A blah day. And the new you-cannot-deliver-mail-naked rule.

Today is R U OK? Day. What a great day to share some quality complaining about my day. Yes, I would love to be the person who is always positive and finds joy in everything. But sometimes, I'm just not. Like most people, we know that the blah things that happen to us are really nothing compared to the huge, terrible stuff that is happening in others lives, so we stay silent. We end up feeling we are the only ones having blah days as a result. How about I get the ball rolling? Then for this day, since the question has been asked about a million times on Facebook, we can say how our day really was. Even if it is just whinging.

So, I'm done with today. Craig was answering a barrage of but-how-do-you-know-the-hot-plate-is-still-hot?-shouldn't-we-test-it? questions as he served up dinner and I hid around the corner in the study to start writing this. Because I was already done.

It's just been such a blah day, and I promised I would write about the good and the bad and the in-between bits. This is an in-between. It's not like it was the most terrible day ever. But I really need sleep, many hours (or even 6) in a row. And for my children to wake up tomorrow with the desire to acknowledge that I have spoken. I think I may in fact have been invisible today. Or maybe my voice had just been temporarily muted and I am the only one unaware.

I was completely prepared for the usual punishment I receive from Daisy following work (all the kids have done it), but I wasn't ready for them all to have a laugh-about-everything-be-silly-&-ignore-mummy day. The extra what-do-you-think-you-are-doing antics were a real bonus. I don't often have completely head-shaking days, but today was definitely one of them. Here's why.

Hands up anyone who has had to use the words "it is not okay to tie your brother up with skipping ropes while he is on the trampoline!! EVEN if he is the one who thought of it and asked you to!! No not even for science!!!!!" Anyone? No? And to make matters worse the older kids are not even allowed to be on the trampoline with the younger kids anyway. Just in case anyone is wondering, like Mr H, it is possible to still jump on a trampoline with arms and legs tied together. I'm glad that we have put that question to bed and he requires no further investigation. My banning of trampoline use for the rest of the day as a result didn't even stick. Ten minutes later I was putting this decision back into affect, met with fake-but-we-didn't-know looks.

I've also been given the opportunity to invent a new rule today. It is: you cannot deliver mail to anyone while you are naked. Henry decided he had to write and deliver mail to Isabel immediately. Getting dressed for bed was of no importance. Hence the rule. And yes, he did try to talk us out of the rule, but with a second parent in agreement offering to hold the mail, he caved. Mail is to be delivered with clothes on. Always a good rule to learn early.

When I add in the burping competition, the 2hr+appointment waiting with Miss D and Mr H, the sleep that didn't happen last night, and the flu that just doesn't want to leave me alone, defeat and sighs followed.

So when taking Lucy to the shops on the way home from dancing I already had a bad attitude. Then Lucy said something to stop me in my tracks. She looked up brightly at me as we crossed the car park on the roof of the shopping centre, and said, "Mummy! We get to see the sunset! How special!" I hadn't even noticed. Stuck in my hazy, bad mood I couldn't see the beauty before me. She asked to have her picture taken. I did this, grateful for a good moment among the blah. I wish I could say my mood brightened, but it didn't. Sometimes it's just hard to get out of that mood when I'm in it. Sometimes I don't even care to try. Waiting for the day to be over and start again is just so much easier.

So am I okay? Yes, I'm fine. Blah days come and go. Yes, I am so happy that they are all sleeping now and I get to have a new fresh day tomorrow. Having a few hours of uninterrupted sleep between now and then really wouldn't hurt, but whatever mood I wake in, and they wake in, we will be all in it together. That makes me smile. Perhaps I will resolve to try harder to make the best of it and chose to look for the good tomorrow, even if the good involves trampolines, mail, sighs and science experiments. Who knows. Right now, I choose honesty and say: there was good, bad, and for the most part in-between-blah today.

How was your day? Complaining about trivial things is completely allowed and encouraged. Sometimes we just need to have a conversation. And be real. It's the point of today after all. I look forward to hearing all about your day.

The missing, the clarity, and the return.

I love my job. I really and truly do.

I get paid to have fun helping little kids who for the most part, like me. And I really like them. The little smiles they give when they see me walk into the room, or sometimes little cheers (which is so cute!) and the oh-I-get-it-now-s. The worried looks, the cranky I-just-don't-get-it-s! and the way they can just look at me and say 'why can't I just be good at this?' with tears forming in their eyes, from the simple honesty that I have been fortunate enough to be let in for. The amazing opportunity it is to respond to all this with my I-empathise looks, my I-can-help-you and we-will-do-it-together declarations, and delivering the question that almost always leads to smiles: "think back to a year ago - how far you have come since then?" Being in a position of such trust and respect is a privilege that I will never take for granted.

But if I'm entirely honest, there is also a piece of me that loves my job because it exists for me alone. It's all mine. It was there in the before-I-was-mummy time. It's a part of me that didn't disappear with nappies and crying and tantrums. And what's more, I feel at least mostly confident in what I'm doing. Doubt doesn't generally follow me there. I live completely in the moment and enjoy it.

