The elves did it - Playful parenting success #1

While Wombat screamed in fury, I peered into his mouth and pretended to see a whole city of elves doing fun things inside him... he was soon giggling so much he forgot all about the tantrum. You can bet I'm going to remember this tactic and use it again... and again... and again!!!

Later... it worked for brushing teeth too! I said I could hear the elves complaining that the little white rocks at their entrance were all yellow and dull instead of bright and shiny. He saw the toothbrush in my hand, caught on immediately and voluntarily did a great job of brushing (normally meets with stubborn resistance.)

I'm loving this! Woohoooo!

Heart Smart

Bet you thought from the title this entry was going to be about my fitness goals?

Nup. My week took a huge dippity-dive into the abyss and I feel very blessed to have emerged on the other side of it with just a few bruises. There were times when I truly thought that my world was ending. Partly hormonal, partly a huge volcano load of stress erupting from me and Yeti and blowing (as Wombat says instead of lava) 'blubber' everywhere... I won't go into painful details.

Suffice to say we worked through it, we survived, and we have a plan to go on with. Smart goals for a happy heart.

Last week, I gave the impression that getting baby ready was all about the house (and the habits that go with it.) Actually, there's another string to that bow, and concentrating on it is largely responsible for saving my sanity this week. It can also be summed up in a quote (I can't find a source for it, but I'm sure I read it on a blog somewhere and it always stuck with me):

"A mother's smile is the heart of the home."

We have been disconnecting with each other. Heading into the war of all against all. A constant battle where all are the losers. Not much to smile about there. But what is that rainbow through the tears? Of course! It's a SMILE!

A book arrived. One I had purchased from England and had been waiting for... Leonard Cohen's 'PLAYFUL PARENTING'. It gets my vote as the BEST parenting book ever.

A random internet link led me to a forum of mothers who were speaking the language I needed to hear: www.mothering.com.

Nothing is ever smooth sailing. The waves still come over the sides, but now I feel like I have a bigger bucket and a better bailing technique. Plus the sun just came out and I'm smiling at the rainbow.

"Peace begins with a smile." ~Mother Teresa

I couldn't find a calendar I liked this year, so I've been making my own using creative commons photos from Flickr, quotes from St Teresa of Avila (my confirmation saint) and a calendar template from WinCalendar.com.

Here is my inspiration for February.



Smile!

Here comes the sun

It is Sunday, so here I am! I lost 400 grams this week, down to 78.6 kgs so I have earned my blogging day - though I won't get as much of it as I deserve due to this nasty toothache! I finally got to sleep at 4am this morning. That meant getting up at 5am - even for the temptation of blogging - just wasn't going to fly lol. However, the boys went sweetly off to sleep for me this afternoon (after a few minor tempests) and my tooth is giving me a momentary respite (which I should probably be taking advantage of by catching up on some sleep, but anyway...) HERE I AM!

And now for the promised explanation of my plans for 2010 and what I am up to :D

You remember my 3 critical happy factors - the three things I must achieve to count 2010 as a success?

1. Reach my goal weight.
2. Qualify as a barrister.
3. Become 'baby ready'.

Well, I've sat myself down and I've worked out why I want them and what I have to do to achieve them. Some were easier than others. Actually, the hardest was number 3 - baby ready - so I'll deal with that first.

The reason this was so hard to quantify and plan for is because it is so ambiguous (what does baby ready mean? Before my first son, Wombat, we sat down, had a serious discussion, decided we couldn't possibly afford to have a baby, and conceived him that night. Now there is planning for you!)

There's also the problem that this goal is dependant on achieving goal 1 (losing weight & getting fit) and in almost complete conflict with goal 2 (becoming a barrister). What to do? What to do?

So I forced myself to break down my desire, my vague yearning, into its base components, and then I broke those down and broke the results down until I reached rock bottom and had some clearly defined, achievable, positive steps to take that I could start on right away and would assist me in being baby-ready without needing to know when the actual baby might theoretically arrive.

It all eventually came down to one quote:

Like the sun rising
over the mountains of the Lord
is the beauty of a good wife
in a well-kept home.
(Ecclesiasticus 26:15-16)

At first my feminist hackles bristled, but no matter how I squirmed, I kept coming back to it. That is what I want. It is what I want for my children (both present and future), for my husband, for myself. Even for my 88 year old mother-in-law who rubs me the wrong way, damn it. I want to be that glorious sunrise. That is what being baby-ready means to me!

And so I have dusted off my Home Control Journal (those of you who are FlyLady fans will know what I mean). I have taken to heart the motto I pasted on its spine: "Time is the most valuable thing one can spend." (Theophrastus) I try to get dressed and lace up my shoes as soon as I get out of bed. I start the day with my chores - feeding the pets, hanging the washing (I do several loads the day before and hang them out in the dawn), shining my sink and my little daily adventure in whatever zone I am in today (as per FlyLady's suggestions, I have divided my house into zones, and listed 6 tasks for each zone - one per day, except Sunday - starting at the ceiling on Monday and working down to the floor on Saturday).

It all takes up about an hour of my precious morning alone-time, but it is paying off. Already I can see the changes around me. I am ABSOLUTELY NOT a natural housekeeper. I am the absent-minded professor type who can live in the midst of relative squalor while focussing on the intellectual task at hand and neglecting all else. It is taking a real effort of will to change those habits, but I am doing it, and I am proud of it.

On days like yesterday and today - when I slept in thanks to this toothache keeping me up all night, or when the boys wake up before dawn and won't go back to sleep - I really feel lost because my list hasn't been touched. I don't demand perfection of myself - the idea is babysteps - I just have to make a determined effort on each new day...

Actually, now I've gotten this far, I might end this entry and discuss the other goals next week... the bathroom floor really does need the scheduled scrubbing it didn't get yesterday... and I can hear the chooks squawking as I never did get around to feeding them this morning.

This new-found sense of responsibility is both a blessing and a curse to my procrastinating soul, but you know what - I LOVE IT & I'm not going back!

