Tag Archives: Fraser

On having two 2.5 year old boys

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On the 10th December, three years ago, I found out that the surprise baby in my belly was actually two.

Twins.

I’m not sure that word ever stops being a mind spin.

I won’t ever forget the hurricane of emotion that swept through my body.

I’ll never forget how Paul and I laughed and cried at each other in shock for weeks. Or how a nearly 1 year old Roo clapped her hands with glee in reaction to the thick atmosphere of excitement.

I’ve known of their existence for three years.

I’ve wished for them, cared for them, believed that somehow, somewhere, somebody has made a huge mistake and I wasn’t meant to have them at all.

Believed that at some point, one or both would be taken away.

And now, three years on, I have 2 two and a half year old boys.

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Everyday is a challenge. Everyday is a blessing.

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Everyday they make me laugh.

Almost every day, they make me feel like crying.

Fraser and Oscar, the Two.

Their love for each other is almost overwhelming to witness.

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The first to comfort their twin. The first to cause the hurt that needs comforting.

Their giggles through their closed door when they are meant to be settling down to sleep.

The way they speak to each other, like their twin already knows what will be said, and has his response ready.

The way Oscar lisps, but Fraser misses the start of words.

The way a fussy Fraser inhales bananas, but passes all his tomato to Oscar.

The way Oscar calls anything he loves to eat “cake” – including tomato – whilst encouragingly holding it out for his brother to try.

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The sharing, the scrapping, the chatting – all the stories you hear from other twin mothers running through your head.

One mother, stopping me in the supermarket, smiling and touching my shoulder as she said:

“Some days, it’s ok to have a glass of wine at 11 o’ clock in the morning.”

And the constant questions, playing across my mind.

How will I survive them? How do I hold onto every moment? How do I cope with two 2 year olds? How can I bear my love of them?

How on Earth was I chosen for this?

And then, I am privy to a moment – a shiny, amazing moment – in their secret, in fathomable world.

And I remember. And I am proud. And I am grateful.

I made them.

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What would you do if you were told you were having twins? Laugh, cry, pinch yourself? Ring your Bestie and listen to her laugh at you? A lot…

High on a hill was a lonely goatherd…

It should be no shock to anyone that at this particular point in time I am feeling overwhelmed.

On top of trying to be the blogger I want to be, I am attempting the Parent Manifesto Program with Parent Wellbeing (which, by the way, I am L-O-V-I-N-G) and I am once again throwing myself into study.

And all of that is on the side of being a mother to Roo and the Two.

Recently, as the Two turned 2, they have not-so-subtly shifted into overdrive.

I’m sure this is probably quite common for twins.

They turn 2 and all of a sudden it’s like you need to be on speed to keep up with them. Or at least mainline coffee.

And I still haven’t found a medical professional who will actually do that.

The past couple of weeks has seen the emergence of Fraser’s alter ego. I like to call him: “The Mountain Goat”

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One afternoon Pal called out to me from the bathroom, quite urgently, to hurry. When I arrived I found my son sitting in the sink.

He’d apparently been staring at himself in the mirror and only sat down when Pal called out to me. As in, he only sat down when he realised he was busted.

Another recent morning found me entering the loungeroom in search of a missing child. Two children were at my kitchen security gates screaming for food and Fraser was noticeably absent.

At first I thought he must be engrossed in either Thomas the Tank Engine or The Little Princess, his favourites. I was mistaken.

He was standing on top of the cabinet and peering behind the television. Planning on pushing it onto his unsuspecting twin brother for ruining his life soon after conception, no doubt.

The Mountain Goat has also recently learned the value of pulling out drawers and using them as steps.  To get to my PC that holds all of the precious and valuable photos of my babies.  Of course everything is backed up on hard drives. But with a Mountain Goat for a child you soon learn that nothing is safe.

The Mountain Goat is not silly and knows where all things of value are kept in the home.

The hall stand is actually a repurposed change table. With shelves. My phone is regularly disconnected from the wifi and my keys, the day’s mail and Pal’s work hats are constantly AWOL. I learned very quickly to zip up my handbag and keep my wallet and lipsticks out of reach.

The Kid has been standing on the seats of trikes, jumping from couch to couch, crawling through tiny spaces and rolling balls around the house until he finds something he needs to be higher for. And then he tries desperately to stand on an air-filled ball resting on the polished wood floors of our dining room. In order to get over the kitchen security gate.

My personal concern is that he will eventually find me in my pantry.

My more altruistic concern is that soon enough, The Mountain Goat will discover a way to vault out of his cot, help Oscar out of his cot and then together they will take over the world.

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Don’t call me crazy – I’ve heard them plotting world domination from their cots for two years now. The plan involves much gibberish, plenty of high-pitched squealing and jumping up and down on mattresses.

Do you have a Mountain Goat for a child? Or is your child a Lengthy-Armed Orangutan? Or even s Stubborn Mule? Do you think I should change the name of this blog to Daisy, Roo and Zoo? Or maybe just remove all furniture from my home and sit on European cushions whilst I stare at the walls, in preparation for the end of the world as we know it?

