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Racism, Patience and Education - A first hand story.

GASP!  Nobody Told Me!  Why did nobody mention it?!  I cannot believe I didn’t know!

Someone just told me my daughter is not white!

Oh.  My.  Gosh.   Really?  (Heavy Sarcasm).

 

I look very much like a potato farmer in honour of my Irish and English heritage, and the person who I look most like is my Irish Grandad.

 

My daughter is half from me, and half from an English chap whose parents were Jamaican. 

So, he is dark skinned, born here in England, is English, but his ancestry is Jamaican. 

He is not Jamaican per se, can you see the difference? 

His heritage, of which we are all proud, is Jamaican.

 

So Missy, she was born with a very tanned complexion, beautiful straight nose and straight black hair.

Over the years her hair curled, but it is European hair in spiral curls, not so much afro as Irish-fro, which is a real thing, ask any Irish woman with crinkly hair on a blustery morning.

 

When my daughter straightens her hair, she looks Indian (dots, not feathers – to quote the beloved Robin Williams).

Indian parents of her school friends speak to her in Urdu and for a while got miffed with her when she would not realise she was being spoken to.

In the end, when it all came to light what was happening, they all laughed and are now on speaking terms again J

She’s a firm favourite with other children’s parents which pleases me no end.

 

When my daughter leaves her hair natural, she looks like a Diva.

Total Gone Crazy Big Old Spiral Curl Adornment.

She looks like she should be in a Beyoncé video or an 80’s Brat Pack film.

It is awesome!

 

So back to the shock revelation.

Several times people have told her “Why don’t you go back to where you came from”.

She’s had most of her classmates in junior school try to persuade her she was adopted, because the kids hadn’t seen her dad, only me!

She’s been mistaken for an asylum seeker but I assured people it was only Grunge Rock Fashion, not hobo-refugee chic.

She’s been mistaken for an immigrant and accosted by knuckle heads.

She’s been spoken to in Greek when we go to Greece.

She’s been spoken to in Spanish when we went to the Spanish Islands.

She’s been spoken to in Jamaican English when we go to Jamaica.

She’s been followed by security staff in the shopping centres.

She’s been yelled at for “being racist” by overly concerned, politically correct, liberal leftie white people when joking with friends whether she should sit at the front or the back of the bus after a history lesson on the American Civil Rights movement.  (This was a bumpy one... in a back and forth, supported by a friend who confirmed she was part Jamaican... Missy advised Leftie-Lady "You clearly thought I was Indian, which is presumptuous on your part.  I am black and I can joke about 'those darned civil rights activists always getting on the bus' if I want to").

And was yelled at to stop lying!

She’s been refused service in a Bible Bookstore because, even though she was holding the money in her hand, she was told “these books are not for your kind”.

 

And the kid laughs it off!

 

Now I have a lovely little generation of children in my class, when I tell them that the teenagers will be teaching Sunday school this week, confused and unable to hide it, that I introduce Missy as my daughter.  Their little children brains are perplexed that this curly haired, very tall, all makeup’d up and glamorous girl could possibly be related to me.

 

Then the next week we chat about the people who shared their feelings from the pulpit, my daughter being one of them, and the kids get confused again, still unable to make the leap of how potato farmer me could have a daughter like Missy.

 

One of the children leans in to me and whispers, as though it is a secret, “She wears a lot of make up”, and I reply, “Yes, isn’t she beautiful” and they nod.

Then the next week that the child is in class again, I see the whisperer wearing bright red lipstick in honour of Missy, and I smile at her, and she smiles back, thrilled I’ve noticed.

Fighting Psychopaths

I have been fighting people who fit the profile of psychopaths and surviving the destruction they spread all the days of my life. 

It has been close contact conflict.

It was all done in the “First person”, one to one.

Not “those people over there” but rather “these people, here, in this room”.

At first it was one generation to the next, me being the child (with help from adults, this is not a solo venture).

Then it was a peer to peer relationship lasting 24 years.

I’m am tired, deep down to my bones weary tired.

However, I’ll keep going because self determination is the prize which I have won.
I am made for this and can go again right now, right from the beginning if I have to.  It holds no fear.
For the rest of my days I’ll keep plugging through because this is who I am.

Let’s take a moment to try and paint a picture:

Do you know how tiring it is when, for example, you watch over a bunch of hyperactive and disobedient children?

When you first take responsibility for the kids you try to be strict, No, Don’t do that, but all you get back is a heightening of the mania and they end up a spitting, thrashing and whirling dervish.

So then you develop coping strategies and mould their behaviour where possible and ignore the bits that are destructive but aren’t actually hurting someone.

