This morning Josh woke me up in the wee hours of the morning as he was leaving for his hideous commute. Usually when both girls are in bed with me they like to sleep on either side to maximise their mama cuddle time. But at some stage in the night, which I very vaguely  remember, Piper had clambered over. And there they were my two babies both cuddling one another while they slept.

That image will stay with me for awhile. It was perfect.

This afternoon, we went to the park. I didn’t really want to go. I tried to bribe Riley with making cookies instead but she wouldn’t have a bar of it. So we went to the park.

There were a couple of older girls there. And they were mean. It’s not really what they said, but it was narky. And not very nice. The age that my girls are is such that while Piper still holds an OMG she’s so cute quality to older girls, Riley at the age of five, doesn’t really illicit the same response. So they have a tendency to want to talk to Piper, but not to Riley. And they laugh at her, because she’s so gregarious. It is hard to watch. But Riley is a beautifully protective older sister, and she won’t let anyone baby Piper. She tells them that Piper is two, and she can do it on her own.

At a certain point Riley came up to me and said that the girls were mean. I asked her what they said, even though I knew it wasn’t really what they said. And she couldn’t really put it into words. She asked me what she should do. Should she say something to them? And I said no. You just leave and you play with Piper. And she was very excited, because that is exactly what she had done.

That’s the beauty of sisters. They might be mean to one another sometimes, but it doesn’t mean anything. They always have each other. And no amount of mean girls will ever change that.

I hope nothing ever changes that for them.

I’m sorry. I can’t take a self portrait without smirking. It’s a sickness.

I’ve always said that if you know who you are, you have nothing to fear. You can stand tall. Impervious to everything. Free of doubt. Untouched.

I knew who I was once. It was a good feeling. It felt whole. Complete. When I was doing one of my health checkups when I was pregnant with Riley, the midwife said to me that I seemed like a confident person, and I was. In my way. In the way of being completely self contained. Nothing gets in. Because sometimes that’s the best way. If nothing gets in, nothing can hurt you. I learnt long ago, in a different life that if you reach out your hand it might be met with friendship, but it’s just as likely to get burnt off.

So who am I now?

I’m not a great friend. I drift in and out like a wayward wind. I’m not overly reliable. I try to be normal, but then I just go back to being me. Which is weird and awkward. But it is who I am, and I can’t shake it, no matter how many years pass.

I’m not a great mother. I love them to all five horizons, unquestionably and without hesitation. But I get easily bored of playing and I often opt for lazy meals rather than the ones that they would be probably best off eating.

I’m not a great creative. My art teacher told me once that I always took the easy way. The path of least resistance. I’m intrinsically lazy when it comes to artistic endeavours. And I rely on other people to tell me when I need to bring something up to scratch. I’m not self-motivating in that way. I wrote my first draft of my first (and only) novel when I was 23. And I haven’t touched it since. Laziness more than anything. It’s still a good story, even if it would need to be rewritten in its entirety. 

I have poor impulse control. I say things I possibly shouldn’t. I take things personally, even when they are not personal. Or they are not intended personally. But everything is personal to me. Even though I understand that not everything is personal to everyone. But it is personal to me.

I am a runner, who cannot run. At least not at the moment. I have to wait for the muscle damage to repair itself. And I must wait. Waiting has never come naturally to me. Ever. I don’t wait. I push. i drive. I force the issue. But I do not wait. And now, my body is making me wait.

I have a passion for cooking from scratch, even though I’m not that good at it. I’ve never successfully made a pavlova, although it doesn’t stop me from trying. Some food I make is great, but some is extremely substandard. But I refuse toI es accept that I can’t do it the old fashioned way.

I have a daggy taste in music. My favourite song at the moment is Lost by Michael Buble. That sums up how uncool I am, I think. I listen to Christmas music all year round because it lifts my spirits.

I estimate that about 5 people I know actually get my sense of humour. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Those 5 people are seriously awesome.

I take photos. A lot of photos. Some are good. Some are crappy. But it’s the act of framing what I see, rather than the end result that matters to me. Taking a moment and making it perfectly still, just for a moment – that’s what keeps me doing it.

When people critique what I do, I laugh. Because as much as it can hurt, depending on the person and what they are saying and how much merit it has – I know that they cannot even conceive of how self-critical I am. And it’s nothing I haven’t said to myself every day of the week and twice on Sunday.

I think my greatest fear in life was being mediocre or ordinary. I think that’s still my greatest fear. It’s what I fight against. And maybe many years from now I will have to accept that I am. But I will fight it until my last breath. Sometimes winning the war isn’t important, it’s the fact that you had the strength to fight the battle in the first place.

Once I knew who I was. Now I’m not so sure. But one day I will find it again. And I will be able to stand up. Look people in the eye. And know that I am certain of exactly who I am. And nothing else matters.

Five today.

Hard to imagine her as that teeny little perfect baby we took home from the hospital.

This morning she wants to know if she’s going to big school because she is five now.

She is a worrier. She is dramatic. She has the best sense of humour. She has a lightening quick mind. And every day I find out a little bit more about who she is.

Happy Birthday, baby.