out again. Why Robyn likes those uninspiring fairy-tale Ladybird books is beyond me. I've had to impose a one-pukey-Disney-fairy-tale-book limit per visit. Once she gets home, she loves the other books we get. She just thinks she likes that stuff the best.
Once we got home things went downhill. They all have such different needs. Daniel of course wanted to be fed. Lauren wanted to read, if possible, all 17 books. (Actually 15 out of 17 - Daniel had one and I had one.) Robyn wanted to discuss the specifics of some home-made dye she recently made out of some orange-coloured berries in our garden, and what other colours she might make tomorrow. Both Lauren and Robyn needed a snack, but didn't want me to be in the kitchen. Daniel wanted to climb up the slide and dance around on the top of the jungle gym, Robyn wanted to finish the cake she started on Tuesday but couldn't finish as we had no vanilla, Lauren wanted help with the shower. Daniel tipped my coffee out on the lawn and helpfully brought me the cup. The cake proceeded through the next two ingredients and then came to a halt due to the lack of eggs (prepared a few minutes ago for the girls' snack). Peter couldn't be reached on the phone to pick up eggs on the way as his battery was flat. Couldn't be reached by the office phone as no one bothers to pick up after 5, and then couldn't be reached by email as he'd just left, and then took a long time to get home as he had to drop a colleague off in the next village and stop at the shop for cat food, and a few other things he helpfully remembered we needed. Alas, not including eggs.
Speaking of Daniel, I don't know how I'm going to wean him; he's never accepted a bottle, and still wakes all night instantly furious if I'm not immediately there. Met a friend of a friend last weekend I last saw over a year ago.
She: Oh, last time we met, Daniel was just a little breastfeeding baby in arms.
I: He's still a breastfeeding baby, only not so little or so much in arms.
Robyn was a rabid nurser who also refused bottles and yet weaned effortlessly at 18 months. Lauren liked bottles and was also easy, at around 16 months. Neither of them were waking at night at that age though.
I urgently need to prioritise organising my grocery shopping (i.e. do a big monthly shop online) and meal planning. We are always running out of stuff, and waste much too much time picking up things in the morning before work or on the way home. And it's also expensive as frequently we pick up things from Woolworths which are, unfortunately, as expensive as they are scrumptious. We're supposed to be doing it now - setting up the online shopping list. Only it's so boring we were going to do it together for company. Only Peter's deserted to bed.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Sunday, July 25, 2004
Thursday, July 22, 2004
School started again today. The girls had a good first day back, enjoyed getting back to their gym lesson, and came home really happy.
Robyn acually spent part of the morning at a Child Assessment Centre in Durban. We want to get an external professional opinion on her abilities. There are a couple of mismatches. She seems very bright to us and capable of pretty advanced thought for her age. At school her work varies between outstanding, painstaking and slapdash. Personally I think she's bored by some of the activities. She's never liked super-structured or rule-based activities. As a toddler she used to embellish colouring books with pictures within pictures. Then again, she seems to have an aversion to reading, so I have no delusions of intellectual grandeur! Not that they really teach much reading yet, but based on her early development I expected her to pick it up easily on her own. On a less tangible or easy-to-describe level, she seems to march to a different drum to other kids. I watch her in small groups when friends come to play, and its like she inhabits a different world.
Overall I am pleased with her school, only her teacher is perhaps slightly old-school. She loves the kids to bits, and the local school praises to the heavens the level of school-readiness of her kids, but she "doesn't believe in children being bored". (This when I tactfully suggested it as a possible reason for Robyn's lack of consistency in class - that she might battle with some activities because they don't capture her interest sufficiently. Then again, maybe she's just short of sleep and has periodic bad days as a result. Sometimes she can't get to sleep for all the thoughts and plans going around in her head.)
SO, to cut a long story medium-sized, she's having an IQ test (that was today) and a psychological development assessment (scheduled for next week). She seemed to enjoy today's test - among other things she had to complete a 'very tricky shape puzzle', and she had to draw a picture of someone of her own choice. And she chose her godfather for this honour. I'm glad she's enjoying the process. She's been to a couple of school evaluations this year - so it just seemed to her to be in the same vein - naturally it's not presented as a test but rather as an activity. I'm not sure how reliable these sorts of tests are, but I'm glad she's not old enough to understand the entire process.
