Words

Both Isabelle and Aidan are fairly good with their words, making only a few errors in pronunciation.

For some reason, Aidan sometimes says "sh" rather than "s" (which makes reading Hairy Maclarey Sit amusing).

The other day in the car Isabelle was playing her version of "I spy", which uses the sound a letter makes rather than the name of the letter (phonics anyone?!). So "sh" is for shoe, "k" for car, etc. Anyway, she said:

"I spy something beginning with "w" "
"Window" I replied.
"No, it's below us!".
"Ah....woad!"
"Yes!"

Isabelle has also been very interested lately in forming letters. She has noticed that some other children her age can do this - and has been annoyed when a friend of hers told her that she couldn't write. Last night, she copied letters from an alphabet book, doing a fair imitation, asking Brendon which letter went next in her chosen word.

I'm not really into teaching children to write before school, but I'm wondering if I should take some more time to help her with this, given that she is so interested.

S. 59

After being a drafter of Ministerial correspondence, I'm just not the type of person who writes or emails politicians. However, I found myself sending out an email this morning on the repeal of s. 59 bill from this website.

What finally made me do something was the stuff on the front page of the Dominion Post this morning. Children being given "time off" from their Christian school to march and wave placards supporting their parents' rights to hit them. Quotes from said children like "If someone truly loves his children he will discipline them according to God's word, which is with the rod. If you don't, you hate them".

What rot are these children being fed? For a start, the rod of scripture is a metaphor for guidance, not beating. That is, the shepherd uses the rod to guide his sheep, not to whack them. (Otherwise the whole "thy rod and thy staff they comfort me" thing would be a little weird). And I just cannot reconcile the notion of a compassionate and loving Jesus with showing love through physical discipline.

I never like seeing children at political rallies anyway - in many instances, it's just manipulative and ethically dodgy.

I can understand people being opposed to the bill for reasons like practicality, "social engineering", or concerns that we should be spending out time on things that directly result in child abuse, rather than the more symbolic legislative gestures. But I just can't understand getting so upset about having this "right" taken away that you would spend $40 000 on advertising campaigns, march on the streets, or make such jaw-dropping statements in Parliament like "I smacked my children and I'm proud of it".

Being the parent of three pre-schoolers, I can well understand "I smacked my children because I was just so mad and so tired and they had tried my patience to its limits". I don't think anyone is in a position to judge this (except perhaps the aforementioned Jesus!). And there is a fine line between physical discipline in the form of smacking, and forcefully putting a child into time out, for example. What I can't understand though is how smacking would make anyone proud.

The thing is, I don't really see what the fuss is about. Right now, every bar room brawl doesn't result in a court appearance. Neither does every punch up on a rugby field. The bill simply extends legal protection against assault to children - as the law already provides for adults and animals. Most of the "dreadful" scenarios being painted as what might happen as a result of this law can already happen under the current law (which doesn't provide for carte blanche physical discipline, merely a defence for "reasonable" behaviour).

Anyway, off the soapbox for me. The vast majority of parents in this country genuinely want to do what is best for their children. And most of us get by by being "good enough", rather than perfect.

Growing up

Well, we got our school prospectus in the post the other day. The lady in the office was very friendly once it was determined we were "in zone" and was pleased that we had rung - they like to have advance notice for planning purposes. She said that we could make an appointment with the principal at any stage - we'll probably wait until a bit closer to the time. We will be contacted 2-3 weeks before Isabelle turns 5 to organise some school visits for her.

Isabelle was very interested in the little booklet.

Orla has almost grown out of her extra small nappies. I have put away all the quintuple zero clothes, and most of the quadruple zeros too. She is growing so big (even though she's only the size of a large newborn!). She is currently strapped to my chest in her front pack, sleeping peacefully. She has been more settled lately, especially at night, which has been a real bonus. (Although the other day, I went to bed around 9.00. I woke out of a deep sleep to find Brendon passing me Orla, who had woken for her first feed. Bleary eyed, I looked at the clock. It was.....9.20!!!!).