Happy Happy

I'm really loving the way my 2010 plans are becoming habits - but more about that later... still early days, don't want to jinx it :)

More importantly, I'm REALLY loving being told how healthy I look at the moment... Here's a pic my Dad took of me and the boys earlier this week.



9 kgs down... 14 kgs to go! WOOHOOOOO :D

My hip is still hurting, but I have an appointment with the Physio on Tuesday.

In the windmills of my mind

(Fractal: 'I sleep only to dream of you' by longan drink)

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel

It is 4am. I woke up to go potty two hours ago. I should have gone back to bed but the seductive glowing screen called to me from the darkness. I should go back to sleep now, but something has been turning in my head for days... I must risk greeting the dawn with a yawn again because I want to share it with you - to record it for myself - to make it real - and this is the only time that I have.

Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space

I started week 4 of the podrunner series this morning. I was so stiff and my hip hurt. Even after 5 minutes marching on the spot to warm up and 5 minutes stretching, I was limping when I started the first walk interval. I told myself "Just give it a go. You can stop if you need to." Then came the chime for the first jogging interval. My body started to move. Running is still slower than walking, but there's this magic that happens in my head. Once my feet start pounding, my thoughts roam free. Maybe it's the extra blood flow to the brain, maybe the endorphins streaming through my system, whatever it is - I think better - think clearer - than at any other time.

Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

I love spirals. I've always loved spirals. Beautiful fractal coils, endlessly spinning around themselves.

Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half-forgotten dream
Like the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream

As I run, I think. I think about spirals. I think about spirals as a metaphor of my life and suddenly I feel something click. Back in August, on my 36th birthday I first felt this peculiar, invigorating click inside me.

That was the moment I changed from someone sedentary to someone active. From someone who was drifting with the flow and getting fatter and flabbier with every moment to someone willing to swim upstream against the flow of time... someone with the determination and drive to get up before the babies wake and learn to run, someone who voluntarily teaches their body to move in new ways. In July, if you had said to me that by December I would be running, doing situps and pushups, I might have laughed. If you insisted that I could be that someone, I might have cried. But here I am. I am doing it. This is me!

Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Back to the spirals and that second inspiring click I felt last week while running.

Life as a spiral. Always spinning inward, inward, inward into the center. Searching for that mote of perfection inside myself. If I could just find it. If I could just polish it bright enough then it would shine so radiantly. Everyone would recognize my brilliance. Everyone would love me. I would have all the answers. Failure would no longer frighten me. I know it is there, somewhere inside me. If only I could find it.

Academic achievements, two university degrees with first class honours. Nope. Not there. Self indulge the study stress, the relationship stress. Stop eating, not consciously, blame it on illness. Psychosomatic. In my mid 20s I weighed 53 kilos. That's 10 kgs less than the ideal weight I am aiming for now. Maybe if I faded away to a shadow that brilliance would shine through. Didn't work. Marriage. Children. Still not it. Still seeking, searching, spiralling inwards.

Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that I said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Was the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?

Thinking all of this. Running. Hearing the birdsong behind the beat of the music. Watching the sunrise gild the treetops... turn the sky from grey to blue. Thinking of the boys and my husband, my darlings, asleep inside the silent house. Thinking of lists of things to do. CLICK. Suddenly the spiral turns.

Suddenly it is no longer spiralling inwards. Suddenly I can feel the potential of energy spiralling outwards. A quiet, shining, spinning pool of light in my centre sparking out into the universe. In that moment I feel immense, tremendous, powerful, capable of anything, not the meagre, pinching tightness of the old inward spiral. This is something new. Something amazing. It's a feeling I am trying desperately to hang on to. To remember. To put into action. But the old habits of thought and action are so strong.

Pictures hanging in a hallway
Or the fragment of a song
Half-remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the colour of her hair?

I do not need to search any more. My perfect self is not elusive. It is not hiding in some dark inner crevice awaiting my discovery. It is me. The me that is here and now, with these hands, with these feet. This flesh is at my service and I have the will to put it into action, to use it for good. To make a difference.

I have to start small. Baby steps.

I have dusted off my flylady control journal. For three days now I have kept the bedroom (where the boys and I co-sleep) and the playroom (a gated off section of the loungeroom) clean and tidy. Neither the boys nor I eat nor go to bed nor go outside until I can see the floor and everything is in its proper place. New rules. New beginnings.

To put this in perspective, housework is my anathema. I was raised in a mess (despite my busy mother's best efforts) and I just don't notice the clutter even when it hits me in the face. If I am going to spiral out and change the world I need to first start by changing my own environment. The internal changes are working. New habits are forming. I am fitter. I am stronger. I can do more. Be more. That click of the spiral is shifting my focus outwards, showing me that it is possible. I CAN do more. I can be that person. I can have it all.

Three months ago I was a person who didn't "do" exercise. Now I am a person who does. It is a deliberatly chosen way of life that I want to maintain for the rest of my life. Three months ago when I started moving for 30 minutes a day on my mini trampoline I honestly could not imagine the possibility of learning to run, of logging over 100 exercise minutes in a day and feeling it wasn't quite enough. It has made such an incredible difference to my life. If I can hold onto this feeling, this awareness, this energy - if I can channel it outwards - what a difference can I make to the lives of my loved ones? Already I see an improvement in the boys' behaviour, in their ability to settle and concentrate. Can I keep it up?

I've been through stages like this before, and always I can find something to blame for sabotaging my efforts. I slide back into the old ways so easily. But this time... I want to believe in that spiral. I want to flow outward, not inward any more.

My mother-in-law returns from holidays tomorrow. That is my first challenge. When it's just us, when I am responsible for the house running smoothly, it is easy for me to take charge, take control. When she is here I have to share the space. I slip into negative interactions, hide in my shell, let her do the work or clash with her efforts. I don't share easily, not when the spiral is running inwards, when it is all about me. I wonder if I can change that too. Plenty to think about. Plenty to act on. I have my baby steps planned for tomorrow - oops - for today. If I do my pilates now, I can get the area around the computer tidied up before the boys wake up. I'm already awake and I can always join them for naptime after lunch.

