Growing up

I knew he wouldn't nap forever, but after over four and a half years I couldn't imagine how he'd ever get through the day without a sleep. My days for as long as I can remember have been split into a morning and an afternoon with a nap in the middle. Kian (eventually) slotted nicely into how Luca had carved our days. Whatever we do in the morning, he'd start showing those signs around lunchtime and he'd say he's tired and take himself off to bed. On preschool days when he doesn't nap, he comes home and does very little. He's snoring by 6.30pm.

My life as a mother would have looked very different had I not had those two hours to myself every day. To be able to split the day in two and know there is a break in the middle has saved me on countless days. It's when I eat in peace, read in peace, and write here in my little space. In peace.

It's when I also nap myself, stealing twenty minutes or so to rest on the sofa with my feet up and stare at the sky and trees all around the house. Oh, I love it when quiet reins after lunch.

But quiet reins no longer. He doesn't desperately head for his bedroom as soon as his tummy's full. I still insist on quiet time (for both our sakes), so he reads on his bed until he can't keep away from his craft table any more.

He draws and writes, paints and cuts. And with Kian asleep and not at his elbow knocking over his tools and screwing up his paper, he realises that this is his golden hour.

It will be our golden hour too (eventually), because once I've reorganised my time and kicked my four-year habit I will spend one-on-one time with him and enjoy it.

But right now, I'm trying to kick the habit. Of being on my own, falling asleep without being prodded, and relishing two hours without questions and demands.

It's the end of an era.

Except I'm not really lamenting the end of my quiet time – I've had it good, I know. What makes me a touch sad is it's the end of Luca being little. He's growing up.

I know every parent sees more in their children's art than anybody else, but will you look at that kookaburra? We had to frame it. Every morning while everyone still sleeps, Luca creeps out and draws from books. Plants, wildlife, anything. Lately, he's started painting with watercolours. I wonder how much all this will shape the school decision...




The good stuff

I'm still in survival mode.

And after reading what sounds like very good advice on parenting toddlers (actually, parenting full stop), I'm thinking I should try harder. Ditch the lazy 'battle-it-through' and adopt a more understanding approach. Except that I'm very tired.

So I'm not very patient at the moment. Which isn't so great for understanding a child's perspective. It looks like I'm back where I started.

Working out what is going on, deciding on different strategies and putting them into practice... well, it's draining just thinking about it.

But it's what I will do. Eventually. I'm not one for leaving things to sort themselves out (although I should sometimes). I over-think and I analyse to death. So I'll work it out. Even if by that stage he's a teenager.

In the meantime, we're just pottering.

Quietly, I always hope. But very noisily, in reality.

While I pottered the other day layering vegetable scraps and newspaper shreds in the compost, Luca asked to pick some kale.

Truth is my heart sank. Not because he wanted to pick kale, but because Kian was hovering. Kian copies, like any sibling does. But he does everything more wildly.

I had visions of Luca picking a few leaves, then Kian pulling out all the kale from their roots. Thinking that was tremendous fun, he'd move onto the spinach and lettuce and within a minute, it would look like a whipper-snippered mess.

It was nothing like that, of course.

Luca snipped. Kian watched.

A bit of kale. A bit of spinach.

This is the best bit: I suggested making a juice out of it. And we did.

A juice of kale, spinach, banana, frozen berries, lemon, bee pollen and maca powder.

I have absolutely no idea what the bee pollen and maca powder do. I just know it's good stuff.

Thanks to Nicola Chatham, I'm not only growing all of these glorious leaves on a patch of concrete by my washing line, but because she introduced me to Jessica Ainscough, aka the Wellness Warrior, I'm making juices I probably never would have made.

They drank the lot.

Kian, my fussy little eater, who throws food across the table, who kicks his plate in disgust...

Consumed. And. Enjoyed. Raw. Greenery.

It was a lovely moment.





My recipe for a mother's survival

Things seem to have gone downhill over the past few days.

It could be a number of things.

It's almost three years since we left England. I don't know when, if ever, mum will be a drive away.

It's the school holidays, which I know for most is cause to celebrate – when Luca eventually goes to school, I'll be celebrating holiday time, too.

But for now, the school holidays have interrupted our flow. A change of routine is normally a good thing, but I need routine at the moment to keep me going.

Or maybe it has less to do with homesickness and a changing rhythm, and more to do with the arguing, the noise and the mess.

It's probably toddlerhood.

The relentlessness of the everyday.

The many battles. The Nappy Change Battle. The Getting Dressed and Undressed Battle. The Wiping Nose Battle. And my biggest battle of all: stopping an 18-month-old scratching, hitting and hurling wooden blocks at his older brother with perfect aim.

So right now, I'm just working on getting through.

We won't be painting with bubble wrap or making pretty pictures with glue and spices.

I'm not going to play shopkeeper and I'm not going to make a cool ball run with scraps of cardboard.

And there will be no mud pie making at the mud pie station (that we won't be building). Or excavating different coloured objects from a very big block of ice.

(OK, so now you know what's on my Pinterest boards.)

I'm just doing the basics.

Until I get through this lull, all I can provide is love (a smidgen), food (cheesy jacket potatoes with tuna and broccoli) and cuddles (plenty) in front of Playschool. Oh, and a few stories.

That's it.

Sometimes, it isn't a question of whether we're doing enough messy play or enough baking. There's far too much pressure out there anyway for all-dancing, all-crafting mothers.

Sometimes (and very often), it's just about surviving.

My recipe: cuddles, simple nourishing food and our favourite Oliver Jeffers books.

What's yours?

My darling toddler. Taken when he wasn't throwing anything at anyone.

Congratulations to Tricia for winning my Australian Museum ticket giveaway. Thank you to everyone else who commented and entered.