Wednesday, May 27, 2015

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2015 (21 months)

Up until now, both of you have referred to Florence as Anna. I even wondered if you would always call each other Anna, thinking that's how you refer to your twin. Anna often calls Florence "Pom Pom" (a family nickname) but she has just started to say Florence now and then, or her version, "Flontence."  Florence still proudly calls herself Anna.


Wednesday, May 20, 2015

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2015 (21 months)

"To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget." - Arundhati Roy


Wednesday, May 13, 2015

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2015 (21 months), your first hair cut

Florence, when I ask you how many hadedas slept in your hair last night you eagerly reply "two" but when the birds nests started to look more permanent, I feared it was time for your first hair cuts. This was quite a step for your soft-hearted mama. It seems like such a big milestone, snipping off that baby fluff that I run my hands through as you fall asleep in my lap, and stroke to comfort you after a fall. Another indicator of your growing up.  My instructions to the hairdresser, Alice, were to cut it so it doesn't look like it's been cut. As it were, tears were shed, although not mine(!) and there was barely enough cut cut off either of your mops to scrape together in an envelope.


Wednesday, May 6, 2015

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2015 (21 months), celebrating Bear's 60th at Sibon

We celebrated Bear's 60th birthday while we were at Sibon. He was happy to be celebrating in a place he loves with the people he loves. You were most happy to taste a lick of icing. Old and young and everything in between. It's quite emotional to see your parents age, an acute realisation that even your rock succumbs to the passing of time. I've learnt a lot from my dad which I hope to teach you - the importance of family, a love of the bush, standing up for what I believe, and believing I can do any thing I put my mind to.


Wednesday, April 29, 2015

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2015 (21 months), at Sibon for our annual family holiday

Sunshine halos around your head and long shadows from early morning light. Shoes off before breakfast,rusk in hand while tentatively exploring the camp, traipsing after your cousin - three pink strollers bumping over rough terrain. A fascination of footprints (Florence) and the reference to hornbills as ducks (Anna). Family every which way you turn from your great grandmother to your brand new four week old cousin. Afternoon drives wearing safari hats and riding shot gun up front, saying hi to beasts and birds or just playing with dashboards and gear stick of the old landey. Chaotic communal meals, a sunset lighting the whole sky on fire, seeing fish in the clouds. That magical hour of dusk when you're full of life and you run around laughing and jumping and dancing and hugging each other, each passer by throwing you up in the air or embracing you in their arms. Climbing into the bath altogether and all dirty. Then night fall, and quiet, and clean babies fall asleep in my arms under the mozzie net. 

Of all the places we've been, I love being here with you the most. I see a sense of adventure being planted in you as play in mud under the grand old tree out front, or as you ride on the landey with dusty wind flying through your hair, I see a love of nature beginning to form as you examine a strange beetle in the soil, or feel the velvety tips of a succulent leaf, I see a love of the outdoors and fresh air starting to form as we're out doors from sunrise to sunset, and I see the value of having family around you all day. And I am grateful.


Wednesday, April 22, 2015

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2015 (20 months) - Florence (top) and Anna (bottom)

"I became a mother and for me, it was then that I truly began to see the world."
dajielle aceino

Feathers on the ground become wild crowns of warriors, clouds in the sky become jumping fish. There is a story to be told about light and shadows and reflections, there is fascination of fountains, of injuries and cures, and sunshine and turning around and around until your head spins with dizziness as you fall to the ground laughing "'gain, 'gain."  


Wednesday, April 15, 2015

A portrait of my babes once a week in 2015 (20 months)

I often have an urge to write down step by step what happens in our day. Because not only do I want to remember the production of it all - how we get downstairs, how two toddlers are dressed and fed and changed (again and again), the antics that occur before we even sit down for breakfast, how we nurture and negotiate the growing wills and wants of two little people simultaneously... I also want to remember the quotidian of it all. The ordinary, repetitive, everday-ness.  The moments that become life and then memories I want to share with the girls.
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