A Saturday in the life of five children. In photos.

Today Craig is at work. The rest of us are home for the whole day, so I thought it might be a perfect opportunity to do a day in the life piece.

I am asked a lot about what my life is like with five kids. Sometimes with a hint of awe in their voice (usually first time parents - I've so been there.) Sometimes with disbelief that it is even possible. Sometimes with a head-shaking you-are-crazy tone. It doesn't bother me. I once said that all subsequent children have to be surprises, because no one would ever go through the first year again by choice. Oh how I have changed since then! But that's a topic for another time.

Life with five can be crazy-fun, overwhelmingly-busy, exciting and heart warming, depending on the moment. So these are some snaps shots of my moments, all collected in an ordinary day.

Note: I have probably missed three quarters of the day, because carrying an iPad around constantly can be a bit impractical, especially when carrying a one year old.

Let's begin…..

I am woken by Craig's alarm, but I stay in bed as Daisy is still asleep in the cot beside me.

Half an hour later Henry wakes me to show off his cool outfit. Daisy wakes up and the kids take turns visiting until I drag myself out of bed to make breakfast for all. The older girls and Henry are dancing to music on the iPad. Daisy joins in. Two children are dressed.

Breakfast. Yogurt. Jack last, because this means the iPod disappears until quiet time. Teeth brushed.

Time to play! I walk around collecting washing and chatting to the kids. Lucy is working on decorating some shoes, an activity she got for her birthday. I'm happily still in my PJ's.

Outside play. I like to start outside play when I am going to be outside myself. Today I hang the washing. As I finish, I walk around, chatting with each child about what they are doing.

Once they are all engaged in an activity of their choice I wander back inside to eat a quick breakfast, write a few sentences for this blog and then get some work done.

Usually I can't leave a little one outside with the others until 18-21 months. Daisy is the exception. She is 14 months. She rarely puts things in her mouth, can run, and can climb up and down off the edge of the deck easily. Isabel and Lucy are amazing at entertaining her and allow each other 'turns' looking after Daisy. This is only a weekend thing, so it is very special to them both. And I only check on them from the kitchen window a thousand few times.

I am interrupted four times while eating breakfast, which is actually a pretty good run for me, as I only get up once. Jack leaves to ride to his cousins' house, as he noticed there were some of their things on the blue cabinet (the place of all I-don't-know-where-this-goes things.)

Snack time coincides with rain. This is great because I can say they will get their snack when hands were washed and clothes changed.

Inside play again, as the rain has not left quite yet. Lucy starts dancing and others decide to join her.

Isabel starts a sewing project. She decides on another bookmark like the one she made last week, just a bit different. I sit with her and teach her to embroider her initial onto felt.

Daisy's nap time. Everyone has to be quiet while I put her to bed, just as I did for each of them in the past. Lucy continues her shoe activity, Jack goes outside in the rain to dig and explore and Henry plays Lego (and then sneaks an iPad to watch a black and white episode of AstroBoy!)

Washing time again. Jack has discovered old pieces of tile while digging and tries to convince me that we may need to contact a museum. They may in fact be artefacts, 100's of years old! Jack has a shower and Lucy dances again. Henry agrees to join in. But only for boy songs. Isabel asks for advice concerning elastic for her project.

Time to put clothes away. I have seven clean-clothes baskets, which I put all the clean clothes in for each person. The kids put their own away. And I go back later to tidy the drawers, which takes five minutes as opposed to the half and hour it would take to put it all away myself.

After the girls come from their room with empty baskets they notice we haven't taken the dry washing off the airers from the day before. They both help me to do this job as Jack starts making lunch for Henry and himself.

Lunch time. Jack decides it is a two-kinds-of-peanut-butter day. What Jack says, goes. Henry usually likes to make his own lunch, but loves Jack enough to let him make it, which Jack likes too. He cuts both pieces of toast (one crunchy, one plain peanut butter) into quarters and arranges them in a checker board pattern for Henry.

The girls make lunch together. Meanwhile I fold washing from the dryer and tidy up a little.

My lunch time as the kids finish up theirs, watching Jack play Minecraft. He is the only one with an iPod (we have a 9yr old rule as they are too easy to lose.)

Quiet time. Silence. Or almost silence. Isabel is making a bookmark. Jack and Henry bond over 'I' products. Lucy plays with puzzles on the iPad.

In the past I made them all go to separate rooms to play for this time, and sometimes in holidays I still do, but Henry cried and Lucy was getting upset too, as they don't get to spend much time playing together during the week. So I changed the rule to quiet play of their choice, so long as it stays quiet. Daisy gets to sleep and they all get some time to calm down and rest. Without this time, there will be fights and whinging all afternoon.

Daisy wakes up. Love that sweet-snuggly-baby-happiness that is a toddler waking up!

All children now continue their activities in the lounge room so they can see Daisy as she eats lunch. Isabel, now finished her first sewing project, starts another.

2pm. Jack, Lucy and Henry (now playing Leapfrog Explorer together) have to turn electronics off. These children claim to be hungry, which is code for bored. I tell them to find something to do, snack will be ready at 3. Isabel, halfway through her sewing project, has an idea for her next one. She explains it to me.