Yesterday in dot points. And Pro’s and Con’s.

When there is random stuff bouncing around in my head, dot points help. So does weighing up the pluses and the minuses. Here we go!

 I didn’t make the Top 5 of The Top 50 Bloggers competition.

Pros

I don’t have to get out of my pyjamas to receive my Ford Territory.

I can sigh in relief that my part in this competition is done *relax*

I was super impressed and delighted that I made it to the Top 50 at all. The Top 5 would have BLOWN MY MIND!

The Top 5 are ridiculously fabulous. A diverse bunch of women, including Beth, who is in MY top 5 of awesomeness, and Sonia (aka the chicken, aka Mrs. Hiccup) another of my favourites!

Cons

I was totally planning on taking my (on loan) Ford Territory to Sydney for Oscar’s next check up.

And then using it to take Mrs. Nutshell (AKA Nutty) and Mrs. Daze (aka Fi) for a joyride.

This won’t be happening now.

Instead I will be landing myself on Mrs. Hiccup’s doorstep and asking if she and the chicken will take us all for a joyride instead.

Pal is upset that we do not win a Ford Territory for four weeks, or even a year.

And Pal’s sad face is the worst kind of sad face I have ever seen.

When he pulls out his sad face I just know it’s going to end in us spending money.

It’s cold and grey outside.

Pros

I do not have to get of my pyjamas because I do not have to go outside.

Because I do not have to go outside, I do not have to hang out any washing. Right?

Cons

The heater is on. The dryer is getting a workout.

When we get the energy bills Pal will make his sadface.

And then won’t be able to spend any money.

Which will mean extended sad face.

Oscar has discovered his inner power. 

Of tantrums.

Pros

Call me mean, but the Strong Boy throws a pretty amusing tantrum.

Today, he was having a fit at Fraser. He was so upset by the transgression, he bashed his head against the wall.

Then, because the wall hurt his head, he hit the wall.

And missed.

Then I got cuddles because of the evil floor that rushed up to whack him in the chest.

Also, I do not have to get out of my pyjamas to watch him have a tantrum.

Cons

Oscar/Strong Boy tantrums are loud.

Really loud.

And most often begin the minute I open my mouth to speak.

Fraser is showing off.  Epicly.

Pros

I now know that Fraser can:

  • say “Oscar shoosh!” and “Where Ra-ra?”
  • take his pants off
  • understand me when I tell him to: “get your pants/lay down/go find your sister”
  • get his pants, lay down and find his sister

Cons

He keeps taking his pants off so that I will tell him to find them.

He keeps standing up and yelling at me from his bed so I will tell him to lie down.

He keeps “losing” his sister.

By turning his back to her and standing really still and looking at the ground.

A hat is optional.

This state of stillness means that no one can see him.

Even if he is in the middle of the room.

When the zombies come, he will be totally safe.

Unless the zombies ask for a cuddle…

I promise you this video is worth your time. *

*Note: If you have a weak pelvic floor, it’s best to go to the loo first.**

**Note: This video is hilarious. To me. I make no guarantees that it will be funny to anyone else…

Tuesday is Full of Grace? Pffft.

Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

Dear Tuesday,

You think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?

Well, I’ve got news for you – you may be funny, but I am hilarious.

It is now afternoon, but this morning’s ridiculosity (it’s a word) was well uncalled for.I did not need to watch my almost-3-year-old have a massive meltdown over the choice between Dora, Cars and Rio. Thanks for reminding her in the middle of that tantrum that Nemo exists. Good. On. You.

Also, sitting on your bum doing nothing, watching me clean the house, and then inspiring my children to go behind me like three mini tornadoes and trash all my good work might have been fun for you. However, it was devastating for me. I was contemplating wine at 11am because of you.

What have you got to say for yourself, Tuesday? Do you have any good reason why you would treat me this way?
No?

I didn’t think so! You just do it for kicks, right? All part of the entertainment, yes?

Well, Tuesday, the morning is done.It’s Daisyday now.

Amongst the chaos this morning I’ve washed and hung out 5 loads of washing.I have mopped all the wooden floors.I have fed the children lunch, and put Roo to sleep with minimum fuss.

The boys are playing happily, and are not far from their afternoon sleep time.

The dough for the pizza pockets is in the sink rising, the filling already made.

The sun is shining brightly, the air is warm and the house is airy.

How do you like them apples, Tuesday? Looks like you didn’t manage to spoil my day after all. SUCKO!

So go back to your boss, whoever he may be (because I KNOW it is a man causing all this trouble, or possibly even a toddler) and tell him that you failed MISERABLY in making my day miserable.
Much love,

Daisy.
xoxo

P.S. Hey Tuesday, while you were being an asshat my son was being the cutest baby EBBER!




P.P.S.  For the record, Roo was born on a Sunday, The Two were born on a Saturday and I was born on a Thursday – that explains quite a bit.

What day were you and your children born on?  Do you think the rhyme rings true for your family?

IBOT with Jess at Diary of a SAHM