Happy start of December! Have a blessed day :D

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Possum's Problem

Tomorrow I have to hand in my last two assignments and I am nowhere near ready... I got up at 4am to work on them, but instead...

I recently obtained an ex-library-copy of Anne Pellowski's The Story Telling Handbook. The boys love the story of 'The Noisy Gecko', and ever since reading it another story has been clamoring in my brain...

This morning I found I could ignore it no longer, so...

A first draft:

Possum's Problem

It was early one morning. The pale moon and the stars were still hanging in the sky, waiting for the first light of the sun to come twinkling over the treetops.

Wombat finished her dinner of sweet juicy grass and yawned. "Time for bed!" she said. But instead of curling up quiet and cozy in her burrow, Wombat decided that today she would like to try sleeping outside.

She snuggled down in a pile of leaves underneath a big eucalyptus tree and soon she was asleep, dreaming happy wombat dreams.

High up in the branches of the tree, Possum was sleeping too. Suddenly, the tree started to shake! Possum hid his little pink nose beneath his brushy tail and tried to ignore it, but it didn't work. Blinking in the bright morning sunlight, he clambered down the trunk to find out what was happening.

At the bottom of the tree he found Wombat, scruffling and scratching and wriggling and squiggling. "I can't sleep!" she complained to Possum. "Could you please ask Ant to stop crawling on my fur? She is tickling me terribly."

Possum went to see Ant. "Ant," he said, "why are you crawling on Wombat's fur? You are tickling her terribly, so she is scruffling and scratching and wriggling and squiggling at the bottom of my tree, and I want to go to sleep!"

Ant said, "I am scurrying around searching for food for my family because I heard Currawong calling 'We've got rain! We've got rain!' I must make sure there is enough for everyone to eat before the storm gets here."

So Possum went to see Currawong. "Currawong," he said. "Why are you calling out 'We've got rain! We've got rain!'? Ant heard you and is scurrying around searching for food for her family. She is tickling Wombat terribly so Wombat is scruffling and scratching and wriggling and squiggling at the bottom of my tree, and I can't sleep!"

Currawong said, "I heard Frog crying out 'Kek-kek-kek, Kek-kek-kek!' I thought she was warning everyone that the sky was going to fall, so I was just passing on the message."

So Possum went to see Frog. "Frog," he said. "Why are you crying out 'Kek-kek-kek, Kek-kek-kek!'? Currawong thinks you are warning everyone that the sky is going to fall, so he is passing on the message. Ant hears Currawong calling out 'We've got rain! We've got rain!' and is scurrying around searching for food for her family. She is tickling Wombat terribly so Wombat is scruffling and scratching and wriggling and squiggling at the bottom of my tree, and I can't sleep!"

Frog said, "I heard Wattlebird yelling 'Ker-klonk, ker-klonk!' I thought there must be a snake in the grass and I was telling my friends to hide."

So Possum went to see Wattlebird. "Wattlebird," he said, "why are you yelling 'Ker-klonk, ker-klonk!'? Frog thinks there must be a snake in the grass and is telling her friends to hide. Currawong hears Frog crying out 'Kek-kek-kek, Kek-kek-kek!' and thinks it's a warning that the sky is going to fall, so he is passing on the message. Ant hears Currawong calling out 'We've got rain! We've got rain!' and is scurrying around searching for food for her family. She is tickling Wombat terribly so Wombat is scruffling and scratching and wriggling and squiggling at the bottom of my tree, and I just want to go to sleep!"

Wattlebird said, "I was angry because I heard Whipbird calling 'Coooo-whip! Coooo-whip!' I know that he thinks his babies are prettier than mine!"

So Possum went to see Whipbird. "Whipbird," he said, "why are you calling 'Coooo-whip! Coooo-whip!'? Wattlebird thinks you are boasting that your babies are prettier than hers, so she is yelling 'Ker-klonk, ker-klonk!' Frog hears Wattlebird and thinks there must be a snake in the grass, so she is telling her friends to hide. Currawong hears Frog crying out 'Kek-kek-kek, Kek-kek-kek!' and thinks it's a warning that the sky is going to fall, and he must pass on the message. Ant hears Currawong calling out 'We've got rain! We've got rain!' so she is scurrying around searching for food for her family. She is tickling Wombat terribly so Wombat is scruffling and scratching and wriggling and squiggling at the bottom of my tree, and I can't sleep!"

Whipbird said, "Can't you hear Kookaburra laughing 'Kookoookakakakaka'? She's been laughing all morning and I want to know what the joke is!"

So Possum went to see Kookaburra. "Kookaburra," he said, "why have you been laughing 'Kookoookakakakaka' all morning? Whipbird wants to know what the joke is. Wattlebird hears Whipbird calling 'Coooo-whip! Coooo-whip!' and thinks he is boasting that his babies are prettier than hers, so she is yelling 'Ker-klonk, ker-klonk!' Frog hears Wattlebird and thinks there must be a snake in the grass, so she is telling her friends to hide. Currawong hears Frog crying out 'Kek-kek-kek, Kek-kek-kek!' and thinks it's a warning that the sky is going to fall, and so he is passing on the message. Ant hears Currawong calling out 'We've got rain! We've got rain!' which sends her scurrying around searching for food for her family. She is tickling Wombat terribly so Wombat is scruffling and scratching and wriggling and squiggling at the bottom of my tree, and I am not getting any sleep!"

Kookaburra laughed and said, "I am happy because it is such a lovely day, and the sun is shining so beautifully and brightly."

