It should have been a bad day. Ivy had a pretty unsettled night and I was up and down with her between 2:30 to 4:30am. Then just as I was finally drifting off into a peaceful slumber, footsteps pattered up the hallway and Eli came to tell us there was snot on his pillow. 

We have all contracted a flu-like virus and noses are running like taps (when they aren't completely blocked). Eli looked like the walking dead all day and even tucked himself into bed after lunch and took a nap. Dave and I fluctuated between achy, fuzzy and dizzy and gravitated towards any horizontal surface as often as the situation would allow it.

It was Brace Day. We stumbled our way through breakfast and barely got the kids ready in time for Grandma to pick them up. Ivy fell asleep just before we were due out the door and both of our phones' data mysteriously ceased working. Then we were on the road. 

The hospital was almost comforting this time. I pushed the pram with purpose towards the Outpatient clinic but paused to notice the inspirational quotes painted on walls and carved into stained glass windows. Dave joined me after securing a park, then we were called in. No two hour wait this time! As the physio spoke the words "she will need a brace", I experienced none of the panic and shock of last time. Ivy didn't even utter a cry as the brace was fitted and we must have been doing OK too because the physio labelled us the 'most relaxed brace parents' she had ever dealt with. 

We made our way to the café and ordered long macchiatos and a brownie to share in the hospital cafe courtyard. I fumbled my way through feeding Ivy, getting used to the rigid feel of the brace again. We exhaled and took it all in- the pain, the break, the beauty. Without the constant interruption of preschooler demands and questions we were able to chat meaningfully about the things that inspired us- the books, the podcasts, the experiences. When the last drop and crumb were consumed, we reflected it had been one of our best 'dates' in a long time... at a rickety metal table amongst pigeons, with takeaway coffee from a hospital cafe.

I've been listening to a lot of Rob Bell podcasts (aka 'Robcasts') lately. I joked to Dave that often in our marriage it will go like this: 

Dave: "Hey Emma, you should read this book/try this idea/listen to this podcast!"

Emma: "Ummm, no thanks, not interested- that doesn't sound like my thing."

-Months Later-

Emma: "Wow, this book/idea/podcast is amazing! Why haven't I been into this before!?"

Dave: "..."

He takes the constant rejection really well, considering! And I am, believe it or not, beginning to learn from my mistakes and the period of time between completely dismissing the idea and adopting it as my own has shortened considerably. Anyway, I've come from thinking Rob Bell was a complete sell-out and a airy fairy New Age guru to thinking he has some pretty profound thoughts about life and the 'ordinary' things that we completely take for granted. Didn't hurt that my 'old man crush' Richard Rohr is kind of like Bell's mentor and was touring with him earlier this year. Bell takes things as simple as a supermarket receipt and makes the idea of grocery shopping sound meaningful rather than mundane. His outlook has been helping me a lot, changing my perspective towards the more ordinary things in life as a mother.

I've also been reading Shauna Niequist's book "Bread & Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes". The introduction of the book was right up my alley with her vividly painted picture of how food connects, entwines and nourishes people, and sets the stage for so many meaningful interactions in community. It encouraged me that my passion for food can be something I continue to pursue and prioritise right now, in the midst of our crazy 'three kids under four' life- with more 'crazy hour' dinners and neighbourhood barbeques like the one we had last Sunday. It made me appreciate again how crucial Tribe's lunch gatherings are to connecting people and convicted me that perhaps we should be trying to do mealtimes for House Church as well (despite how chaotic, messy and insane that will be with no less than 19 kids in that mix!). 

It is quite probable, with my 'task and details oriented' nature, that I am at risk of failing to pursue my passions and dreams by focusing purely on the day to day activities and keeping the family cogs turning. Being a mother is one of the most meaningful things in the world, but I think it would actually be detrimental to my kids if I allowed it alone to completely consume me. At the moment I'm cautiously dipping a toe into the water and testing out what my passions and dreams might be. At this stage, all I know is that I feel alive when dealing with food, planning parties, reading and writing this blog. Quite ordinary things on the surface, but who knows where they might lead? I'm heading down the Rabbit Hole!

Yesterday Ivy had an ultrasound on her hips. Everything had seemed normal clinically, but due to Hudson's hip issues, it was recommended that Ivy be assessed as a matter of caution. Turns out she has moderate to severe hip dysplasia as well. During the ultrasound I responded very well, joking that we at least knew what we were dealing with this time and repeating platitudes like 'at least it is being caught early'. It wasn't until I was halfway through the phone conversation with Dave to break the news that the waves of emotion swept over me. It really does suck. 

I have vague memories of those three months of Hudson with the brace feeling like forever and that first night when he just kept kicking and kicking his legs against the brace only to eventually give up out of exhaustion. I remember both of us hanging out for that one hour a day when he could be free again and move around without constraint. What we didn't know at the time was that Hudson was suffering from a groin hernia so perhaps his constant misery was as a result of that, but let's just say he was not a happy camper. 