Jack makes his way to his bedroom to play Lego. Daisy follows him. He assures me that he will watch her every second, and begs me not to take her away. He entertains her, making her a car to play with.

Daisy stands and watches him for a while, then plays on Henry's bed. It's her favourite place.

Henry and Lucy have closed themselves in the playroom. They don't want Daisy wrecking the game they have set up. It involves every toy in the room. The dolls house, bat cave, Thomas books and Duplo are the main players.

Eventually they let Daisy in, who has now become bored with watching Jack build Lego.

Isabel shows me her second finished sewing project.

As I take photos of Isabel, Daisy notices the open baby gate and makes her way through the kitchen to the study. She empties a pencil tin and finds my purse, as Isabel is explain more about her next project.

Jack wants to make the snack now that it is 3pm. I say YES! Henry decides to help.

Lucy sets Daisy up in her highchair while I get her a snack.

Lucy and Henry dance while they wait for their snack.

Snack time!

Craig arrives home. To a concert. This is him five minutes after walking through the door: changed and ready to watch.

I make him a well deserved cuppa. The kids who have now had daddy attention go to play while we catch up.

Craig and the kids go outside to play, while I get to sit down and write/type for a little while. I join them after a while to watch them play. Craig is busy undoing some of their creativity from earlier in the day.

Showers next, with a viewing of Frozen to finish the day.

I'm sure that is enough photos for now! I hope you enjoyed your day too.x

Different is normal. And the box doesn't actually exist.

I took Henry to the shops on the way home from work this afternoon. Henry goes to Prep at the same school I teach at, so this was a perfect opportunity. Henry was desperate for some new, cool, pants.

The whole washing hullabaloo has not been the biggest drama ever for most of the kids. They are all pretty used to searching through clean washing on the 'washing lounge' (names make lounges special after all.) The only one not coping so well, apart from me, was Henry.

Henry is cool. He really, really is. He is a sixteen year old in a four year old's body. He completely loves choosing clothes, adding his own flair. He can manage to pick out plaid pants, a random tee, green slip-on shoes, and he is good to go. I use threats of track pants as punishment. And I can only cut his hair to the maximum school allowable length.

Yesterday he attended the school book parade for his siblings, in the freezing cold and rain, with Grandma, Daisy and his cousin (yay Grandma!) He had on a Batman suit with clothes on underneath. Only there were no clothes. His few pairs of 'cool' pants were in the wash. Apparently freezing cold with no clothes is better than clothes that don't reach his high standards.

I could have argued with him. I could have told him that he has perfectly good clothes in his drawer.

But I didn't.

Here's why.

It's his thing. He likes to dress the way he does, with his hair never looking quite brushed, and he will NOT accept anything less. With me, that's totally okay.

Because I have things too.

I have lots of things. I like to read instead of fold washing. I need warm Activite before bed. I sleep the best under a quilt I made plus a dressing gown (it's the exact right weight- which matters!) I hate breakfast and peas and mornings. I love nighttime and sleep and tea. I find comfort in words: spoken, written, and meaningful. I live for the lightbulb moment in a child's eyes. Laying down next to one of my children calms me almost instantly, and a hug can always improve my mood.

So I have things. All grown ups do. Yet so often I hear that kids just have to learn to fall into line. Whatever that line is.

The problem with the line is that the line is invisible and kids just don't see it. I say yay for them. Often they are just too new to the world to conform or walk the imaginary line. When I see them skipping through the shopping centre dressed as fairies in gum boots, it reminds me of the different that is actually normal. Usually, it's just hidden by the sensible adults we have tried to become.

Our normals are all different. What is regular, ordinary and common for one person or family, would in fact be different for another.

In a way, I decide what I think is normal. And I'm wrong most of the time, because my normal is different from everyone else's normal. Which means that normals are actually mostly different. Yep. Different is in fact the only really norm.

It's a little like there really isn't an out-of-the-box, because there really isn't an in-the-box. Reason? Because the box doesn't have to be a thing in the first place. Thinking can be just thinking. It doesn't need a label. It doesn't need someone to give it a high five and tell that it is out-of-the-box. Thinking can just be because, and for no reason or purpose, or use. Thinking can just be.

And so can the creativity of kids. But that's a topic for another time.

While I hide my different with perceived normal, from habit more than anything, I will encourage my children to be okay with their different.

Their 'things' which make them, them, are all good with me. Whether it be a teepee in the backyard, doing homework with music on, taking 15 teddies to bed, liking only orange veggies for the moment, or wanting to wear only 'cool' pants; it's fine. I support the different. I support them.

I will continue to tell them different is normal. The world would be a pretty boring place if we were all the same. We are all different on purpose. And the box just doesn't exist.

So off the shops we went.

Henry chose some bright blue corduroy pants. He plans to wear them with his green shoes and cool top (I have no idea which one.)

For us, this is oh so normal. And awesome.

It's all about the washing. Dreaming of a dryer and the before-them-me.

So I don't know about other mummies, but when rain comes calling, all my thoughts turn to washing. There is a stress that is attached to rain that I never knew in the life of the before-kids-me.