That is the tiniest taste of what it is like to try to survive in a situation with a psychopath.

If a psychopath walked up to you for the first time and handed you a business card which said “Joe Bloggs, Psychopath at Large” you would say “Oh, that’s nice, Joe is it, let me show you the buffet table” and then you would dump them there and walk away with barely a glance backwards.

But they don’t hand out business cards.

Quite the opposite.

The clever ones are particularly deceptive.

Phase 1. 
The fun for a psychopath is in being charming, frequently they’re well-presented and handsome, they are attentive and they say they would move mountains. They often present themselves as a rescuer and when they are around, you feel like a million dollars. This phase can last for weeks or years.

Phase 2.

In subsequent encounters, probably over a time frame of years, they cannot hide their attempt to dominate the other person and erode their sense of self (schools for the kids, where to eat, placement of cushions, who can come in the house, when you can go out so it is convenient for them), bringing out the indignant rage, the sulking, their sense of entitlement, their contempt at any comparison to people who do not behave like that.

Phase 3.
Later, if the other party refuses to capitulate, things become physically dangerous rather than “just” emotionally dangerous.

Have you heard about how “their eyes changed” or “they’re a nut job when they get going”?  Yep, alarm bells and warning signs.

The daft thing, for all their charm, is that they don’t know that they are not particularly bright and that people, “normal” people do give and take in relationships so their attempt at dominance is ridiculous because love is there for the sharing, not the taking.  They don’t feel love like civilians do, they feel dominant, superior, all powerful.  Love is not in the equation.  Sure, they’ll say the words to woo someone back, but the feeling is not there.  And no, their emotional bullying is not passion, it is emotional bullying.

The fastest way to make a psychopath leave you alone is to walk away.  Out of sight, pretty much out of mind after a while. 

Don’t get in to the mind games, don’t think this is some Teen-Lit and angst filled novel, don’t try to fix them because even their parents didn’t succeed, don’t buy in to their “my girlfriend left me, woe is me” schpeil because the girlfriend left for a reason.

Repeat to yourself

“I am a drama free zone, I am worthy of genuine love, I have myself and my friends, I don’t need validation, I validate myself, it is never too early and almost never too late to walk away” and then do just that.

Making plans for when it's over *Cough-Divorce-Cough*

Within the next few weeks, my email inbox will revert to receiving only notes from friends, bills, reminders to buy TV licences, and money off vouchers.

I’ll cease having to host and give space to the vast amounts of divorce paperwork.

I can hardly believe that the end is kind of in sight, especially if I stand on a step ladder and use binoculars.

It’s still going to take some time, I’m patient, but we cannot but help have answers very soon.

 

I’m not sure what I’ll do with all the spare email capacity and in my mind’s eye I perceive it like the electricity surge after the Super Bowl games (you know about that, right, where the utility companies have to be on alert during the adverts and at the conclusion because demand on the grid spikes)

I’m not sure what I’ll do with all the freed up time and all the intellectual capacity made available.

However, I’m sure looking forward to finding out.

Acts of Random Kindness

Last night I came home after a long and hard day at work.


On the table, collected from the doorstep by the child, was a lovely gift bag containing a pot plant of daisy type flowers.


Through the letterbox was an envelope with my name on it.


In the envelope was no card or identifier, but a cash gift in £'s (I'm English, we use real pounds).


So, if you are reading this, that was very sweet and lovely, thank you.  You are far too kind.


The plant is now pride of place in our living room, it is the only living non-human thing in our home so makes a bright difference.


Whoever you are, consider this a thank you hug. x




Picture is Morgan Freeman with a quote from the movie Evan Almighty.

Justify yourself.

This blog post is a hard one to share, and at time of composing I haven't yet decided if I will hit the button to put these thoughts out to the wider world.


I am struggling with the constant requirement to justify myself, to prove myself, to defend myself.  There are few areas of life where I am free from the request to justify myself. 


For clarity, I'm up for the task and am very clear on who I am and what I stand for.  I am talented and have grit to spare.


It just annoys the sunshine out of me and detracts from the things we have going on right now.  It costs me emotional and physical energy which could happily have been put to better use elsewhere.


When somebody says "justify yourself" with a negative connotation, I get to look back and remember all the hard work that got us to this point but in doing so I recall disappointments or disappointing people, and explain how I turned that situation around for the greater good and how through tenacity and determination I decided to shape a great life from a difficult one.


For the mean time, I'll set my stance and greet the day with a smile... it's only for a short while that I have to endure these requests.


What makes it easier is being a truth-holder.  I don't have to remember what I said about something, I just have to remember the something.


