C: Oh no! The water is all gone, down to the bath’s bones!

R: How about wearing these clothes Miss Claire? Your new purple corduroys?

C: NO!

R: But they’re pretty –

C: I wanna be my POWER!

R: Oh. What is your power?

C: Blue jeans.

R: Not purple?

C: NO. BLUE.

R: Ookay. And how about this shirt?

C: NO. My power is SHORT SLEEVES.

R: Right. Good. Here’s a short-sleeved one, is that okay?

C: Yes. That is my power.

R: Oh. Whew.

C (indulgently): Silly mummy.

Every first of the month I swear to myself that this month I’ll get back to blogging every day or two. The girls are kicking my ass, it’s true. They have me surrounded. I call myself the old woman who lives in the shoe: I have so many children, I don’t know what to do.

I’m exhausted and disorganized and overcommitted, but I must say that there are compensations. Lying in bed next to a sleeping Julia, smelling her sweaty baby hair. Tickling Claire until she falls over laughing. The blessed quiet of the house after everyone is asleep.

I love them so much that it feels like an intense resonance in my bones, as if they are vibrating at the frequency of the colour blue.