So Possum went to see Sun. "Sun," he said, "could you please stop shining so beautifully and brightly? It is making Kookaburra happy, so she is laughing 'Kookoookakakakaka'. Whipbird is calling 'Coooo-whip! Coooo-whip!' because he wants to know what the joke is. Wattlebird hears Whipbird and is angry at him boasting that his babies are prettier than hers. Frog hears Wattlebird yelling 'Ker-klonk, ker-klonk!' and thinks there must be a snake in the grass, so she is telling her friends to hide. Currawong hears Frog crying out 'Kek-kek-kek, Kek-kek-kek!' and thinks it's a warning that the sky is going to fall, and so he is passing on the message. Ant hears Currawong calling out 'We've got rain! We've got rain!' which sends her scurrying around searching for food for her family. She is tickling Wombat terribly so Wombat is scruffling and scratching and wriggling and squiggling at the bottom of my tree, and I need to get some sleep!"

Sun shone warmly down on the tired little Possum. "There now," he said, "You just go back and tell Wombat that if I didn't shine so brightly, the grass wouldn't grow and she would have nothing to eat for her dinner. If Ant is annoying her, she should go and curl up quiet and cozy in her own dark burrow instead of complaining."

Possum beamed at Sun, and went back to see Wombat. "Wombat," he said, "everyone is doing just what they think is best. It would be wrong to try to stop them. I suggest you go and curl up quiet and cozy in your burrow where you won't disturb me, because now I am going to sleep."

Wombat looked surprised. Then she nodded, yawned and shuffled off to her peaceful burrow. Possum climbed to his favourite branch, curled his brushy tail around his little pink nose, listened for a moment to the sounds of the bush, and Possum

went

straight

to

sleep.

One woman's rubbish is another woman's treasure

Final exams start next Monday... studying like fury and also trying desperately to keep up with my new goal of daily exercise...

At first I thought yesterday was going to be something of a failure. It took forever to get the boys dressed and outside, then the moment I started cardio, they headed off in opposite directions, and that was the end of that! By nap time the temperature had soared to 33 degrees, so when Yeti volunteered to take Wombat off my hands, I chose the more sensible option and grabbed a few hours study time. When they woke up I got busy rearranging the lounge/play room so we could fit the portable air-conditioner back in. Suddenly it was 5pm and no exercise done...

I wrestled the boys back into their clothes, popped Munchkin in the stroller and told them we were going for a walk down the street. I figured it was better than just sitting still, and I'd count it as my cardio - the stroller's tyres are in dire need of pumping up, so it's harder to steer than a shopping trolley :P and besides, it's council clean-up time, and who knew what treasures the neighbours' might throw away...

Halfway down the street, we found it! Reclining on a pile of polystyrene packaging, a grand old lady who had seen better days... underneath the dirt and cobwebs I could dimly see the words "Malvern Star Superstar". I hopped in the high saddle for a glorious moment of freedom. She whispered that her name was Daisy. Then I wheeled her home (stroller and all lol). She is dark green (I think, under all the dust) with a 'lady' frame (I've never enjoyed riding a man's/racing/straight frame) and cruiser handlebars. She has a head & taillight, and an original toolkit! She's dusty, rusty, her tyres are perished, but in the 30 seconds I rode her for, I could feel her potential and knew we would be best of friends.

Luckily Yeti knows quite a bit about bikes and has agreed to help me get her back into working order :P At the moment her seat is too high, but other than that she is the perfect size for me. (She had a companion, a gold Bennet with a straight/racing frame and racing handlebars - way too tall for me and not my style, but I went back and got him too, for spare parts or in case Yeti wants to fix him up for himself...)

By the time I had made two trips up and back, pushing stroller and bikes, I figured I'd had my workout :P I finished up with the 10 min bootcamp routine after dinner. Other goals - eating healthy, study, posture, parenting are more or less on track. Wombat woke me at 1am to say he had a sore tummy, but I got him back to sleep. Munchkin woke me at 2am by falling out of bed... after I got him back to sleep I discovered I was wide awake and thinking about Daisy, so I decided to get up early and tell you about her before getting on with my study.

Have a great day! I'll take some before and after pics when I wash Daisy tomorrow.

Breakdown

Arrgghhhh... Telstra recently decided to stop hosting free home pages. That means my site is gone, and with it, all the background & header images I had linked from various blogs and everything is in a mess.

Don't panic. I haven't lost anything - I've even got my own domain now (WOOHOOO): Fractalmyth.com! I found free hosting for the domain at 50webs.com, but they don't allow external linking of images, so I am left with a pile of broken links and no time to fix them. I've wasted half an hour just trying to get the image back on my header here... I've uploaded it over and over again, it appears successfully in the edit header widget, so why is it not showing??? *sob*

As I'm sure you know by now, EVERYTHING is on hold until the end of October. I shouldn't even be here now, I should be writing notes on Due Diligence in Commercial and Corporate Law... but... but... my blogggggggssssss need me (I hope you can hear the anguish in that cry!)

I haven't posted a daily photo at Fleeting Reality for months, but I am going to catch up, I promise... I've still been taking photos, so look forward to a massive retrospective life-dump in the near future...

My last review at What, Wombat? was in January, so there is another huge backlog there... and Baby Wombat is a guilt trip writ large - will Munchkin be forever traumatised because I never recorded his milestones in the loving detail lavished on his big brother?

As for Scheherezade, well, I'm not sure why the Sultan hasn't cut my head off yet...

However... I will be finishing my exams just in time for November, and we all know what November means: NANOWRIMO!

Since I am on a roll when it comes to long term goals at the moment, I am determined that this will be the year when I finish The Seven Ravens. I can hear you sniggering back there behind your screen. You don't think I can do it, do you? Hah! Just watch me. (lol, yes, I am talking to myself...)

Just right now, though... many trees have given their lives for me, and I must dutifully honour their sacrifice by decorating their compressed corpses with multicoloured scrawls and magical formulas designed to protect me in the ordeal that looms ever nearer.

Shalom. I need it!

Once upon a time...

I recently discovered a blog by a most awesome and inspiring author - Sarah Beth Durst. She writes young adult fantasy novels with a fairytale theme.

Imagine - Rapunzel's daughter Julie, living in the everyday world. There's a talking mirror on the wall, her mum wears makeup to look old, and The Wild lives under her bed... and steals things... and converts them into magical objects...

