Wollaton in Autumn

I never get tired of this picture. I must take it several times a year - these beautiful wild children running up this hill, with that gorgeous building in the background - all the memories... How they've changed over the years! This is one of the places we come to time and again, and hence one of those places I think "wow, I remember coming here when this one could barely toddle, or that time this child ran with the autumn leaves in her hair and I thought how suddenly grown up she was and that was THREE YEARS ago"...

a quick tour through our October...

At the start of last month, I lost my camera. At the very end of the month, I found it hidden in my craft drawers (by the small person who had been filming herself singing). I had sporadic access to a phone camera, so I kept taking pictures, I just couldn't work out a way to keep journalling here when my photographs were inaccessible. Thanks to Dropbox (and actually now owning my very own mobile phone so I'm not borrowing Martin's once a week or so), full connectivity is restored! So, excuses made, and yes we're all very well and no I've not been hiding out due to depression or circumstances or anything like that. :)

Last month... Well... Trains, trips, leaves, parks, climbing, running, hot chocolate on train stations, building block towers, painting, den-making, visiting, a dance show, all kinds of craziness and mess, babysitting, Diwali, a big girl who went off on her very first Church camp without us, and a Halloween party. Yes. Autumn has been amazing and beautiful and busy and peaceful and perfectly imperfect.






























Two weeks into November already, and the world is turning to Winter. I will be thirty in a week, and my mind is turning towards festive planning already. The year is flying by.

Belated Birthday Letter (Ten)

So, my Jenna-girl, I'm writing this a little late and will save it as your birthday post; this week with you away on holiday again, adventuring on a narrow boat with your grandma, has been a very strange week for me.

I have noticed all the spaces you leave, things that only you say and do, ways in which you make my life noisier and brighter and funnier. And at the supermarket I noticed how much more often I have to catch hold of a toddler hand to distract her from some act of destruction - how often you entertain, love, divert, and support your sisters without any of us really taking note of it until you aren't here. My evenings are quieter. Nobody flashes that quick grin at me over jokes that none of the others really understand.

You are ten years old, now. Ten. Even if I say it again I'm not sure it will sink in. You are lively and busy and witty and strong. You are thoughtful and sensitive and intense and loud. You challenge me to be a better person, and yet accept me just as I am. I can't imagine not being your friend.

I want to fill your world with adventures and joy. I want to be able to say yes more, provide more fun, support you better. I feel like I'm learning all the time and sometimes desperately trying to keep up with you - and already I am feeling the strange sensation of time running out as you need me less and less. These years of your childhood have been so short, and your teenage years are rushing towards us. Remember, please remember, how much I love you. I will try to find new ways and old ways to remind you every day. xx

Circle Time on Mama's Bed

Rainbows and cuteness. Could they be any lovelier? Jenna has been persuading the little ones to have a Circle Time with her almost every day, lately. They do a different set of songs every day, but they have particular favourites.

"Mix the batter, stir the batter, shake some flour in
Mix the batter, stir the batter, pop it in a tin
Sprinkle on the raisins, put it in to bake
Open up the oven, and out comes CAKE!"

Talia loves, "Wind the Bobbin Up." Just like her sisters adored repeating it over and over at a similar age. Everything changes, nothing changes, the same joys come back around. :)

changing your mind is a sign of growth - or something

I took some time reading some of my archive recently (no no please don't, come back here one minute!) and, yeah. Eight years is a long time, huh? I recently heard something that totally applies: "If you don't believe something now which ten years ago you would have considered heresy, you're not growing." I rather agree. (Exceptions made for those of you who were perfect to start with, obviously. ;) ) One thing in particular made me feel a little sad. It really brought back to me how stressful I found life with Jenna when she was around three or four years old - how much conflict there was and how much pressure I felt to Get it All Right All the Time. How much I wanted to parent perfectly (and demonstrate it by perfecting this daughter of mine).

How long it took me to really truly accept that children are PEOPLE, not products.

I'm not going to share any "before pictures" but they're all still there, publicly accessible and transparent. The tag "discipline" yields a mess of thorns, and the odd rose. But here is the year I started to feel confident, and make choices that honoured my children as fully human. It makes almost a progression - rules to principles. Even as I wrote this post explaining how to "do" gentle discipline, I was starting to leave behind thoughts about how to get kids to do what I wanted in favour of thoughts about how to simply live together. Later, I actually started to let go as I recognised coercion for what it was doing to our relationships.