Robyn acually spent part of the morning at a Child Assessment Centre in Durban. We want to get an external professional opinion on her abilities. There are a couple of mismatches. She seems very bright to us and capable of pretty advanced thought for her age. At school her work varies between outstanding, painstaking and slapdash. Personally I think she's bored by some of the activities. She's never liked super-structured or rule-based activities. As a toddler she used to embellish colouring books with pictures within pictures. Then again, she seems to have an aversion to reading, so I have no delusions of intellectual grandeur! Not that they really teach much reading yet, but based on her early development I expected her to pick it up easily on her own. On a less tangible or easy-to-describe level, she seems to march to a different drum to other kids. I watch her in small groups when friends come to play, and its like she inhabits a different world.
Overall I am pleased with her school, only her teacher is perhaps slightly old-school. She loves the kids to bits, and the local school praises to the heavens the level of school-readiness of her kids, but she "doesn't believe in children being bored". (This when I tactfully suggested it as a possible reason for Robyn's lack of consistency in class - that she might battle with some activities because they don't capture her interest sufficiently. Then again, maybe she's just short of sleep and has periodic bad days as a result. Sometimes she can't get to sleep for all the thoughts and plans going around in her head.)
SO, to cut a long story medium-sized, she's having an IQ test (that was today) and a psychological development assessment (scheduled for next week). She seemed to enjoy today's test - among other things she had to complete a 'very tricky shape puzzle', and she had to draw a picture of someone of her own choice. And she chose her godfather for this honour. I'm glad she's enjoying the process. She's been to a couple of school evaluations this year - so it just seemed to her to be in the same vein - naturally it's not presented as a test but rather as an activity. I'm not sure how reliable these sorts of tests are, but I'm glad she's not old enough to understand the entire process.
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
Hi, my name is Lisa and I'm an administrative disaster.
We're drowning in papers. It's a neverending fight against a tide of bills, statements, accounts, art work, newspapers, and other documents.
Last night I counted the number of locations around the house where you might find yourself involved in an ugly administrative encounter.
My bedside drawer. Currently tied up with string to circumvent administrative assistance from Daniel.
Peter's bedside drawer. Not secured against Daniel, hence risky.
Peter's clothes shelves. Out of Daniel's reach, hence safe, yet non-intuitive.
My bathroom drawer. I don't know why, either.
The dining room sideboard. Angie's paper dumping ground. Recently also tied up with string and hence rendered temporarily less accessible.
The kitchen drawer. Angie, when desperate.
The kitchen counter. Truly non-optimal.
The bowl. Really attractive, though sadly no longer visible, bowl bought last year on the Midlands Meander.
The alleged in-tray. Though to get to it you have to unlock a door, walk across a courtyard, and unlock a gate and another door.
Version 2 of the in-tray. A plastic packet, whereabouts presently unknown, filled by Peter to alleviate pressure on the in-tray.
The filing cabinet. Yes, really. Though to get to it you have to unlock a door, walk across a courtyard, unlock a gate and another door, and navigate past a sea of toys and a large pile of papers (circa 1988).
Version 2.1 of the in-tray. The bottom drawer of the filing cabinet (sans actual files) - again courtesy of Peter.
The Drawer. Predecessor of all the above locations. Still utilised from time to time for old times sake.
Last night I got very depressed about it all. Seems like we'll never get on top of it. I waste so much time trying to find things. Last night I searched for speeding ticket number 5 (I'm improving though - haven't had a new one for weeks now!) for about 2 hours, and eventually gave up.
I'll just have to keep it all in perspective. At least we have our health. Actually we're so unfit it's just not funny, but that's for another time.
From Peter: Your filing's not ok, and my filing's not ok, but that's ok.
We're drowning in papers. It's a neverending fight against a tide of bills, statements, accounts, art work, newspapers, and other documents.
Last night I counted the number of locations around the house where you might find yourself involved in an ugly administrative encounter.
My bedside drawer. Currently tied up with string to circumvent administrative assistance from Daniel.
Peter's bedside drawer. Not secured against Daniel, hence risky.
Peter's clothes shelves. Out of Daniel's reach, hence safe, yet non-intuitive.
My bathroom drawer. I don't know why, either.
The dining room sideboard. Angie's paper dumping ground. Recently also tied up with string and hence rendered temporarily less accessible.
The kitchen drawer. Angie, when desperate.
The kitchen counter. Truly non-optimal.
The bowl. Really attractive, though sadly no longer visible, bowl bought last year on the Midlands Meander.
The alleged in-tray. Though to get to it you have to unlock a door, walk across a courtyard, and unlock a gate and another door.