You can read the first chapter of Into the Wild here! (There is also a sequel, Out of the Wild.

Or imagine - you live in Alaska and you suddenly find that the mother you believed long-dead is actually being held captive by trolls. How do you find out? A polar bear speaks to you on your 18th birthday, and promises to help you rescue her... IF you will be his bride!

That is ICE!

I love the premises of these books, their lively humour and commitment to true fairytale romance...

I first found Sarah's blog by following a link to her collection of obscure fairy tales, and I am very glad I did.

I was a bit bored with my attempted rewrite of Sleeping Beauty, and after reading around Sarah's blog, I scrapped what I had and started again. I think you're going to like it... but since I can't enter the contest (US residents only) I will wait until entries are closed before I post it.

I was, however, able to enter Sarah Beth Durst's competition for an advance reader copy of Ice. Don't enter - I've got enough competition there already lol!

I have an ulterior motive for mentioning it... Sarah called for her readers to name their favourite kick-ass female heroines (I chose Polgara) and as a result, the comments are full of books that I now MUST READ.

So this whole post (other than being an outpouring of admiration) is really just a link to a comment treasure box. I can foresee a trip to the library in my very near future!!!

Dollies and a Booby

I think the thing I like most about blogging - other than the chance to get my writing out of my head and into a space where someone else might read it - is the opportunity it gives me to communicate with people I would otherwise be isolated from. My sister is in that category - if it wasn't for blogging, we would not know each other in the way we do now.

Another person I am very grateful to have met through blogging is Farida from Saints and Spinners. Although we have never met in person (and most likely never will, living on opposite sides of the world) I count Farida among my dearest friends. I have been fascinated by my glimpses into her life, from the first time I stumbled across her blog and was captivated by the image of her daughter dancing with the dust fairies, through the gradual expansion of her storytelling business, to her recent successful venture into the world of doll making.

You can see Farida's dolls at her etsy store: Alkelda

So far, Farida has been concentrating on nature dolls and elementals. A collection of saints is also planned and I can't wait to see what she comes up with! They are sweetly detailed little creations, just right to hold in your hand or inspire you from windowsill or tabletop - and I am lucky enough to own two of them.

It all started when Farida mentioned - possibly as a joke - making a doll to represent the heroine from The Seven Ravens fairytale. I immediately started thinking how I could a) coerce her into making this dream come true and b) make it mine! (My favourite long-term writing project - and the one I am most determined to finally finish one day - is turning the Seven Ravens into a novel.)

Thinking back, I remembered Farida once expressing a wish for a Blue-footed Booby puppet, and so a trade was proposed and accepted.

Here she is - my lovely Seven Ravens girl. She sits atop my computer monitor and nags me ceaselessly, as all good muses should. Her cloak is embroidered with the sun, the moon, a sprinkle of stars and a track of raven footprints. She is independent, impatient, anxious about her siblings, and in her minds-eye, already far from home having marvellous adventures. I love her!

Seven Ravens Girl

Seeking her brothers,
she has crossed oceans to be
my inspiration.

Then, when Farida opened her etsy store, I went window shopping, knowing that I could not afford to indulge myself by buying dolls, no matter how beautifully made. I fell in love with one, in particular.

Dressed in cobalt blue, with embroidered dragonflies skimming her skirt, standing tall and elegant with her staff topped with delicate blooms in blue and pink... I immediately wrote to Farida, intending only to express my sincere admiration for her creation (and my intention of 'stealing' her dragonfly embroidery design). In an incredibly act of friendship and generosity, Farida decided I should have her, and now she stands beside Seven Ravens' girl, as my totem of love, hope and courage! Sweet Borage is cosy and stay-by-my-side, ready to light my way through the darkness with her starflowers, and inspire my dreams with her flitting dragonflies.

Borage: Starflower, Herb of Courage

A kindred spirit
one mother to another
lighting the darkness.

It has taken me many weeks to finally, publicly acknowledge these lovely creations - partly I wanted to keep them to myself and enjoy their company, partly I was waiting for sunshine so I could photograph them as they deserved, and mostly, I was waiting until I FINALLY finished my part of the bargain. With two small boys constantly demanding my attention, it seemed to take forever. I have been stitching seated on a toddler-sized wooden chair in the playroom, I have been stitching out in the grass watching the acrobatics, I have been stitching under pine trees (and lost my needle).

Starting with nothing but a blank sheet of paper, a bag of felt and fabric scraps and a lot of imagination, I amazed myself by creating a blue-footed booby that I am actually really happy with! (Wombat loved it too, so I am crafting a second one for him - he was really disappointed that I wouldn't let him play with the first one!) I would love to share it with you, but I want it to be a surprise for Farida when she opens the box...

Oh, all right - just a sneak peek then!



Although I would dearly love to follow Farida's example and begin my own etsy store, I have way too many irons in the fire and could not justify the neglect of my children which would necessarily follow me indulging my obsession with making things. I have no self-control when it comes to such matters... and so I live vicariously, enjoying her adventures, and counting myself incredibly lucky to be gifted with such companions on life's journey :D

Oh what a beautiful morning!

I wished I'd had my camera this morning - I went out at 7am to rescue the washing on the line from an icy gale force wind. The full moon was still shining white in the bright blue sky, and the rising sun was making the treetops glow. Then a flock of about 50 sulfur crested cockatoos took off into the wind, they were all spread out like a huge flag as the wind caught them, and the sunrise was colouring them, gold and pink. Really beautiful! My camera would never have captured the picture in the same way I saw it. One of my favourite photography quotes is:

"Often while travelling with a camera we arrive just as the sun slips over the horizon of a moment, too late to expose film, only time enough to expose our hearts." (Minor White)

That always consoles me on those times when I see something really wonderful but can't take its picture :P I am chilled to the bone now, but it was worth it to see that!

A message for my father

Dear Dad,

I think it is great that Steff is getting you involved with our side of the internet- facebook and blogging. However, I wish she had warned me first.