I am learning to wait well. 
Impatience has no positive place in this endeavour and I could go again, starting from the beginning, up the same hill, under the same conditions as many times as is necessary in order to succeed in continuing to design and create a pretty great life. 


In justifying myself, justice will prevail.

Being in the Photograph.

A tremendously good friend forwarded me some photos she snapped of a group of us girlfriends at the beach a couple of years ago. We live in different cities far from the coast and had all travelled in for the weekend.  The photos were a lovely surprise and a welcome gift.  I think it was a late September day in the UK which should have been wet and dreary but we caught a heatwave bubble and basked in glorious weather.  We almost had the beach to ourselves, our favourite seals popped their head up out of the water to say hi again, we had beach chairs and beach blankets, full tummies from breakfast and it was our final day at the coast.


Now, on first glance I look like a person who perhaps would or should have body issues.  I'm a little more round than tall although great boobies help me carry off an hourglass-ish look!  I have a little more latitude than longitude.  My face is quite round.  Without makeup - which I hardly ever wear - I look a little lived in... happy but lived in.  I am not particularly photogenic at all.


BUT... here's the important bit... I LOVE THE PHOTO'S.


They capture a group of friends all relaxed in each others company, laid out on the sand, laughing, making sand castles, spending time, reading books, resting before returning home later that same day to demanding families and demanding jobs in demanding cities.  There had been a couple of differences of opinion that weekend, that's what you get when you have 7 independent and strong willed women together.  The photos captured how much it was important to us all that we were still all together the morning after the disagreement.  It was perfect in it's imperfection, to me, at least.


What was photogenic is the love we have for each other.
Even when the object of the image is blinking in the photo (me) or is in repose in a chair in a not very flattering fashion, or when we've got our hair in an informal bun with no loose bits for framing the face, and no make up and so forth, the love we have for each other is clearly present.


I used to shy away from photos but nowadays for the most part I welcome them and it is all because I read a story of a lady reminiscing about her life.


The lady had said that she wished she'd been in the pictures, that she'd captured the moments of her husband and children but that she wished she had something to look back on in photographic form to capture the moments that she was in the image with them, that they'd shared it all together.


So, when someone points a camera in my direction nowadays I think to myself


"This is who I am, this body is kind to me, it nurtures and sustains me with good health, stamina and ability, and in 20 years time I'll wish I had this picture, scraggly hair day and all, and in 20 years time I'll wish I looked as good then as I do now, so take the picture and make sure I get a copy!"


Dear friends, please be in the picture. 


Let people capture the wonderful moments and the moments which turned out to be wonderful after all.  The ordinary times together are valuable.  Be glad you have a body, be glad of it's strength, be happy in the opportunities to share memories with great companions.  Don't pose, live a life of poise.  There's a lot of happy to be had. 

Phone-less in a phone soaked world

Phone-less.
A brick of glass and plastic.
A low-resolution camera and phone book.
That's all this bit o'kit had been reduced to.


I'm in between contracts and a keep-my-number transfer which should have taken a couple of hours is currently running at 5 days.


I could get shirty with the folks on the helpline, but they were nice and that's not how I roll.


I could troll their Facebook pages stating how awful they were, but on the scale of awful, this doesn't even begin to measure.


Folks on the telephone were horrified that this thing had gone wrong but it wasn't their fault, it's just a thing gone wrong and which is rectifiable. 


I must admit to being a little "pully face-y" in a grimace because


a) the school always phone, all the time
b) the kid memorised the number
c) I drive a beautiful clunker of a car and have breakdown cover
d) safety and quick dials to the authorities
e) I like phones


so it's all a bit rubbish, but it is only a bit rubbish, it'll pass, it'll work itself out, it'll be fine.


So, I'll see you when we've no longer gone dark. 


If you need me, I'll be the one talking to people and reading a paper book and drawing with pencils and learning the guitar and cooking new recipes and so forth because there's nothing better to do.  Hard life, eh?

Friends, Buddies, the Squad, The Tribe.

The past 4 years have been a colossal change for me and my little family.
Some things are great,
Some things are still challenging and an ongoing project.
Some things are just life, like bills and taxes.


What has made the difference between existing vs. living is pretty simple.
a) steely determination
b) my people.


Now when everything surprisingly and in catastrophic fashion hit the fan one Sunday evening, within 2 hours when the environment was made safer I texted my girls, my squad, just saying something like:
"I really need some love and support, I think my marriage just ended".


Not prone to any form of melodrama, they knew immediately that it was serious and they were as shocked as I, and were as supportive as any person in the history of humanity. 
I've never known better people. 
My heart sings at the thought of them, they're magnificent.