There is a maths equation that just does not work out around here. Wet washing x 7 + too much rain - (3 airers + 1 x 5.5kg dryer) = ? I wish the answer was 'all clean and dry clothes'. Unfortunately the real answer is 'currently no clean/dry work pants for tomorrow.'

The washing is on now and I will be making full use of the gas heater to make sure they are dry; but stress. About CLOTHES. This is not life or death. It's just plain irritating. There are many problems out there that need my attention. I just can't see them over the pile of clothes in the way right now.

Then today another mum shared that she has a 7.5kg dryer that has a 6 star energy rating. Yep. No dryer guilt and it's huge. That family probably has lots of clean AND dry clothes in their house. Slightly jealous and in awe, to say the least. And that got me thinking.

As I drove home I was dreaming about a dryer. A dryer. Sitting there, imagining going home to piles of clean, dry clothes, I realised how much of the mummy-me bears absolutely no resemblance to the before-them-me.

I remember deciding that I wouldn't be one to change who I am for kids. Ha! Hands up all who were dragged kicking and screaming into the after-kids-version-of-you. For me, that 'I'm not changing' decision lays clearly at the bottom of the bin along with "my kids won't watch TV until they are two" and "I won't let my baby rule the house" (side note: he who cries the loudest, longest, wins here. No contest.)

It's all good though. I've let go of so much stuff that didn't matter, to take hold of life now. Even the horrible washing on rainy days is completely ok, when I look at the family attached to it. It's just one of those moments when I realise that a massive shift has taken place, so slowly, that I didn't even notice it happening.

Life is so much more fun and exciting now. Seeing things through their eyes is amazing. The laughing out loud that happens so often can't be beat.

Still, I wouldn't say no to opening the before-them-me's closet tomorrow morning. All that heartache choosing what to wear would be really nice about now;)

Anyway. The sun will come out. The washing will get done. And I'll get to those other more importantly things waiting for me and stop dreaming about dryers and the before-them-me.

Right now I'm content, thinking of all of you - my village - all dealing with the rain-washing situation too, separated only by distance. I hope for clean and dry clothes for all of you too.x

Felt bookmarks

We love a fun craft project around here! Anything colourful and useful is often found in production at our dining room table. My number one request when looking for a bigger house, after Henry was born, was that I wanted a large dining room table. I could just see us all either eating, working on projects, reading, playing games, or writing around a table big enough for guests too. This is definitely what I ended up with. We bought the largest Norden table from IKEA. It has been stabbed with the forks of toddlers, scratched, permanently engraved with pens and cleaned so much that the lacquer is now wearing off. But it is also a place where some of my fondest memories have taken place. Sitting and chatting over a cuppa with Craig, playing Hungry Hippos with the kids, sewing the kids' memory quilts, magnificent Play Doh creations, watching 'I love you, mummy' cards in the making, letter writing, and more smiles than I ever thought possible in a lifetime. An endless amount of moments that make up the good, the bad, and the in-between bits. Well, over the last couple of days we have added another lovely memory to the use of this table. Felt bookmarks that turned out to be a great deal less challenging than I first thought. Maybe because we worked on them over two days, instead of one.

Materials needed to make a felt bookmark:

3 Templates in any chosen shape (computer with printer needed)
Stiff cardboard
Pen
Felt in 3 different colours
Needles (one to use with regular thread and one for embroidery thread)
Regular polyester thread
Embroidery thread
Ribbon
Elastic, preferably coloured
Pins
Scissors
Craft glue (optional)

How to:

1) The first step is to get all the materials ready. This includes making the templates, which is really easy. All I did was ask the kids to tell me a shape that they liked, then used Microsoft Word (you could use any program that can create shapes) to make three versions of the chosen shape in different sizes. Print these templates and cut out. Next you need to trace around these templates, onto stiff card. For this step I used a Lego box to reduce wastage.

2) Trace around each of the three cardboard templates onto felt. Use a different colour of felt for each template.

3) Make a small bow out of ribbon and sew it onto the middle of the smallest piece of felt using regular polyester thread.

4) Using embroidery thread, sew around the edge of the middle sized piece of felt using overcast stitch.

5) Chose a piece of elastic and use a book to work out the length needed. Make sure the elastic overlaps a little.

6) Sew elastic onto the back of the largest piece of felt.

7) Sew the middle sized piece of felt onto the large piece.

8) Finally, sew the smallest piece of felt onto the middle sized piece.

This is the final result: two very happy little girls, eager to use their new bookmarks.

The boys wanted to make one each as well. Neither wanted to do ALL the sewing, so I modified the activity for them.

For Henry (4 years), I sewed the large piece of felt onto the elastic for him. He then used craft glue to glue all of the pieces together.

For Jack, I asked him to sew the elastic on, then asked him to glue the pieces together. As he is the king of modification and thinking outside the square, his interpretation was somewhat different than I imagined. It just goes to show that this activity can be completed in any number of ways.

All the kids loved having a go at this activity. I think we may make some more closer to Christmas so they can give them as gifts. Isabel wants to make another one for herself. She really wants to learn how to embroider, so I will use this as an opportunity to show her a little, by helping her embroider her first initial onto the small piece of felt. The girls also commented that they could vary the size and shape of the felt to make cute headbands too. Maybe next weekend.