And now? Well, I expend more energy in trying to find ways to cooperate and connect. I work more on me and less on other people. I change the circumstances where I can rather than the person, and see my children actually more easily accepting when the world simply will not accomodate their wishes anyway. I hold my own ideas more loosely, and recognise that my children are not me (nor are they mine to shape and control - only to advise, support, help, and protect).

I reckon I still have unpicking and unlearning to do. I still struggle with feeling like I'm not enough (or like it would be so much easier to not take into account the feelings and needs of all these other people I live with). Oh there are days that are just too hard - but lots of days when it flows easily, too. Leaving behind control in favour of love feels good. I've had two more four year olds since then, and few of the same power struggles.

Here's to the next six years of learning and growing, then!

Outside

Spring walks in various parks and woodlands are such a joy. This week we had chance to take a meander with my mum and her dogs, including lots of daisy chain making and running around. Also including me trying to get the extremely elderly dog out of the lake. Thank goodness she managed to get out again, as she's almost blind and quite frail. Given the split second decision to catch the baby or the dog, mum saved Talia, and was then quite insistent that I not go in after the silly fur-baby.



Good memories and bad ones all together. Isn't that just the way?



I can barely believe that we planted that little stringy cutting from my mum's willow tree when Jenna was just a baby. When we moved in to this house we planted it from its big pot into the garden, and now it stands as tall as the house. I remember speculating as to how old she would be before she had a tree large enough to climb, and yet even by the time she was three it was sturdy enough for her first brave attempts. It has grown up with her, with all of them.





The garden is such a blessing. The grass is still patchy (as in, there are actually some small patches of grass in places), and the bushes are leggy and unpruned. It's a wild space, mostly. But there is the promise of fruit in the pink on the apple tree, and so much laughter out there every day.

Year's End

See how they grow! Twelve months of living and learning and so much the same yet everything different. Not one month goes by without laughter, tears, adventure, fallings-out, magic, creativity, and growth. Not one month goes by without wonder.

I can't help wondering what the next twelve months will look like...

This baby...

...is not really a baby any more (shh, I'm trying to come to terms with it)!


Gosh what a year we've had! About the time you started walking, baby mine, you got really really determined. Stripping all your clothes off in public became your new favourite pastime - that and sitting down refusing to go anywhere for long periods of time, and crying when I picked you up and then crying again when I put you down again. Oh little toddler, how very hard it is to not be able to just tell us all what it is that is bothering you. I have wished so many times that I could magic away whatever those moments of stress and anxiety and total frustrated anger have been.

And yet, and yet, you are the sunniest little person. So ready to laugh, to beam, to chat happily to us. You completely love to be around people, and hero-worship your sisters.



Your list of words is getting longer and longer. I'm enjoying the gift of understanding between us. It's amazing! The ease this has brought you, and your pure joy at being more capable, more able to explore the world and share your discoveries with us. I adore how you exclaim to me over your finds. How you repeat words over and over.







Sweet funny bright baby, awesome stubborn intense lively creature! Every second I have spent just snuggling you, just being here with you, has blessed me. I wouldn't trade a moment of it. Happy Birthday, precious. Talia, I love you so.

Morgan at Seven

Seven years! Oh Morgan, how can it be? My funny little squishy baby pixie. And now you're so long and tall and all elbows and gappy smile, blossoming into a grown-up girl, barely the tiniest trace of baby left to you.

I love how you twist your mouth when you're confused. I love the sparkle in your eyes. I love your ready laugh, and the funny little baby voice you do when you're trying to explain something to me. I love how you take care of people and the way you notice when people are lonely or sad. I see how you quietly go along with things, so often, how you love to be led and how you love to be approved of. I love your quirks. I love how you advocate for yourself persistently and calmly, and how unshakeable you are in what you know. I love your otherness, your strangeness to me, how different we are from each other. I just *love* being your mama.





Keep being weird. Keep being sure. Keep being you. I'm so proud of you, pixie girl.