The story of Whistling Wind

I'm on a roll with the parenting books at the moment. I know I said I was going to talk about the Faber and Mazlish books I mentioned last entry - and I still am, but I have something else to share today. The boys are both sick and sleeping in the middle of the day - I am three weeks into my course and already a week behind... should be using this time to catch up... but...

I scored a great book on ebay last week - one I have been really hoping to get at a reasonable price: Susan Perrow's Healing Stories for Challenging Behaviour. Basically, it shows in a very practical way how to nudge children towards better behaviour by telling them a story! There are lots of different stories there - for almost every situation you can imagine - and best of all there is advice and ideas for creating your own stories - even if you are not a creative person to start with.

I love it! I'm only half way through, but when I sat down to study this afternoon, I found myself writing a story for Wombat instead. Being sick is really getting him down. He won't take any medicine - even refuses a spoonful of honey - and when I got him to eat a banana this morning, it came straight back up again. The only treatment he will accept is hugs - and he wants them constantly - "Hug me forever, Mummy!" You can imagine that with Munchkin sick too, that is rather difficult for me to do!

So I wrote this story:

Once upon a time, when stories were real and dreams still came true, there was a wind. A mischievous little wind who liked to make other people feel sad, and her name was Whistling wind.

Whistling wind had a song she liked to sing. It went like this:

"Blow, blow, worry and woe
slow, slow, soft and low
Down your cheeks the tears will flow."

I don't know why Whistling wind liked to make other people feel miserable, but everywhere she went, she sang her mournful song.

One day Whistling wind was blowing through the long grass in a field when she saw a little mouse. He was lying on his back, looking up at the clouds and the daisies waving above him, and he seemed to be very contented.

"Hmmmm," thought Whistling wind. "Goody! Here is someone that I can sing my song too!"

So she did.

"Blow, blow, worry and woe
slow, slow, soft and low
Down your cheeks the tears will flow."

Little mouse heard the song, but he didn't know who was singing it. "What a strange song," he thought. "It makes me feel a little bit unhappy!" And he pulled his eyebrows together into a tiny frown.

"Aha!" thought Whistling wind. "It's working. I'll sing my song and blow even harder now!"

So she did.

Looking up at the clouds, Little Mouse heard Whistling Wind's song. Suddenly, he saw a cloud that looked a little bit like his Mummy Mouse. Normally that would have made him feel very happy, but not while Whistling Wind's song was in his ears.

"Blow, blow,
worry and woe
slow, slow, soft and low
Down your cheeks the tears will flow."

Little Mouse started to cry.

"Mummy's always so busy. She's always running around cleaning the mousehole, or collecting seeds for us to eat, or looking after the baby mice..." (Little Mouse had
lots of little brothers and sisters.) "Mummy Mouse never has time for me anymore," sobbed Little Mouse. "I don't think she loves me like she used to when I was a baby
mouse."

Well, Whistling wind felt very proud of herself for having made Little Mouse feels so sad, so she danced a little whirling windy dance to herself, down among the grasses and then up up up into the clouds. While she was dancing among the clouds, she whirled one of them around into her dance. It just happened to be the cloud that looked like Mummy Mouse, and it had been covering the sun. As soon as the cloud moved to join Whistling Wind in her dance, the sun popped out with a warm happy "peekaboo!"

Little Mouse looked up with tears streaming down his cheeks. He was still feeling very sad and lonely but the warm glow of the sun started to make him feel much better. He remembered how warm and lovely it felt when Mummy Mouse smiled at him. He remembered how good he felt when he did something kind and helpful and Mummy Mouse said thank you. He remembered that even though Mummy Mouse sometimes got a little bit grumpy if he did something wrong, she always forgave him when he said he was sorry.

Suddenly, Little Mouse jumped up with a big smile on his face. "I know what I am going to do," he thought.

Creeping through the grass, Little Mouse made his way quietly back to the mousehole.

Whistling Wind looked down from the sky, feeling a bit confused. She didn't know what was happening, so she decided to watch carefully and see.

There was Mummy Mouse, sweeping and swooshing the dust out of the mousehole. She looked very busy and very tired. Behind her, Whistling Wind could hear all the little baby mice crying and calling.

"I don't need to do anything here," thought Whistling Wind. "Mummy Mouse looks like she's going to start crying soon too, without any help from me!"

Then Whistling Wind saw Little Mouse creeping through the door.

"Oh good, thought Whistling Wind. "He's going to start complaining too. That will definitely make Mummy Mouse start to cry." But Little Mouse didn't.

On soft little mousey feet, Little Mouse crept over to the baby mice. "Shhhhhhh," he whispered. "Mummy's busy, but I am here. Now what's the matter?"