Aidan is such a big boy, but he is still a little baby in some ways. He goes from being extremely independent, vocal and inquisitive to needing his Mama and lots of reassurance. He seems to have found the daylight savings transition a bit difficult - waking at 5.00 am and starting to need his nap around 11.30. I'm sure this will pass soon.

Biscuits...and Star Wars?

One of Aidan's favourite books is Biscuit Bear by Mini Grey, a fantasy tale about a little boy and a biscuit who comes to life. He has passages from it memorised. His favourite page (fully memorised of course!) is:

"Bongo the dog liked biscuits. But not in a way that is necessarily good for the biscuits. Biscuit bear just managed to clamber to safety".

I love that he now knows a new word - clamber - from this book. I love to watch his face as he reads the book by himself, or with someone else.

He pours over the illustrations and asks questions about what he sees. He is (not surprisingly) particularly taken with the illustration of a biscuit knife thrower (although he was confused when I explained that the purpose of the knife-throwing act was not to hit the biscuit assistant attached to the wheel, but to miss them).

Yesterday we iced Girl Guide biscuits in icing of many colours and hundreds and thousands - just like Biscuit Bear does in the book.

Aidan has also used the book as a basis for role playing. Here's a conversation we had:

"I be Horace [the boy in the book], you be Horace's Mum, Isabelle be Bongo the dog".
"And who will Orla be?"
"Ummmm.....Count Dooku!"

An education

An episode of Blues Clues got me thinking last week. It's my least favourite - here's why. One of the characters (Periwinkle) goes to school for the first time. (Blues Clues is American, and given the target audience, I suspect this is "nursery school" - more like kindy than NZ "school"). After playing, Periwinkle goes to play with the blocks. The teacher admonishes him - it is not time to do blocks, it is time to paint. But I feel like building, says Periwinkle. However, it's not time to build - Periwinkle must wait until tomorrow.

Not a big deal I guess, but I'm so glad that we have free play at Playcentre! The children decide for themselves if they are feeling creative or constructive within a few simple guidelines (such as "clean up time" and respecting the play of others). Simultaneously, little kids get to be little kids, and learn the more adult skills of making decisions for themselves rather than being led from here to there at appointed times.

I then started thinking about something else on the box - a sixty minutes-type programme which was looking at a flash pre-school in Australia that offered expensive, but apparently rigorous education for your child from six weeks of age. It was the old debate of whether or not your child is better off being educated in a formal sense almost from birth, and about how rich environments and highly qualified teachers affect outcomes. Like most of these programmes, it didn't dig too deep, but did offer some sound bites from a commentator who seemed to indicate that research was not on the side of early formal learning.

Then I remembered the publicity we have been receiving lately about 20 free hours early childhood education a week for 3-4 year olds. Not my 4 year old though - as Playcentre is a parent co-operative rather than teacher-led, we get.....nothing.

Which brings me to the research. What I've read is fairly clear. What you need to do with the very young is nurture them, love them, give them security and a love of learning. It is more difficult to achieve this if they spend extensive amounts of times separated from their primary caregiver, if caregivers change frequently, or if formalised learning is commenced too early. Rather than a love for learning, you are more likely to make them dread "book time", "maths time" etc. The value of play should never be underestimated - both as a learning tool and (from my perspective) simply a time when children can enjoy their childhood and have fun. Yes, my daughter learns physics as she pours water through our water play toys. Yes, my son learns numeracy as we count the number of pushes we give him on the swing. But best of all we have fun together.

New Zealand research (the "competent children" study) also has a lot to say. I don't have my reading materials to hand, but this study showed that Playcentre children did at least as well (in terms of measurable outcomes at various ages) as children who went to other early childhood education providers. Playcentre graduates did particularly well with perseverance - a handy attribute to have. It is thought that this is because they get to choose when to commence an activity, and are not interrupted unnecessarily until they have finished. They get to experience the satisfaction of problem solving and concentrating on one thing for a sustained period of time.

