MY NAME is Kellie and I am a list person. In fact, I write lists for my lists. I know, sad.
Things have been so incredibly busy around here, with Mum PR picking up at an incredible pace, hubby preparing for his new role as newspaper Editor, Baby Holly becoming mobile and Princess Ella, well, just being her usual busy self. So last week when the housework started to look like it needed a little tender care (actually, probably more brute force), I decided to ring in some help and create a new version of my to do list.
The help was Princess Ella. And this was the list:
The list.
Can you guess what each task is?
It made house cleaning incredibly fun for Ella, as she got to cross off each job after we completed it. Although, not all duties were performed0 to my usual standard. This was the washing:
Ella's attempt at hanging the washing.
It was a good effort. While I’m not into slave labour, I do like to teach Ella new skills, show her that life is about balance (play and work) and give her some responsibility.
Do your children help with the housework? How do you make it fun?
By the way, the list (in order) is: wipe condensation off the windows; mop the floors; do the washing; bake biscuits; cook dinner; pay bills; clean bathrooms; clean kitchen; finish the doll’s house; and change the sheets on the bed.
DURING my journalism career I had some incredible mentors and people who inspired me. However, there’s one who stood above them all. And I’m not just saying that because we stole a kiss in the office file room. Shhh, don’t tell.
That person is my husband. The father of my two princesses. You know him as The Bloke in The Shed. Yesterday Julian added one more title to his name. He was announced Editor of The Advocate Newspaper and I couldn’t be prouder.
It was inevitable this day would come. He lives and breathes newspapers. On weekends our kitchen table AND the lounge room floor are covered with papers. It near drives me batty at times.
He walks around with his portable radio, ear plugs in, listening to Melbourne radio station 3AW. When you peek over to see what he’s doing on the computer, it’s either a news site or Facebook (where he’s picking up more and more stories these days). Oh, or stupid Supercoach. Really, what is the point of that?
He got the job based on more than passion though. He’s worked hard for it. Right from those early days as a skinny kid (yes, skinny) heading in for work experience every school holidays. It only increased when, out of Year 12, he got his first break. I was fortunate enough to witness the moment he became the paper’s youngest Sports Editor, then Chief of Staff and eventually Deputy Editor.
There’s another factor in the equation too. His family. He’s been brought up surrounded by high achievers. Most of you will have read about his brother, the new CEO of Woolworths. But it doesn’t end there. As the youngest of seven children, he’s surrounded by siblings who have excelled in their chosen professions. And atop them all is a mother who taught them to keep their feet on the ground and a father who showed them the possibilities from sheer hard work. It’s easy to see why it’s been such a natural progression for him.
When it came to this week, let’s just say there was a slight level of stress in the O’Brien household anticipating the interview. Then there was the little fact of some ash cloud causing flights to be cancelled from Tassie to Melbourne – including the one that was to take The Bloke in The Shed to his interview. Slight panic? Yes.
We’re not kidding ourselves. The next six months won’t be easy. Especially because I’m going to have to start doing the ironing myself. The li’l princesses won’t be seeing much of their Dad as he commits himself to getting the paper to where he wants it. For now, the focus will be on quality time with the girls, while quantity just isn’t possible. And, in years to come, that’s what the girls will remember most.
By the way, Julian’s now on Twitter. I know, wonders will never cease. You can follow him at @Julian_OBrien
A new family member. No, I’m not pregnant. And we haven’t got a puppy. Heaven forbid. This week it was our turn to give Golly Wally from child care a home. The idea is to make a story and take photos of Golly Wally’s week with us. So far he’s slept in Ella’s bed (kept her up far too late, mind you. Bad influence), played play dough and been shopping.
Which brings me to… mum taking Ella (and Golly Wally) out for a special lunch (aka Maccas) and a tour of the shops. Yes, put those three together and credit cards aren’t safe. Somehow the shopping gene skipped me. Later, after returning from her day out, Ella asked: “Mum, will I be a grandma one day?’’ Hmm, let’s slow down a bit, shall we. By the way, you can read about their day at the Holliview Way blog.
Some extremely exciting news in our family. Something that makes me incredibly proud. Unfortunately, I can’t spill the beans just yet. I know, what a tease. However, there will be a full post in the morning (Saturday). Can’t wait to share.
I’m joining with Maxabella Loves to share what I’m grateful for.
Baby Holly asleep. She's taken to sleeping on her side of late.
MONTH EIGHT: On Monday night, when my puppy dog PJs and I snuggled into bed at 8.30pm to try and relieve a chesty cough, snotty nose and eight straight months of sleep deprivation, I decided I’d change my attitude to sleep. Forget complaining. I have a bad sleeper. It’s just life. There’s nothing more I can do about it. Hourly feeds, we may as well become friends.
I’d watched a Twitter chat weeks earlier talking about how some babies won’t sleep a full night no matter what you do. So there. End of Sleep Challenge. We can all pack up and go home now.
That was, until Monday night when my eight-month-old daughter Holly finally gave me permission to dream. Unfortunately, the head cold had other plans. But that’s beside the point. Holly went down to sleep at 7pm and, apart from a dummy run at 11pm, she slept until 4.45am. OK, so some of you wouldn’t be thrilled about starting your day at such an ungodly hour. But for me, that was bliss.