Finding something so small. And tears.

I spent today sorting through the too many toys. Part two: the downstairs playroom, which is unfortunately where I've been chucking everything while doing the entire upstairs, so it was a huge job. Going about my work I made all kinds of interesting discoveries. Things like, nobody has had idea where the downstairs TV remote has been for months (found later with the computers upstairs- naturally), found the shooting bit out of Henry's buzz lightyear space ship when he was in the room:/ and a million toys I forgot we even owned.

It felt great finally getting to a job that I had been pushing aside for so long. Organising, cleaning, finding new places for things, moving toys onto the growing 'give away' pile and generally finding a room again under baskets and tubs of STUFF. Craig had the two littlies upstairs. With a half day off, he was spending time being just daddy. As the day followed a double shift, Henry and Daisy were loving every minute. Music, laughter and the sounds of little kids dancing drifted down the stairs. I absent mindedly moved more toys aside, still smiling at the craziness that was going on in the lounge above.

Then, there they were.  A couple of very small discoveries that brought sudden tears to my eyes. Little toys that would mean nothing to anyone else, but oh so much to me. Two tiny rattles and a plastic link. Nothing really. Only, so much. Maybe too much. Some of the last remaining pieces of babydom.

A few months ago, before Daisy was beyond baby, I gave pretty much everything away. Everything. I was contacted by a friend, who had found someone who was soon due to have a baby girl. The mother had nothing. She needed help. I could give it. So I did. The timing was perfect. I passed it all on, emotional, but completely happy to see everything go to someone who desperately needed it. And Daisy was still a baby. At least I could still tell myself that.

Daisy is no longer a baby. She may look like one as she sleeps, but she can say 'cot' now, so a toddler she has become. I have loved seeing her grow and change. Knowing she is the last, I have paid close attention to every moment and the other children have been old enough to enjoy it with Craig and I. Just about every observation has been shared. Learning to clap, to crawl, to walk, to talk: has been a together experience. The moving on has flowed, on the river of time, as I have slowly left pieces behind, this time never to experience again. And I'm ok with that. The new, fun and grown up stages are yet to come. I'm so excited! I can't wait to see what comes next.

And yet, the rattle. And tears.

The sadness found in a moment of time passing reflects just how much that moment meant in the first place. The wonderful, quiet, loud, sleep deprived, cuddly, baby-scented moments are over. Gone. But I will always have the memories. And the all consuming love, that I very much doubt will ever change. The hard parts that once were, will continue to fade, and the good times will remain.

I decided that I would keep just one rattle. It couldn't hurt to be brought back to the simple, confusing, magical time of my babies once in a while. Cherishing the past will help me get through the tough moments to come. I know now that the good is mixed in with the bad, and the good is more than worth it. Eventually, in any situation, the tough bits will fall away, leaving me stronger than I ever was before. That has become clear.

With one last look at the rattle I put it away. I feel heavy with moving on from an experience that can never quite be put into words. I feel I have experienced overwhelming, life changing grace, that I was blessed to be a part of someone's babyhood five times over. And to work out along the way how wonderful it could be despite the pain, constant questioning, sadness and often defeat. I learnt to love beyond all reason and understanding, knowing that in a heartbeat I would give everything for someone other than myself. The little hands that touched my heart, forever changing it, showed me how to be content in the small and the slow and the everyday. They taught me to notice what matters most.

I doubt I will come across that tiny rattle for many years to come. But on seeing it again I know that I will instantly be back in the baby time once again. The moment in time, however brief, when I became someone's mummy, forevermore.x

I have stopped asking my children to clean their rooms. Completely stopped. The story.

I have stopped asking my children to clean their rooms. Stopped. Completely stopped.

In the time before, I had to win. Not at everything. But definitely in the War Against Bedroom Cleanup. I would sometimes spend a whole day or more getting my children to clean up their bedrooms. It would always start positively, with each child happy to get started. Ten minutes later, I would return to at least two children reading books and the other two playing a game with various things they had found. I would remind them all of the task. They would all look at me with that this-is-a-brand-new-piece-of-information look, and get back to work. At some point, it would always descend into a nightmare. There were tears, avoidance, excuses, complaining and dragging of feet (them.) There was anger, yelling and threats (Craig and I.) I would feel tense in the lead up to, and defeat and disappointment in the time following. I tried many schemes. I tried rewards. I tried over the top encouragement. I tried regular, this-is-just-what-we-do encouragement. I tried getting them started. I tried teaching them strategies. I tried. And I failed. Well, failed to do it well. The rooms were clean. But our home suffered.

Have you ever continued along a course even though you could see it just wasn't working? I have done this so often in the past. Determination. Consistency. Insanity.

I remember reading once when Jack was very little, that one definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. At the time, when ALL I had read about babies was to be consistent, it was like a breath of fresh air. I remember laughing out loud as I realised that I could consistently do something that did not fit or suit us, and the result would be consistent unhappiness all round.