And this is why Playcentre's exclusion from the latest hand out of funds feels like a slap in the face for parents who work hard to provide education for their children, volunteer for extra duties, and spend time doing parenting and education courses to enable the sessions to happen. (On the side, this frees up places with other providers for those for whom Playcentre, for whatever reason, is not good for them, which has got to be good for parental choice).

Then I thought about Susan's blog, when she wrote about her daughter starting school. Susan's an experienced Playcentre person. I don't remember the exact words she wrote, but I remember the feelings, and I remember thinking that my little Isabelle will be sent out into the world in only a few month's time. I hope we are preparing her well. I hope that she will remember Playcentre with a smile, but also as a place that she was happy and ready to move on from.

So that's what I was thinking about as my older children figured out last week's puzzle on Blues Clues and Orla had second (or was it third?) breakfast.

Oh, and in case you were wondering - no, I'm not considering home schooling! But that's another post....

No poo update

Well, it's been two weeks of no shampooing now. Results are variable. Initially, I was really pleased. But over time, my hair didn't really feel like it was getting clean. It was feeling greasier as the days went by (though it still looked OK). I decided to change my routine a little to ensure that the baking soda was able to clean my hair and scalp properly.

So, this morning I managed to find a use for the bottles and teats the hospital gave us for the expressed breast milk that we never used (Brendon's idea). Instead of pouring a cup of baking soda and water over my head (and getting most of it on my body and face!) I put the baking soda into a bottle with warm water. I then squirted it directly onto my scalp. This seems to have worked a lot better - I got a bit of that slimy feeling going which apparently means that the baking soda is doing its thing with the natural oils. My hair feels clean too.

It seems that the baking soda just works like a very mild shampoo, without the lathering agents, perfumes and stuff that makes shampoo a gel rather than a liquid.

The apple cider vinegar is still working amazingly well. My hair is a bit less frizzy (though of course that could be the oily thing too!) and is easy to comb through. It is very quick to rinse out in the shower - conditioner in long hair can take ages to rinse out, especially the cheaper products.

So, I thought I'd keep going for six weeks and then re-evaluate. But it looks like the change in technique might make a difference.

Shoes

Yesterday afternoon we decided to liberate some dollars from our wallets. So off we went to buy the children some new shoes. Here's Isabelle, wearing her new pink and white sneakers, and Aidan with his orange, black and blue pair. You can see that Aidan's shoes have lights on the front that can be switched on and off. He is very fond of these, and I hope that the batteries last longer than a week!

We will need to repeat the exercise as Aidan's gumboots have holes and Isabelle needs another pair of "good" shoes to wear. I try and buy good quality shoes for the children, but also try to have as few pairs as possible. Two (one good, one everyday), plus sandals in summer and gumboots and slippers for the winter seems to work out fine.

Mother daughter time

Isabelle earned enough stickers on her "project clean room" sticker chart to earn a reward. She chose mother-daughter time. She said that she wanted us to visit the video shop and go to a cafe.

So, this morning we(Orla, Isabelle and I) caught the bus into Kelburn. First stop was the chemist, where we bought Isabelle some hair bands. Then, on to the video shop. We got the 5-for-$10 deal. Three dvds for Isabelle (Barbie in the Nutcracker Suite, the Barbie Diaries and a Hi 5 dance one), and two for Aidan (Tractor Tom and Thomas the Tank Engine). Next, we went to a cafe and shared a juice with a yoyo biscuit each. We then stopped in at the bakery to get some things for lunch, and the butcher's for salami. Then back home again on the bus.

I really liked that she chose mother-daughter time as her reward. And I also really like that her room is finally being cleaned - so much easier to find stuff and gratifying to see her taking care of her things.

Cars and tvs

Two things that I'm not so keen on (being a mother of three) is my increased reliance on cars and tvs.

