#1428 Reading together

It was bedtime reading time. But it wasn’t just bedtime reading.

It was bedtime reading the night Hubbie went back to work.

Ohhh. The horror. The agony!Β The sadness.

The day before you go back to work is actually worse than the day you are back at work. Thinking of the routine, the inescapable work days ahead, the hours, the holidays you could be on…

Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh.

Which is why tonight, Hubbie wasn’t even in baby girl’s bed with me as we started to read Room on the Broom. He was up in our room getting ready to go to sleep, while baby girl was eager to read the book that we had only seen the on-stage production of, days earlier…

while Hubbie was STILL on holiday.

Sigh.

I started to read. Then baby girl started to read. We were taking turns. I had told her I would read most of it (wanting to get her to bed earlier) but of course somewhere along the way, she changed her mind. As usual.

She started to read more.

And, Hubbie heard it.

I heard his footsteps coming down the stairs. He couldn’t help himself. πŸ˜‰

Before long he was on the other side of baby girl, the three of us squished into her king single bed taking turns reading Room on the Broom. πŸ™‚

And I realised, sure, sleeping in every day as a family IS great… but you don’t need to take time off work to enjoy life. You don’t need to be on holiday to make memories with your loved ones, and set up traditions so that there are reasons to smile every day with them, rather than just a few weeks a year, when you are not working.

Like reading a book together, in bed. πŸ™‚

#1412 Made up stories in bed

The three of us have the best time making up stories at bedtime.

We’ll be in our bed, or baby girl’s bed (yes we can all squish into baby girl’s king single!)

We make up stories based off alterations of our name and things that have happened that day,Β or stories we’ve heard.

Tonight Hubbie was Tato Doce, and I was Mama Candy Cane.

Iggle piggle from In The Night Garden was drinking black coffee, and vomited, and there was a girl called Karisa who was going cray cray because it was school holidays. 🀣

The laughs we get out of our stories are priceless. Baby girl can barely get the words out as she tells her story, she is laughing that hard. Then I’ll throw her an exaggerated quizzical look, or I crack up and laugh along with her, which sends her into more of a laughing fit, and then I laugh MORE, and on and on it goes.

Meanwhile Hubbie, the only non-night owl amongst us three, looks at us wearily, yet still amused with that small smile on his face, as his girls go apeshit.

❀

 

 

 

#1369 Just one more book

Tonight she read Moo Dog.

I sat in my usual position next to her bed, Hubbie on my other side. We listened as she fairly confidently read the book that we were reading to her only at the start of the year. Words she wasn’t sure about then, she was flying through now.

It made me think about her reading journey, and I had to wonder how much of it was tied up with me. Sure we read books a lot while she was growing up. Even as a baby she would sit on my lap where I would read her Goodnight Moon, The Very Hungry Caterpillar or That’s Not My Bunny.

I did it with her, but I didn’t force it. I made sure to make that distinction. I wanted her to read, not so she could be like me… more so because I believe being well-read really can help you more. It helps in education, at school, and in life in general.

I knew she might very well grow out of it one day. I mean for many years, I did too.

But I didn’t care. I just wanted her to have beautiful memories of us.

She has passed my expectations. She still continues to read, to want to read, and loves bringing home massive chapter books from our local library that are 6 years too early for her (big dreamer).

Every night we read a book. At least one. It’s not even a question anymore.

Every night… “just one more?”

I smiled. Tonight the book was about a dog that moos, and everyone laughs at him because he is a dog, he can’t moo…

But surely, he moos. And shows them, huh, dogs CAN moo.

“Cock-a-doodle doo!” Baby girl screamed at the last page.

I covered my ears. “Okay… time for bed.” β™₯

#1368 Sleep socks

I love my sleep socks.

What the hell are sleep socks?

Well, they are socks specifically for the purpose of sleeping in them. Think fluffy, long, super comfy and too thick to wear with regular shoes…

But I don’t really sleep with them.

Sure I end up in bed with them on MANY a night… but during the night all too often I find myself kicking them off in my dreams.

I wear them all around the house on cold nights. Think of them as my Winter accompaniment…

Only we are in Melbourne peeps, and we all know Winter can happen, even on December 25th…

Or November 13th. Like today.

It has been soooo cold lately. Tonight I was feeling chilly and worn out, and just as the heater went on (I know, it’s Spring – hangs head in shame) so too did my sleep socks.

I have like, 6 pairs. Super fluffy ones for those Antarctic nights in Winter… a couple of basic ones in different colours that are kind of like, mid-range in warmth but still totally do the job… and then I have my long ones.

My long spotty sleep socks.

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This is me with my feet up as baby girl falls asleep. These socks are specifically for when it is colder than normal, but not that freezing that I need to throw on a Winter coat or anything.

Hence, tonight.

I bloody love my sleep socks. And living where I do, I can be assured they come in handy, ALL year round.

 

#1351 Miss Mary Mack

“Miss Mary mack, mack, mack

All dressed in black, black, black

In silver buttons, buttons, buttons

All down her back, back, back…”

Do you remember this clapping nursery rhyme?