We were offered safe places to sleep (which I should have taken but was in too much shock), we were told we were believed, and we were told we were loved, and we were trusted to take the next steps - whatever they ended up being - they trusted in my ability when I didn't know if I did anymore.


I think in pictures then translate to words in order to communicate.
When I think of my people, my tribe, I get a picture of a cute little house and a white picket fence with a sturdy gate.  Then there is a second perimeter picket fence and a third.  My buddies are in the picture as walking straight through the outer, middle and inner gates.  They have permission to come and go, my house is their house, their hopes and dreams are my hopes and dreams for them.  Strangers and baddies are outside the outer perimeter, various levels of acquaintances are within the other gates.


Over the last 4 years it has gotten to the point where we need a bigger mental first garden, there are so many great and wonderful people in our lives.  The image that comes forth is of a garden party with pitchers of cool drinks and pretty chairs and blankets on the lush green grass.


But the image of the cute home is the grounding force, that is permanent, the fences move to accommodate new people but the house doesn't move, it represents known values, permanence, steely determination and grit.


You find your tribe through shared values, living up to the declaration of who you say you are, and by being kind even when there are other options available, by being willing to learn and grow, by listening to your elders in experience and years, by acting on what needs to be done, and sometimes people join you in those possibilities.


There is no space for wishy washy engagement here, time is short, life is urgent, it can be taken away and with that knowledge in the first person all the other priorities fall into place. 


If you are contented, be contented.  If you are upset, tell a friend, they can listen.  If you are pensive, excited, overjoyed... be those things, sometimes two or three of those things at once!  It gives other people permission to experience their life too.  It's awesome and contagious.


Some days have been ugly, authentic, raw and unfiltered.  A couple of people have sometimes been around when those days occurred but mostly it is a retreat to the house and wait for it to pass experience for me.  So, sorry to those people who were around when I couldn't filter the feelings for polite company anymore... I'll try and learn from those times. Or maybe, next time I won't try to spare you from it.  Let me know your preference on a self addressed envelope and I'll get to it.


Be willing to go it alone and be willing to accept company if others are headed in the same direction.


In advance of 2nd International Platitude Day, we only get 72 goes around the sun if we are lucky... if you are going to waste a day, realllly waste it.  Do it justice.  If you are facing something unpalatable, face it, get it done, endure it, grow and develop.  This too shall pass.  And look sideways sometimes to see and recognise who is at your shoulder, sustaining and supporting you.  It may be surprising who you find there. If they look sideways, do they see you?  Are you sustaining and supporting them too?  I think you are. 

Mouse Click Theory

I have a theory that in a given week we are gifted with a certain allocation of mouse clicks. 

If we are storming through our allotted tasks like a demon in days Monday-Thursday we use up most of those clicks.

Come Friday we are left feeling sluggish and as though we are running through treacle.

At which point we now feel the need to tell everyone around us that we are "feeling it", that we have run out of oomphf but are going to battle through anyway.

The theory of the mouse clicks answers so many oddities in my life. 

It lends my thoughts to effort and resilience.

It reminds me that stamina is required to complete tasks.

It reminds me that if "I'm feeling it" then frequently the end is in sight and I just have to push through.

It's quite a comfort in a back to front "at least I know what's going on" kind of way.

Shocking Reality of Rail Fares

The cost of rail fares now in the UK is beyond shocking.

I have determined that for a group of 4,

 

it is cheaper to

 

• buy a disposable car,
• insure it for the day,
• drive it to London,
• see the tourist things that are there to see,
• drive home,
• call the breakers yard
• have them collect the vehicle for scrap
• cancel the insurance

 

than it is to buy 4 return tickets off peak, whether or not the tickets are directly purchased or through a comparison site.  See my evidence below of results through a popular discount rail ticket site (cough spottedhanky cough)...

 

Shocking!

How to weather a storm (cough-divorce-cough).

We have to know our own worth.

We have to know the law or know someone who knows the law.

We have to be dealers in the truth.

We have to be resilient.

We have to be consistent.

We have to be patient.

We have to breathe.

We have to be still.

We have to be grateful for the journey.

We have to continue to learn and grow.

We have to recognise our blessings.

We have to hold on to the good.

We have to plan for happiness.

We have to embrace happiness at every opportunity.

We have to minimise negative influences.

We have to smile because we are content where we are.

We have to care for ourselves.

We have to put ourselves as a priority, at least once in a while.

We have to visualise the bamboo in a hurricane as it sways and lets the breeze through and causes no damage.

We have to trust there will be an end.