Work also has an added bonus that many years ago I saw as a negative: a long drive home. Before children I saw it as wasted time. Now I see it as the only moments of genuine clarity that exist in my week.

I've always assumed that I find clarity at home difficult because I'm always surrounded by a million yet-to-be-done tasks, 5 needy children, and a husband who occasionally likes me to remember he exists. Time to think and make sound decisions just doesn't happen often. Distractions are constant.

I realised today that maybe I was wrong. Maybe, just maybe, I can't think clearly for reasons other than busyness.

As I took my shoes off and put my work things away, I walked towards the back door, hearing the sounds of children playing beyond. I smiled as I reached to open the door and my heart almost skipped a beat as I was suddenly so overeager to be them, that it almost hurt that I was not already there. As the door slid open and I stepped out into the all-too-familiar world that is my everyday, I instantly began to feel the fuzziness of home pulling at the edges of my mind.

And then Daisy ran towards me, eyes wide and arms reaching up to be held. She snuggled in unmoving, melting into me as I held her, feeling her warm breath on my neck: her silent acknowledgement that her beloved was finally home. The decisions of an hour past began to crumble a little. Lucy leapt into the air as she rounded the corner, super excited to see me, eager to hug me in a way that seemed impossible for the tiny girl that she is. Isabel started talking immediately, about the nothing and the everything that made up her day, reminding me yet again that she needs a haircut on the weekend. Henry cried 'mummy!' excitedly then stood perfectly still, holding me, perhaps afraid if he let go I would float away and disappear. I then walked around the corner to see Jack and Craig proudly ready to show me the basketball hoop they had just put together, as Daisy wriggled from my arms to run off onto the grass with the others to play.

Finally, as I stood watching the family that is my almost-everything, the crystal clear thoughts that I experienced only such a short time ago gave way to the fuzzy, warm, inviting, reality that is my crazy-fun, amazing-difficult, huge and tiny everyday life.

My earlier thoughts were based clearly on reality. When I walked through the door, I knew what I needed to do. I had made decisive plans and ran over them with ease in my mind. Only they were missing something so crucial. Hope. Love. The all-consuming, give-all, want-to-be-so-much-better-for-you, too-much-will-never-be-enough, all-things-and-more-are-possible, love, that I feel as I walk back into the cloud I call home.

As I later sat, arms and heart full, the need for clarity and almost everything else disappeared. I remembered the meaning of enough. Of content. Of blessed. I remembered all of this because this morning I left them. I missed them. I came home to them. And in the process, my heart remembered the simple joy and privilege it is to be here. To just sit and be here with them. The everything and the all of the outside world has once again faded away and I get to be something much more special than anything else I have ever experienced: mummy.x

Father's Day cards. Trying to make the day not a complete disappointment.

I had great plans to make today a great Father's Day for Craig. But I came down with a fever and the flu last night, followed by Daisy committing to a cry-a-thon from midnight until 2am, and then was woken in the far-too-early-hours of this morning to be told that someone had one of the iPads on iTunes radio, instead of the 'proper music.' Side note: dobbing should be completely outlawed before 7am; they can eat chocolate, dancing on the dining room table, to every Minecraft parody, in every piece of clothing they own, and I DO NOT CARE, so long as it is quiet.

Anyway, on waking this morning my commitment to making this the best Father's Day ever, swayed somewhat. I instead committed to trying to not make the day completely suck. Sorry Craig. Reciprocal rights say you are off the hook for next Mother's day. Thankfully Jack had already decided to make Craig a fancy breakfast-before-bed, as he is on an endless stretch of nightshifts. With breakfast out of the way, my fuzzy thoughts turned to the present-wrapping-card-making extravaganza that I had planned to keep them occupied while Craig slept, in the hope I could avoid some of the "can I wake daddy up yet"s. Yeah, all that excitement clearly wasn't going to happen.

So instead I decided to copy what we did last year, because it was so easy and required very little from all involved. As for the presents: I decided to leave sticky tape and paper on the table and let them go for it. It's the thought that counts. And I was thoroughly entertained by the but-I-had-the-stick-tape-first-banter. Ahhh sibling love and communication.

This is how we made the cards, just in case anyone else is stuck for a quick and easy card idea in the future.

1) Choose three coloured pieces of A4 paper (or two if you have more than one child making a card) and two different colours of paint. There was no choosing-of-colours for my children today. I just was not up to the but-I-said-pink-not-yellow (even though they DID say yellow) thing. But usually I might consider letting them pick. Maybe.

2) Fold one piece of paper off centre.

3) Paint daddy's hand with one of the chosen paints and press it down on the smaller side of the fold.

4) Let the hand print dry then cut along the fold and across the top or at the bottom of the handprint.

5) Cut another piece of paper out so that it is slightly smaller than half of an A4 sheet. This may seem unnecessary, but inevitably someone will have a melt down if they mess up their message or drawing to dad on the inside of the card. This way we don't have to start over. I just get the crying child a new piece of paper. Instant fix.