Well, it was time again for that breath of fresh air. I was consisantly doing something, that was achieving consistent unhappiness all round. Something had to change. Sometimes the answer is in the not doing. Not in the doing of something. Big problems can have small answers. Answers like: stop.

A little while ago a wonderfully honest friend reposted this article (I am so guilty of the "passive aggressive rhetorical questions" that are mentioned towards the end of the article.) 

I read it and it challenged me. It made me ask the question why. Why do I spend so much of my time asking my children to do something that almost certainly leads to failure, anger and disappointment? Why? At first I thought it was because I want them to learn responsibility and to care for the things they are given. But really, they all do this without putting everything away neatly, where I have decided is appropriate. They help without question in other areas of the house, even offering when not asked. When I was truly honest with myself, I didn't like the answers I came up with.

I think the core of the reason why I continued to demand that they clean up their bedrooms was because that's what everyone does. What everyone else does. The very worst reason in the world to do anything. It's just a given that children are expected to clean their own rooms. And what would happen if they didn't? I was about to find out.

I just stopped. Peace came to our house. Children played. Adults remained calm.

Once it was off my radar, it was one less thing that I needed to think about. I was worried at first that it would mean my work load would dramatically increase. But I have made a few valuable discoveries. Jack actually already cleans the boys room. I think the whole cleaning the bedroom thing is more difficult for some children than others. For Jack it's a breeze, for my middle three it's so overwhelming it just seems too hard. I have noticed however that each child helps in ways that suit them. This was compounded further with the introduction of the Good Memories Journal. I've also found that the extra mess that Henry makes, in reality takes less than 20 mins of my week to clean up. The girls room is a mess right now, but it's mainly due to the 'too much stuff' rule. Too much stuff in a small space is impossible to keep tidy. I've started getting rid of the clutter and neither child has become upset, instead thanking me for "making our bedroom beautiful!"

I will warn you that my biggest revelation may come as a complete shock to some of you: doors can be closed and people rarely visit anyway. Everyone is just too busy getting on with surviving the everyday! Even if someone was to visit, like every mum I am a complete expert in the quick-someone-is-coming-over clean, closely followed by the yes-my-house-is-always-like-this smile and hello. Ninja warrier princess: pfff! I can have a house looking sparkly in no time flat, with a few minutes spare to brush my teeth and hair! The adrenalin rush even helps to keep me awake, so to the outside world I seem to have had enough sleep;) Really, worst case scenario, is that others see the real me. Is that such a bad thing? The world could use a bit more real.

At times fear creeps in. What if everyone else is right? What if I'm encouraging bad habits by cleaning their rooms? What if I'm ruining my children? It's then I repeat the one word that reflects what they will learn from me cleaning up after them.

Grace.

Closely followed by:

Humility.

Generosity.

Love just because and not dependant on. Love that never fails. Love that will always accept them, in a world that won't always do the same.

With each toy I pick up, they will learn I will do anything, love them through anything and humble myself for them when needed. And I will. Always.

I've learnt that sometimes I don't have to win. And sometimes letting go is a bit like winning. But the winning belongs to more that one person, so it's even better. Letting go has an added bonus. Letting go makes a wide open space available for something better to leap in. Deeper relationships. Words with meaning. Talking that leads to understanding, actions and futures that would otherwise have never been. And just sitting down reading together followed by hugs. There are never enough hugs and stories.

As I place another book on the shelf, the fear settles and I am again content with my decision. It is then that I am almost guaranteed to hear a little one approach. I finally get hear the words that I never heard in the before.

"Can I help you mummy?"

I smile, give them a hug and say, "always."

Playing homeschool mum. Helping a child gain understanding in maths.

I'm playing homeschool mum today. Yesterday I thought Isabel was getting better, then by lunch time her temperature was sky high again. With sport up first today, I thought it would be best to keep her home. But this is the fourth day off in a row. Time for me to use some of those teaching skills that usually remain unused for much of the week at home. Great excuse to take my focus off cleaning and food preparation.

So where to begin? I decided to ask Isabel.

Unfortunately by the time children are in year three they often have already decided what they are 'good' or 'bad' at. The difficulty with this is that they tend to put less effort into the areas in which they have decided they are 'bad' at because they don't see the point in trying. I try to remind my children that their brains are not set at good/bad. 

Recently I have come across some research by Dr. Lisa Blackwell (whilst reading the book Nurtureshock: why everything we thought about children was wrong) that was really interesting. Her research focused on attempting to halt the decline of maths scores in a group of students, using only two short lessons on how the brain actually works, challenging the students notions of smart/dumb. A total of 50 minutes was spent focusing on one idea: that the brain is a muscle, give it a harder workout and you will be smarter. By the end of the semester the control group had seen a further decline in maths scores, but the intervention group had not only ceased the decline, the scores had improved. 

As a result of reading this, along with other various books, research and watching the earlier 'Life at' episodes, I have begun to speak to my own children about how their brains work. I tell them that our brains are a set of connections. It takes time, work and effort to make these connections to start with, and then continued use of the skill to stop the connections from being cut (because the brain determines which connections to be unnecessary, strengthing only the ones that are used.) So for the things that they say they are 'bad' at, I reply with: all that is missing is the firm connections in their brains. I'm constantly reminding them, "your brain is like a muscle- strong muscles don't just magicically appear and you need to use them or lose them!"