The baby mice were so surprised to see their big brother mouse that they all stopped crying.

"We want Mummy!" they squeaked.

Little Mouse thought. Then he had a good idea. He cuddled up next to the baby mice and said "I know I'm not Mummy, but maybe if I tell you a story, it will make the time go quicker while she finishes her jobs. Is that ok?"

"Yes please!" squeaked the baby mice, "and could you sing us a song as well?"

"Of course," said Little Mouse.

So he did.

When Mummy Mouse finished sweeping, she came inside wondering why all the baby mice
were being so quiet and good. She saw Little Mouse with all his baby brothers and sisters curled up around him, snuggling together as they listened to his story.

"Thank you, darling Little Mouse," said Mummy Mouse, and she gave him the biggest, warmest most loving hug that he could imagine.

"Little Mouse looked after us!" said the baby mice.

"I know," said Mummy Mouse, "and that makes me very very happy."

Well, you can imagine how disappointed Whistling Wind was when she heard that! She took a deep breath and got ready to sing her sad song.

But then, she looked again at the little mousehole with all the happy baby mice clustered around their Mummy and she saw Little Mouse, with a big smile on his whiskers, and she thought "Hmmmmm. I'm tired of making everyone feel sad. I think it's time I sang a different song."

So she did.

"Laugh and be happy,
it's no fun to be sad.
Smile and be cheerful
and you'll make others glad!"

As she sang, Whistling Wind started to feel a little tickle at the corners of her mouth, so she sang her new song again.

"Laugh and be happy,
it's no fun to be sad.
Smile and be cheerful
and you'll make others glad!"

This time, the tickle turned into a giggle and before she knew it, Whistling Wind was
roaring with laughter. The sun started to smile too, and all the clouds did their best to make happy shapes as they swam across the sky.

"Hey," thought Whistling Wind. "That feels REALLY good! I don't think I am going to
sing my old sad song ever again. From now on, I am only going to sing my wonderful new song, and wherever I blow, I am going to make everyone feel happy."

So she did.

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They both just woke up, so my apologies for any rough areas... it was written really quickly... but you get the idea. I'll let you know how it goes! Right now, I'd better go see if I can tempt them with some lunch :D

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Quick notes based on first telling:

• too much negativity in first part - only sing the sad song twice - three times is too much; sing the happy song three times!
• middle line of sad song is uneccessary; works better without it!
• too much detail in Little Mouse's introspection; cut back & make less obviously self-referential
• Also more detail in middle part - have Little Mouse help a few other people before his mum - say a turned-over beetle and a bent flower stem?
• Put more details into the story and song Little Mouse tells to his siblings - and make them happy magical sparkling details. Remember aim of story is cheering up, with secondary idea of being helpful to make others happy too, so increase balance of positive to negative otherwise it's a bit of a downer and too transparent in its efforts to get the child onside.
• Things that worked? the sun - particularly the 'peekaboo'... Mummy Mouse's hug... and the happy song... but the ending fell a little flat - too obviously didactic?
• So Whistling wind whooshed off hither and thither and everyone who heard her song danced through their day with a happy heart - show, don't tell!

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Final conclusions?

Too moralistic (lecturing)... instead, needs to be moral (inspiring)...

Really two stories here - Whistling Wind Changes Her Tune and Little Mouse Learns To Help. Separate them and each one will become stronger. Introduce more surprising/unexpected moments. Work at keeping the tone light and upbeat, even in the 'sad' parts.

A (revie)wing and a prayer

Many months ago, my sister lent me her copy of Tracy Hogg's The Baby Whisperer. I want to return it to her before she gives birth - and since little Analiese is now "deeply engaged" and only 15 days away from entering the world, I figured it was time to get my act together and finally write my review.

It is posted over at What, Wombat? if you are interested.

Overall, my reaction was pretty negative, but Steff, please don't feel bad about suggesting I read it. It has had the beneficial effect of making me view my parenting decisions in a much more analytical manner, and while I may have rejected most of the book's methods, I have gained a new confidence in my own abilities to know what is right for Wombat.

Today, I have also started praying a nine day "Novena for Impossible Requests".

My first intention is for my sister to have an easy & relaxed labour - which also requires Analiese to wait until her due date, so my mother can be there to care for my nearly-two-year-old niece and goddaughter, Kaelyn.

My second intention is for me to learn the art of being gentle. I am too rough with Wombat, both physically and with his emotions.

My third intention is for me to find the accommodation we need for my onsite school, and for those two weeks (July 30 - August 10) to go smoothly.