Version 2 of the in-tray. A plastic packet, whereabouts presently unknown, filled by Peter to alleviate pressure on the in-tray.
The filing cabinet. Yes, really. Though to get to it you have to unlock a door, walk across a courtyard, unlock a gate and another door, and navigate past a sea of toys and a large pile of papers (circa 1988).
Version 2.1 of the in-tray. The bottom drawer of the filing cabinet (sans actual files) - again courtesy of Peter.
The Drawer. Predecessor of all the above locations. Still utilised from time to time for old times sake.
Last night I got very depressed about it all. Seems like we'll never get on top of it. I waste so much time trying to find things. Last night I searched for speeding ticket number 5 (I'm improving though - haven't had a new one for weeks now!) for about 2 hours, and eventually gave up.
I'll just have to keep it all in perspective. At least we have our health. Actually we're so unfit it's just not funny, but that's for another time.
From Peter: Your filing's not ok, and my filing's not ok, but that's ok.
Saturday, July 10, 2004
Saturday morning, 3.41 am.
Strange time to be up. I can't get back to sleep. Got to say I'm tired, tired, tired of Daniel waking up all night. And lately Peter can do nothing for him in the middle of the night. Also, I collapsed in various places around the house between 8pm and 10pm before finally giving up and going to bed, so my sleep clock's probably a bit confused by the early night.
I'm very glad this week is over. It was the first full week of the kids' July holiday and we were going to go away. With some family complications on the home front (all resolved now), we couldn't. So, despite the fact that it's sheer madness from a work point of view, I'm taking next week off. I feel pulled between work and the kids. But now that Robyn is at school (Grade R, anyway), we can't just take a week off any time it suits the work situation. We pretty much have to take a week in July, and three in December/January. In terms of school holidays, that still leaves a few weeks of school holidays where we both have to work, but what with a few sleepovers with grandparents, and a couple of holiday-club-type things (I'm so glad I'm mornings-only now), we get by ok. But no way can I let the kids' July vac go by without some uninterrupted time with me.
Peter may or may not join us for part of the week. He had things well organised to take this week off, but had about four projects for which he was needed next week. So it looked like it would just be me and the kids.
Then tonight he came skipping in the door and announced that his projects are fast disappearing off the immediate horizon. Owing to deadlines changing, and other people being on leave, three of the four have temporarily vapourised! Yay! He's cautiously optimistic about being able to join us after Monday! Personally, I'm not getting my hopes up. From past experience, it's unlikely to happen. I've waited for Peter to get away from work and join the family holiday more often than I'd care to remember. He'd love to join us. Somehow it often doesn't work out though. It'll be lovely if it works out, in which case instead of day trips with me and the kids, we'll try and get away somewhere.
Strange time to be up. I can't get back to sleep. Got to say I'm tired, tired, tired of Daniel waking up all night. And lately Peter can do nothing for him in the middle of the night. Also, I collapsed in various places around the house between 8pm and 10pm before finally giving up and going to bed, so my sleep clock's probably a bit confused by the early night.
I'm very glad this week is over. It was the first full week of the kids' July holiday and we were going to go away. With some family complications on the home front (all resolved now), we couldn't. So, despite the fact that it's sheer madness from a work point of view, I'm taking next week off. I feel pulled between work and the kids. But now that Robyn is at school (Grade R, anyway), we can't just take a week off any time it suits the work situation. We pretty much have to take a week in July, and three in December/January. In terms of school holidays, that still leaves a few weeks of school holidays where we both have to work, but what with a few sleepovers with grandparents, and a couple of holiday-club-type things (I'm so glad I'm mornings-only now), we get by ok. But no way can I let the kids' July vac go by without some uninterrupted time with me.
Peter may or may not join us for part of the week. He had things well organised to take this week off, but had about four projects for which he was needed next week. So it looked like it would just be me and the kids.
Then tonight he came skipping in the door and announced that his projects are fast disappearing off the immediate horizon. Owing to deadlines changing, and other people being on leave, three of the four have temporarily vapourised! Yay! He's cautiously optimistic about being able to join us after Monday! Personally, I'm not getting my hopes up. From past experience, it's unlikely to happen. I've waited for Peter to get away from work and join the family holiday more often than I'd care to remember. He'd love to join us. Somehow it often doesn't work out though. It'll be lovely if it works out, in which case instead of day trips with me and the kids, we'll try and get away somewhere.
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