Isabel was instantly able to tell me that she still did not really understand multiplication or division, so would like to work on this area of maths. As it turned out she knew about turn around facts and some of her times tables, yet still didn't have an understanding of the relationship between addition, multiplication, subtraction and division. This is like having part of a spiral staircase, with nothing at the bottom to hold it up. There were gaps to be filled and understanding that was needed. 

She already had play doh out so I decided to start with this as a tool. I find it is almost always best to go with the things they naturally gravitate towards, as a positive attitude to start with can make all the difference. I deliberately didn't get out a single pencil or piece of paper. I got out our small whiteboards for her to use to practice representing what she had discovered with the concrete items, in an abstract way. Again this was a deliberate choice. Children who know they are struggling in an area are less willing to take risks. Whiteboards and chalkboards (we have both to use with homework) are a great way to encourage kids to take a risk and try, as it is not a big deal to quickly rub out and have another go, or even write over the top of an answer. I also got out buttons because she loves them, and Henry does too. He wanted to do some 'work' like Izzy, so I had him doing some different activities (at his level) using similar materials. Daisy played with Play Doh and then a puzzle on the floor while we worked.

I started by asking her to cut out lots of berries from Play Doh. While she did that I found a few items that could work as plates. We counted how many berries she had made, then I asked her to make 2 more so she would have 24, a number divisible by 4 (to match the plates.) I explained her that these plates belonged to the older kids in our family and I was too busy to sort out how many berries to give to each child, so could she do it. Smiling, she got right too it, commenting that it was too easy (always a great start.) I then helped guide her through the process of representing what she had before her, using subtraction, addition, multiplication and then division. She even gave herself a smiley face on each algorithm because she was so pleased with herself!

She went through the process again, changing the number of berries and plates. I continued to focus on understanding with each of the questions she asked me, by asking her questions in return like "why does 6 groups of 4 make 24?" She would then use her props to explain her answer. Once she started getting bored, it was time to move on. I asked her what we could do with the buttons, then repeated the process Isabel imagined 4 dresses, deciding how many buttons would end up on each dress. She did this twice. Then I asked her to show me how she could arrange the buttons to give the same information, without taking them off the tray. This encouraged her to make an array. We then discussed how it would be possible to draw this. We left it there for the morning.

While eating her lunch I noticed that she was working on the whiteboard. She had transferred this new understanding to a picture she had drawn of people swimming. She was very proud to show everyone that she could write algorithms to explain her picture.

After lunch I gave her some loom bands and asked her to have a play around with grouping into different amounts and numbers people sharing. She had fun doing this. She is now at the point where we will work on remainders and also introducing numbers of a higher value (using bundles of 10.)

Meanwhile, with Henry I began discussions based around tens and ones, eg. 83 is 8 tens and 3 ones. He will see 8 rocks and a group of 3 rocks and say "that makes 83." I started by writing single digits, teens and twenties numbers, with whiteboard marker on plates. He then counted out the number written and put the buttons on the plate.

After a while he put two plates together. One said 8, the other 1, to which he exclaimed "it's 81!" I then made a joke out of it saying "is there 80 buttons on that plate?!" He thought this was hilarious (easy to please a 4 yr old.) We then talked about what 80 buttons would look like and decided together that we could put them into bags of ten to make it easier to count. He really enjoyed this. And after putting the bags onto the plate decided that 8 isn't the same as 80. Great. He then went off to play, saying he had done enough work for the day. I haven't really sat down much with Henry before, because he prefers to have Jack or Isabel show him things instead of me. This was a nice change.

Overall it was a really nice morning. I rarely spend time teaching my own children, as I figure the whole being at school for 6 hours is enough. I also have a few other things occupying my time. But as they have all been asking for "interesting learning" lately, I might consider doing this a bit more. Now that Isabel has excitedly told the others how much she learnt today, I may not really have much of a choice! 

How I learnt to be a better parent in one moment. And the rewards of putting one simple thing into practice.

When I look back, moments often come to mind that were life-changers. The kind of moments I heard, saw or just realised that I had discovered or experienced something that would be a turning point in my history. The future ahead would be forever changed. At times I think of these moments in a Back-to-the-future type way, wondering what my life would be like now if I had somehow missed them. Other times I am just amazingly grateful that I didn't, and all the things that had to happen for me to be in that moment, at that time, in that place, occurred.

Recently I experienced one of these all too precious moments. Tuesday, 29th July at about 8pm to be exact.

I had been looking through my Facebook feed the night before and noticed a friend's sister had shared an advertisement and tagged her in the post. It caught my eye because it was an information session about Sensory Processing Disorder. I was slightly interested from a parent's perspective, but really interested in going as a teacher. The school I work for is really encouraging in the area of professional development, so I decided I would like to go.