Cars first: I'm a big fan of walking, for all the usual benefits (health, environment, money). I like taking the bus for similar reasons. I find that it is better socially too - I can talk with the children about what we are seeing as we walk or sit on the bus, whereas in a car I can't really even make eye contact. However, physically I'm not really up to transporting three up and around our hilly suburb. I have been pleased overall with my recovery, but I am still in intermittent pain. It has got a bit worse lately, linked I suspect to the necessities of me doing more and lifting more. In addition, walking takes longer, and given that I still haven't brushed my teeth and it is almost lunchtime, time is precious, especially in the mornings. So, we are doing more in the car and I guess that's just where we are at at the moment.

Television: I like to restrict the children's viewing, and I really don't like using the tv as a babysitter. But I've decided that sometimes, it is the lesser evil. Better two quiet happy children sitting in front of Blues Clues than two children locked in physical combat!

I imagine that both of these things will change over time. We shall see.

Orla's birth story

By request.

It started in a dream.

In my dream I was – er – leaking. People were noticing. Strangely, I was unconcerned. I woke up and found that I was indeed leaking. Luckily I had some cotton flat nappies to hand and was able to put them to use. It was 4.00 am on Wednesday 10 January.

Between then and official wake up time, it was soon clear that I would be ringing the midwife in the morning. I had a few more gushes – not massive amounts, but enough to know that this was not usual.

After 8.00 I rang the midwife. A short time later, she rang back and arranged to meet me in delivery suite at 10.30. I was not to eat anything more, or have anything to drink except for water. We arranged care for our older two and I packed a bag, not knowing if I would be leaving the house for an hour, a day, or a week.

It was difficult saying goodbye to the children as I knew it might be some time before I saw them again.

We drove to the hospital in the rain, but at a quiet pace. This was in marked contrast to our dash to delivery suite with my son, in driving rain and in the throes of strong, painful labour. Brendon dropped me off at the door and parked, while I rang the bell.

My midwife met me inside and examined me. I was 3 cm dilated. She could feel intact membranes, but confirmed that my hind waters had broken. I was informed that the medical team were keen to proceed with a caesarean due to the risk of infection. The only thing we had to wait for was for my breakfast to digest.

I was monitored, prepped, and changed into hospital clothes. Bloods taken, swabs taken. I was visited by various members of the hospital team that I was now transferred to. Brendon left to get baby clothes (which I had left behind) and to collect the car seat (which seemed important at the time). My new hospital midwife mentioned that the baby may have to go to the neonatal unit for a bit given that he or she was early. I didn’t think about this too much at the time.

I was incredibly thirsty, but it was now nil by mouth. I requested that my drip be put in early (I needed to have one at any rate, and given that I suspected I was already dehydrated, I thought I may as well start getting fluids). I sat in my room, trying not to think too much, trying not to cry, trying to read my magazine.

I could feel the familiar start to labour – a slight tension in my lower back and lower abdomen, though I was not in pain.

Brendon came back around 1.30. At 1.45 I was put in a wheelchair and taken to theatre. The tears really started just before we went in – it was overwhelming, knowing that this really was it, the baby would be here soon. There was fear too – fear of the pain of surgery, and uncertainty as to whether the baby would be all right. It was just too soon.

Inserting the spinal/epidural was long and painful. I was greatly relieved when it was finally in and I could lie back on the table. Slowly the numbness kicked in – very slowly. The anaesthetist started the familiar routine with his piece of ice:

“Feel this – icy cold?” “Yes”

“How about this?” “Cold”

“Icy cold or cold? The same as this (ice to the collar bone)?” “Well, marginally less cold”.

A bit more tension – I really wanted the drugs to take fast – the last thing I wanted was a general.

Finally I could feel the numbness flowing up both legs and into my torso. There was one remaining place on my stomach where I could feel the surgeon’s pinch, but a top-up took care of that too.

The surgeon started. She had told me that the initial cutting would take a while due to existing scar tissue, and that she would be taking her time to get things right (as there was no urgency to get the baby out). Finally I sensed an increase in energy in the room, as the assistant pressed down firmly on my stomach and the surgeon reached in for the baby.

You remember small things at times like this. I was so glad that the anaesthetist let me keep in my contact lenses. This meant I saw Orla Rose clearly as she was lifted from my body at 2.42 pm. She left me with a lusty yell – Brendon confirming for me that she was indeed a little girl.

