30/52 2016

Thursday, July 28, 2016

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2016 ( 26 July, 3 years)

When you were new and tiny, I would often cast my mind to this day, your third birthday, and I was not be able to imagine what it would be like to have two two year olds, or two three year olds. I could picture two one month olds because we were going through it right then and there. But two three year olds! And now we are here and it is beyond anything I could have imagined in my wildest dreams. How much you amaze me, challenge me, grow me, make me laugh, make me cry, teach me, try me, and let me be an intimate witness to one of the most special relationships between two humans. Your third birthday means I have been a mother for three years (and for no time and for all time). And I can't believe my babies have grown and changed and morphed from newborns to little people who are celebrating their third birthday. 

Happy birthday darling girls. You are the brightest lights. 

29/52 2016

Thursday, July 21, 2016

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2016 ( 2 years 11 months)

This photo is taken in the foyer of our apartment building. A few years ago, all the residents worked together on the paper mosaic on the wall, created by an artist living in the building. On arriving home, I would walk through the foyer and spend some time adding tiny squares of paper to the mosaic. It represents a lot about where we live and the wonderful spirit of community in this building. It's a place where your neighbors know your name, where a dad will knock on your door late at night asking for a nappy as they have run out, where mom's chat way past dinner time, a place where friendships are formed while planting seedlings in the veggie garden. The foyer has become an aeroplane or school room when you play down there, and a garden swing hung outside a friend's apartment has become a place where you've found your wings, learnt new tricks and dared to swing high as you can go. It is a bitter sweet feeling leaving the only place you've known as home. Where the building staff and all it's residents have know you since we first brought you back from the hospital, the place where you've grown into three year olds. 

28/52 2016

Thursday, July 14, 2016

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2016 ( 2 years 11 months)

Our new apartment is at one end of a very long corridor. You usually want to run all the way back to the lift after a visit. Your running styles are quiet different - Anna I could describe your's as determined as you insist on being first and try with all your tiny might to keep that position, and Florence, your's as vertical as you prance upwards more than forwards. 

27/52 2016

Thursday, July 7, 2016

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2016 ( 2 years 11 months)

We are in the middle of renovating our new apartment. You have been involved in the whole process, from drawing out your plans, to choosing colours, and coming with us to most of the site visits. You get full energy at the new apartment - I think it is because of all the space, and hopefully the feeling you get from the place. As I watch our new home come to life I picture you in all these new spaces - sitting at the counter while I make breakfast, playing in the bath of your very own pink bathroom (although I have no doubt we will all end up in the same bath anyway).

26/52 2016

Thursday, June 30, 2016

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2016 ( 2 years 11 months)

On Mondays we meet a group of moms and their babes in our garden. We've been meeting for over a year now, in different shapes and forms, and it has been wonderful to watch you and the other children grow as the seasons change. It is mid-winter now and at the end of the afternoon we take a walk around the gardens, usually ending up at the garden near the golf course, hoping to spot some guinea fowl as you run races, do aeroplane jumps of the steps, chase poor unsuspecting cats, and pick up treasures of feathers and rocks as we go. 

25/52 2016

Thursday, June 23, 2016

 A portrait of my babes once a week in 2016 ( 2 years 10 months)

Things I want to remember about now...

- Your strong, tight hugs as your little arms grip around me
- The way you talk non stop when some one is upset to try and ease the situation
- Your lips curling outward in all sorts of contexts to form, what has become, a trademark expression of yours

- The way you emphasise your point by stopping after each word in a sentence to build anticipation
- Your distain for threads - loose threads or visible threads - on clothing items (dolls clothes included)
- The way you wake up with a huge smile on face as a little ball of sunshine, no matter how fast asleep you were

24/52 2016

Thursday, June 16, 2016

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2016 ( 2 years 10 months), photo by Judith Belle

Breast feeding you has been such a big part of my motherhood journey, physically, emotionally, and mentally. As we approach your third birthday I'm seeing signs that you're starting to wean yourselves. This fills me with mixed emotions - a flood of nostalgia and perhaps a twinge of sadness, but I feel ready if you are. I never want to forget these intimate, quiet moments with you, when I'm feeding you as you wake up in the morning with sunlight visible through cracks between the curtains, or when fall asleep at night. One day, when you are long legged teenagers, I will recall these moments through memory and photographs, and I hope it will trigger an inkling of what I'm feeling right now... how you still feel so small when I nurse you in my arms, even though you are almost three, kissing your forehead at night as you close your eyes, hearing sweet replies to my "I love you's," the ritual of brushing your damp hair after bath, or the way it like three haededas (we joke) had slept in your hair last night when you wake up in the morning with bird nests, the way you either hold hands while I feed you both, or twist my hair between your fingers that look to grown up for three years old hands.
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