This particular site - Brand New Ending - is my personal space, and if you find it, I would ask you to respect my privacy and not read any further. I am not going to remove all links to it from my name, as I do not wish to sever my connection to other internet friends.

There is nothing here of any great importance, but that is beside the point. I have had this space for many years and it means a lot to me. This is my sanctuary. Please do not violate it.

You are, however, extremely welcome at my photograph blog site. I believe I invited you when it was first set up - Fleeting Reality.

I trust you to understand how I feel.

Thank you.

Absolutely hilarious!

I mean it!

With lots of thanks to Sarah Beth Durst. She said: "If you grew up in the 80s watching music videos, or even if you didn't, you are going to piss yourself laughing when you watch this."

I did... and I did!

Winning the battle - from the inside out

As you know, I've been reading a number of things lately which have been helping me become a better parent - not perfect in any way or by any means, but at least I feel more like a positive work-in-progress.

Today I read an article from one of my favourite new resources, and I wanted to a) share it and b) make sure I remembered where to find it, so I could read it again and again. I will post it here in full - The Battlefield of the Mind: Anger and Parenting:

If we create a battlefield in our mind against our children, then all is lost. By battlefield, I mean the minute we begin thinking, “My child is doing this on purpose!” “My child is out to get me and make me miserable!” “My child knew what they were doing and planned this!” “My child is just wanting to push each and every one of the buttons I have!” Keep reading to find out the implications of what I mean by that!

Mamas, I have been there and done that and I would like to share something with you that I have learned: If we create a us versus them mentality in our mind and in our attitude before we even open our mouths, then we have lost.

We have lost the opportunity to warmly hold the space for our children, we have lost the moment to guide in peaceful energy the behavior we would like our child to show, we have lost the connection between us and our child.

For those of you who follow this blog who believe that childhood development unfolds according to seven-year cycles, the things we think in the moment of anger are then not even logical according to this framework! To a Waldorf parent, a child under the age of 7 does not view themselves as even separate yet; they cannot at this point “do” something to “you” because that separation from you does not yet exist. To a Waldorf parent, a child under the age of 7 is truly not logical, does not pre-meditate and pre-plan. Yes, they do test boundaries. But it is most likely more spur of the moment rather than pre-planned!

For those of you who follow this blog who are attachment parenting, to you I would say that one of the foundations of loving guidance is putting respect and empathy at the core of your parenting. Look at the situation and your child’s needs through your more experienced life lenses ( and no, you do not have to use words to ASK them all this! You are the wonderful, smart, intelligent adult who can figure this out without asking them!) What did they need in that moment where they were doing something different than what you expected or wanted? Did they need food, a break, something to do, guidance as to what was acceptable in the house or not, your attention, sleep?

And most importantly, once this occurs and we are feeling angry, can we step back and find our needs underneath the anger? Why are we so darned angry anyway? Maybe we need respect, peace, quiet, a chance to sit down?

Can you take a breath and change the scenery? Can the child make restitution, make a “healing action” to make the situation right again after everyone has calmed down? Restitution is a very important part of parenting. It shows the child that we all can make mistakes, but it is what we do with the mistake that is most important.

Most of all, no guilt trips on the child. They don’t understand the extent of the emotions you are feeling, they really don’t understand all the words you are using, and all they feel is your anger. Less words, more breathing, more warmth, more action toward the positive.

For you to meditate on is this concept of POSITIVE INTENT. What could possibly be the positive intent behind this situation, behind this interaction? Can I see it this way?

Because if you continue to play out the battlefield in your mind, the last person standing will be you with all the children around you out of the connection in the game.

Enjoy your children, find the joy. You can do this!

This was written by Carrie at The Parenting Passageway. This blog is written from a Waldorf homeschooling / attachment parenting point of view, but for great parenting advice, I have not found anything like it.

These questions come from another of her posts - Making Yourself a Priority in the Parenting Equation. I have written them out and taped them to the wall in our bedroom, where I can be sure to read them several times a day!

Ask yourself, “Is this establishing connection and trust with my child?” “Is this a respectful way to treat my child?” Ask yourself, “Is this a short-term solution that has really bad long-term consequences?” Ask yourself “Is this about my inner balance? My own stuff?”

Other posts I want and need to bookmark for myself at this moment are:

• Kindness in your home, and
• Stop Talking!

Many many thanks to Farida (Saints and Spinners) for suggesting I take a look at The Parenting Passageway, and a huge thank you to Carrie for writing such fantastic, thought-provoking guidance. My boys thank you too!

Yay for the Duckman!

The Magic Circle

In a fit of early morning procrastination, I decided to catch up on some blog-reading and found myself inspired by a challenge over at Diamonds and Toads. (I have saved a few other challenges for future posts.)

It is funny, the deeper I get into law study, the more I feel the urge to write fiction. But then, in not-so-idle musing, it occurred to me that being a good lawyer really means being a good storyteller - especially in court. Much of my nervousness surrounding the upcoming presentations I must make at the residential school has vanished with this realisation. Advocacy may make me wobble in my socks but storytelling? That I can do. Then there is the whole 'parenting = storytelling' paradigm that I am experimenting with.

So, in an attempt to render my procrastination productive and possibly even entertaining, I present the "What's happening here?" challenge.

The story spirals from a visual inspiration:

Painting by J.W. Waterhouse
The Magic Circle
Date: 1886
Medium: Oil on canvas
Size: 183 x 127 cm
Location: Tate Britain, London, UK





And then a name:

Your fairy is called Columbine Iceshimmer
She is a bone chilling bringer of justice for the vulnerable.
She lives in mushroom fields and quiet meadows.
She is only seen when the first flowers begin to blossom.
She wears lilac and purple like columbine flowers. She has icy blue butterfly wings.
Get your free fairy name here!