6) Paint one child's hand (with a different colour paint) and press on top of the daddy handprint. Let dry. Never try to do this with more than one child at a time. Never. You have been warned.

7) Ask child/ren to write their message to daddy on the smaller-than-half-A4-sheet.

8) Fold the last A4 sheet of paper in half. Glue the handprint on the front and message inside the card.

9) Let it dry. Optional: write "Happy Father's Day" on the front.

Time to get back to attempting to be a half conscious mum for the rest of the day. Or maybe I'll just curl up with a hot chocolate and a tissue box and let the kids do the cooking they have planned. How bad can it really be? I think I must be borderline delirious because I just saw a completely clean (I'm talking no Lego on the floor clean) boys room. My kids seem to think they can make me better by doing jobs around the house, and who am I to crush the beliefs of these little cuties?!

I hope everyone had a wonderful Father's day. Or that it at least wasn't a complete disappointment;)

The specialness of a daddy. The sacrifice and adoration.

My girls have a favourite song. And every time it plays I'm reminded of the specialness and the difficulty in being a daddy.

They dance around the lounge room to this song. Sometimes they even dance with Craig, yet it will be some years before I think they will truly realise the meaning behind the words they sing.

I am blessed to have awesome parents. My memories involving my own dad are wonderful.

I remember being a child, listening for the sound of his motorbike approaching our house. On hearing it I would run outside to meet him and he would always let us beep the horn.

I remember wondering why he was always warm, especially his hands. There were many times that his hands warmed mine.

He would always pretend to hypnotise the bottle/jar cap of something I was struggling to open, and I would stand amazed that it would always work as he would open it easily.

I remember my horrible teenage years, fighting with my dad, and stomping off to my bedroom. I know now that this helped the natural people-pleaser in me learn how to say no and stick to my own beliefs, unswayed by the crowd.

I remember the moment I told my dad I had just become engaged, and feeling him hold me tight, seeing his eyes glisten as I pulled away to tell my family all about the proposal.

I remember him walking me down the aisle at my wedding, knowing that our relationship had now changed forever.

Seeing him hold his first grandchild, so small in his arms, I found it almost unbelievable that he once held me the exact same way so many years ago.

I recall all the fixing and helping that he has silently endured for all the years in between, that all at once remind me of the the scene in 'the princess bride' where the meaning for the words "as you wish" are revealed.

I smile at the way he still says "hello big girl" as he hears my voice on the other end of the telephone. Every time. With the sound of happiness no matter what is going on with him at the time.

I look back and remember being completely loved, supported, and safe. My dad is most definitely the strong and silent type, so my relationship with him is where I learnt that love is most often found in actions, not words. Words are too easy. The care, time, and sometimes just hard work, says so much more.

They say that girls choose to marry a man like their father. In many ways I can see that.

As a mother I have been given the opportunity to see things from the other side, by watching my husband, and it makes me appreciate my memories all the more.

I see the sacrifice made daily, as an often tired dad plays and takes children on bike rides and reads endless stories to little ones snuggled in his lap. I see the constant struggle it is for a dad to provide in a monetary way for his family, but at the same time trying so hard to find the time to connect with his wife and children. I realise how hard all the overtime is now, and was then. I am confronted with the reality that dads question their ability to be a good parent just as much as mums do; only without the constant support I experience from other mothers.

I am blessed to experience the utter joy and complete love a dad feels when he is with his children, and know that protecting them is something he would do with everything in him, in a heart beat, without question.

My children may not realise the meaning behind the words they sing and dance to right now. But I do. It's every dad's plight.

And as I see Lucy's eyes light up as she hears her daddy's motorbike approach, and she gets up to run to the door, I know that one day she will hear the song she has listened to so many times, once again. Only this time she will understand the words and silently thank the man who has given her all too much to ever properly thank him for.

To my dad, my husband, and all the amazing dads out there doing their best: thank you. Know that your children see you trying so hard and feel your amazing love, even if they don't always show gratefulness.

One day, maybe many years from now, they may just find themselves sitting at a computer, reflecting on your influence, and realise just how much you gave to be the one, who will always be worthy of one of the most precious titles anywhere on earth: daddy.

The song: Dance with Cinderella

She spins and she sways to whatever song plays,
Without a care in the world.
And I'm sitting here with the weight of the world on my shoulders.
It's been a long day and there's still work to do,
She's pulling at me, saying "dad I need you,
There's a ball at the castle and I've been invited,
But I need to practice my dancing.
Please, daddy, please."

So I'll dance with Cinderella, while she is here in my arms,
because I know something the prince never knew.

So I'll dance with Cinderella, I don't want to miss even one song,
'Cause all too soon, the clock will strike midnight,
And she'll be gone.

A beautiful ad for dads. And my kids are in it!

The Dad's 4 kids foundation made a beautiful ad for dads. My husband and two littlest children are in it too!

Henry and Craig had fun making it. They are the dad and son mowing the lawn. Daisy was almost ready for a nap so she is the crying baby with a biscuit.

Watch it and let me know what you think. I think it is supercute.x

http://youtu.be/ZiBXJtaHauA

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