The following day came. A busy day at work, leaving home at 7 and getting home to see my little ones for only a short time, had me wondering if I really needed to go. But sometimes there is a knowing that goes beyond all understanding, so I went. Sitting in a draughty hall, stomach rumbling and just wishing for sleep and a heater, I waited. The information session was great as it turned out. Lots of amazing ideas that I will write about at a later time. But none of the ideas completely life changing. Then from the audience a woman, who kept interrupting the speakers throughout their presentation, stood up, yet again. This time the presenters introduced her as an international speaker on the subject, who had just so happened to move to the area. She had decided it was her duty to help her local community. Her insights were extraordinary and I struggled to keep up, typing furiously on my iPad. She then said something that caught my attention and I looked up. She said if there is one thing that she could tell parents, it would be…...

And then it happened.

"Children don't really hear what we say. They hear what we think."

My world stopped. I breathed out.

She went on.

She explained that whatever problem with our child we were currently focussed on, they already knew. And what's more, they would not fail to redeliver that problem to us again and again and again, if we continued to focus on it. She said as a community of educators and parents, we are all far too concerned about getting to the imaginary 'bottom of the problem.' She offered to save us all some time and said "there just isn't a bottom. Problems have a habit of growing babies." The focus, she claimed, needed to move onto what is currently working for the child and build on that. Finding solutions based on what was already successful, less from investigating problems, that may in fact may never end up leading to definitive answers.

My way of thinking as a parent was changed in those few moments.

But what next?

Amazing moments sometimes lead to nothing more than frustration if there is no way to implement the new ideas. I needn't have worried.

She went on.

The gifted speaker paused, looked around, perhaps knowing our lives had just changed forever, then said the words I was only to eager to hear. "As a parent there is something you can do today to change your thinking…." and she continued to outline the simplest strategy I have ever heard, on becoming a better parent.

This is it.

Buy a notebook and grab a pen. Put it somewhere in a high traffic area. Write down everything and anything that the child does that is positive.

The night continued. I tried to type every word. But my mind remained on those words, even as I walked back to my car, 'they hear what I think.' It might seem overly dramatic, especially for parents who have already figured this out, but for me it was big. It was big because I knew it was true. I knew that in trying to solve everything, I was missing something so much more important.

A day or two later I purchased a notebook. It cost $3.48 and I liked it because yellow is a happy colour and the pattern was nice, that's all. I got home and placed it next to the kettle and toaster, because I live there for a large portion of the day.

I started writing anything and everything. The only guide I gave myself was that I could include anything that made me think in a positive way about my children. The writing is completely messy. It is not in any order. I just write what ever I think of first, as I wait for the kettle to boil, toast to pop or on my way to the laundry or study. I began without a word to my children. This was about me, with no expectations about them.

I had no idea what, if anything, would change, but it did. Everything did. Because it changed me.

It's been a week now since I started the 'good memories journal' and even others who are regularly in our home have commented on the change in my children. Today I noticed that I myself am becoming angry less, and my children are more obedient. Jack and Isabel have started offering to help out more. The whole house seems calmer. It's as if less needs to be said. I've started to notice trends with certain children, and realised how much I have overlooked all the wonderful and kind things they all do every day, in search for answers to problems that no doubt will sort themselves out in time. I will continue to solve problems and search for answers to questions, just not first. My focus needs to be elsewhere. I think I've subconsciously started to play to their strengths, asking them to help in areas in which they naturally drift to and are good at, rather than enforcing rules across the board out of fear that they wouldn't become responsible. We are all saying "yes" more, instead of "no" or "yes, but." We are all listening, really listening. And most importantly I would no longer be upset at the thought that my children can hear what I think.

In the years to come, as I look back on the moment when I heard that my children hear what I think, I am in no doubt that I will be glad I skipped dinner, to go out in the cold that night. There will continue to be moments that will change me. I welcome the challenge, because I know from experience that the rewards can be worth it.

Tonight before bed Isabel hesitated in front of my open Journal, deep in thought. Abruptly she started walking off again. As she left I heard her say to no one in particular: "I think I might need to start a journal like this."

As she disappeared into the hall I turned and smiled. And walked over to pick up a pen.

Inspiration for creating the perfect play spaces. Where I begin when taking on a toy overhaul.

Toys. I remember a time when this word did not immediately invoke feelings of fear and complete overwhelm. Or work. I remember being so excited to look at and decide what toys I would buy for my first baby, Jack and then later, Isabel. It probably wasn't until I had Lucy, when Jack was 4, that I began to think "ok, that's enough now." But they kept coming. Birthdays, Christmases, more children, toys, toys, toys. I've spent so much time cleaning up and organising toys, but over the past year I came to a point when enough was enough. It was starting to take up too much of my time.

I decided to do something about it. I used Pinterest to research different ideas. The following helped me to find a way to live happily with toys. Lately I haven't put much effort into maintaining the system I put in place. Our big holiday, birthdays and sickness have ruled, so I have just closed the playroom doors each night and ignored the problem growing. Time to get back to basics.

This post is written by Joshua Becker as part of the Becoming Minimalist Blog. In this post he outlines the 'why' concerning less toys.

If you would love to be inspired by a whole lot of pictures, this link will take you to my Pinterest board Just Gorgeous Kids Spaces. There are about 200 pins of beautiful play rooms, bedrooms and storage ideas. I will definitely be looking over this board right before I give the kids' rooms a once over. Note: I'm showing Jack the picture of the stick teepee in the morning, so I'm almost certain we will have one soon enough!