And so it begins:

All winter they searched... a desperate, barren winter and a desperate quest with no end in sight. Frozen grass crackled under hoof and the only other sound outside themselves was the harsh cry of ravens, lurking in the neverending rows of cypress trees that bordered the empty paddocks. Then came the rain. Bitter, unrelenting rain, scouring the rocks, rutting the path so that they stumbled and fell in the mud, blinding them with stinging sleet. Still they travelled and at last, blinking in disbelief, they emerged from a dark forest into the gentle warmth of a sunlit meadow. The air was fragrant with crushed herbs, and everywhere the two travellers looked, tiny fairy-rings of red, white and gold spotted mushrooms were sprouting.

In the middle of the meadow stood a cloaked and hooded figure, harvesting herbs with a golden sickle. She moved amongst the flowers on bare feet, flitting like a butterfly from plant to plant, tucking little bunches into the brown girdle tied at her waist. Glancing up at the weary travellers, she smiled.

"I've been expecting you," she said.

"We have come that you may perform what you have promised." Looking into her dark eyes, the travellers felt ashamed to disturb such a peaceful existence, but she was now their only hope. They blurted out their story, their words tumbling over each other, hardly knowing who spoke what. "The old king is dying; the prince has no wife and is tortured by self doubt; day and night his stepmother whispers to him that he is unlovable, that no maiden would want him for anything other than his wealth and power; she tempts him constantly to come to her bed for she has long lusted after him and nothing means more to her than retaining her position as queen; he resists, clinging to the vision his mother gave him on her deathbed - the vision of you; he fears you to be no more than fantasy, Columbine Iceshimmer. He fears that, even if you are real, the sacrifice required of you is too great. He fears that his stepmother speaks the truth and his head swims with the effort of resisting her enticements. She overwhelms his senses with perfumed incense and rich food, hoping to trick him into succumbing but while he languishes in that luxury, the people suffer. The queen is greedy, she strips the land to supply her table and furnish her palace. She insists that nobody laugh or sing or dance on pain of death, for always she suspects that they are laughing at her. The walls of the city are festooned with the heads of merrimakers, many of them children."

Here they broke off. One sobbed, and the other comforted him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Once we were parents. Once we delighted in the joy of our children, but the queen has stolen them from us. Our only hope is the prince and his dream, and so we come to you, Columbine Iceshimmer. We ask of you an impossible task. The old queen trusted us. Before she died, she asked us to protect her son, to give everything we had to keep him safe. We have done that, we have nothing left. But she also told us of you. She said: "When all else is gone, when all hope is fled, when joy no longer dares to sing, find Columbine Iceshimmer and tell her of your need. She will know what to do."

The young woman listened in silence, then she turned, eyeing the raven who flew cawing overhead. With a finger on her lips she led them through the meadow which ended abruptly in a steep cliff. She vanished over the edge, following a narrow path that wound along a perilous ledge. The travellers hobbled their horses in a patch of lush grass and followed her, helping each other over the rough ground. When they reached the bottom, Columbine ushered them into a dry, comfortable cave, furnished with a little wooden chair and table, and a simple wooden platform for a bed. The walls were hung with drying herbs. Speaking softly, she bid them hide themselves and no matter what they saw, not to interrupt her.

"The ravens are spies for the queen," she whispered. "They will not be able to see once I complete the magic circle. You must remain here. Only approach when the coals of my fire are cold and nothing but ash remains. Dig through the ash and carry what you find, unopened, to the prince. Tell him it is a gift for his wife from his mother, but do not delay on your journey. The old king is dead and the prince has agreed to marry his stepmother in one month's time. He must give her the gift on their wedding night or else all is lost. Now rest. We must start at dawn."

At first light, Columbine walked alone into the clearing. Ignoring the cries of the ravens gathering along the edge of the rocks, she carefully built a fire of elder and hazelwood, throwing in bunches of basil, thyme, and honeysuckle. On a tripod over the coals she placed a golden cauldron that had been polished until it blazed. Drawing a glowing stick from the embers she carved a protective circle in the dust, starting from the east, with her eyes fixed on the rising sun. Ravens circled in the clear dawn air, landed, clustering along the rim of the circle, cawing and rubbing their beaks in the dust as though blinded by the smoke.

Chanting under her breath, Columbine removed her cloak of heavy purple wool. The travellers gasped to see icy blue butterfly wings unfolding from her shoulders. She pulled from her girdle the golden sickle, curved like the new moon which still hung in the brightening sky and with one swift motion she severed her wings and cast them into the heated cauldron. A pillar of white smoke billowed up as they burnt; she threw her sickle in too, and bunches of lavender, dandelion and clover, as she walked around and around the fire constantly tracing and renewing the circle with her smoking stick. They could hear her chanting as her tears dripped and sizzled on the nearly molten metal. Then she bent and grasped the glowing bowl in her hands, shaping it into a square casket, without removing it from the flames. Suddenly dropping the stick, she leapt inside and the lid of the casket clicked down to cover her.

As soon as the smoke from the circle died down, the ravens moved in, but the wind from their wings fanned the coals and they were driven back again and again by the heat. Eventually evening fell and the huge black birds flew off to their roosts in the cypress trees.

The next morning, the travellers emerged from the cave in the chilly predawn. They stepped around an ancient human skull, buried up to its eyesockets just outside the circle and with trembling hands they sifted through the cold ashes, listening intently for the sound of the ravens returning. Finding the small golden casket, one hid it under his cloak and together they ran up the narrow path to their patiently waiting horses.

Day and night they galloped, stopping only to change their steeds at the waystations, eating in the saddle, fighting the urge to sleep. After a week they reached the coast where the prince's ship was docked. It took three weeks for the ship to reach the city, and the whole time they paced the decks, trying to fill the sails with an endless effort of will; when the sailors managed to convince them to lie down, their restless sleep was haunted by the cry of ravens.

At last they arrived, to find the city preparing for the prince's wedding, but with no rejoicing or celebration. Everywhere there were signs of mourning for the old king, and a black bunting of ravens clustered on the soaring turrets of the palace. Inside the palace, however, the rooms were overflowing with priceless tapestries and jewelled dishes; a riot of colour that contrasted sadly with the grey faces of those that moved amongst the treasure.