I saw her being carried to the paediatrician and I could see clearly as she was checked over. I desired so much to hold her and feed her. Brendon left my side to go and see her. Then I heard the paediatrician tell him the news that she wanted her to go to neonates. For what seemed the briefest of times she was placed by my head, on the right hand side, wrapped in a towel. So small and precious. My need to hold her was intense.

And then she was taken away.

Being stitched up and waiting in recovery always seems like an eternity, but it is far worse when your baby is not beside you. I was lucky in that my recovery nurse was a very kind woman who had looked after me on the wards with Isabelle, and had been my locum midwife with both my second and third pregnancies – in fact I had seen her just over a week ago for a check. She hand expressed some milk for Orla. Brendon returned to recovery to collect the milk (as we had arranged, he had gone with Orla to neonates). Finally I was allowed out of recovery, and was rolled up to the neonatal unit to see my baby. They brought her out to me. She had blonde eyebrows and dark hair - more hair than my last two. Her little face was red - she was bundled up in unfamiliar clothes with a little pink hat on her head. Her fingers were tiny, with sharp little fingernails! It was heartbreaking to see her other little hand bound up with a lure coming out, attached to a drip. A naso-gastric feeding tube was taped across her cheek. She was asleep and I couldn’t feed her.

After that it was back up to the ward. I returned on my bed (couldn’t be in a wheelchair yet due to general immobility and my catheter) not too long afterwards to try and feed her. This was around 8.30 pm according to my notes – I have no memory of this visit at all. She was not interested in feeding.

At 4.00 am she was brought up to me in the ward for feeding. She latched on happily to the left hand side and had her first proper drink of mother’s milk, more than 13 hours after her birth.

She was to spend a week in the neonatal unit.

Now as I write this, we are home and she is gaining weight. We are so lucky to have our little Orla Rose.

Visitors

We were very excited to have visitors this weekend. Aunty Frances and Uncle Aaron came to see their new niece and the rest of our family. We took it easy while they were here, but we did go out for a couple of walks. On Saturday we viewed Wellington from the lookout down the road from us, then on Sunday we walked down to Otari-Wiltons bush (followed by a play in the Otari school playground). Aidan, Isabelle and I got hair cuts (courtesy of Aunty Frances hair salon), many stories were read and we will have two very happy and tired children tonight!

Junior Olympics

Aidan is apparently in training for the hammer throw.

Mazes and games

Isabelle has been very interested in mazes and games lately - not so much doing them, but reproducing them. These three pieces of paper were covered in her script and diagrams. She explained that they were a maze and a game, and that she had written (detailed!) instructions as to their use. I'm not sure what lies behind her interest. Spatial awareness? Enveloping within a maze (one of her schemas)? Or an exercise in fine motor skills?

At Playcentre last week, I saw her with a book about mazes tracing the lines with her fingers, deep in concentration.

Not so long ago I wrote out a list of numbered instructions on how to use Aidan's nappies (given that he is not toilet trained) and attached it to his Playcentre bag. Isabelle certainly took note of this.

In addition, she has been learning how to use the tv remote control (particularly with her dvds) and has been doing a bit of computer exploration. The dvds require you to move the arrow keys to bring up your desired viewing. These instructions usually include lists or boxes on the screen that you highlight. I suspect it is all linked.

The four elements

Fire - tonight the older children made most of the dinner. The pizza on the blue plate was created by Aidan, the one on the yellow by Isabelle. This was quite a good late afternoon activity to engage tired children!

Air - Today was very windy. Quite depressing really after a good run of really nice weather. Ah well, at least the washing got dry.

Earth - We have a little hole in our lawn which is getting bigger by the day. Aidan loves playing in the sandpit at Playcentre, and digging in dirt seems to hold a similar attraction. He loves digging for potatoes (great when we need some for dinner!). He also seems to enjoy throwing dirt at Isabelle - not so good and demanding immediate correction....