We have to believe there will be a new beginning.

We have to honour life as a joyous experience.

 

Honesty and The Landmark Forum

I grimaced today as I provided information requested by the court on a personal matter.

I didn’t want to be seen as “that awful woman” or selfish.

I wanted to people-please and make everyone like me by being overly generous.

But I checked myself, and recognised what was happening, reviewed whether being overly generous would be truthful and came to a decision.

I decided to stick with honesty and modest figures when assessing another person’s need and requirement.

It hurt, it made me anxious, I didn’t want people to hate me.

I did it anyway, hit send and I grimaced.

 

A few minutes later I received a correspondence back, so I breathed a little and opened the email.

I expected to be criticized but instead read from my solicitor….

 

“Thank you, Cheryl.  That’s perfect.”

 

There’s a lesson there somewhere.

Next time I’ll try to remember that as long as I am trying to review facts, stick to “what happened” and not “what did I make that mean?” (Thank you, Landmark Forum, from an alumni class of ’98 student) (http://www.landmarkworldwide.com)

and was willing to stand and say “yes, this is my honest assessment of the situation”, it is possible that things will not be as fraught as I had feared them to be.

 

 

Too much stuff and the camels back

Recently I managed to get my kiddo in to a routine.


That's no mean feat, I hear you say, most children transition to a routine in the early years.
Ah HA! I say, she is a mid-teen and this is the first time she was receptive enough to adapt.


The daily routine was simple enough:
Get Up, tidy your room, have a whip round the bathroom (move your laundry, towels and products), pick up after yourself through the house, and do the dishes.
Then you can go back to doing what you were doing for the remaining 23hours and 21 minutes in the day.


It's the school holidays, I'm working full time and I'm tired of picking up her debris as I walk in the house after a long day.


It was working well-ish, I'd come home and be able to walk in the living areas without clambering over stuff, I'd be able to start dinner without having to do the days dishes first (rental house, no dishwasher).  It was going pretty ok-ish.


Then she went to camp.
And she left her room in a colossal mess.
Then I got all "Woe is me" and flopped down on to any available nearby chaise lounge.


We live a simple and stripped back life, no room for clutterbugging and yet she still seems to find a way.


I swear teens don't see the mess.
If I see one more "floor-drobe" in my life I cannot guarantee being responsible for my actions.

Stress Schmess and Defcon 2

I was listening to a clinical psychologist speaking at an event the other day.

I don’t recall who it was or where it was, it may have been on the radio, or on a documentary or a TED Talk, but it was within the past month.

They were speaking about stress.

More like, “STRESS!!!!!! ARRGGGHHHHH!!!!!”.

Apparently, if you are experiencing stress and think to yourself “I’ve got this, this is easy, I can do that!”, there will be no negative physical impact on your body.

If you are experiencing stress and think to yourself “Oh my gosh, I’ll never cope, this is awful”, there will be a negative physical impact on your body.

In ordinary terms,

if you think you are stressed and cannot cope, you will become stressed and won’t be able to cope,

if you recognise there are challenges and roll with it, you will come out the other side with barely a scratch on the paintwork.

Our thoughts determine our actions.

It has dramatically influenced how I am facing some challenges recently and I can state that I feel 98.6% better for having this little nugget under my belt.

I am still human.

I was born in East London, which is code for “very rough and very tough”.

I still find my first response in conflict is to match the conflict.

 

But as Maya Angelou said, When you know better, you do better.

"The Natural Man" response of becoming impatient or DEFCON 2 status ready, and facing down the conflict still informs my decisions but with this extra piece of information, it no longer has the negative impact that it previously did.  I am more swiftly able to move in to phase 2 and fix it but don’t get bashed up by it.  It is a very powerful place to be.  I like it. 

Kids, Pre-loaded Humans

You get the kid you are given.

People arrive already pre-loaded with a personality and a neurology.

You can encourage happiness and health, vigour and vitality, but essentially you are working with the piece of marble in front of you.

Some people are lucky and are gifted with compliant kids who throw up few challenges or spanners in the works.

Other people are lucky and are gifted with non-compliant kids who occasionally throw in a happy and problem free day but challenge the adult to learn, grow and develop.

If you are kind, and if you are actively a decent person doing the best they can with parenting, nothing you did or didn’t do made your kid the way they are.

It is not unheard of for families to raise a happy and compliant first child, then do the same thing with the latter children only for the child to respond differently.

It’s like gardening.

Nobody I know can make a chili plant seed.

They can take a seed that’s been identified as a chili plant and provide the right environment for it to grow and develop.

But they cannot take the atoms at the present time and create a chili plant seed.