The travellers followed the dawdling servants and found the queen and her cronies drinking golden liquor from crystal goblets, clothed in sumptuous silks, with painted faces and nails, their hair piled in elaborate curls... but the prince was nowhere in sight. Finally they located him, alone in the chapel, lying naked on the stone floor near his mother's memorial, his gaudy wedding clothes folded neatly on a pew. They handed him the casket and repeated Columbine's instructions. He rose as if in a dream and donned the clothes laid out for him. Making no other acknowledgment of their presence or the successful completion of their mission, he carried the casket to the queen. She looked up in surprise, but spying the gold in his hands she bit off her sarcastic comment and her eyes gleamed. She grabbed the casket from him, greedily tearing it open. Inside she found a golden chain suspending an ice-blue shimmering star. She eagerly insisted the prince place it around her neck. His fingers were clumsy and she tugged at the necklace impatiently as she yearned towards the full length mirror that spanned the wall.

The moment the jewel touched her throat, the chain began to shrink. It pulled tighter and tighter, choking the queen, until her elaborately coiffured head rolled off and landed at the feet of her shrieking friends. Within moments the room was empty, except for the prince. Still moving like a sleepwalker, he lifted the delicate chain from the dead queen's body and returned it to the casket. As he did so, he noticed a tiny cocoon attached to one side of the golden box. His brow wrinkled as he stroked the cocoon gently with his fingertip. Instantly it split and a pale blue smoke emerged, filling the room with the sweet scent of herbs and banishing the queen's overpowering perfume.

When the smoke cleared, the prince saw first that the queen's body had vanished. Then he noticed a young maiden standing by the window. She was not beautiful. Her dusky lilac dress was crushed, its embroidered hem tattered and stained. Her feet, bare, dusty and coated in ash, her long black hair wild and tangled. But she looked the prince in the eye and smiled. Blinking, and shaking his head, he smiled back. With quick steps he crossed the room and looped the shining star jewel around her neck. She touched it fondly and tucked his arm around her waist. Together they stood by the window, talking in low voices. As they watched, they could see the ravens feasting on something brightly coloured, in the distance, beyond the city walls.

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.

+++++++++++++++++

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

++++++++++++++++++

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!

====================

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.

It was

THAT kind of a day :(

Here's just a 5 second snippet. I won't subject you to more...



Added incentive to perservere with my new books: 'How to talk so kids will listen and listen so kids will talk' and 'Siblings without rivalry' both by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish.

Everywhere I went on the net where child (and parent) behaviour was discussed, these books kept popping up as the number one recommendation. I figured, if the Catholic homeschoolers, the Montessori mamas and the Charlotte Mason devotees ALL loved these books, they HAD to be good. I was right! They are just common sense, but sometimes it helps to have things written out as a plan. They work for all relationships too :) I'm even putting them into practice with Yeti lol...

I wasn't taught much about communicating when I was little. I can't handle anger - my own or other peoples - effectively at all. If someone criticizes me (for anything, no matter how small and trivial) I burst into tears. What is worse, I am teaching those bad habits to Wombat. What you can hear above is him screaming "Hug me, mummy... please hug me... just hug me" with the desperate broken-heartedness of a 3 year old who has just gotten into trouble and consequently his world is ending. But this is happening constantly - everytime he doesn't get his way... everytime I am busy with Munchkin (who is also screaming in the video. He's a very sweet-natured baby, but BOY does he get furious when he has a problem. Not just a little bit angry but absolutely off his little rocker. Gets over it quickly though - much like his daddy in temperment... Wombat is more like me and can make himself sick with crying and stress.) That's the thing... I find myself using all the negative comments that made me what I am and which I vowed never to use - "stop crying, you'll make yourself sick" - I realise now my mother was perfectly genuine (and in some ways justified) in her response and I find myself feeling that same coldness and lack of empathy - but I KNOW it doesn't work, so I went looking for an alternative method that suited me. (ps. I am not picking on my mum - the older Wombat gets, the more I sympathize with her - and pity my younger self lol - I just don't want to use the same methods and repeat the cycle for another generation.)

Just don't fall into the trap of congratulating yourself on how well you are doing with communication now and how there are fewer tantrums in the house and the problem is solved... otherwise you will end up with a day like today! A number of the reviewers on Amazon said they read from this book every day! That sounds like a good idea. Reminder to self: it's a work in progress and will continue for the rest of your life :D THERE IS A LONG WAY TO GO!!!

You will probably be hearing about these books (and others) again - there are exercises for the parent to do... I'll post mine here for my own record and the amusement of others...

Pay it forward

I will make a handmade gift for the first 3 interested people who comment on this post. I have 365 days to do it in...

What it will be and when it will arrive is a total surprise!

The catch is that you must participate as well: you must have a blog and before you leave your comment here, write up a pay it forward post on your blog to keep the fun going.
(just cut and paste this one if you like!)

I was wandering around following links from here and there when I ended up at Beyond Pink and Blue. I noticed there was still an opening in her 'pay it forward' game, so I left a comment, and now it is my turn to play!

I am having fun with the craftiness at the moment, and have plenty of photos to share, but I will put them in another post so as to leave this one uncluttered. I wonder if anyone is out there??? First in first served, and anyone is welcome to play, whether you are family, a rare and regular commenter, a lurker, or just someone passing by on the great rabbit trail of blog-links :D

Snail drop number two

Dropped: Camden, NSW
Number of toys: 1
Made by: Schelle
Dropped by: Schelle & family
When: 28 March 2009

And: I had hoped to leave this snail riding the ferris wheel, but the queue was a mile long and she whispered to me that she was afraid of heights. We rode the spinning teacups instead. She was a bit dizzy after that, so I left her to have a rest on the fence between the teacup ride and the playground, where she could watch lots of children enjoying the show. It will take a keen eye to spot her against all that colour and movement! I wish I could have stayed to see what happened :D



Not quite where I wanted to drop her, but the boys were hot and tired and it was either leave her here or take her home with me again and I didn't want to do that :)

(I do know she was gone the next morning when they were packing up the show.)