Easter Monday

So, yesterday we got up very early, too early for a public holiday and a house devoid of children. The weather was bleak. Actually, bleak is being generous. It was pouring and we were up at dawn, not for the ANZAC services but for our first triathlon. Preparing for this "event", I never imagined rain. I had visualised the running and the cycling and had just got my head around swimming in that very murky, man-made lake, but in all the visualisations there had never been any rain.

Last night, race results came through. I came predictably last but satisfyingly within my goal time. What struck me though, what kept me awake for a little while thinking, was my age written next to my name. 39. Where did that come from? Surely I am still 32? 22?

40 is next year. I have a few things I am quietly ticking off a list before January, a triathlon being one of them. I once had plans for a great South American adventure for my 40th. That was a few years before children. Actually, it was just as I was making the commitment to have children. Back then, I thought I would take off and have a great hurrah as I turned 40. Clearly, I had no idea what having children was all about. The strong-hold on your heart. I can leave them overnight, even for a few nights. But a couple of months? At this age, when I am their everything? Quite unimaginable. I want these two spitting on my cake as they help me blow out my candles.

First day of Pre-school

There was a lot of excitement in our house this morning. As soon as she woke up Missy knew exactly where she was going. New lunch box, new bag, a full tube of sun-screen that was hers with her name on it. She was set to meet this new adventure head on.

As we turned into pre-school she noted that she had not yet turned three and would it be OK to go today. I assured her that she could go today being not quite three, that being 2 and a half is OK. No, she said, I am actually 2 and 3 quarters.

This conversation could have gone on and on if I explained that she is 1 month from three. This little girl of mine who needs an explanation for everything, who needs to understand the whys and where-forths of each concept she encounters. She exhausts me with her questions and conversation and cracks me up with her expressions many times each day.

Today was bittersweet as a dropped one child to her first day of pre-school and then took the other one shopping for school shoes and uniforms. We are a few weeks away from his first day. I know that his drop-off will be a little more difficult and that a few tears will be shed.

The time with my babes has flown. I know now that these will be my only two. I am holding dear these times, the unfaltering, unquestioning, unconditional, to the moon and back a billion times, love. The Rooster still holds my hand fiercely, and although he assures me that he will always want to hold my hand, I know that soon enough he will walk near to me and save that affection for the quiet times in our home. Sometimes I want to stop time just where it is, but I couldn't deny my children the adventures that lay ahead of them as they head off into their own little worlds.

Golden Days

For too many weeks I have been ravaged by sinus and a raging headache. I would soldier through our morning activities and arrive home exhausted only wanting to crash out and let sleep come. The littlies would bicker around me, unstimulated by a mother who could do little more than lie on the lounge and cope with what was unravelling around her.

But today was golden. My fog has lifted, the dull ache on the left side of my head has gone. Mummy has returned and we didn't waste a minute lolling about. Cakes baked and play dates. Mixing paint colours in the sunshine, sitting on the floor with the Lego, cooking dinner before rushing out to soccer practice.

We had one of those days when you feel you can go on doing this gig forever. It made me think how little time we have left, just the three of us. Next year will be just me and my girl. We will strike a different rhythm I suspect, our movements dictated by school drop offs and pick ups and completely different interests altogether. My days lying on the floor feigning interest in brooming cars are numbered. But until then I wish for more golden days like today when I feel worthy of these children who have been gifted to me.