Water - Well, if our bathroom didn't need redo-ing before, it certainly does now! Yesterday we had a major flood (both taps on and plug left in basin at lunchtime). I discovered the mess when the water had almost reached the lounge, so there was a substantial amount of water to clean up. Part of the lino in the bathroom is now bubbling up. The bathroom cabinet door is swollen with water and can hardly close, and it looks like quite a bit of water has escaped down between the toilet and bathroom walls. There goes the photo spread in House and Garden.... ;-)

6 March 2007

I thought of you in the night.

I knew that you were out there crossing a threshold.
Aching in the darkness.
Waiting to hold your little one.

I held my baby in the night.
We rocked together and memories flooded me.

And now, tonight, I'll think of you again.
As we both sit up in the quiet dark.
Holding our little ones.

Oh, I know it's self-indulgent or just plain embarrassing to publish one's poetry on the internet, but I've decided I don't care! Welcome to the world little Amber Rose, another little rosebud to grace our family.

No poo

As in shampoo. Today is my first day of not using shampoo or conditioner, but using instead the much cheaper baking soda and apple cider vinegar.

After consulting my internet forum and my sister (who is already doing the "no poo" thing), I trotted off to the shower this morning with two cups of warm water. One had one teaspoon of baking soda dissolved in it, and the other had a teaspoon of cider vinegar.

The baking soda acts to clean in place of shampoo. I wondered if it was doing anything at all initially. I had read that you are supposed to feel a slimy sort of feeling as it interacts with the natural oils on your head, but I didn't really have much slimy action happening. I think quite a lot of the mixture ended up running down my face and body - I could certainly taste it!

Next came the vinegar conditioner. I decided to dip my hair in the cup to make sure it got a decent coating, then I tipped the remainder on my head. I was slightly concerned that my hair would pong all day, but the vinegar smell had gone by the time I had left the bathroom.

I was amazed at how easy it was to comb through my hair, so the apple cider vinegar certainly did something. My hair is in a plait today, so I can't really see how it looks, but it doesn't feel greasy at all.

I have read that it can take days, or even weeks for the hair to adjust to not having regular shampoos, but also that once this has happened, you don't need to wash your hair as often as before.

Stay tuned for updates...

Art, reality and literacy

Isabelle has been pursuing greater realism in her art lately. These photos show some of her most recent offerings. The picture in yellow pen is her version of Botticelli's The Birth of Venus. This painting is on Isabelle's favourite place mat. The picture below it is one she did at Playcentre. You can see the sun, blue on the sky, green grass and flowers. Underneath the picture, where it says "Artist", she has written her name. (I checked with her to confirm that this is what she had penned).

The other artwork was created last night and this morning. Isabelle has been showing increased interest in forming letters lately. She has been working hard at Playcentre creating cards and gifts, and writing on everything. She has also been requesting pens rather than paints or crayons when we do art at home. So, last night, Isabelle cut out these bits of paper and wrote on them "D", "M", "I" and "A" (denoting Daddy, Mummy, Isabelle and Aidan). She sellotaped each to the place where we were to sit at dinner that evening. This morning, she joined all the pieces together and added two more: one with "G G" (for Grandma and Grandad), and a picture of Mummy pushing Orla in a pram. You might have to click on the picture to see the detail: the photo is not that clear.

Sleep

Sleep is a funny thing. You can have a very few hours sleep yet feel reasonably refreshed. Other days you can have (relatively) a lot, yet still feel exhausted. Most days I don’t get to sleep during the day, but I try to at least rest for a few minutes. Orla is still unpredictable at nights. This week we’ve had a night like this (bed at 10.00, Orla awake at 11.30 and up until 2.45, then up again at 4.30, back to sleep around 5.30, then Aidan up at 6.00), and a night like this (Orla unsettled until about 11.30, wakes again at 1.30, back to sleep soon after, then asleep until 6.00). It’s usually not at bad as it sounds, the waking-at-night thing. But I’m looking forward to Orla sleeping through until after midnight. It seems to be the 11.00 wake ups that are the killer – just as you’ve got into a deep sleep cycle, it’s time to get up again!