I think those are some pretty impossible requests, and well worth entrusting to Our Lady ;D



I read a quote this morning which immediately was copied out and added to my collection. I love the childlike tone to it, similar to my "Mother of Good Counsel" hymn:

Ah, my Lady! If you do not carry me in your arms to God, do not expect me to walk there. Carry me, and if I resist, carry me by force.
(St Alphonse di Liguori)

Sharpening the Saw

I taught my new catechist classes yesterday, returning for the first time after becoming pregnant. My plans for being nice and early were snafu'd as uusual... I was up, dressed, Wombat and I had breakfasted, Yeti was even up and had taken over Wombat duty, but in worrying that I had left everything he might possibly need in places where he could find it, and coming back for one last Wombat hug, I managed to leave home 10 minutes late. I then got caught behind the world's slowest ute on the drive down - 60kms in an 80km zone, on a twisty road with no overtaking. Despite that, when I got to the school, I was only five minutes late... that was, until I spent the next 10 minutes chasing around what is a very tiny school, looking for the class I was supposed to teach - year 3. By the time I actually got them seated and introduced myself, half the lesson-time was over. This was not a good start, and they consequently behaved in an absolutely obnoxious manner. I seemed to spend more time asking for silence and making threats than conveying any kind of salutory message. This class of 10 - 4 boys and 6 girls, were harder to control than the classes of 30 I used to have! On sober reflection afterwards, however, I realised that there were really only two trouble makers - twin boys. Another boy copped most of my ire, but when I think about it, he was trying pretty hard, just easily distracted. He is also a slow reader, and used to being in trouble with teachers. If I can somehow keep the twins interested and working, he won't be a problem. Just as I was beginning to feel like a teaching failure and wonder why I had returned, the lesson ended and year 4 arrived. This class also has 4 boys and 6 girls, but WHAT a difference! They were intelligent, willing to work, happy to colour-in quietly and listen while I talked, asked relevant questions and were eager to answer my questions. The best class I have ever had! I shall have to make a greater effort next week not to be late for the first class. There were one or two moments when I got through to them. I am hoping to build a better relationship from there.

Wombat greatly enjoyed his one-on-one time with his Daddy... apparently he was a bit upset to see me go, but squared his shoulders and very bravely didn't cry. He then spent a happy hour exploring the world, including attempting to pour a pot full of soil down his throat. That's my boy! I was very relieved to get home and find such big smiles waiting for me. He was completely exhausted, though... which means longer nap times, and he almost slept through the night despite the nasty teething! He's even napping well today and asked to go to bed early (I took him for a bushwalk on his own two little feet, which wore him out satisfactorily.)



My chances of getting to a library lately have been zero, and other than blogs, environmental articles, law books, and baby books, I have not been reading anything for myself. Catechist teaching is my spiritual part of what lifecoaches call the "sharpen the saw" role (I'll make this a link when I find the url.) I have chosen reading for the mental part.

Wombat likes to participate in anything I'm doing while he's awake, which could also be very detrimental to library books. (The copy of The Baby Whisperer by sister lent me is looking a little bent and chewed around the edges... and I haven't managed to finish it yet - sorry Steff... it's not that bad, but I feel like I should buy you a new copy, since I can't return it in the same condition as I borrowed it...) To cut this long story short (since Wombat is 11 months old today and I MUST write an update for him) I went browsing at Project Gutenberg (this always makes me feel like a child let loose in a candy store ;P) I downloaded a few interesting books, but leaving the more adult selections aside, I decided to follow my heart and start with the kind of kid's book I have always loved: E Nesbitt's The Magic City. I will keep a list of my reading at the side, and write a little review when I've finished, but suffice to say I am enjoying it immensely, despite having to limit myself to half-an-hour a day instead of devouring it in one voracious sitting. It's in that restrained English turn-of-the-century tradition, but has enough imaginative details to carry the moral without making it tedious. I'm looking forward to reading it to Wombat in a few years. Here's just a little taste:

You know when people are making the animals for Noah's arks they make the big ones first, elephants and lions and tigers and so on, and paint them as nearly as they can the right colours. Then they get weary of copying nature and begin to paint the animals pink and green and chocolate colour, which in nature is not the case. These are the chockmunks, and vertoblancs and the pinkuggers. And presently the makers get sick of the whole business and make the animals any sort of shape and paint them all one grey—these are the graibeestes. And at the very end a guilty feeling of having been slackers comes over the makers of the Noah's arks, and they paint blue spots on the last and littlest of the graibeestes to ease their consciences. This is the blugraiwee.

The update will have to wait for the next nap - the happy growls of a just-woken-up Wombat talking to his teddybears are just starting to become "where's my mummy?" whinges...