Sometimes people identify the chili plant seed but it turns out to be tomatoes.

The gardener didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just slightly different than anticipated.

You cannot pat yourself on the back for having good and compliant kids.

You cannot berate yourself for having challenging and non-compliant kids.

They came to you as a human, with their own wants and wishes.

It’s your job to make the best of the situation.

Make hay while the sun shines.

Dig in, stand firm and love harder when the difficult times come.

But don’t be patting yourself on the back, you’re reaping a harvest that was not of your making.

And who knows, next time you may get a tomato seed.

The trick is, how do you make the best of everything placed before you?

We bought a trumpet

My daughter is a polymath, someone who picks up skills pretty easily for the most part and is pretty great at most subjects but not outstandingly brilliant at one or another by comparison, it frustrates her like crazy.


So, we were enjoying the Sleepless in Seattle soundtrack in the car on the way to Church on Sunday and the song "Kiss to build a dream on" by Louis Armstrong came on with its crisp and clear brass solo toward the end...


The conversation went something like;


"I haven't heard this song in years, since I was about 8 years old!  Oh I love this song"
"Really?"
"Yep, and this sounds like a great wedding tune for a first dance"
"I was just thinking exactly the same thing!"
"I'd love to play the trumpet"
"Would you like me to pick one up for you?"
"Oh my gosh that'd be amazing, yes please, I want to be able to play 7 instruments by the end of the year"
"Ok, I'll have a look online and see what I can do".


Fast forward to today, one cheap n cheerful trumpet procured for delivery this week.


Why?!  Why do I offer these things? 


If you need me at any time in the next year, tap me on the shoulder to gain my attention.  These bad boys are going to be my best friends for the foreseeable future.
 

Politeness, watching slugs play rugby.

When people have a pop at your kids, and when there is an unequal balance of power in the pop-er's favour, it is prone to bring out the momma bear.


I have a friend, lets call her "Beryl", who feels conflicted because back in the day she was raised in an eggs-is-eggs environment, where you said it like you see it, where the strongly worded and vocal disagreement was had, everyone knew where they stood, there was a victor and the vanquished, and then you all shook hands and got on with life.


Nowadays Beryl feels it is death by a thousand cuts.


There's lots of being required to be polite, to word emails carefully, to not be seen to be too authoritative, to be seen to be collaborative, to be reasonable.


In the immortal words of my mum, "I'll Give You Reasonable!!!" while rolling up her sleeves and taking out her hoop earrings!


Someone forgot we live politely nowadays, they got above themselves and verbally abusive, and forgot that She Is Defended.
So, off went emails for traceability, politely worded requests, a declaration of my position in this matter, polite polite polite.


This would be Gibbs from NCIS's nightmare in boatbuilding terms because it is going against the grain.  There's a reason you should go with the grain, it smooths the edges, you get better results, but I guess in Lumberjack terms it is necessary to go horizontal in the cut rather that vertically as per the growth if you want to fell the beast ahead of you.


Now, Beryl's tummy is tied in knots because historically this situation could have been resolved by now but it is so very, excruciatingly slow, like watching slugs play rugby, and this is not a situation with which we have an ample quantity of time. 


So, move it people!  Get a wiggle on, light a fire under your feet, get cracking, get it sorted because your way is not necessarily correct.

The Prayers of Single Mothers

Caveat: Churchy, avert your gaze, all you who are squeamish.

 

My little family and I live in a home with little to no access to the priesthood.  We never had it, we don’t miss it, it’s not a big thing.  We don’t really currently have any home teachers and I am completely at ease with that.

There are genuine and appreciated offers of priesthood from friends and acquaintances but it’s a bit like driving a fancy car, I’ve never done it, looks like it might be an experience, seems a bit ostentatious and not really on my radar.

What is on my radar though, are the prayers of Mothers. 

I have no idea if you know how much your parents kept you in their hearts, had high hopes for you, worried about you, rejoiced for you, trusted you, loved you and wanted the best for you.  All of these are “civilian” expressions of having a prayerful heart toward you.  It doesn’t stop, your goodly parents will have these hopeful and empowering feelings toward you for the rest of their days, which is a good thing. 

With the absence of the priesthood, what we in my family do have is the prayers of a Single Mother.  These are potent, powerful and heartfelt, frequently brief in the midst of an emergency, and really very demanding. They wait on nobody.  A single mum’s prayers demand an answer, they search for inspiration, and require a response.  There is nothing wishy washy about a single mum’s prayers and nothing wishy washy about how she receives the answers she seeks. 