So what did I do differently?
SOLUTION:
She now goes off to sleep easier than she ever has. This is a combination of now being in a sleeping bag fully unwrapped, persevering with self settling (it’s hard yakka, but worth it) and mastering the do-your-own-dummy technique (with hundreds of them, scattered throughout the bed).
We dabbled with no meat and just veggies and it didn’t make an ounce of difference. So we’re back on slabs of steak again. However, I think it came down to adding more carbs to her dinner that proved the winner (rhyme not intentional). And thanks by the way, Elisha!
The real change came when I stopped giving her the 10pm feed. The first night I popped the dummy back in and she grizzled for half an hour before returning to sleep. She woke again and was fed at 1am, 3am and 6am. The second night she woke at 11pm and grizzled for 10 minutes, went quiet for 10 minutes, then screamed for an hour. I gave in and fed her at midnight. She woke and was fed at 3am and 6.30am. The third night (Monday), she grizzled for 10 minutes, then nothing again until 4.45am. I was just thrilled not to be feeding her every hour, let alone getting a sleep through. The fourth night (Tuesday) she woke at 12.45am, grizzled a little, then I didn’t hear from her again until 4.45am. What’s with that time? Now the task is to work on getting her to wake “after’’ the sun has come up. I just don’t know how many more Ab Circle Pro ads I can take.
‘Til next month… when I’ll probably have to switch this challenge to help sleep deprived mums learn to self settle again.
What age did your little one finally give you a full night of sleep?
WHEN people look at Ella they can’t figure out who she looks most like. There has been rumours she may be the mailman’s. But shhh, let’s keep that to ourselves.
However, when they look at Baby Holly there’s no mistaking she’s her father’s daughter. Apart from two things. One is a cute dimple in her chin, passed on from my Pop, to my Dad, then me and now Baby Holly. Then there’s the second thing. Here, take a look:
Long luscious lashes.
Linking up with My Little Drummer Boys’ Wordless Wednesday. Click on the link to check out more photo posts.
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I never want to leave this one and her big sister helpless.
THE other night I had a pain in my chest. It frightened me. So much so, I realised if something happened to me at that moment, three-year-old Ella and her eight-month-old baby sister Holly would be helpless. Ella has no idea what to do in an emergency.
So, after assuring myself it was a touch of indigestion, I Facebooked. As you do. You can read the full transcript on the TLP Facebook page.
Sharna: My kids always knew 000 from younger than pre-school just incase. They were also told of the massive consequences if they rang it for no reason. It was rung once or twice and the people on the other end were happy that the kids knew what to do, but asked them not to do it unless it was an emergency. What about a number on speed dial? Like Daddy is 1, other people other numbers. Maybe change the numbers for coloured dots. Does she know dad’s fave colour?
Sheralee: We have numbers programmed into our phone so all you need to do, for instance, is hold down the number 2 button and it automatically dials Adam. Maybe even put a dot of colour on the numbers on the phone and a pictures of people on the fridge with their colour next to them.
Barb: Have been a bit slack with Darcy, but when Ellie was about 3 I did some re-enactments where I told her it was a game and that if Mummy fell over or hurt herself and couldn’t talk or move, to go get the phone and call 000. Taught her address and practiced a few times and then did a couple out of the blue to see if she got the gist. First time I feigned collapse she jumped up and down on my guts… not a good result. But next time I tried, she did it perfectly! Worth the peace of mind, for sure.
Sharon: One funny/serious/odd new thing about teaching kids to call “triple O” is that with text messaging so big these days the young are trying to dial “666” as that is the letter “O” button!!! No joke. Tell kids it’s “triple zero”!
So the next day I set about teaching Ella to ring her dad and the emergency number. Whoa, was this a challenge. Because I couldn’t figure out how to work the speed dial function, we drew a picture each to help her navigate the address book. I know, I may as well have taught her to knit with one needle. Much easier.
Two very different versions of what to do in an emergency!
In the end she mastered ringing Dad twice and if he doesn’t answer (obviously in a meeting… or the toilet), ring 000. Then it was onto answering the questions the operator may ask her. Her name? That was easy. What was wrong? “Mummy’s sick’’. OK, that’ll do. Her address? Well, that was a whole new challenge. For the sake of this post, let’s say our address is 7 Hippopotamus Drv, Devonport.
Ella: “Hippopatmus Drv, Devonport’’. That’s fantastic, except we’re missing the all-important house number.
“I don’t know.’’ After explaining that, yes, it’s seven, we tried again.
“7 Hippopotamus Dve, Hobart’’. What? OK, so we’d just been to Hobart for a holiday. Let’s try again.
“Devonport’’ OK, what about the rest of the address? Try again.
“Um, I can’t remember.’’
Oh dear, we’ve hit a hurdle. I must add that, generally, she gets our address first time. I’m wondering if the whole pressure of HAVING to remember it is doing her head in. We’ll keep working on it. Since this conversation, The Bloke in The Shed has promised to work out speed dial for me. In the meantime, their chances of survival are slim and none – and slim just left town.
Have you taught your child what to do in an emergency? What are your tips?