Ivy is doing so well at the moment too- actively kicking and rolling and using her body with full force. She loves tummy time and is so relaxed and happy, cooing and gurgling cute noises during her waking hours. Suffice to say I'm not really looking forward to the potential change.

On the other hand, I feel light years ahead of where I was when I was coming to terms with the news about Hudson. Despite the disappointment and realisation that there will be a lot of long hospital visits in my foreseeable future, I know we will get through it, and honestly, heading to the hospital with just one baby is actually almost like a semi-holiday from the craziness of the day to day with three... They have good coffee there (and donuts)! 

The more emotionally challenging part of the day was that Eli, who has- until now- lapped up his days at Kinder, really struggled with the experience, even needing Dave to take him out for about half an hour before he had to walk away from a bawling Eli upon going back. Apparently he cried for a good fifteen minutes before pulling himself together and having a positive afternoon. 

Dave and I really struggled to know how to respond. Do we rescue and show that we are recognising the gravity of Eli's feelings, or do we encourage him to push through the discomfort and learn from it? We are keenly aware that you don't get this option in Prep, but this is 3-year-old Kinder... an (expensive) optional experience that we feel is beneficial for him in learning to relate to kids his own age. As far as we can tell, the emotional reaction is seemingly tied to confrontation over having to interact with another boy who reportedly snatched his toy- a infraction that Eli is guilty of with Hudson at least once an hour!

At this stage, given the holidays are just around the corner and that the issue seems to be one that can easily be overcome, we have decided to press on and hope that Eli can learn more about the world and himself, even as we try and get him to stop referring to the kid as the 'bad boy' and use his actual name! In 'Carry on, Warrior' today, I read the story of Glennon's similar struggle of releasing her son, Chase, into the big world of prep and her advice for coping with an older bullying girl on the school bus was to give Chase a mission to find out the colour of the girl's eyes. When he did, he excitedly reported that the girl's eyes were blue but that while he was finding out she stopped her mean face and and avoided eye contact for the rest of the journey. Maybe we'll have to invite the 'bad boy' over for a play date or something. Who knows, Eli could even end up making a great friend!

Children come into the world so dependent and fragile, and it feels like each step of becoming independent can either be exhilarating (like when they can finally wipe their own bottoms) or rip out a piece of your heart as you see them becoming a little messy human just like you, with fears and hopes and innocence and resignation. Each step both defines them and shows them what they can become. I can see now how this parenting gig never ends. There is no way I'm going to stop caring about the way each of my children are developing, even when they are 60! Looks like we should brace ourselves for one hell of an interesting (and, no doubt, heartbreaking) ride...

I've discovered a new blog that is revolutionizing my world at the moment. Actually, I had heard of Momastery before and read a few posts, but I secretly found Glennon's tone a bit sarcastic and negative and naively wondered how she could view her kids that way. Then mine turned into toddlers and preschoolers and now I completely understand! A recent post about screwing up with lots of cracking it and blaming and swearing could really have been a scene lifted from my house, and it made me feel comforted that another mother struggles with similar issues to me but is able to pick herself back up each time and ask for forgiveness from her family. 

Then I made the mistake of reading another vein of blog- one less confessional, more advice on how to be an awesome mum. There were posts about how the author had potty trained her three boys in three days before the age of 2, the importance of getting kids into bed before 7pm, making the most of each moment and being a mum who is stress-free. Think Mary Poppins as a stay at home mum. It sounded wonderful and amazing... and so unachievable. It sent me into fits of tears as I had just experienced a day where just getting to the end of it had been the main achievement!  

Sundays at the moment are tough- getting the kids dressed (and redressed- Hudson is loving the topless look at the moment), preparing food for the gathering, driving to the venue (often with one or more crying kids in the back), distracting a cord obsessed Hudson from 'helping' Dave with the set up, keeping a 'jack-in-the-box' Eli from standing on his seat during the service, jiggling the pram so Ivy doesn't wail, making sure the food is set up for/packed up after lunch, trying to have meaningful conversations while keeping an eye on the runaway children, feeding Ivy at some point and driving an overtired set of children home again. By the time we get home and crash on the bed, Sunday may as well be over.

Not that the rest of the week is that bad- we muddle through, mostly, and I'm trying a lot of new strategies for managing my emotions. Instead of putting only tasks on my 'to-do' list, I've been entering things like 'cuddle Hudson', and 'smile at Eli' on there. I've also been practicing telling myself 'it's just mess' and 'focus on what you are doing' rather than mentally snowballing all the tasks I can see staring me down. I have noticed when I try and smile at Eli and tell him what he is doing well, he responds so much better. Still practicing this one with Hudson's meltdowns as he has entered a new phase of 'any opposition to my ideas of what I want to do at this moment will be met with extreme emotional force'. Gives me so many opportunities to practice patience (or not!).