In the absence of priesthood, it feels like nothing is missing, no blessing denied, and that we are heard and held in high esteem.  It is very connected and dynamic.  Mum, Dad, 2.4 kids would perhaps be nice, maybe.  Finding yourself in a different shape family should hold no concern with regard to Ecclesiastical matters.

Helping kids cope with GCSE's and other exams.

I have a "so far so good" strategy for helping the teen cope with impending (tomorrow and through the next week, eeeek) exams being sat a year early.


Good school supplies.
Quiet for revision.
Internet availability.
Good dinners.
Fresh fruit.
Chocolate.
Occasional nice distractions.
Clean uniform.
Kindness.


That's it. 

School Reunions, we used to be 16 yrs old.

This weekend is a school reunion, our first en masse reunion.
It's a milestone year for us, some might say 10 years, some might say 20, but we know better.
School happened for us during an unenlightened period, our teachers were tired, we made our teachers even more tired, who knows if they saw some glimmer of hope in us but for the most part it was a dynamic and tumultuous time economically, politically, musically and artistically.
We were so lucky to be coming of age in 1986, the whole world just opened up to us in ways that had never been available to our parents, a form of social mobility suddenly became attainable, life felt dynamic, and for the first time we had a chance to define our futures rather than live out the life that had worn down our parents.
I think that we've aged remarkably well from the times I've bumped in to a handful of people in town, what with town being 98.6 miles from where I live now, there must have been something good in the water in 1986, some kind of elixir of the eternally youthful soul.


My family moved to The Shire in 2002, I followed my heart and stayed for the good schools and cheap housing so I didn't get to keep in touch with people as one might have hoped and during that time a lot of things changed.
We changed from shy to whatever the heck this is nowadays.
We worked in the City of London in the 80's - A-mazing!
We moved into the digital age.
We ushered in a new millennium.
We learned to drive and bought cars.
We became gainfully employed.
We may have started families, or we may have been wise and not done so!
We moved from dial up to broadband.
We all bought home computers, then laptops, then "devices".
We weathered the storms of life.
We matured like a fine wine.


Now, we get to dance on table tops and celebrate that we know each other and it all worked out in the end. 
We had no idea what we were doing back then, and probably very little has changed in that aspect but it's still dynamic and exciting and I am glad to have the opportunity to catch up with these good folks who were there during the formative years.  Here's to another 30.

Stress and a Parent's Evening.

I’ve been feeling a little stressed on and off recently, nothing too bad, just enough to remind me that I’m alive and I have to work hard at simplifying life and not sweating the small stuff.

But then I went to Missy’s parents evening at school.

She’s in a good school, great school actually, phenomenal even.

They teach to a high standard, they expect a great deal from all their students, and they provide a safe environment for the children to become adults.

The children still have challenges and have to negotiate the social structure, but it is not brutal like many other establishments and the spats are quickly over.

They nurture when necessary, and get super strict when that’s required too.

They took her in when she’d had challenges elsewhere, and they didn’t give up on her when she demonstrated her “less than mainstream” view of the world.

When you are a mum to a headstrong teen and you ask them about their day, you get to hear about how much fun they had at lunch and how they’re “failing every class, ugh, I don’t even know why I bother”.

And you worry.

You prod them to get them to school on time, with the right kit and the right attitude, and the right homework, but you worry a little.

Then they have a temper a few times to get you to try and give up on them, which for 10 minutes after the fact you want to capitulate but then you dust yourself off and go at this parenting lark again.

Missy’s tempers are a sight to behold. 

In a temper she’s fierce, intense, articulate and she’s tall, and she is immovable and imposing, and bristly, and it can – for a lesser mortal than I – be a scary sight to behold.

What people see is frightening, but the reality of the situation is that she is in a heated moment, trying to communicate a distress at an injustice.

She’s just so tall and imposing that even though she is still, she’s often considered to be a worry.

So, parents evening.

You sit in front of 9 of their teachers for the exam courses they’re studying.

And the teachers ask the child to tell them how she thinks she’s doing.

And they listen and then tell her the good things.

They remind her and tell me about the good grades.

The tell me about the great behaviour and attitude she’s exhibiting (whooohooooo!  She’s a hard kid to raise).

And they set goals and tell get her to buy in to the strategy that will take her where she is from to where she could be.

 

To hear that her teachers are very fond of her, that they appreciate what a great kid she is, that they’re pushing her as they should, and that they are affirming she should enter law school or med school or enter the International Economics arena when she graduates is music to my ears, and to her ears too.

“You are a strong woman, Missy, and you are going to go far, you just need to get organised and here is how you do that….”

“You have a vast body of knowledge and you apply it well which is a delight in the class and increases your grades”.

