Don’t you hate it when they get to that distractible age and won’t focus on breastfeeding? Stop looking at the angels, Baby Jesus!
Have a look at a piece I wrote for Pray.com.au on the Nativity. It got me reflecting on what it felt like to be a new mother. Did Mary feel this way too?
Often these days, when friends (or, indeed, tradesmen) come to visit me, they might find I’m in my pyjamas feeding a baby. My conversation will not be witty or sparkling, and they may have to make their own tea, but I will be happy to see them.
As you, my reader friend, come to visit me at my blog today, imagine I’m wearing pink flannelette pyjamas with a piece of toast stuck in my hair. My writing may seem a little stilted and bland, but, gosh, I’m glad to see you!
My beautiful twins are now almost eight weeks old. For the most part, I’m enjoying my vacation in Baby Land. We’ve developed a simple routine of feeding and nappies, and lessons and feeding, and feeding and washing, and feeding and feeding. And cuddles. There are always plenty of baby cuddles to go around (though they sometimes come with a side order of baby spew). It’s really rather blissful.
We don’t often leave the house, but when we do, it seems we achieve instant celebrity status. Everybody wants to talk to us and ask us (the same five) questions and tell us about the twins in their life. Most of the time, my extroverted nature revels in the attention, but it can be a real challenge if we’re trying to do something in a hurry.
I’ve decided to christen the girls “Daisy and Poppy” after the mischievous twins in Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom. Not exactly literary, I know, but it seems to fit. Those of you who don’t have preschoolers in the home may not have heard of Ben and Holly. Those of you who do will have heard far, far too much.
And, now, if you’ll excuse me, Daisy is letting me know my services as a milk maid are urgently required.
Thank you for coming to visit!
On August 3 (yes, that long ago!) we welcomed a pair of healthy twin girls into the world. They are truly delightful. Twins are pretty relentless, because, well, there are two of them. I’m trying to get better at accepting all offers of help and even asking people to help me. This goes against the grain a bit. I like to be Capable Woman.
The good news is, I spoke to my husband, and he agreed to relax the no-photos-of-the-children rule just this once, because, let’s face it, newborns are pretty anonymous. And I’ve taken Mr Knightley saying I can share a photo of the twins to mean pretty much the same as saying I can share several photos. How can I choose between these pics?
In real life, the twins have the loveliest names, honouring both my wonderful grandmothers. In blog life, I still can’t think of what to call them. I was convinced I was having at least one boy, so I had thought about what to call them if I had one of each (Luke and Leia) or two boys (Fred and George), but I never thought of what to call two girls. Can you think of any girl twins in literature or popular culture? Or even pairs of girls? I can’t come up with anything that suits. Sweet Valley High and The Twins at St Clare’s have girl twins but it’s not really a fit, plus I was more of a Babysitters Club/Malory Towers sort of girl. The gumnut babies are actually boys (I know, right?) and using the names Snugglepot and Cuddlepie would get real old real fast. Anne of Green Gables had girl twins when she grew up (called Nan and Di) – but who would know that? And calling them Thing 1 and Thing 2 would just be mean. I’ll just have to think on it some more – if you can think of anything, please, please leave a comment!
Actually, leave a comment even if you can’t think of anything – I really need something to keep me amused at three in the morning!
Sometimes I think I might be a crazy person. Especially when it comes to crochet.
An idea will drop into my head, perfect and fully formed, that will send me into a frenzy of wool and stitches. I won’t be able to rest until I’ve snipped and woven in the last end of yarn. And I won’t know until the moment the handmade gift is opened whether I’ve created something special and wonderful and right-on-the-mark; or lame, attention-seeking and deserving of pity.
I wanted to share with you my latest piece of insanity.
Mr Knightley’s sister, whom I’m going to call Audrey (if he were called Mr Darcy, I could call her Georgiana, I suppose, but I digress…), lives in a different city to us with her husband and two daughters: two-year-old Holly and newborn Eliza. They also have three big and very loveable dogs. Now, when Eliza was born, I put my head to thinking what I could make for her. Unfortunately, my brain had other ideas, and thought instead of a great present for Holly. I figured Holly might need a present more than her baby sister, babies get enough fuss!
Holly is devoted to her three big dogs, which is what gave me the idea. What if I made her three toy puppies, modelled on her favourite playmates? And the idea wouldn’t leave. So I had to make them.
Here is Fudge, a brown Labrador, and the eldest of the three;
This is Jet, a black Labrador who is very excitable;
And here is Trumpet, a black poodle, who is more shy and sensible than his friends.
And he has a curly tail.
Each dog has his own collar, bed and blanket in a matching colour. I like to think this makes them all very Montessori. I don’t like to think that pointing this out makes me all very pretentious sounding…
I didn’t want to forget Baby Eliza entirely, so I made Miss Doolittle a soft ball which makes a crunchy sound when you squeeze it. I spent many of my days testing various plastic wrappers for sound quality before putting the best ones in with the stuffing. People think I’m odd.
It’s not as round as I would like it, but thankfully Eliza does not yet understand the basics of geometry, so I think I’ll get away with it…
The pattern I used for the dogs is the very clear and well written “Puppy Love” by Beth Ann Weber on the By Hook By Hand blog. The dogs’ collars, beds and blankets are my own design, as is the ball (which explains the wonkiness).
And here are the presents all together. My parents-in-law were travelling to visit Audrey and her family, so I packed it all in a shoe box (I resisted the temptation to use a “Hush Puppies” box), wrapped it nicely and gave it to them to deliver.
Now I was stuck. I wouldn’t know until the gift was opened if the present was good or not. And I wouldn’t be there to see them open it. While the box remained closed, the present was simultaneously lovely and lame. This is a paradox known as Schrödinger’s Dogs.
Thankfully, my sister-in-law called to thank me soon after they received the present. Holly had fallen in love with the little dogs and had been playing with them all day. Huzzah!
As for me, my fingers are starting to itch again!
Laptop on the Ironing Board 