You start by crossing your arms over your chest – “Miss…”

Clap your hands down on your thighs “…Ma – ”

Clap your hands together ” – ry…”

Then your right hands claps out to meet your partners right hand, before meeting back in the middle where you clap yours together. Every clap with your partner is a “mack.”

So it goes like this:

“Mack!” clap. “Mack!” clap. “Mack!”

Before you repeat the whole thing all over again for the next line.

Confused? It makes a whole lot of sense when you see it for yourself. πŸ˜‰

I showed baby girl this clapping rhyme when she started telling me about some song she learnt in school. I asked her about “Miss Mary Mack,” because to be honest it’s the only one I remember…

She didn’t know it, but when I showed her she LOVED it. The first time we did it we were on her bed before sleeping-time, sitting cross-legged facing each other as I tried to coach her through the actions and the words.

The third line mentions “Mary’s” silver buttons, and baby girl lost herself silly with laughter each and every time I sang it. It made me erupt in laughter too, and we never actually finished the song, she was cracking up so much.

Today was much the same. She started singing the rhyme and so I tried to show Hubbie the rhyme. I got to the buttons part again, and –

UNCONTROLLABLE LAUGHTER.

I have to say, I don’t know why it is so funny. But when I see my baby girl doubled over in laughter, absolutely pissing herself in amusement, it totally makes my day. I end up cacking it up with her.

Just to get that reaction, I will sing about buttons, ALL the days πŸ™‚

Does anyone remember any more of these primary school sing-a-longs?!

 

#1303 Homer in hiding

The other day while at the MILs, Hubbie went in search of some personal items he had left behind in his old bedroom, what seemed like eons ago. Baby girl went up to search for him… and came back with an additional, someone.

Something.

Homer.

This massive stuffed Homer doll that was almost as tall as her, had been hiding out in Hubbie’s wardrobe all this time. I have no idea where he got it, only to say that I was definitely there when it happened, and it was probably at some Melbourne festival like Moomba.

Baby girl was rapt.

At some point last night a game developed… it was nearing bedtime and as she left her room to get something, I remained behind with a firm grip on Homer…

But alas, as things happen in sitcoms and cartoons, so too do they happen in real life.

Because I ‘conveniently’ (as all TV plot points are, convenient) fell asleep… and this led to Homer creeping out of my arms and into baby girl’s bed!

D’oh!

She loved it. We repeated the game a number of times in a variety of ways, all with him ending up in her bed, reading a book, and the sight of him like that in her bed made her crack up in laughter every time.

It was funny. We did it this morning. We did it again, tonight.

I ramped up the game when she went to grab a book from her school bag…

I grabbed some ‘friends,’ a blanket, book and beanie, and voila –

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Homer was now fully decked out in her bed.

She could not contain her excitement and laughter as she re-entered. I was meant to be ‘accidentally asleep,’ and yet I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.

He was wearing her beanie, her slippers were now his, and he was covered by a small blanket as his friends gathered around while he read “Thelma the Unicorn.”

It did look very amusing if I do say so myself.

Your kids being happy is one thing… but being the reason that they are laughing is an entirely different feeling.

It left me feeling incredibly chuffed and grateful tonight. β™₯

 

 

 

Do, d’oh.

#1240 Kiss-fest

I’m really enjoying watching baby girl grow and develop into a young girl. It gets me all misty-eyed MANY times, but what I am enjoying most of all, is also our relationship growing and developing.

I’m finding lately we are really laughing together more. I become her equal in those moments, and she mine, and we end up cacking over something totally hilarious or totally trivial, doubled over in laughter…

It can be us playing dolls and Mister F will walk past, and I act out the dolls – “Argh! A black and white monster!”

Or she’ll be sooking about something silly and I pull a weird/funny face, and she can’t help but laugh and pull one back, and then I do it again, and etc until we are totally losing it.

Or like tonight. She does this thing every so often at bedtime, and it is part a delay mechanism, part because she is so affectionate. But she will grab me as I am kissing her goodnight, her arms firmly around my neck holding me close, as she counts –

“1!” and then plants a kiss on my cheek.

“2!” Kiss!

“3!” Kiss!

“4!” Kiss!

“5!” Kiss!

“6!” Kiss!

“7!” Kiss!

“8!” Kiss!

“9!” Kiss!

And then yells out “10!” before blowing a massive rapsberry on my cheek.

I always brace for impact, but let her do it anyway… she has a ball. Tonight however, she got up to 10… and kept going.

“11!'” Kiss!

“12!” Kiss!

Each time she pulled back to count further I pulled a confused, exaggerated expression. Her counts became incoherent as she burst into laughter, so that at 17 I was like “what number are you even up to?”

She kept kissing me in hysterics as she counted something in a muddle, and I fell onto her laughing and trying hard to breathe normally.

Ahhh. It’s in these moments I let go of everything.

I let go of trying to make everything right.

I let go of being the parent.

I let go of rules.

I let go of routine and order.

I let go of worries.

I let go of the past.

I let go of what ‘should be.’

I let go of all those knots within me, and in the tremors of laughter vibrating off me, they untie and go loose, and waves of happiness and love pour out.

It is magical.

She counted up to 25, somehow… my cheek was wet… and then she yelled “10!”

And I got my raspberry. Though my insides were fuzzy too, not just my cheek. πŸ™‚ β™₯