“You managed yourself very well when you were feeling stressed today in class, next time could you…..”

“You have to hand in your homework even if you feel it could have been better, to give you a mark, we have to see it…”

One teacher caught me by the arm after Missy walked out to the corridor between appointments and asked

“Is she as intense at home? Wow, my hat goes off to you, you manage so well and you are doing phenomenally.  We really appreciate everything you have done to bring her to this point, she’s amazing and we can see her growth.  You are a powerful parent to her and she is blessed because of it”.

 

And all of a sudden, I was a little less stressed, and I could concentrate on the things which needed my attention.

 

Even the good ones leave something to be desired...

If you're thinking of having a kid, a cute, snuggly, smells like talc kid, I would add a word of caution.
Go to the back garden, taking your purse filled with your money and bank cards, wallet, favourite things, your nice clothes, your ordinary clothes, and a box of matches.
Now set it all on fire.
Poke the fire for a while, really get it burning.
Burning good? 
Great.
Now take a demanding older person on holiday, never letting her out of your sight. 
Accommodate all of her wants and needs at all times, day or night.
If you plan on having more than one kiddo, take an extra adult for every extra kid, same rules apply, never let them out of your sight.
Now slap yourself in the face to simulate emotionally hurtful words the teens will throw at you.
Switch on all the lights in the house, leave them that way for 18 years. 
Start the taps running now.
Develop your career based on hoping your boss doesn't notice holiday days are being taken to coincide with teacher training days, all the time.  Fake a cold when overseas travel is mentioned.  A sneezy, "don't travel with me, look at this sneezy cold" cold.  Add a cough for authenticity.
Wet some bath towels and leave them as a trip hazard.
Have someone on standby to roll their eyes at you without notice.
Cook a dinner, have someone come and scrape that dinner in to the bin and get a chocolate croissant from the cupboard instead.
Leave everything, everywhere, and clamber over, then yell a while and get it all picked up and start over again.
Now stay awake for 15 years.
Managed to get a new purse?
Great, go back to the garden and burn that too.  No!  Don't take out your bank cards.
Now, if you still want babies, go for it.
Still fun?
Don't say you were not warned.

Jealous Buddhists and a Notepad - managing A.D.D.

Like most people I’ve always had a little Attention Deficit problem and found myself staring off in to space and half a conversation has gone by without me paying any attention at all.

I snap myself back in to the present moment and pick up the thread again.

It usually happens with I’m bored, or under pressure, or when I am awake. 

I remember my attention drifting off in science and nature class once when I was nine.  I’d decided that as a city girl I didn’t need to be able to classify trees based solely on its leaves.

In all reality I think I remember saying “this is stupid, there are no trees, I’m not doing it” so my little mind wandered into the void of nothingness.

I know a few Buddhists who would be very jealous if they weren’t Buddhists of my ability to consider nothing for a few minutes. 

Sound becomes muffled and far away, light softens and diffuses, and when I hear and feel my heart beat I am mesmerised for a period of time.

I heard Professor/Dr Robert Winston who is a very famous Doctor in the UK and who pioneered the “test tube baby” fertility treatment - once explain that in the developmental milestones of babies and young children, the quiet moments where they are staring out to space and focussed on nothing are the precise moment that neural pathways and connections are being laid down in the brain. It’s perfectly fine to let that happen and not interrupt their inactive activity or seek their attention, just let them be for a moment.

That’s lovely for babies.

I, however, am a grown woman.

So now when something threatens my concentration, I have a plan.

I have a A5 size distraction notebook and a pack of sticky notes.

Whenever I feel the sirens call of drifting off topic, I grab a sticky pad, scribble my thoughts, stick it in the book and knowing it is safe and captured, I get back on task. 

Then at a more opportune moment I review the scribbles on the sticky notes and get to choose which are actually important or urgent or potentially entertaining. 

Sometimes when I review those half captured thoughts it is inspiring and thought provoking, and other times I say to myself “why did you think that this, of all things, was important, Woman!”. 

The idea that the floating thoughts are captured on sticky notes somehow tells my little brain that they’re still portable, not permanently tethered to somewhere they ought not to be, and I can relax that the idea is still floating around out there in the world but I don’t have to fret over it right now. 

It works for me, frees up my attention to stay on task, and gives me a little peace of mind when I cannot get to that idea or important action right away.  I guess we all have our coping strategies for times when we are about to stray off track, but this is the one that works for me right now.  The current notepad is almost full, it is burgeoning with off topic ideas, and todays offering are “chairs, floor tiles, passport signatures”, three things that can wait.