I've realised that keeping things clean can be my 'drug' at times. The activity I turn to to distract myself from internal reflection or to exercise control over some portion of my environment. When I survey the sparkling bench tops and ordered playroom, I can artificially feel like I have done something right and something to be proud of. When I mentioned that we had forgotten to do the 'packing up game' last night, Pat congratulated me and told me I was getting better! Ironic that for me 'not cleaning' at times can be more of a personal success than cleaning...

Over dinner tonight, Dave shared an anecdote from a Rob Bell podcast he had listened to about a Rabbinical tradition. In one pocket would be stored a piece of notepaper with the words "You are dust" and in the other "The universe was made for you". The idea being that when you needed to be brought down from the lofty heights of pride or raised up from the depths of despair, you would delve into the pocket that held the appropriate perspective. In some ways it sounds a bit corny, but I have been trying it (without the notepaper) so far tonight and already it has really worked in stabilising my emotions and viewpoints.

Perspective can be such a trap at times. Striving to be 'perfect' to prove something to yourself or others, trying to look like you have it together only to be 'betrayed' by the crazy munchkins running around at Tribe. I said to Dave its a bit like my nail polish at the moment- from a distance it may look like I am polished and nailing it (ha - see what I did there?!) but when you come close you can see the varnish peeling and the cracks showing through.   On the flip side, congratulating yourself for artificially succeeding can be just as negative as you begin to invest your self worth into things that don't matter. 

Trying to reach an equilibrium that doesn't involve complete despair or false pride is difficult. The Rabbinical practice offers a concrete way of pulling yourself back from either extreme. I should probably invest in a pair of pockets.

Yesterday I had one of those (extremely rare) days where everything may as well have been in slow motion to an emotive soundtrack. One of those days where the kids exuded cuteness and it felt like I could visibly see each of them grow up a little. 

It was Eli's first day of 3 year old kinder and he woke up so excited. He put on his uniform with great anticipation and headed off with Dave into the great unknown. Both Dave and I were a little nervous about how he would go, it being his first time away from us/family and knowing he had not even met his teacher yet or any of his new friends. We had taken him to see the space a few times so at least we knew he could picture where he would be spending the time. Dave spent over an hour at the kinder, observing Eli interacting and sending me five minutely updates and photos so I could be involved too. He did really well and hardly noticed when Dave said goodbye! When Dave went to pick him up he was very excited and asked if he could go to kinder every day! 

Meanwhile, in the morning I took Ivy to her 6 week check and she did really well, giving the doctor some wide smiles as she checked her lungs and heart. During the rest of the day she slept well and was very alert and engaged during her wake time. Turns out she loves sleeping in the car too, so looks like a few trips are on the horizon!

After lunch it was time for Hudson's two year old review. He didn't say much but was at his charming best with the nurse, and rode the rocking horse with gusto all around the room! While he was at home I noticed a big difference in his speech with Eli gone, as he tried harder to express himself and gave mum and I directions, like "hammock, mummy" and "I talking to you, nanny!" When Dave got home, he presented his mini laptop case (read 'man bag') to Hudson, who immediately packed his toy computer and phone in it and trailed Dave around all afternoon like his 'mini me'. When Dave sat down to do work, Hudson would follow suit.

After kinder I took Eli for some special time at McDonalds to talk through how the day had been. He seemed so much older as he answered questions about what he had done and who he played with and what his teacher was like. It was such a great experience for us both. We braced for a difficult evening, knowing that Eli would be very tired and would likely lose it multiple times before bed... and then... nothing! He followed instructions really well and went to bed with zero fuss. 

These times can't last forever, however, and today was a completely different story! Dave had an early start and left me only barely out of a comatose state at the breakfast table. When we finally managed to get our shit together, I got a phone call from Dave that he had forgotten to tell me that the maintenance guys were coming over to paint walls/doors and fix the broken things in our house... and that they were at our front door that very minute! I was feeding Ivy in the hammock, in my nightie still and must have looked like a crazy woman as I very reluctantly went to let them in. When it soon became clear that energetic toddlers and open paint cans were a bad mix, and that one of the doors that needed painting would need to stay shut for 4-6 hours, effectively shutting off all kids bedrooms; I decided to hightail it out of there immediately! 

We've made it through the day now and we have managed to get there, despite a few tantrums (some from the kids) and close calls on the stairs at Nanny's three story apartment (not super child friendly, you could say!). 

With the current intensity of life, it is so rare to have a full day where you can actually appreciate each child and be able to zoom out from the craziness a little to just 'see' the kids. Yesterday was pretty incredible and I hope for many more such moments, particularly if my disposition has anything at all to do with how regularly they occur. In the meantime, we'll just have to keep trying (amidst failing) to react to life with creativity, patience and above all, a sense of humour.