If you want to read something extreme, read this. This is written by Ruth from Living Well, Spending Less. She took ALL her daughters toys away. Not completely my desire, but an interesting read.

For something less extreme read this. By Rachel at Small Notebook, how to start simplifying the easy way. If you are really time poor, or just need to change things a little, this is a great read.

I liked this approach. This post is from S.A.H.M i AM. I did our upstairs this way originally, moving everything downstairs as it was discarded. It allowed me to get three rooms done fairly quickly, then I could take my time with downstairs because no one cared they couldn't use the room. The kids were soooo happy with upstairs they didn't ask to play downstairs. Isabel especially had the exact same reaction as this writer's little girl. I have started reading Simplicity Parenting (Kindle edition) but then came across Nurture Shock, so I'm reading that first.

This post is from Early Bird Mom. She gives a great outline of the 'how to' process for paring back a toy collection.

So after reading all this I will sit and have a cuppa and a chat with my children. I will ask them what they think about the whole toy situation and what needs to happen. I'm usually surprised by their responses, so I'm looking forward to this. We will probably look through the Pinterest board together while Miss D is asleep and discuss which toys are not being played with and which toys in the garage storage they miss and would like to have included upstairs. Then while I sit at the dining table and make a brief plan, they will probably draw and write their own. It won't matter if I use a single thing from their plans, all they will want is what they usually want, what we all want. To be included. And to be heard. I can't wait for the "I can't believe you made us this beautiful room!" moment. All worth the journey.

Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby, loo. The moment I will have forever.

Song for a Fifth Child by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton (1921- )

Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth!
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby, loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.)

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby. Babies don't keep.

Daisy is now asleep. The house is quiet. Henry and his cousin are playing happily in the back yard. I asked them if perhaps they would like to paint with me. But I got 'the look' from both of them.

"We're busy. I'm just digging this little hole."
"And I'm driving in it."

They immediately returned to their game. Denied.

Oh, how things have changed! Only a few short years ago it would have been Henry, not Daisy, held close in the rocking chair. The boy who once loved to fall asleep snuggled in beside me is far too busy for even so much as a hug these days.

Today Daisy has a bit of a cold and Craig is in bed after night shift. His snoring woke her after she had been asleep for five minutes. Thinking back 10 years, I realise had this happened with Jack, I would have freaked out. Actually I would have burst into tears. The WORK I put into trying to get him to sleep was overwhelming. It was my whole world for a while there. Everything else became secondary. And I never once considered he was amongst the small percentage of little ones who just didn't need as much sleep as the others. That and he had undiagnosed reflux until we had Izzy and noticed it. I never considered that the one book I read, that promised to make him sleep, may not have been a good fit for him. Or me.

Since then I have grown and changed as much as my little ones. I have learnt what works for me, works for me and that has nothing to do with anyone else. I have learnt so much from other mothers. I have come to love the saying 'be like a wise old cow, take in all the straw and spit out the sticks.' I have discovered that there is always something to take away from listening. Even if all it is, is being happy for the other person, while silently knowing what I have been told is not right for me. I have also learnt from my children. They have always been different from each other and have helped me see that all mothers are different too, including me. Now I know all the 'different' is the challenge I needed, and continue to need, to see the world open up with infinite possibilities.

As I heard Daisy start to talk five minutes after falling asleep I realised just how much I have changed. As I walked towards my bedroom door, I was happy. I smiled as I opened the door and said "is daddy keeping you awake?" Her cute cheeky grin in reply made my smile grow wider. I rolled Craig onto his side to stop him snoring and walked back to my little one, now standing in her cot. Her gorgeous big eyes so obviously still tired.

I gathered her up in my arms and kissed her until she giggled, holding her close, as her baby scented head moved to rest on my shoulder. I grabbed her faded, pink blanket and made my way to the now time-worn rocking chair.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!

As I sat down and relaxed into the chair, Daisy snuggled into the crook of my arm, a place she has been many times before, and looked up at me. Time could stand still in that moment forever. She blinked, almost turned away, but looked back again to check I was still there. She wriggled around snuggling in under her blanket, her tiny hand tapping lightly on my collar bone, as she closed her eyes, ready for sleep once again.

I rocked slowly. Moments passed. Her breathing steadied. Minutes blended together as her hand dropped and her eyelashes, never completely touching her cheek, fluttered. Now completely asleep, I could sit and stare at her. Completely beautiful and content. I sat wondering who she would become one day. I sat hoping that time could slow down and I could keep her little for just a bit longer, while knowing that time would always move on, and all I could do was value each precious moment I've been given. I sat more determined yet again to make the most of it all.

One day the shaky lip will disappear for good. A certain little boy will stop being excited when he finds the train with his name on it. And that all consuming you-are-my-world look that I see in many big beautiful eyes as they race up to hug me tight and unexpectantly, will fade. But I will always have the moment that a baby-becoming-a-toddler looked up one last time before her eyelids drooped and she snuggled in on my lap to sleep. I'm glad I didn't miss it this time.

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,

But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.

I'm rocking my baby. Babies don't keep.